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“And are you sure you don’t need a cake shipment? I promise it won’t be a burden. I have a bunch of extra cakes from the last diplomatic dinner I hosted the other day and they are all gonna go to waste if I don’t use it for something! Sure, it’s gonna have the name of some alien planet alliance on it but I’m sure we can just smear some butter cream on it. Ooh, I bet I can make some sort of pistachio spread! Pidge still likes pistachios, right?”

“Hunk, buddy, I’m hanging up now. I got it all handled, k? I’ll see you later tonight.” Lance let out an exhausted sigh but nearly dropped the phone as his foot slid on the hay scattered around the family barn.

“Ok, ok. Are you sureeeee you don’t need any extra help with the dessert?” Hunk’s voice pitched high over the call, and Lance could nearly see his best friend making a pouty face. Lance shouldered the heavy crate of eggs he was carrying propped against his hip with one hand, and held his phone closer to his mouth with the other, doing his best to not slip again and crack all his hard work.

“I told you already I have everything covered. Me and my family is in charge of the baking, mainly my sisters, because they love an event to bake for. Shiro and Coran are gonna arrive to help set up with the decorations because Coran is bringing this weird Altean instrument that apparently shoots rockets or something? And Shiro has been getting into home decor lately and I gotta throw him a bone somewhere. My mom and Mrs. Holt are working all day preparing all of Pidge’s favorite food, and Matt is gonna bring her here later for the actual surprise, hopefully blindfolded and against her will.” Lance gasped at the end of his spew, his arms heavy and wanting to get this call over with.

He heard Hunk mull this over the phone, his low rumble revealing the process.

“Keith off the bat again?”

“The dummy’s never reading the group chat anyway. I would have a brain aneurysm if I had to rely on him to actually pull through with any of this stuff, so it's easier to just wait and hope he actually shows up.” Lance felt himself shrug.

“Yah, fair enough. Hey, you wanna bet if he comes moments before the surprise or seconds after, just barely blowing it?”

“Don’t even play like that. I told him the time and that if he’s not here by then, he won’t get any cake. Sore loser.” Lance chuckled, but his phone slipped a bit from his grip.

“Hey, buddy, I’m hanging up now. I gotta go get ready. I’ll see you in a bit.”

“I’m bringing the extra cake.”

“Hunk..”

“Ok love you byeeeee Lance!” The call dropped, and Lance couldn’t even be mad at the big softie, his mind wandering to their oh-so-elusive red Paladin.

They all understood how busy he was, often disappearing without any confirmation on where he was, what he was doing, and how far away in the galaxy he really was. With the rest of them it was easier to track. Shiro was retired, living a slow life with his new husband in a small house in the suburbs; his only stress was making it to his physical therapy and yoga appointments. He would join sometimes for diplomatic relation dinners on New Altea when there were some more continents in the galaxy that needed convincing to join their new peace movement and wanted a symbol of Voltron, and Shiro was happy to take up the leadership and make himself available.

Coran was running New Altea singlehandedly, the entire planet thriving with life, economy, and infrastructure, a prime example of what the universe can become once it was all fully united. Thousands of species collected on New Altea in harmony with the Alteans occupying its new home, sharing architecture, culture, and life. It was a hub of new opportunities, of freedom, and of the world Allura would have wanted to see. Coran leads it with pride.

Pidge herself was helping run the future of the Galaxy Garrison, assisting in the newest and brightest projects on the face of technology and working heavily with the Olkari and her father. She has been seen as one of the youngest, most brilliant minds of their generation, and she owns that.

Hunk dove into the culinary world, becoming a universe-renowned chef. He had released a cookbook on all the different variants of meals he was able to create having a vast ingredient list from planets he got to visit, and became integral in helping diplomatic dinners smooth over in alliances as always being the cater.

Being proud of his friends was an understatement. Lance thought they were all the brightest, most amazing people in the world. Heck, the galaxy! They were all doing amazing things, maintaining their peace while helping maintain the universes.

But that’s the thing. They all were able to create a life for themselves, see their own amazing skills and apply it to the world, and still find a purpose. And him?

Lance locked the barn gate and carefully placed the crate down, letting his arms stretch and roll his shoulders. His family’s farm rolled in the land in front of him, beautifully decorated in Juniberry flowers, crops for the season, and animals grazing the hills around it. Kaltenecker remained the bigger cow amongst the rest, making a point to be the one to eat the food first, whip other cows in the eye with her tail if they got too close, and moo the loudest when she wasn’t getting attention in the morning. The Mcclain family farm has been passed down for generations, and he happily took the time to reset after their long and traumatic journey in space. He was with his family, and that was all he could ever want. The journey of saving the universe left scars deeper than any he could’ve imagined, and the life he finds himself in —a quiet farmer on Earth—felt like the right fit. The only option. What else was there at the time? He wasn’t an engineering genius like Pidge and Hunk were, or eloquent enough to assist in diplomatic relations, or cool enough for everything Keith was doing…

He was happy. He rose when the sun did and went to bed at a ripe 9 pm. He got to spend time with his parents every single day, see his siblings, and be an excellent Tio Lance to his niece and nephew.

Life was easy. It’s what he begged for on the Castle Ship, the life he prayed for at night when he never thought he would see his family ever again. The knot in his stomach pulled, the same knot that had been sitting in him for a few months now. Lance took in a shaky breath and lifted the cart of eggs again, making his way to his family house.

Despite the peaceful surroundings, he hated the fact that he was haunted by an uneasy, nagging sense that the life he was living wasn’t the one he was meant for. And that made him feel crazy.

The quiet routine, once romanticized in moments of battle when all he wanted was to see his family again, has now become stifling. Day after day, he tends to crops, watches sunsets, and lives without conflict. He had a specific schedule of what time to feed which animal, when to check on the tilting fencework across their property, how his niece wanted her hair in the mornings before school. Yet, the stillness has only made him feel more restless. Farming was supposed to bring him peace—time with his family, simplicity, and a chance to reconnect with himself after years of war and loss. Yet each passing moment feels like he’s

wasting

something precious. The fields, the sunsets, the comforting hum of everyday life—they don’t soothe him the way they once did. Instead, they feel like a reminder of everything he

should

be content with, and the guilt gnaws at him. At night his mind drifted back to the adrenaline-fueled days of piloting Voltron and soaring through galaxies—days when the purpose was clear: protect, fight, survive. His dreams offer little relief. He dreams of space, but not in the nostalgic way he expects. They’re fragmented visions—stars rushing past, echoes of battles fought, the roar of his lion in his mind like a distant memory. Clawing. Fleeting. He sees faces, too—Keith’s determined eyes, Hunk’s reassuring grin, Shiro’s steady hand, and Pidge’s quick-witted smirk. And always, there’s Allura. Her touch on his cheek, her voice whispering words of hope, and then… nothing. She’s gone, just as she was when she sacrificed herself. Every time he wakes, his heart is heavier, the sense of loss sharpening into something unbearable.

Now, in the absence of that purpose, everything felt sort of…monotonous.

There’s a quiet frustration that follows him like a shadow, one that he tries to ignore, burying it beneath forced smiles and good-natured jokes with his family. But every evening, as the sun dips below the horizon and the sky floods with stars, a pang of longing tugs at him. The stars were the worst part, the reminder of what he was once surrounded by. He can’t shake the feeling that life was supposed to be more than this—a sense that something was left unfinished or that he was meant to become someone more. But he had done everything he had ever wanted. He was a pilot who tore across time and space. He was the sharpshooter, taking down bad guys and saving the world.
Part of him wonders if he misses the camaraderie of the Paladins, seeing them every day, the sense of belonging and teamwork that defined him in those crucial years. Another part questions if it’s about Allura. Someone who was supposed to make him the happiest man in the world, someone beautiful and amazing, who finally returned his feelings. Only for it to end short. Was all his dreams in life meant to end short? Was he expecting too much of himself now?

The hardest part for Lance was that he didn’t know what he was yearning for. It isn’t just the thrill of battle or a desire to relive the past. Instead, it feels like a search for meaning—an uncharted path he can’t yet see but feels compelled to walk. He knew he was no longer the daring pilot who stared down the universe and fought for what was right, but after a year and a half of being on his family’s farm, of watching his friends creating a whole new world, of moving on and making lives for themselves, he couldn’t help but feel the panging of guilt, of unsettlement, of wanting something

more

.

And that feeling made him feel like the worst person in the world.

The kitchen was an explosion of movement, noise, and clatter. Colleen Holt and Mrs. Mcclain had been good at sharing the kitchen all day, splitting the work evenly to provide for the number of bodies that were attending. Colleen was on making sure all of her daughter’s favorite meals were present, from something as traditional as homemade cacio e pepe chicken and pasta, to breadsticks delivered in from Olive Garden and greasy pizza from Papa Johns. Mrs. Mcclain was making sure that there was plenty of salad to be prepped, tossing the tomatoes and leaves, cutting up the onions, and prepping the pans by making garlic croutons—lots of garlic, all to Pidge’s delight.

More children of Mrs. Mcclain argued over frosting and cooling stations, the countertops running out of space from the cooking and prepping. Marco, the oldest, was wrestling with a tray of cupcakes, swatting at the frosting bag every time it dripped onto the counter. “Who left the butter out?!” he bellowed through the house, balancing the tray in one hand and grabbing a paper towel with the other.

“I told Louis to leave it out to thaw, not MELT!” Rachel, Lance’s twin sister, groaned from her perch on a chair.

“That was NOT my fault! You told me to take it out, and I’m not on watch-the-butter-duty!” Louis, Lance’s second brother, shouted from the other room, where he was slowly blowing balloons but letting Sylvio and Sofia, the youngest nieces and nephews and children of Marco, the oldest Mcclain brother, take the most of it.

“Louis, stop whining and grab the ice!” Mrs. Mcclain barked, carrying two bottles of soda under each arm while trying to squeeze through the narrow path between the fridge and the kitchen island.

“Make Lance do it!”

“MOVE!” Lance’s voice cut through the chaos as he whizzed by, armed with a platter of mini tuna sandwiches. Pidge had the widest palette of someone he had ever seen. She liked either the plainest finger foods like pizza or tuna sandwiches or the best chefed-up recipe that took labor. Lance side-stepped the fridge door—just as Veronica swung it open, nearly colliding with him.

“V!” Lance hissed.

Veronica blinked, not seemingly phased from the chaos burning around her. “What? I’m getting the pickles! This is

your

friend here.”

Lance was sure he was going to grab his older sister by the neck when there was a loud bump at the kitchen table.

The Holt family dog, Bae Bae, thinking the world had surely descended into madness, darted under the table, dragging a half-unwrapped roll of paper towels with him.

“WHO LET THE DOG IN HERE?!” Lance felt his voice turn shrill, really feeling like the world was out to get him. So much for planning a nice, wholesome party for his friend.

“Get him out before he eats the cheese!” Mrs. Mcclain bellowed over her shoulder while Rachel screamed in frustration as frosting smeared across her sleeve.

While Mrs. Holt began snapping at the dog, ushering him to the backyard with a piece of tuna, the front door knocked.

“Door!” Sylvio yelled from the living room, his voice several octaves too high from the helium he was inhaling.

“Yah yah, I’m on it.” Lance rubbed his temples, ignoring the bickering his mother was already having with some of his siblings over how messy the cabinet drawers were and how someone should be organizing the kitchen as a chore.

“Is now a bad time?” Lance could have kissed Shiro right there and then when he opened the door to his warm eyes and side smile. Shiro looked the same, just older and more worn down from the years he had been a space prisoner, then a Paladin, then trapped in Minvera’s spell and transferred through weird Altean magic and through realities, and just overall the age of himself catching up. It’s not like Shiro was old in the slightest, but as he was a proud 29, nearing 30. His age never stopped his light-hearted personality from shinning through, laughing with the younger Paladins, but he was a lot more settled down. The old guy got married, after all! The light in his eyes, however, never dimmed out, like a light in your family’s house that was always left on for you.

“Oh my god I need you guys to come in and help calm everyone down right now.” Lance felt like the world's weight was lifted seeing Shiro and Coran at the door, each holding some mysterious-looking equipment and a birthday present.

“You don’t have to worry so much. Pidge is going to be happy just to see everyone in one place for once.” Shiro placed a strong hand on Lance’s shoulders, his real hand, helping Lance feel like he was relaxing for the first time since the day started.

“I know, I know its just, we have a reputation for throwing some mean fiestas, and once my family became involved, it all just got wayyy too big, and we are all together for the first time in a couple of months so I just want it to go awesome for her birthday.” Lance let himself word vomit, catching his breath only when he felt the gentle squeeze of Shiro’s hands. It’s crazy the power Shiro still had over him, the strong, reliable, and stead headed leader. That never went away with time.

“Well, we brought the decorations. Where do you want us?”

Lance rose a brow at the weird machine Coran was holding, his eyes drifting between that and the fact that neither of them were holding anything resembling party hats or confetti.

“Uhh, sorry, Coran. I don’t know if we got mixed up in Earth to Altean culture, but for our birthday parties we don’t usually bring, robots? Although this is Pidge we are talking about, so maybe she will like this.”

“Oh, worry not, number four. I know exactly what a party should look like! We got no confusion on Earth customs with this classic Altean party thrower.” Coran twirled his long mustache, holding up the contraption. Lance took a glance at Shiro, who just smiled sheepishly. Lance had no choice but to lead them into his living room.

“Stand back, Mcclain clan!” Coran placed his contraption in the center of the room, causing Sylvio, Louis, and Sofia to sit up from the couch, eyes sparkling.

“Woahh, I forgot you guys were friends with mustache man!” Louis snorted, his eyes fixed on Coran and the very apparent culture shock he was standing in a human household.

“Louis, shut up!” Lance whispered under his breath, but Coran then pressed a button.

“Alright, Decoblaster! Activate surprise birthday mode!” Coran sang. With a low hum, the sphere’s metallic surface begins to shift, glowing faintly like a cosmic aurora. Suddenly, mechanical arms shoot out in every direction. Small drones the size of tennis balls pop from the orb, zipping around the room with cheerful

"Bzzzt!"

noises. A soothing robotic voice echoes:

"Party deployment activated. Theme: Galactic Glow Celebration. Stand back."

Lance and Shiro had to drop to the floor as a pair of drones shot out of the machine to fly to opposite ends of the ceiling, swiftly unspooling silver streamers. They twist through the air like ribbons in a synchronized dance, ending with a flourish as they latch onto walls with invisible suction cups. Another drone strings up a glowing

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY"

banner that flapped into position above the couch, the Mcclain’s twisting their heads in awe up at it.

POOF! One arm ejects a rapid burst of neon-colored balloons, filling them with helium in the blink of an eye. They float to the perfect height and hover there, gently bobbing as if weightless. Sofia let out a ripple of glee, screeching and pointing as everything just appeared before everyone in the living room. A tiny drone circles around, tugging on the strings to arrange them into clusters.

Lance barley had time to register everything that just occurred as the DecoBlaster’s surface projects beams of colored light across the room, bouncing off the walls like shooting stars. Everyone continued ducking, tilting their heads as the beams bounced off walls and whizzing past their faces, leaving what could best be described as the evidence of a rainbow in its passing, the colors seemingly traced through the room and caught in the air. Mini holograms of animated cupcakes float in the air, pulsing to the beat of cheerful alien party tunes. A drone deploys fairy lights along the ceiling, making the whole room glow as if under a cosmic sky.With the main setup complete, the DecoBlaster-whatever Coran called it let out a playful chime. It shoots streams of confetti into the air, hanging momentarily in shimmering suspension before gently drifting to the floor. A quick puff of something sweet, resembling cotton-candy-scented air wafts across the room, adding an unexpected sweetness to the atmosphere.The device rotates one last time, finishing with a flourish:

"SURPRISE PARTY READY. ENJOY YOUR CELEBRATION!"

Everyone sat in stunned shock and silence at the state of the room, glimmering, vibrant, and alive now.

“Do it again do it again!” Sylvio was the first to break the silence, turning to Coran with huge eyes. His younger sister stayed gaping at the colors that had materialized around the room.

“I’m too high for this shit,” Louis mumbled, sinking further down in the couch.

Coran scooped up the device, seemingly satisfied as Lance’s brain finally began ticking again, shaking himself out of everything that just occurred.

“Coran, WHY didn’t you use this on the Castle? That would have been such a good prank to pull when someone wasn’t expecting it!” Lance gawked, throwing his arms up at the room. Coran clicked some pieces back into the robot, humming with a satisfied look.

“No one ever told me they wanted a surprise party!” He shrugged. Lance wanted to faint, so instead, he opted to just gesture in shock at the room to Shiro, his eyes bulging and his jaw-dropping.

It wasn’t long until Hunk arrived, and Lance could have cried on the spot seeing him. Hunk grew in to his size, his chin prickling a bit from not shaving and his arms a lot more built and strong from the heavy lifting he still did in space with his culinary world. Despite no longer needing to have a strict workout routine, he still looked like he could easily benchpress anyone he talked to. He brought with him boxes of little cakes and cookies against Lance’s wish, but Lance couldn’t be mad. They hugged oh so tightly in the front of the house, and Lance couldn’t waste any more time before pulling him in to show off the living room, still filled with the magic of whatever that robot had done.

Hunk nearly dropped dead seeing it, unable to wrap his very scientific mind around it, but having to be satisfied with the explanation of “alien magic” after everything they had encountered.

Hunk let out a whistle, taking it all in right as Lance’s niece and nephew came crashing into Hunk, wanting to bear hug their favorite uncle's favorite friend.

“ATTENTION! MATT’S COMING IN THE NEXT FIVE MINUTES!” Rachel’s shrill voice broke from the kitchen, causing the room to break out into more hustling and fussing. Making sure all the food was laid out perfectly and brought into the backyard, where everyone would be eating. Getting everyone in party hats and squeezed into the living room to await the door opening. Making sure Louis was NOT secretly rolling up a doobie in the front yard and ruin the entire surprise to begin with.

Colleen Holt kept checking her phone, getting texts from her husband, and updating the room, looking just as panicked as Lance felt. Lance wanted it to go perfectly, and the chaos of the planning calmed him a bit, as crazy as it sounds. He liked being helpful. He liked people relying on him, having these expectations that, when done correctly, made all the difference.

Lance took one final look around the living room as he got his family and friends to all finally commune in, all snickering, shoving at each other, and making annoying loud shushes. Everything looked perfect, even the window shades were pulled down just in case, despite knowing Pidge would be blindfolded. Everyone was where they were supposed to be, right on time, perfectly planned right as Lance had wanted—

“Uhh, hey Lance. Where’s Keith?” Hunk’s innocent question crashed Lance’s delicate glass of planning. He felt himself stutter, his eyes wildly scanning at the room of faces that very much were NOT Keith.

“Shiro! Did Keith text you or anything about being late or canceling or anything like that?” Lance squatted down beside Hunk and next to Shiro, who was awkwardly crouched next to the couch, a little too big to be hunched over. Shiro’s brows furrowed, awkwardly coughing into his hands and scanning the room as if he hadn’t realized his own younger brother wasn’t there for the first time.

“No, we talked last night and the last thing we said before the call ended was how we were gonna see each other today. Keith isn’t one to miss something important to everyone unless it's for a good reason. Maybe something got caught up at the Blades?”

Lance’s mouth already tasted sour, feeling his own face pull up into a clearly annoyed frown.

“Ugh, I literally told him a million times what time to come or to let me know he wasn’t gonna come. I mean, honestly, this is classic Keith behavior!” Lance felt the annoyed tangent already starting before it could stop.

“They’re here! I see the car!” Sylvio called from his honorary lookout spot on top of the couch, peeking through the blinds. The room all made a dramatic shush, people giggling and shushing each other to try to be louder, the tension bubbling with excitement, but Lance wasn’t done.

“I mean, honestly. We need to know numbers! How is this any different from letting a planet know when one of us can’t show up to a diplomatic dinner. We made a place setting and everything with his plate. Now, we gotta reorder it all and it messes up the feng shui of the party and–”

“Lance. Another time buddy.” Hunk whispered, nudging him softly.

“The feng shui, Hunk! You know how important that is.” Lance whisper screamed back, and he could already tell that Hunk was gonna give him the biggest eye roll of his life when everything happened all at once.

He felt a slight strain of the room around him as blue sparkles materialized in seconds before he was suddenly thrown on his back with a heavy weight on top of him, his face muffled in dark blue fur.

Screams and startles echoed around the room, everyone moving around and some shrieks of pure fear from his mother, and as Lance was trying not to be disoriented, he reached out his hands to grip around him, slapping his hands down on what felt like a warm, heavy body of fur. His brain was shooting off firecrackers at the familiarity of the feeling, twisting around and trying his hardest to be free of the darkness. His own lungs felt crushed under the weight of whatever was above him, and it took some struggling and more little shrieks of either fear or excitement before he was finally able to wiggle his head free, gasping for air and slamming his arms back to prop himself up.

“WHAT THE QUIZNAK JUST–” Lance gasped, before his mouth popped back shut to see huge golden eyes looking down at him over a large snot, his head twisting around to look back at the seat he had made out of Lance’s face, his tail wagging around and heavily hitting everyone in proximity. Even though Lance was completely pinned to the ground, the warmness bubbling through his chest was enough to make him forget about how his legs have now lost feeling, pins and needles attacking him from the sheer monstrosity of weight Kosmo was. Kosmo’s tail thumped happily as if this were the reunion of a lifetime, and for a moment Lance couldn’t help but laugh—an involuntary sound that startled even him. It had been so long since he’d laughed like that.

“Okay, okay, big guy! Get off!” Lance wheezed, shoving at Kosmo’s butt. The wolf huffed but obediently sat up and off him, leaving Lance sprawled on his back, disoriented and breathless. He knocked into Hunk and around the room, earning screeches from the Mcclains and shouts.

“This goes in the book for one of Keith’s famous last minute arrivals!” Hunk’s voice drew Lance to look back up, finally sitting up and not feeling like he was about to become a pancake. And Lance felt his entire body freeze up as if he was caught again.

There, sitting in a hunched position mimicking Shiro and Hunk next to him, was Keith. His familiar dark hair was a bit longer, swept behind his ears, grown out a bit and pulled back into a messy low ponytail, and his red and black jacket still looked as rugged as ever. He glanced cheekily between Hunk and Shiro, a small, amused smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. The sight of him was so sudden, so unexpected, that Lance could only stare for a moment.

“Caught a bit of traffic, had to use an emergency entrance strategy,” Keith said simply, his voice soft but carrying the same steady calm that Lance remembered. He shrugged, and Shiro just slapped a hand on his head and ruffled affectionately as Keith shouldered him back.

Lance blinked, struggling to find his words. “Keith?” he said, as if saying the name aloud might prove this wasn’t some weird daydream conjured by a concussion caused by Kosmo.

Keith’s eyes finally met Lance’s, a small nod and tentative smile creeping to his face. His hair was obnoxiously unruly, almost as defiantly stubborn as the man wearing it, and as Lance was about to drop his mouth open to finally shout, the door began twisting.

Oh right. Pidge.

The room erupted into more shushes, everyone trying to stifle their surprise and shock from Kosmo and Keith’s surprise drop-in stunt, and bringing their attention back to the main attraction of the evening: a surprise birthday party. Everyone tensed and managed to be miraculously quiet as the door opened, thanks to a key Lance had left outside for Matt to find.

“And if you don’t remove your hands from me and keep with your weird hints and ominous text messages, I am going to bite your fingers off one by one and make sure you are never able to play War of Warcraft ever again.” Pidge was navigated into the room, her hands in front of her in fists and her elbows pushing back into Matt, huffing a bit as poor Matt navigated her with his hands on his shoulders, outreached and trying to stand away from her to avoid being hit with her sharp elbows.

Matt gave a final huff as he reached over his little sister and ripped her blindfold off, finally free from the pain she was undoubtedly giving him the entire time.

“SURPRISE!!!!” the room erupted into cheers, screams, and explosions of confetti and blaring small horns.

Pidge’s eyes blew to the size of saucers, her face dropping in shock from it all, almost tripping over herself from the blow of it all. Lance and Hunk were the first to rush forward, grabbing her arms and pulling her into the room. Pidge just gawked, her head swiveling around to take in the room, the faces, the surprise, everything.

“Wha-how did you PULL this off? You’re terrible at planning surprises!” Pidge swiveled around to her older brother, pointing an accusing finger at him while her face flushed in embarrassment. Matt held up his own hands, grinning back at her as Mr. Holt entered the room, filming it all from the back.

“It was all your friends. Mainly Lance. Couldn’t have done it without his very specific instructions.” Matt threw a grateful smile at Lance, and Lance felt himself heat up from the acknowledgement.

“Hey, I had a lot of help from my party planning minions. I mean, look at this room! Couldn’t have done it without Coran’s weird robot thing. And my mom and your mom were cooking all day today! And what about all the coordination with everyone's plans and–” Lance rambled on, but Pidge just punched him lightly in the arm, her face glowing. She was finally 19, one year away from no longer being an official teenager. She was still just as small, but her might and strength and wisdom beyond years kept her sparkling eyes aged. She would always be a little shit to Lance, despite it all.

“Thanks, you doofus. Now, did you say something about my mom's cooking?”

The party was a hit. Lance’s entire family loved his friends, and he couldn’t have asked for a better blended huge family between his own blood relatives and the family he found in space. The Mcclains had known Hunk for years, being Lance’s childhood best friend and roommate at the Garrison when they were younger, and got along just as well with the rest of them. His siblings were obsessed with all the stories they drove out of them, wanting especially the embarrassing anecdotes about Lance in particular. Lance had to make sure his siblings swore to never bring up the Shiro posters to Shiro himself, even as much as going to his mother to make her punish them if they did, and it was with grumbling and pinching from his siblings that they finally agreed to spare him from even more embarrassment.

His niece and nephew couldn’t get enough of the large cosmic wolf that had magically poofed into their living room, chasing it around the house and into the backyard against Marco’s wishes. Him and his wife Camilla were terrified to let their kids near the monster, but Lance had to promise them nothing would happen to their children and they would not end their lives prematurely as space wolf food.

Pidge was over the moon about it all, feasting and not shutting up with her friends, filling them in on everything she was doing at the Garrison. Her amber eyes lit up as she talked, her hands freely flying around and enthusiastically describing the world she had built. She had been upgraded to the highest security levels and had access to all the databases, everything she had been barred from when she first enrolled years ago. It felt like a good fuck you to Iverson and the committee that had stopped her from finding out about her missing brother and the Kerberos mission. The Holt family was in charge of shaping the future of galaxy explorers, space exploration, pilots, engineers, mathematicians, and scientific research. On paper, it seemed like a lot, overwhelming even, but Pidge took it in huge strides, happy to have her hands on everything and anything. She babbled on, receiving nothing but proud looks and reassuring smiles from Shiro himself, who was happily done with his Garrison days but thrilled to see the work Pidge took up herself on making it a better place.

“Amazing work, number five. I have to say I would like to say I am surprised, but you were always destined to do something amazing with it all.” Coran nodded down at her, forcing Pidge to fix her glasses and try to hide her blush.

“Do you have a say in maybe making the uniforms less itchy?” Hunk poked, shoving a huge spoonful of food into his mouth. Lance snorted.

“You think the Garrison is gonna admit to child abuse with the things they made the cadets wear? Not only was it a nightmare in comfort, but the outfit itself? HIDEOUS.” Lance scoffed back, but dropped his eyes back to Shiro, “not that you were to blame or anything.”

“How were the outfits my fault? I was just a teacher aide there at the time.” Shiro rose his brows, no bite back to Lance but egging him on, interested in what was to come.

“Lance just thinks you basically ran the Garrison with all your fancy looks and stuff at the time.” Veronica poked her head in, gliding past the group and on the way to the table, where the older parents were lounging in conversation. Lance’s face heat up, spinning on his heel to glare at his older sister.

“That’s NOT true at all. Shiro, don’t listen to that rat.” Lance wished he could control the way his voice rose in a shrill as Pidge let out the loudest snort.

“Oh, I believe her. You were obsessed with Shiro when we were kids. Whatever happened to those posters you had in our dorm…” Hunk mocked an innocent pout, pretending to think back to a memory he very damn well had.

“LIES!” was all Lance could squawk out, flipping around to now glare at his EX-best friend, the traitor.

“It’s not embarrassing Lance, it's sweet.” Shiro smiled back at him, biting back an amused smile, and Lance felt like he was about to melt into a puddle of shame.

“What’s this about embarrassing and Lance in the same sentence?” Keith stepped out from inside the house, leaning against the screen door and holding a half-eaten plate.

“None of your business, mullet. Late to the party and late to the conversation. One more strike and you’ll be barred from every event in the future.” Lance threw his arms across his chest, glaring back at Keith and trying his hardest to steel his expression. Despite the obvious dirty look Lance was throwing at Keith, Keith failed to react to it, his eyes dancing back at Lance with a sort of amused question. His features looked sharper now—more mature, weathered by time and experience, as if the responsibilities of the past had carved their stories into him. But the biggest change to seeing Keith wasn’t in his appearance—it was in his eyes.

Keith’s violet-gray eyes, once filled with restless ambition and anger, now carried a quiet, grounded intensity. They weren’t as sharp or defensive as before, but they still had that same unwavering focus, as if he was always prepared to act, even when standing perfectly still. And right now, those eyes were locked directly on Lance, studying him with a mixture of familiarity, relief, and something else Lance couldn’t quite place.

“WHERE’S THE BIRTHDAY GIRL?” Matt’s voice shook through outside, squeezing past Keith as he held up a plate with a huge cake on it, littered with birthday candles sparkling and lit.

“Matt! It’s too early for that. I told you to wait!” Colleen stood from the table, her eyes glaring back at her son.

But the Holt siblings were way too excited about birthdays and sugar to care if it was too early.

Matt clammered over to the table, pushing aside finished plates as Lance’s siblings all did their part in turning off the music, gathering the families, and getting Pidge at the head of the table surrounded by her friends. Lance positioned her right at the front before dipping into the crowd to allow Pidge’s family to stand around her. Mrs. Mcclain filmed the scene, and the entire world seemed to still and warm around them.

Everyone sang out loud, off-key, and happily a classic happy birthday before the Mcclain family began singing in Spanish, just as loud as off-key as the English version. Pidge just wore the same dumb-founded expression, smiling a wide toothy smile and looking stupid happy and content, ducking to the side to share a look with her brother.

As the singing was nearing the end, Lance broke free and crept around just in time to slam a second cake in her face, one with extra frosting and perfect for a classic birthday face smush. It’s tradition, after all, and Pidge was in a Hispanic household. She had to have known what she was getting into. Thank god for Hunk’s extra cakes.

Lance should have known not to pick a fight with Pidge of all people, because it quickly went downhill after that. The moment the crowd got laughs and pictures of Pidge’s face smushed with cream, Pidge launched herself onto Lance, grabbing at his shirt and wiping her face and using it as a personal napkin before ultimately grabbing her own birthday cake and just smashing it straight into Lance’s face.

“KATIE HOLT.” Collen’s voice broke over the gasps and whistles of the Mcclain family, a mother’s shock and twinge of anger breaking the spell. Pidge and Lance both froze, blinking at each other through frosting and cream, before erupting into the biggest laughter that shook them both to their core. Lance hated that he couldn’t remember the last time he laughed this hard.

Hunk was always going to be there to save the day as he had quickly ran back into the house and emerged with his emergency cakes and cupcakes, smoothing the situation from spiraling into Pidge being punished for the next week. The music on the speakers outside were turned back to a blast, and Lance knew his twin was on aux from the awful early 2000s dance music blaring back out. Lance whistled to his brother Marco to get the pinata out, and suddenly he was violently spinning Pidge in a circle, another huge mistake as she was blindfolded again, but weidling Louis’ old baseball bat. She was a creamy, sticky, and fiery mess as she swung wildly, just nearly missing knocking Coran across the yard and almost breaking a ceramic vase Mrs. Mcclain had as decoration. When others wanted a chance, she swung at them, claiming it was her birthday and she had to be the one to break the pinata, and no one was going to argue with someone who had a look of destruction in her eyes and an evil smile.

Her mother ended up suspending her from using the bat when she swung and hit a rose bush, breaking off some branches and had to hand over the bat with huge grumbles to the younger kids.

Shiro ended up breaking the pinata and exploding candies everywhere.

Lance found himself stumbling into the kitchen, half-blinded by the cake still smashed all over his face and shirt, sticky everywhere from everything, and out of breath from laughing so hard that his sides ached. Everything was going just as perfectly as he could have wanted. He was needed. He had performed and executed and satisfied his family and his closest friends. He was happy, happier than he had been in a long time. But his stomach still twisted, his body feeling heavy as he slid the glass door closed and the laughter and music was muffled, the colorful life of the party muted and away, the stillness of the house bringing Lance back to the reality of his feelings. Of the dread.

“Nice party.”

Lance yelped, his hand slipping from the door handle and his head fell forward, hitting the screen with a small bump. He turned swiftly, stilling himself as he rubbed his forehead, smearing cream around his face more. Lance blinked to see none other than the criminal himself standing in the middle of his kitchen, arms crossed lightly over his shoulders and looking back with nothing shy of amusement. No trace of guilt for what he just did. Kosmos sat at his feet, tail wagging excitedly and covered in various food smears, likely from getting a hold of plates and treats while everyone wasn’t looking. Lance gave him another dirty look, trying to hide his embarrassment for what he just did.

For a beat, Lance couldn’t move. It was weird, if he was being honest, finally seeing Keith. It wasn’t the same easy fall into comfortability it was for the others. He got to see Pidge at least once every week, with her being close to him at the Garrison and all. He face timed Hunk nearly every day when Hunk was in space doing important chef work, and when he wasn’t calling with Hunk and complaining about the massive shit Kaltenecker had taken in his barn, Hunk was gushing about something he did with Shay, or about the reviews he was getting, or would bring in Shiro to the call if they crossed paths.

With Keith, he was always almost untouchable. Undetectable. He didn’t text as frequently, or show up to diplomacy dinners when Voltron was asked to be present. He was a lot more conspicuous with the work he did, leaving it to just “Blades, you know how it can get” if pressed further. He was off doing amazing humanitarian work and sometimes had to still go on relief missions, but he was always distant. Harder to reach. Less available. The last time Lance had been in Keith’s presence was at Shiro’s wedding four months ago, but it felt like ages now that he was standing in person in Lance’s kitchen, a wet rag in hand and cake smeared on his knees and shins.

The months apart had widened a gap between them that neither had dared to cross until now, and for a split second, Lance wondered if it was too wide—if too much had changed for them to find their way back to each other.

Then Kosmo let out a loud huff, trodding over and plopping himself down between them with a disgruntled whine in his throat as if to say,

What are you two waiting for?

Lance shook himself out of his daze, brushing the cream on his hands against his pants with a nervous laugh. “Man... You show up with no warning, your space dog flattens me, and you think ‘Nice party’ is gonna cut it?” He tried to inject some humor into his voice, but it came out shakier than he intended. Weird.

It was just Keith

, Lance tried to remind himself.

Keith’s lips twitched, a hint of a smile breaking through his stoic demeanor. “Didn’t think I’d need a formal invitation.”

Lance scoffed, brushing his hair back as if it would hide the redness creeping up his neck. “Yeah, well, some things never change, huh?” He meant it as a joke, but there was a thread of truth tangled in the words—a kind of bittersweet recognition that, despite everything, Keith was still Keith.

They stood there, awkward and unsure, like two old friends trying to remember how to speak the same language. It was strange, seeing Keith here on Earth, in his KITCHEN, so far from the battles they used to fight. In some ways, Keith looked more at ease—more sure of himself. He wasn’t the hot-headed fireball teenager that would lash out if even looked at. But, he still seemed like that same boy Lance had once competed with, argued with, and…

“New hair thing going for you? Got tired of being called mullet all the time?” Lance pointed to his own head, indicating to Keith’s hair change. Keith seemed to snap back into their conversation, his own eyes lighting in recognition as he lifted his own hand up and behind to touch his ponytail.

“That’s what happens when there's no space barber to go to. Been a little too busy to cut it. Why, you miss the mullet already?” Keith’s eyes danced back at Lance with a tease, making Lance’s stomach turn in a good way. Lance scoffed, flicking his hand at Keith.

“Pshh, please. You finally got rid of that awful 80s haircut and replaced it with that? You’re just begging to always be tied to a hair-related nickname, although its with a heavy heart to say

ponytail

doesn’t have the same grit to it.”

Keith raised an eyebrow, a flicker of amusement in the look. “So you admit you miss the hair?”

“Whatever makes you sleep better at night, mullet.” Lance crossed his arms, trying to sound casual, though his heart was still hammering in his chest. “So back to my original stance on the whole almost-getting-flatten-to-a-pancake? Just decided to drop in and ruin my afternoon and ignore the very intricate text chain of where and when to arrive at Pidge’s SURPRISE party?”

Kosmo let out a whine, drawing Lance’s attention thankfully off Keith’s stare and down to the sweet wolf, who was looking up at Lance with a head tilt. Lance couldn’t let the poor thing think it was his fault here, so he rewarded him with some good head scratches.

Keith shrugged, that same understated confidence radiating from him. “Like I said, there was some traffic from being held up.” His voice was calm, but there was something beneath the words–a lilt of a tease.

“We were trying to get here as soon as possible, but then we saw the Holt car and knew that parking in front would throw if all off if Pidge saw us, so we took a long way around the farm and parked in the back. Teleporting in was the only way to beat them.”

Lance arched an eyebrow, trying to suppress the grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Teleport in? You flew halfway across the planet and sped what I assume was definitely over the speed limit and missed your timing just to drop on top of my lap through the magic of teleportation cheating?”

Keith shrugged again, this time with a hint of a smile. “Pretty much.”

Lance shook his head, but he couldn’t stop the grin from breaking free. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

Keith’s expression softened, and for a moment, there was a familiarity between them that Lance hadn’t realized how much he’d missed.

“And Kosmo is gonna be the death of me at this rate. No more of that! And why are you all lone wolf in here? Hey, wanna help me bring the liquor out?” Lance hurried past Keith, chuckling nervously as Keith’s eyes followed him.

“You do realize Pidge’s parents are out there.” Keith followed Lance into the living room, watching as Lance knelt down into the cabinets where they kept their liquor bottles. Lance pulled out a bottle of tequila they always took out on birthdays.

“Yah, but when you come to the McClain household, that’s basically allowing your parties to become a McClain party. And that includes morals. I was forced to do birthday shots at the ripe age of 16 with this family. Pidge is a late bloomer!” Lance waved around the bottle, watching Keith roll his eyes. That lit a fire in Lance’s stomach he waved off as simply excitement.

“When Mrs. Holt finds out you were the one supplying her underage daughter with alcohol, I want nothing to do with whatever she does next.” Lance and Keith both snapped their heads back, seeing Veronica standing in the doorway, face smug and glancing between the two of them as if she just caught two kids trying to sneak a sip of their parent's wine.

“I was definitely not doing that! Mama said she wanted some drinks for the adults at the party.” Lance shoved the bottle behind his back, his ears reddening. Keith couldn’t help but snort at how bad Lance was covering it all.

“So why aren’t you getting the champagne in the fridge?” Veronica rose a brow, a knowing smirk on her.

“We were just about to do that! Right, Keith?” Lance grumbled, shooting a look at Keith. Keith looked torn between the look on Veronica’s face and Lance, so he just threw his hands up in defeat and shook his head, his bangs dipping over his eyes.

“I gotta finish cleaning up Kosmo. I’ll see you outside.” Keith glanced down at Lance through his bangs, his eyes dancing a bit with a look that clearly meant he was leaving Lance to deal with his sister.

“This party is full of traitors.” Lance whispered back at him, glaring as Keith left the room as he gave a side glance at Veronica, who continued smirking at Keith in amusement. Once he had disappeared, Veronica turned back to her little brother, who was standing up and shifting the weight of the bottle in his hands.

“He’s cute.” She mumbled, watching in joy as Lance’s entire face flushed red.

“Just help me with the alcohol,” Lance grumbled, shoving past her very annoying-looking face of delight. He was over these comments she always made about Keith. Her crush on him was getting out of hand, and she always seemed to love to rile Lance up about it, which he obviously hated. Because really?

Keith

of all people??? He heard enough about him from his own twin sister, who had gotten one look at him when they came back to Earth and immediately decided she was gonna find a way to marry him, which Lance found to be the most despicable thing. But she kept her mushy feelings about how cute she thought he was to herself, while Veronica was more vocal about commenting about him. How his hair looked. How cool he seemed. How cute he looked.

Lance reacted the same way every time. Annoyed sighs, obvious grumbles, and long tangents of how he would be an awful guy to date to shut her and the idea up. It never worked.

Lance came bounding over to Pidge, throwing an arm around her shoulder and almost making her fall from the weight of it. She was standing off the patio in the backyard, away from the parents and in conversation with Hunk, Louis, and Rachel.

“There’s my favorite birthday girl!” Lance grinned, shoving his cheek against hers and throwing her a huge smile.

“You look like you’re scheming something.”

Lance turned to make eye contact with Pidge standing there, arms crossed, with an amused grin on her face.

“Me? Scheming?” Lance placed a hand on his chest, feigning offense. “I am deeply hurt, Pidge. Wounded, even.”

He heard Rachel audibly groan at that as Hunk let out a sigh of endearment, already sensing something was about to happen. He knew his best friend too well.

“Right.” Pidge raised an eyebrow. “What are you actually up to?”

Lance smirked, leaning closer. “I was

just

about to suggest a little challenge in your honor. Interested?”

Pidge tilted her head, clearly intrigued but skeptical. “What kind of challenge?”

Lance’s grin widened. “How would you like some birthday booze? Something fancy—something Shiro and your parents

definitely

wouldn’t approve of.”

Pidge snorted. “Please, you’d never pull it off without getting caught.”

“Lance is right, Pidge. Mama would MURDER you if you went against Mrs. Holt’s rules. Remember Shiro’s wedding?” Rachel eyed her twin, crossing her arms. Lance blew through his lips, making a loud noise to show how stupid that was.

“First off, mama LOVES a good drink, and so does this family. Second, she only cares about Pidge drinking because Mrs. Holt doesn’t believe in Pidge underage drinking. Besides, its not my fault this one got too drunk for her own good at the wedding.”

“Hey, I say let the gal drink!” Louis shouldered Pidge, but Rachel slapped him on the side of his head.

“Says the guy whose already 50 grams high.”

“100 now.”

Pidge snorted. “I give you five minutes before my mom spots you sneaking tequila from the table over there.” Pidge motioned to the adult table that had several bottles of champagne that Lance and Veronica had brought out for them, but one sole bottle of tequila in the middle sat practically shining for them.

“That’s where you’re wrong, mi amiga.” Lance pointed a finger at her triumphantly. “I have...

a secret weapon.

”

Just then, as if summoned, Keith appeared from inside the house, Kosmo padding along behind him, groomed and clean like new. He glanced at the two of them with mild suspicion, but Lance saw his opportunity and seized it.

He whistled over to him, nudging Hunk and Pidge to mimic him and call him over. Pidge happily did it, entertained with the entire scheme, and Rachel took over the role, waving him down and calling his name. Keith crept over carefully, eyeing the wild looks on all of them.

“Keith!” Lance called, throwing an arm around his friend’s shoulder before Keith could escape. “Just the man I was looking for.”

Keith gave him a wary look. “Why does this feel like trouble?”

“Because it absolutely is,” Pidge said flatly, crossing her arms with a smirk.

Lance ignored her and grinned at Keith. “How would you like to assist me in a totally harmless, incredibly necessary mission to procure our dear Pidge some birthday booze?”

Keith blinked. “You’re still on this. With Shiro over there too.”

“Yep!” Lance clapped him on the back. “Come on, buddy. For old times’ sake. We’ve pulled off crazier stuff than this.”

Keith opened his mouth to protest, but Pidge gave him a sly look. Keith turned to look to her to be saved but she just returned back an evil smile.

“Honestly, Keith? I kind of want to see if you two can actually pull this off. Consider it a personal birthday gift.”

Keith’s eyes narrowed slightly, as if he was calculating the odds of success versus how much trouble Lance was about to get them into. Eventually, he sighed. “Fine. But if we get caught, this was

your

idea.”

Lance grinned, practically vibrating with excitement. “That’s the spirit! Now, let’s be stealthy, coordinated, and—”

“—not get caught by Mrs. Holt,” Keith cut in.

“Exactly!” Lance gave him a thumbs-up, the silent agreement passing between the two of them at the acknowledgment of how terrifying that woman could be. “Let’s do this.”

The plan was deceptively simple: Lance would create a distraction near the drink table, giving Keith a window to snag a bottle of something fancy without drawing attention. Easy. They’d fought intergalactic warlords—how hard could it be to swipe some tequila from a birthday party?

Lance stationed himself near the crowd, scanning for potential hazards. Shiro was busy telling a long-winded story to Coran and Matt, Mrs. Holt was deep in conversation with his own mother about space-time theories, and Pidge’s dad was fiddling with the grill to reheat some leftovers. The coast was clear.

“Alright,” Lance whispered to Keith, who stood beside him with his arms crossed, looking skeptical, his face a perfect pout that Lance had gotten used to. “On my signal, you grab the bottle. Got it?”

Keith gave him a flat look. “This is a dumb idea.”

“And yet,” Lance whispered back with a grin, “here you are.”

Keith rolled his eyes but didn’t argue, his face twitching to fight a smile.

“Okay,” Lance muttered, shifting into position. “Three... two... one...

Go!

”

With that, Lance sprang into action, bumping into the group of partygoers and launching into an exaggerated apology. He faked a trip and landed right in between his mom and Colleen, gripping at the table to catch his fall.

“Oh man, since when was there a step there?” Lance flailed dramatically, turning to point at the step to get to the patio that has been there his entire life.

The group laughed at him, mildly confused.

“Too much champagne already?” Matt looked up from his own half-finished glass, his face blushing softly from it. Lance saw from the corner of his eye Keith seemingly slip around the table, blending in and quiet, as if that would make him a shadow to the party in contrast to how loud and bubbly everyone was. At this angle, the entire table was turned to Lance, leaving Shiro, Matt, and Coran’s back to Keith.

“I haven’t even gotten to the champagne yet! Here at Casa de Mcclain, guests drink first. And might I say I will happily get anything else if you need anything, Mrs. Holt.” Lance flashed Colleen his award-winning brilliant smile, upping his charm tenfold and did his best to ignore the way Keith crept to the table, smoothly swiping the bottle of tequila at the end and away from people’s attention. Keith grabbed it with a swift, practiced motion, tucking it under his jacket and backing away as if disappearing into the atmosphere in his silence.

“Well, we are good on the champagne. But I’d like to thank you, Lance. For helping put all this together. Your mom and Matt told me how much you did for Katie. It means a lot that someone like you is such good friends with her. She found an amazing home with you all in the time she was gone.” Colleen’s serious tone brought Lance’s performance down a bit, bringing his attention back to her. She smiled warmly up at him, her normally strict and intense demeanor soft. She did look grateful for him, and the small pang of guilt for going behind her back flickered in him, but he pushed it down at the thought of seeing Pidge’s face after this successful scheme.

“It was nothing. Just wait until she’s 21! You’re not gonna want to thank me after that one.” Lance chuckled, and he had to pretend to ignore the look of a panicked mom as Mrs. Mcclain did a swift eye twitch at her son, as if willing him to shut up.

“Hey, I’d like to think I can throw a party for my own sister when she’s legal.” Matt snorted from across the table, which thankfully distracted Colleen from reacting to him.

“Sure, says the guy who had to be hall captain of our dormitory and make sure we were all in our assigned rooms at check-in time.” Shiro crossed his arms and leaned back, throwing a cheeky look at Matt. Matt visibly reddened, avoiding eye contact with Shiro.

“That was back then! Before I went to space and became a cool space bandit! Things are different now!”

“Cool and you in the same sentence is crazy work and if Pidge heard that she would clock you.” Lance snorted over to Matt. He had grown to a familiar teasing brother relationship with Matt thankfully. Upon getting introduced to him, he learned he was all the best parts of Pidge, and all the dorky nerd side of the Galaxy Garrison.

His mother swatted Lance with her slipper, cursing him out in spanish to be nice as he slipped away, running back across the yard to Pidge to find Keith slipping the bottle out from under his jacket to show off proudly to her.

“I can’t believe you dorks pulled that off.” Lance heard the end of Pidge’s tease, her face clearly impressed.

“And what makes you think we wouldn’t?” Lance threw an arm around Keith’s shoulder, glaring down at her and sticking a hand on his hip. This felt familiar, and he tried to ignore the way Keith momentarily froze under him before leaning slightly into Lance. This was normal. This was right. The way Pidge was rolling her eyes at the ridiculousness of it all but smiling at him with surprise and faint pride. Hunk, nervously chattering about at how they can’t be caught pouring the drink and using his body as a guard as Pidge knelt on her knee to take the shot as Lance poured. Rachel and Louis silently chanted as they all took turns in pouring the shots into each other’s mouths. Keith’s eyes meeting Lance, the same dangerous glint of something passing between the two, bringing back that fire inside Lance that he felt like he was missing. The empty feeling of being on his family’s farm, of the mundane, simple life, the restlessness. All it took was one stupid idea and a look from Keith, and he got to taste momentarily what it was like to feel things again. To be alive.

Lance had already begun to dread the end of the night and go back to what his life used to consist of without all of them here.

The party was winding down, the glow of the string lights outside hung over the patio dimming as guests filtered out into the night. Marco and Camilla had made their goodbyes, bringing their kids out of the house who had passed out inside from all the excitement and exhaustion.

The Holtz had left, growing tired and over-socialized, but not before Matt promised he would take Pidge home at the end of the night, allowing Pidge to get away with drinking more and staying later with her friends.

Coran had driven off too, needing to get back to New Altea and assume the needs of his planet he was single-handedly leading, but not before giving Pidge a mighty birthday hug and kiss to the cheek.

Lance’s own parents had retired inside, making Lance promise it was not going to become an all night rager and to NOT drink their alcohol supply away. Lance was then pinched by his mother, knowing that Lance had snuck secret shots to everyone. Lance was thankful his mother ushered his siblings inside, giving him and his friends privacy, but not without Rachel whining and throwing a fit.

Pidge was still laughing with Hunk and Keith at the tables, Kosmo curled up at their feet, his tail thumping every now and then. It was just the Paladins now, all liquor-warmed and happy to be in each other’s presence.

Now, the quiet hum of the party’s aftermath surrounded him, and Lance lingered by the edge of the patio, watching the distant stars twinkle faintly overhead and his gaze lazily drifting over the scene of his friends drunkenly snickering to each other. He had a half-empty cup of a mixed drink in one hand, and the ice melted long. His other hand was stuffed deep into his pocket, and he toed at the grass absently, trying not to feel as out of place as he did. Its not like he had meant to feel like this, the emptiness always lingering. He hated it, wanting to slap himself across the face and pull himself back to his friends. He never got to see them, and this is how he was ending the night? Feeling sorry for himself?

God, he really had gotten pathetic.

The sound of approaching footsteps pulled him from his thoughts. Lance glanced to the side, expecting Pidge or Hunk, but instead, he saw Shiro making his way toward him.

“Hey,” Shiro greeted, his voice soft but carrying that unmistakable weight of someone who noticed more than most people gave him credit for. “Mind some company?”

Lance forced a grin, the kind he’d perfected over the years. “For you? Always. Come on, take a seat in the VIP section.” He gestured dramatically to the patch of grass beside him. “Best view in the house.”

Shiro chuckled, sliding up to stand besides him. For a moment, they stood in companionable silence, the cool breeze tugging lightly at their clothes as they both watched as Pidge snorted juice out of her nose at something Hunk had said, Hunk slamming his fists on the table top and laughing just as hard as Keith hid his face with his hands.

Lance kept his eyes on the stars, pretending everything was fine. But he could feel Shiro’s gaze on him—steady, knowing. It wasn’t like the others. Shiro didn’t buy into Lance’s act, not even for a second. He never had.

“You okay?” Shiro asked, quiet and direct.

Lance laughed, but it came out too quickly, too forced. “What? Me? Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be? I mean, Pidge had a great time, no major disasters—well, except for the fact Pidge is absolutely sloshed right now.” He gave a lopsided grin. “But, you know,

that’s

just standard Mcclain party behavior.”

Shiro didn’t laugh. He just waited, patient and steady, like he always did when he knew someone was holding back.

Lance’s grin faltered. He fidgeted with the plastic cup in his hand, spinning it slowly between his fingers. “Really, Shiro. I’m good. Life on the farm’s... peaceful.” He forced the word out like it was supposed to mean something. “It’s quiet. I’m with my family. That’s... what matters, right?”

Shiro’s brow furrowed slightly, but he didn’t interrupt.

“And I mean... I should be happy,” Lance continued, his voice softening as if saying it out loud might make it true. “I

am

happy. Kind of. I mean, it’s not like there’s anything wrong, you know? I’ve got everything I wanted. I get to help my mom and my siblings. I’m back home where I belong.”

He trailed off, the words hanging in the air between them, weighty and hollow. Shiro didn’t press him, but his gaze remained steady, giving Lance the space to fill the silence however he needed to.

Lance exhaled slowly, the mask he’d been holding up all night starting to crack. “But...” He hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck as if he could physically smooth out the knot of emotions tangled inside him. “It’s just... It’s not enough, you know? Like, I wake up every day, and I do the chores, and I help my family, and it’s nice—but it’s like something’s missing.” His gut felt like it was punched, the air around him feeling tight at his confession. It must have been the strength of his drink that finally brought him to confess what he had been harboring, holding in for so long.

His voice dropped to a near whisper, refusing to look at Shiro. “And I feel... guilty. Because this

should

be enough. I shouldn’t be sitting here thinking about... I don’t know, space, or flying, or... more. I should just be happy.”

Shiro nodded slowly, his expression soft with understanding. “But you’re not.”

Lance wanted to hate how dangerously good Shiro was at being quiet and letting Lance ramble. He always let that happen, even back on the ship. If there was a problem that was gnawing at Lance, a simple sit down with Shiro and one knowing look from him got Lance to just spill everything. Call it wanting to impress him. Call it avoiding his disappointment and doing his best to live up to what he wants Shiro to see him as. Call it simple paternal care and guidance that Lance lacked in his detrimental teenage years spent up in space.

Lance swallowed hard, his throat tight. “No. Not really.” He shook his head, as if trying to shake the guilt loose. “And the worst part? Everyone else seems to have figured it out. Keith’s out there, doing whatever he’s doing with the Blade of Marmora. Pidge is back with her family and leading the whole Galaxy Garrison in projects that even Einstein couldn’t comprehend. Hunk’s basically the most world-renowned, no-space-renowned celebrity chef and leading peace treaties through dinners! You got married! ” He stopped, realizing too late he might’ve sounded a little too bitter on something incredible that happened to Shiro. “I mean... everyone’s moving on. They’re figuring it out. And I’m... stuck.”

The last word came out heavier than he intended, and for a moment, the weight of it sat between them like a stone.

Shiro reached out, placing a reassuring hand on Lance’s shoulder. “You’re not stuck, Lance. You’re adjusting. It takes time.”

Lance looked away, his jaw tight. “Yeah, well... It feels like everyone else’s ‘adjustment’ is going a lot smoother than mine.”

Shiro gave a small, understanding smile. “It’s not a competition.”

Lance snorted softly. “Tell that to the guy who spent half his life trying to prove he was better than Keith.”

Shiro’s smile widened slightly, but he didn’t pull away. “Lance, it’s okay to feel like this. You went from saving the universe to... farming. That’s a big shift. It’s only natural that you’re feeling restless.”

“But the way you said that…farming…its not supposed to be a punishment!”

“I didn’t mean it like that. Do you see it as a punishment?”

Lance hesitated, as if admitting the next part would make it too real. “I just... I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now. I thought coming back home would make everything clear, but... it hasn’t.”

Shiro gave his shoulder a small squeeze. “You don’t have to have it all figured out right now. And you don’t have to force yourself to feel happy if you’re not.”

Lance’s throat tightened again, but this time, it wasn’t from guilt—it was from relief. Not the life-changing relief he thought would help save him from this loneliness and dread, but the sort of relief that softly settled over him, as if alleviating the street even for a moment. Because Shiro heard him. Listened to him. Didn’t judge the fear and guilt and word vomit he stumbled out. To anyone else, Lance would have been terrified to say this. Pidge would have told him to come work for the Garrison, but Lance didn’t feel smart enough to do that. Accomplished and worthy of that. Hunk would have offered to drop everything and come back to Earth and work from here, and Lance couldn’t have that. He didn’t want to burden anyone with what he was feeling, because they already went through him processing Allura’s death a year ago. They saw how broken he was back then. They had to sit and listen to him and comfort him, be on watch in case he broke. And Lance refused to do that to his friends again. So for now, having to learn with being ok at the farm had to be enough. For his friends sake.

“Thanks, Shiro,” he whispered.

Lance sat quietly beside Shiro, the knot in his chest loosening a little. It wasn’t gone, but at least he didn’t feel like he was suffocating under it anymore. The stars twinkled faintly overhead, and for a moment, the stillness of the night didn’t feel quite so heavy. More laughter from their friends brought Lance back to the moment, his gaze fixating on the way Matt was shoving snacks into a queasy-looking Pidge’s face.

Shiro gave Lance’s shoulder one more squeeze before leaning back, the ghost of a smile on his lips. “You know,” he said casually, “there’s always the option of... trying something new.”

Lance glanced over, raising an eyebrow. “What do you mean? Do you think I should start a new career or something? Maybe open up a milkshake stand in town? Kaltenecker and I could finally take our drinks local!”

Shiro chuckled softly. “Not exactly.” He tilted his head, as if considering his next words carefully. He carried with himself a regal sort of broadness, speaking always with intent and almost never tripping over his words or taking back what he meant. Lance always wished he was able to speak the way Shiro did, so confident and meaningful.

“I just mean... I know how Pidge has brought up working at the Garrison and I know you keep turning her down. It’s ok if you aren’t ready to work there, even though you would make an excellent professor in my opinion.”

“What are you trying to say…” Lance squinted at him, pushing away that idea.

“Well, the Blade of Marmora is always looking for people. They do important work. And Keith... well, from what I hear, he could use some company now and then.”

Lance blinked, caught off guard. “Keith? Company?” He let out a short laugh. “Keith doesn’t need company. The guy practically invented being a lone wolf.”

Shiro smiled knowingly but didn’t say anything for a moment, letting the idea settle. “People change, Lance. Sometimes, even the ones who act like they don’t need anyone... do.”

Lance gave him a skeptical look. “Okay,

what

exactly are you getting at?”

Shiro shrugged, his expression carefully neutral, but there was a glint in his eyes that gave him away—like he knew something Lance didn’t. And that drove Lance crazy.

“Just... think about it. Keith is out there, doing something meaningful, and maybe—just maybe—it’s the kind of thing that someone like you could be a part of. If you wanted.”

Lance tilted his head, trying to read between the lines. “You’re being weirdly vague, Shiro. Are you saying I should actually... join the Blades or something?”

Shiro’s smile widened slightly, but he kept his tone easy. “All I’m saying is, you are looking for something impactful and meaningful to fill your days, and you’re bored! How bad would it be to take up the offer to do something new and exciting? Keith might not mind having someone he trusts out there with him too.”

Lance opened his mouth to protest, but then something flickered in his mind—an image of Keith’s small, fleeting smile from earlier, and the way it had lit up from Lance’s stunt. How easily they had fallen into joking around again, how he had gone along with Lance, nonquestioning. How much Lance, as much as he would never admit, did in fact miss that stubborn brooding mullet. There was a strange warmth in that memory, one that Lance hadn’t thought too hard about.

Shiro gave Lance a gentle nudge with his shoulder. “You’ve always been good at pushing him in the right direction. Maybe it’s time you see where he could take you.”

Lance blinked, momentarily speechless and actually insane enough where he felt himself considering it. Going back up to space? With KEITH? Back into the world of saving planets, surrounded by stars and aliens, suited up in a fancy armored outfit and weapons and guns and missions and fights and a purpose? But then the fact of Keith came crashing back, and that he was having this conversation with Shiro.

“That would mean actually asking the guy. You think he’d actually say yes to having me around up there again?” Lance meant to say it as a joke, as a light-hearted comment to poke fun at Keith, but once it left his mouth he realized how much it was more of a sincere question. Afraid. Testing first with Shiro to see if it was something that could even work out and that Keith did in fact not mind being around Lance. That seemed like a lucky shot in the dark.

Shiro smirked, but the look on his face was impossible to read—half amusement, half secret. “I guess you’ll just have to find out.”

Lance huffed, finishing the rest of his drink, but he couldn’t stop the grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, glancing up at the stars again. “Guess I’ll think about it.”

But even as he said it, he could feel the wheels turning in his mind. The farm would still be there. His family would always be waiting. But maybe—just maybe—there was something else out there waiting for him too.

A new drive. A new mission. A new reason to be needed.

A loud crack of hands slamming on the table and drinks spilling brought Lance and Shiro to look back at the table a final time. Matt was dragging a kicking Pidge to her feet as she unaffectedly swatted at her brother. Matt waved over at Lance.

“We are gonna get going. Thanks again for all this and hosting!”

Hunk stood up too, attempting to help Matt with the very annoyed and whiny Pidge who didn’t want the patty to end as she kept slurring, “it's my party! It ends when I want it to end!”

“I’m gonna help them get Pidge to the door. Just, think about it, ok?” He gave a tight-lipped smile down to Lance, and the wave of needing to win over his acceptance washed over Lance like a tsunami. This was crazy. Go out to space? He hadn’t done that in over a year and a half. What if he wasn’t even good enough to do that again? A whole new world of uncharted territory.

“I just..I’ll think about it I guess. But I’m not making any promises, or we don’t even know if it's ok with–” Lance felt his words cut short while he walked to the table with Shiro, glancing up in time to make eye contact with a pair of violet-gray eyes already watching him.

“JUST ONE MORE SHOT!” Pidge practically screamed as Matt opened the screen door. Hunk slapped a hand over her mouth, but dropped it with an annoyed groan as Pidge clearly slobbered all over it.

“Pidge, you’re gonna have to be quiet when we go through the house. Lance’s family is asleep and you don’t want your mother called from a noise complaint.” Shiro gently parented her, hiding a smile the best he could. Pidge glared up at Shiro, then back at her brother, who stood in the doorway looking exhausted and over her.

“You bring me through that house to leave and I’ll scream.” She stated. Shiro glanced up at Matt with a small smirk before glancing back down at Pidge, looking at her in amusement.

“Fine. We won’t go through the house then.” At that, he scooped her up and threw her over his shoulders. She was in too much shock and overall entertained at the prospect of being slung over Shiro as he marched around the house to the front with Matt in tow, fist-pumping the sky and cheering that Shiro had managed to tackle the beast.

Hunk chuckled, picking up a ceramic dish that had been cleared from the party.

“I’ll stop by tomorrow to come say goodbye again. This was a good party, Lance.” Hunk flashed him his heart warming smile, but Lance frowned.

“Tomorrow? But, why are you saying goodbye already. You just got back!” Lance already knew the answer before he heard it. Hunk apologetically looked down at his feet, biting his lip and avoiding eye contact.

“You know some of my trips are short and sweet. I gotta get back before this meeting between planet Mondim and planet Laryxz in two days. They are about to sign their peace treaty between the two of them and learn how to do some trading, and I promised to cater and be their middle-ground witness. But we can hang out all day tomorrow!” Hunk quickly rushed the end promise. Lance's stomach twisted again, knowing what Hunk was probably thinking. That he was delicate. That he needed to be watched over. That he was being left to nothing, while his friends all got to go off and be amazing.

And that was enough to help launch him further and further to Shiro’s suggestion.

“I’ll be fine, buddy. Come by tomorrow if you wanna help be part of the clean-up crew! Oooh, and make sure you call me when you get to that dinner, I wanna see what weird dining outfit they put you in this time.” Lance flashed him his charming smile that usually got people off his back, and that must have been enough for Hunk as his worry lines melted away into smile lines, pulling Lance into a final goodbye.

“First thing tomorrow morning I’m coming by. I take up party cleanup very seriously! I promise.”

Hunk turned to Keith, who had stayed sat in his seat, lazily scratching Kosmo’s face who was resting in Keith’s lap.

“I’ll see you soon too, yah?”

This time it was Keith’s turn to look down at the floor, awkwardly coughing and avoiding eye contact.

“I, uh, leave tomorrow morning, actually.”

Lance felt his chest ache the same time Hunk’s shoulders sagged a bit.

“Oh, ok then. Well, I guess I’ll see you in a month or something!” Hunk attempted a good-hearted laugh, but Keith didn’t match the energy. He stayed scratching Kosmo, his brows furrowed in a look that didn’t promise something good.

“I guess. I just have a couple of missions coming up that might take some time so.. You know..”

“Blade stuff. Got it. Well, can’t wait for those follow-up emails weeks later. Don’t disappear too much this time, buddy.” Hunk finally knelt over to give a short side hug to Keith, both in awkward positions from Keith’s seating spot. Keith tensed up a bit, but gave in to Hunk’s love, patting him lightly on the arm before Hunk sprung back up.

“See you tomorrow Lance. Keith, love ya, don’t go too rogue on us!” Hunk waved and gave Kosmo an affectionate pat before leaving through the kitchen.

Just as soon as Hunk disappeared and along with the conversation with him, Lance felt the heaviness of the night suddenly weighing on him. It was finally quiet in the backyard for the first time since the day started, and now Lance couldn’t help but NOT thing about everything. Of space. Of the Blade. Of disappearing and just going off with the mission. He felt his eyes lingering on Keith, not realizing how much he was staring off at the boy sat in front of him until Keith glanced over, eyes catching Lance’s from below. A faint frown tugged at his lips, though not an unfriendly one. Just... curious.

“Lance?” Keith’s voice was low and slightly rough, like he hadn’t used it much tonight. “What’s with the staring?”

Caught now, Lance shuffled awkwardly on his feet. “Uh... hey. Thought I’d... you know, check on you. See if you were, uh... feeling ready to leave tomorrow. You know from all that partying. Such a quick turnaround and all.” He gave a nervous laugh, already feeling like an idiot and immediately regretting every life choice that had led him to this moment.

Keith raised an eyebrow, his lips in a slight pout. “I’m fine.” He took another sip of his beer and then added, “I’m used to these quick turn arounds. It’s not like its affected me before..”

Lance swallowed, forcing a grin even as his nerves buzzed like static under his skin. “Yeah, well, you know me—can’t resist checking in. I’m basically

Lance: Professional Concerned Friend™

.”

Keith didn’t respond right away, just gave him a slow, considering look. The kind of look that always made Lance feel like Keith was somehow seeing straight through him. It made his skin prickle.

“Do you want to sit?” Keith asked finally, shifting a bit to look at the chair next to him. His tone was casual, but there was a strange weight to the question, like he wasn’t quite sure he wanted the answer.

Lance hesitated—just for a second—then forced himself to sit down beside Keith. Their shoulders were almost, but not quite, touching. Lance could smell the faintest hint of alcohol on Keith’s breath, mixing with the earthy scent of pine. He always had such a husky musk on him, heavy and dark, a scent that Lance always smelt in a linger when Keith left a room. A scent that was usually mixed with sweat in the amount of training he took up, or a scent that was always fleeting, like he lingered in passing in hallways he previously walked through, or in rooms where he no longer was. His heart thumped uncomfortably in his chest, and suddenly every muscle in his body felt painfully aware of Keith’s proximity.

The closeness sent an unexpected jolt through him, and Lance’s brain short-circuited for a second.

Get it together, McClain. It’s just Keith. It’s fine. Everything’s fine.

“So,” Keith said after a moment, his voice cutting through the quiet. “What’s really going on?”

Lance blinked. “What do you mean?”

“You’re out here being weird and silent with me, so something must be on your mind.”

“Can’t a guy just be weird and silent?”

“Has silence ever been a thing relating to you?” Keith’s lips quirked up.

“Fair. You got me there.” Lance sighed, but a tick passed before he shot his head back to gawk at Keith.

“WEIRD? You relate weird to me? Now I’m offended. Honestly. There has never been something so awful you could have said to me.”

Keith shot him a look, the kind that said,

Don’t even try to get off track to me.

Lance groaned, running a hand down his face. “Okay, fine. You caught me. I wanted to... talk to you about something.” Lance found himself saying. Wow, his talk with Shiro must have really been that strong. That, mixed the fact that Keith was leaving

tomorrow

and his brain was still a little foggy from the drinks. Liquid courage they always say!

Keith tilted his head slightly, waiting. He looked oddly patient—probably thanks to the beer loosening him up—but there was also something... sharp in his gaze. Like a storm brewing beneath calm waters.

Lance fiddled with his hands, trying to string his thoughts together. “Look, I know this is going to sound kind of... out of nowhere. And it’s totally fine if the answer is no, but... Shiro said something earlier, and it got me thinking.”

Keith stilled his hands from petting Kosmo, freezing slightly, but quickly recovered his nonchalance. “Shiro, huh? What did he say?” There was something unsettling about the way Keith was looking at him, like he was searching for something.

Lance groaned, raking a hand through his hair. “Look, this is... really dumb, and you’re probably gonna think I’m an idiot, but—”

“Probably.” Keith’s voice was dry, but there was a hint of something playful in it, like he was enjoying watching Lance squirm.

And that, huh, was certainly a thought.

“Shiro, well, you know him and his ever comforting ideas!” Lance shifted awkwardly, his knee bouncing below him. “He kind of, uh, suggested that maybe... you could use some company.”

Keith stared at him, as if trying to process the words. “He said... what?”

Lance winced, bracing himself for however Keith was going to react. “Shiro... kind of suggested that maybe... you could use some company. With the whole... Blade thing.”

Keith blinked, his expression flickering from confusion to surprise. “Company?”

Lance scrambled to explain, his words tumbling out too fast. “Not like,

company

company! Just, you know, someone to... help. Not that I’d be great at it or anything. I mean, obviously, you’re good on your own, so this is probably a really stupid idea—”

“You want to come with me?” Keith interrupted again, his voice quieter now, like the question carried more weight than Lance had anticipated.

Lance froze, suddenly hyperaware of how close they were. His knee continued bouncing like crazy under the table, unable to halt, but he felt frozen in the silence between the two of them, watching Keith’s carefully stoic face seem to fail to understand what Lance had said, watching his brows furrow, his jaw clench and unclech, his dark eyes swirling and flicking between Lance’s own eyes, taking his his face, as if waiting for Lance to laugh and say he was joking. Which Lance was damn close to doing.

“Uh... yeah. I mean... if you’d want me to,” Lance mumbled, his throat dry.

Keith didn’t answer right away. He was still staring at Lance, like the words hadn’t fully registered yet. And then his lips parted slightly, as if he were going to say something—only to close them again.

The silence between them was unbearable, thick with awkwardness and something else—something charged and unfamiliar, like static building in the air before a storm.

Lance’s heart pounded in his chest. “But, uh... if you don’t want me around, that’s cool too. I get it. I’m not exactly... Blade of Marmora material.” He laughed awkwardly, the sound brittle and forced. “I’m more like... comic relief. Or like…been there done that don’t need him up in space anymore?”

Keith’s gaze lingered on him, unreadable. His grip on the beer bottle tightened just slightly. “You really think I wouldn’t want you around?” he asked, and there was a strange note in his voice—like he was genuinely surprised by the idea.

Lance blinked, caught off guard. “I mean... yeah? You’ve always been more of a ‘lone wolf’ kind of guy. I figured the last thing you’d want is someone like me tagging along.”

Keith scoffed, shaking his head. “You’re an idiot.”

The words hit Lance like a slap, but not in the way he expected. There was no bite to them—just... exasperation. And something else, something soft and impossible to pin down.

Lance’s breath hitched, his chest tightening with something dangerously close to hope.

“So... that’s not a no?” he asked cautiously.

Keith huffed out a breath, almost a laugh. “No, it’s not a no.”

Lance blinked, stunned. “Wait... seriously?”

Keith tilted his head, giving him a look that was somewhere between amused and annoyed. “Yeah, Lance. Seriously.”

Another moment of silence passed between the two, and Lance was painfully aware of how thick the air felt, how tight his chest felt, and how much he actually kinda wanted to do it. How now, when faced with it, he was surprised he actually wanted this.

The silence between them stretched tight and electric, like a wire pulled taut, just waiting to snap. Keith’s gaze was locked onto Lance’s now, sharp and intense, like he was trying to figure something out—something neither of them could quite name.

Lance shifted uncomfortably, trying to ignore the way his heart was racing in his chest. Nerves.
“So... you wouldn’t mind? If I, you know... tagged along?”

Keith’s lips twitched, giving Lance an amused look before rolling his eyes, leaning back into the chair.

“I think I could get used to it,” Keith murmured, his voice low and edged with something Lance couldn’t quite put a name to. Lance felt himself let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, so he just looked down at Kosmo between them.

“Cool, cool cool cool cool.” Lance fingers strummed the side of the chair, unsure of where to go at this point.

Keith gave him that little half-smirk—just a flicker of it—and said, “You always did make things interesting.”

Lance’s brain went completely offline for a second. “Uh... yeah. That’s... kind of my thing.”

He dared to look back and make eye contact with Keith again and was surprised that he hadn’t shifted away. He was looking back at Lance with a sort of shock, like he almost didn’t fully understand what Lance was trying to do here, but he didn’t question it or reject it either. He was looking at Lance in a way that made Lance’s skin prickle. That was the thing about Keith. Similiar to Shiro, he waited and let Lance talk. Let him get out everything he needed, the word vomit, the unnecessary commentary, and nerves and anxiety. He waited until he was sure Lance was completely done, but never tried to make Lance feel a certain way. Didn’t try to coach him and explain why he was feeling what he was feeling. Most of the time he just let Lance talk, knowing Lance didn’t expect him to have an answer or a solution.

It was nice to have, this understanding.

He scrambled to fill the silence, desperate to break the growing tension. “W-well, uh... when do you head out tomorrow morning? I mean, if you’d... actually want me around.”

Keith’s gaze lingered a moment too long—heavy, expectant, almost like he was daring Lance to say something more. Then he gave a small shrug. “Around noon. I got a small ship to take me back up to the Blades headquarters.”

Lance nodded quickly, trying not to hyperventilate. “Cool. Yeah. I’ll... think about it.”

Keith tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable but somehow

knowing

. “Do that.”

For a second, neither of them moved. The night air buzzed with unspoken things, with tension they weren’t ready to confront—at least not tonight.

Lance stood abruptly, shoving his hands into his pockets before he did something stupid.

“Ok, well, I’m going to make sure they all got to their cars and Pidge isn’t throwing up on the front porch. You can stay and drink as much as you please, but not too much. Don’t wanna be cleaning up after you too.”

Keith chuckled softly, the sound low and warm, and it sent another shiver down Lance’s spine. “No promises.”

But instead of staying, he got up, not without a slight swing to his step. He pouted, his brows dark and furrowing, bunching up his face, his sharp features softening. Lance tried not to snort.

“And where do you think you’re going, Mr. DUI?”

Keith just glared up at Lance through his bangs, his eyes a lot larger than Lance remembered.

“If Shiro left me, I’m gonna kill him.”

Lance snorted out loud and proud, shaking his head and gesturing to his house.

“Come on, mullet. Let’s get you home safe.”

To say Lance didn’t sleep well was an understatement. His mind wouldn’t shut off the moment his head hit his pillow that night, causing him to toss and turn, kick at his blankets, punch and reset his pillows, stretch out his limbs, and stare up at his ceiling, the low glow of the faded glow in the dark stickers he put on his ceiling when he was 8 years old still somehow up there. He was obsessed with the idea of space since he was young, putting up those stickers of stars, moons, ad planets on his ceiling to help him fall asleep at night, hoping one day he would be good enough to get into the pilot program at the Garrison so he could see what a star looked like up close. Safe to say he got his dreams accomplished, in a way more intense way than he could have ever imagined. Now those glow stickers above him seemed to taunt him, the faded out green glow of them seemingly dimmed out like his spark. Was that what he was meant to become, a faded out star that served its time and was way overdue to be taken down and put away for good?

Lance wished his brain could still for a moment the same way his family’s house was still, silent in the night except for an occasional creak as the wood settled around the frames of the household with its age. The storm he felt brewing with the conversations he had with Shiro and Keith were knocking him between sanity and out right ridiculousness.

He turned onto his side again, curling into himself. The bed suddenly felt too big, the sheets too heavy, his thoughts too loud.

What if going with Keith is a mistake? What if he really was out of it?

But another voice whispered back—a dangerous, treacherous thought:

What if it wasn’t? What if it’s exactly what you need?

Shiro’s knowing eyes haunted him when Lance tried to close his own, the look he had given him encouraging him to just take the leap.

And then came the most annoying thought of all:

What if Keith actually wanted me to come?

His heart flipped uncomfortably at the thought.

Could I really leave all this behind? Leave the farm? My family?

The guilt knotted tighter in his chest. He

should

want to stay. He

should

love the farm. But the truth gnawed at him, sharper and sharper:

It’s not enough. It never was.

And Keith... Keith was out there, doing something real. Something that mattered. And Lance couldn’t stop thinking about what it would feel like to stand beside him again, fighting for something bigger.

The thought made his pulse race.

He flipped onto his stomach, punching the pillow like it was to blame for everything.

His nose twitched and the familiar itch that usually came to him deep in the night tickled under his eye lids, and Lance knew that familiar burn. It was always pretty light, and it hadn’t come to him in a while. When he first felt the burning sensation for the first time, it made him want to scrub his skin off. At the feeling of her lingering, remaining, almost like a curse. He refused to look at himself in the mirror, taunted back with his reflection that was slightly changed. Allura had left him with two blue Altean marks under his eyes, only ever glowing on very specific occasions. They glowed dimly when Lance was at his lowest mourning her. They glowed when the Lions flew away and dissapered from his friends a final time. They glowed when Shiro got married.

It took a while for Lance to see it as a comfort, and he realized it was a way for Allura to show she was there. She still cared, and very much did love Lance and wanted to look out for him in the comfort her marks provided to him. He had wished that she loved him a different way, the way he so intensely wanted to love her, but the glow that the marks gave him flooded with a different type of love that he would have initially hated to have from her. He would have wanted the romantic, life changing, movie making love between him and Allura, this romance that he painted up to be dramatic and amazing, just like he had always wanted of himself and his future partner. But instead, he realized the love Allura had for him, felt for him, was different. He could feel it. He felt it in the way the marks sat on him, glowed when he needed the comfort, tingled with a sensation that Lance could only describe as warmth. Genuine care. A weighted blanket of a type of love you want to always give to your best friend, to someone you treasure and hold so dearly, but just shy of truly being IN love. That was the difference between what he felt for her and how she felt for him back. He had been in love, she just loved him.

And he had to learn to love that.

He scrubbed a hand down his face, groaning. “Allura... what would you want me to do?”

But the answer wouldn’t come. All he had were memories—of her smile, her laughter, the warmth in her eyes when she believed in him. But she wasn’t here anymore to help be an overseeing guidance, a north star to look out to for her command and her strength. He felt his cheeks tinge with the buzz she was leaving in him now. It should feel scary when Allura haunted his very face, but he didn’t mind anymore. He needed the companionship, if he was being honest.

Allura had sacrificed herself for all of them to get the chance to live their lives. To lead a world that they saw fit for the future, to be able to have the chance to be normal again. He was living that normal life, planting the Juniberry flowers and helping his family around the farm. So if this was normal, then why did it feel wrong? He was living his life wrong, and with that thought washing over him, he felt the tingle of his marks burn a little harder.

Lance exhaled sharply, slapping his cheeks a bit to acknowledge her, imagining her twisting his ear and giving him a look that meant “

I didn’t die for you to stop living.”

Lance squeezed his eyes shut, willing the thought away. But it stayed. It sat heavy on his chest, impossible to ignore. And the worst part was, he knew—deep down—that Allura would’ve told him to follow his heart. To stop holding himself back, to stop living in the past. But what if his heart was leading him somewhere dangerous? Somewhere he couldn’t come back from?

He exhaled shakily, pulling the blanket over his head like it could block out the world.

Keith’s voice echoed in his mind again, quiet and sincere:

“I think I could get used to it.”

And that was the problem, wasn’t it? Lance could get used to it too.

Maybe I already have.

Lance peaked over to see his clock next to him, the faint glow of the digital time taunting his torment.

3:18am.

With a frustrated groan, Lance dragged the blanket back over his head, muttering to himself. “If I die of sleep deprivation, it’s Keith’s fault.”

Of course Keith was leaving so soon. Of course he was going to have to make a crazy life altering decision in a mere few hours. All of it felt overwhelming and scary and dangerous and stupid, but it also felt right.

Like this was the first right decision he made since finishing the war and returning back to Earth.

The house was a mess, just as Lance had expected. There were party streamers and dead balloons littering the living room, footsteps of smerared food and bits of cake around the kitchen, empty cups and plates and leftovers on every surface where there was a table to rest it on. Hunk had arrived early just as promised, insisting to help out, and earning everyone’s favorite points from Mrs. Mcclain. None of his siblings had opted to help, claiming it was Lance’s party, so he had to reap the consequences. Plus it was 8am on a Saturday morning, it was meant to be a sleeping hour. So Lance picked through trash with the help of Hunk and his mother, who always was one to clean early in the morning and didn’t seem to be bothered. Her household was one that was always filled with love, laughter, and mainly parties, having raised 5 children herself, including her own grandhchildren, birthday parties for partners, celebrations and special events, and every single holiday. Safe to say she was used to the chaos of a messy morning after.

The three of them cleaned in comfortable silence, taking parts of the house and smoothly creating a system. Lance didn’t mind not being the chattiest in the morning. He still wrestled with the insomnia that kept him up last night, and now with two of the most important people in his life in the same space, Lance knew he was going to have to say something.

And his stomach twisted and fell into the chasm of the decision he believed he found himself in, but he wasn’t 100% sure yet. It just, felt wrong slightly.

“Who do we think stuck the half of their sandwich into the punch bowl? Pidge when she was fucked up, or one of your siblings?” Hunk held up the half drained bowl, making a face at a very squishy and soaked sandwich clumped at the bottom and water logged. Lance snorted, shoving some paper plates into a trash bag.

“It was definitely NOT a Mcclain, we have been too traumazited by the way abuela would beat our asses if we as so much stuck a piece of gum under a shoe or a bench and not throwing it away immediately. My bet is on Coran.”

“Coran would never do something as lowly like this. That’s a dignified Altean!”

Lance laughed despite himself, grabbing a rag and wiping the sticky rings off the kitchen table when he found some half cut lemons. On it with a sharpie were clear attempts at drawing some faces, one of which resembling Coran with a mustache. Lance knew immediately those were some of Pidge’s famous drawings.

“How does one small person manage to cause such destruction every single time. I mean, this is all just chaos.” Lance held up the lemons, showing off the awful designs as Hunk choked on a snort.

“Dude, you literarlly provided he with anything she could have wanted all night, and gave her the push to be chaotic by making sure her glass was always full. I wouldn’t say Pidge is the one to blame here.”

“Fine, fine, sue me for having a soft spot for a little chaos! Keep the world fun!”

“Yah, you do have a charm for chaos and disasters, like your 8th grade picture day outfit.”

“Those jeans were the trend at the time! I have nothing to be shameful about!”

“Sure, blame it on the trend. Gotta admit, it takes a sort of confidence to wear that outfit, but you made it look good I’ll hand it to ya.” Hunk nudged him, showing he had no actual malice to his teasing.

His mom walked in just then, already tying her apron around her waist, and gave the two of them a bemused look.

“Well, if it isn’t my little cleaning crew,” she said warmly. “When I left you guys last night alone, I don’t remember it being nearly this messy. What did I say about turning it into one of those parties you used to have in high school?”

“Oh, I remember Lance’s famous ragers. He tried so hard to always be the party of the year, but always fell short to the ones that kid Malcom ended up throwing simply because his parents were always out of town and they had an unlocked liquor cabinet,” Hunk joked, dragging a trash bag over to the sink. “We’ll get it all handled, Mrs. McClain, don’t worry.”

She smiled, but her gaze lingered on Lance, and he immediately felt the need to straighten his back out, not realizing he had been slouching and shuffling a little slower than usual, and it wasn’t do to the drinks he had the night before. “You look like you didn’t sleep a wink, mijo.”

Lance hesitated, scrubbing at an invisible spot on the table. “Yeah. Uh... just had a lot on my mind.”

Hunk raised an eyebrow, catching on to Lance’s tone almost immediately. “Oh boy. This sounds like one of those

‘Lance is having an existential crisis’

kind of days.”

Lance shot him a look. “I’m not having an existential crisis.”

“You

literally always

say that right before having one.”

“Wrong.”

“Dude, 6th grade. When we showed up to class that one time and you realized there was a huge math test that you didn’t study for and you just realized when the day started but you didn’t wanna make it a big deal but you actually had a meltdown in the janitors closet.”

“That was one time.”

“Or how about when you tripped and fell in front of Stacy when we were 14 and spilled some soda on her brand new shoes and she referred to you as 7-up Lance the rest of the school year and you couldn’t even as her to the school dance without you thinking she would only laugh and pity you.”

“Ok, that existential crisis was literally called for and you know it.”

“What’s on your mind, mi carino. You look so sunken in.” Lance’s mother’s voice broke through Lance and Hunk, and the sheer amount of love and worry she had almost broke his own heart. How could he be possibly thinking of leaving her, of making her worry even more? He was an awful son, that’s why.

“It’s stupid, really. I was just thinking about something Shiro said last night. And I did not agree to it or anything. But he may have mentioned how Keith might want some help. You know, like, with the Blades and everything, and I think he’s just worried about him you know like a protective older brother because he never sees Keith and doesn’t think he’s being safe or he just wants someone out there and–” Lance rushed on, fumbling over his own words and avoiding eye contact with anyone.

“Wait, Shiro wants you to join Keith? Like, work for the blades and everything?” Hunk stopped Lance’s tangent, eyeing him slowly. Lance felt his gaze flicker from Hunk’s shocked expression to his mother’s softened gaze, like she was waiting for him to finish his thoughts. Lance took a sharp breath and shrugged, trying to show nonchalance.

“I mean, it sounds kimda cool, yknow? And I asked Keith and he was open to having some help and someones gotta keep that guy in check and I just think it could be something to do, but also I am tottatlly fine with not doing that. I mean, I have my life here on the farm. With you, and the family. I got chores, and theres that squeaky door hinge in the barn that hasn’t been fixed yet.” Lance looked at his mom, expecting her face to be nothing but hurt and betrayal. Something to make him regret even speaking that, but instead, her eyes were widened, her gaze softened, and looking at him with a sort of tucked away expression that people had been giving Lance a lot lately. Like they knew something and didn’t want to tell him.

“I’m gonna stay, mama, I promise. It was just something stupid that was talked about last night and it was in my head because it was the last thing we talked about and–”

“You should go.”

Lance whipped around to stare at his mom, his tangent cutting and his throat drying up at the whirlwind he was experiencing. His mother simply peeked sideways at him as she began doing the dishes, running the plates under a stream from the faucet and content with her work.

“I just said I don’t have to go. I swear, it was just sort of a spur of the moment thing that was happening.” Lance fiddled with his shirt, but his mom turned to give him a pointed look, as if she was seizing up his entire being, reading right through the cracks.

“I haven’t seen you this happy in a long time, the way you were last night. You had a light in your eyes again, one that was there when you were off in space, being a Paladin. You think I don’t notice what you look like here, how you act, what you’re feeling? I’m your mother, Lance. I birthed you.” Mrs. Mcclain reached for a hand towel, humming along as Lance felt himself shattering a bit.

Lance exhaled sharply, feeling the weight of his own restlessness pressing down on him. “I thought this would fix everything,” he muttered. “I thought if I came back and stayed with the family, it would all... make sense again. But it hasn’t.”

“You have been gone.” Hunk finally interjected from his spot against the counter, a hand propping his head up and looking at Lance with the same reading look. Lance blinked at him in confusion back.

“Like, when I call you. Your smile doesn’t exactly reach your eyes. Like, I can tell your happy for me and everything, but your tone is different. You aren’t as lively, I guess? But its not like something was wrong with you, like, I get you were adjusting to everything. I guess it was just, a different Lance then I had growing up? I wrote it off as we were just grown now.” Hunk played with the tiles on the counter, a little nervous to meet Lance’s eyes. Lance felt his chest heave, the weight on his shoulders sagging him a little more. Had he really been that noticeably different?

“So, you’re both saying I should do it. Do the whole go into space again and pretend to be a hero to chase some old feeling I used to have?” Lance scoffed, shoving his hands in his pockets. Hunk made a sour face at him, about to interject, but his mother just turned to gze at him, a stern expression on her face.

“You lost your spark, mijo. This isn’t about making the family happy or pretending to be something you’re not. Sometimes, things don’t fit in your life the way you wanted it to, or the way you expected it to. Here, on the farm, it is clearly not what you are meant to be doing right now, and thats ok. I want you to be happy, and we aren’t going anywhere here anyway. You’re 22 years old, mi amor. You have the ability to make your own decisions for good this time.”

Lance sucked in a breath, and let out what felt like years of something pent up. Tough love. His mom always believed in it, smacking him and his siblings on the head when they did something dumb or audubily making it known when they made the wrong decision. Own up to your mistakes. Be strong in what you want and believe in. It made him have the morals he had today, and made him love so strongly and proudly because of the way his mother loved. Unashamed and on her sleeve. Yah, he wasn’t that rowdy and wide eyed 18 year old who got blasted up into space on accident. He was grown now, more mature. But then again, the start of your 20s should be when you start a life changing journey, and they just happened to ge a jumpstart on theirs.

Lance swallowed hard, guilt still gnawing at him. “But... what if I mess it all up? What if Keith doesn’t even want me there?”

Hunk stepped in closer, slinging an arm around Lance’s shoulders, his voice softer now. “Listen, buddy. If there’s one thing I know? It’s that Keith may act like a grumpy lone wolf, but he

likes

having people he can trust. And... you’re one of those people, even if he’s too awkward to say it.”

Lance blinked, surprised by the weight behind Hunk’s words. “You really think so?”

Hunk grinned, the same big, warm smile Lance had known since they were kids. “Dude, you’re one of the few people Keith can actually stand whose loud. He’d never admit it out loud, but he trusts you more than most people. And honestly? I think you’d be good out there. Space suits you.”

Lance’s chest tightened again, but this time it wasn’t guilt—it was something lighter. Hope, maybe.

His mom smiled softly, brushing his hair back the way she used to when he was a kid. “Do what makes you happy, Lance. And if that means going back into space, we’ll be here whenever you need us.”

Lance felt himself choke up, wanting to push down the emotions bubbling under his eyes. Curse the Mcclains for being sappy and emotional.

“Ok, I think I’ll do it then.” Lance let his mother embrace him and he held her strongly, feeling himself melt into her arms like he did when he was a little boy. Suddenly, any sort of anxiety and guilt washed away. The incredible power of a mother and her loving touch.

Hunk cleared his throat, tapping Lance’s shoulder. “Okay, my turn.”

Lance laughed, turning to pull Hunk into the hug, squeezing him tightly. “What would I do without you, big guy?”

Hunk chuckled, patting Lance’s back. “Crash and burn. Obviously.”

They dropped the hug, looking around the very messy room still.

“So, you gonna tell Keith?” Hunk cleared his throat. Lance felt himself nod. There was no denying the warmth spreading through his chest. For the first time in a long while, things didn’t feel so heavy.

He didn’t know what the future held, but he knew one thing: With his family behind him, and Hunk at his side, he could handle whatever came next.

Even Keith.

Hunk was helping Lance throw together an emergency

I am about to leave Earth for god knows how long

suitcase and bags, tossing clothes from inside Lance’s closet onto his bed and pulling out extra things that Lance definitely didn’t need to be putting into a bag.

“But I need my 12 step skincare routine. How else do you expect me to maintain my natural youthful glow?” Lance groaned, refusing to let go of his serums that Hunk had told him 100% did not need to be brought into space.

“You managed to do three years without all of this. Just bring what you used in space the first time.” Hunk pulled out a thick sweater, looking it over before finally nodding and tossing it onto the bed to be packed. Lance let out another dramatic groan, returning back to his bathroom.

“You are forgetting that I grew my collection of serums, lotions, and face washes every time we stopped at a space mall of a trading swap. By the time we left the Castle I had a mighty collection of alien space creams and I have that to thank for my amazing good looks.” Lance stashed his final big 5 washes and serums in a plastic bag and sealed it closed, shoving it into his backpack.

“I just really doubt the Blade of Marmora are gonna care if you didn’t gua sha your face every morning. They wear those scary looking masks anyway. Oooh, does that mean you’re gonna have to wear that suit too.” Hunk excitedly bounced out of the closet, a new look of interest on his face. Lance froze his packing, not realizing the extent of what this was all meaning.

“Oh, I haen’t really thought that far ahead, I guess.” Lance felt a slight frown. Sure, he battled with the idea of actually joining the Blades, but with all his worrying he didn’t stop to think about the fact he would actually be wearing the outfit. The dark black and purple suit that Keith would wear, the glowing face mask with the hood that looked so stealthy and contrasted so darkly with their Paladin suit. He never in a million years envisioned himself wearing something like that, but now it was a very high possibility he would. Weird.

“All I’m asking for is a family picture with Keith and Krolia and the rest of the Blades. Oh man, you are gonna be teammates with Ezor and Zethrid. How weird is that gonna be.” Hunk giggled, folding a pair of jeans. Lance scrunched his nose at the thought.

“Ok yah, I definitely did not think far ahead into what this actually entails after all.”

The two sat for a moment, both thinking up their own versions of the world Lance was about to enter, the silence sitting comfortable between the two. Hunk finally cleared his throat, drawing Lance’s attention back to him.

“Just don’t fall off the face of the world like Keith does, huh? Maybe you can finally see why he doesn’t message as much. If I don’t hear anything from you I’ll know its actually not Keith’s fault and you just have bad service up there. I want postcards from every place you visit, I’m serious.” Hunk gave him a pointed look, but a smile danced on his cheeks. Lance let out a breath he was holding, putting on a comforting smile to push down the anxiety already creeping to the sufrace.

“By the time I come back, these walls are gonna be filled with new memorabilia of freed planets, attractions, and pictures I took with alien babes when they become star struck that Mr. Blue Paladin joined the Blades.” Lance winked at him to soothe out his own stress. Hunk rolled his eyes affectionately.

“Oh right. I forgot that they made those posters of us that sold around the galaxies. I still can’t believe our faces make profit. Something feels wrong about that, like, we were heroes and now we could be hung on some teen alien’s bedroom like a pop star.”

“Hey, I’m not complaining there.”

They both chuckled as they continued packing when there was a door bell ring that echoed through the house. Lance and Hunk both snapped their eyes up, widened and a little thrown off by how late it was.

“Come in come in! I’ll go get him.” Lance heard his mother’s voice muffled through the floor before he heard the steps of the floorboards.

“HUNK GO STALL HIM!” Lance sprung off his bed, pulling at Hunk to get up and out of his room. Hunk tripped on his own feet, colliding with the bedroom door.

“But, don’t you think you should–”

“NOW HUNK.” Lance slammed the door shut, feeling a twinge of guilt at how rudely he had shoved his best friend out, but this was now a Type A packing emergency. Lance felt like a tornado rushing around the room, shoving the last of the clothes Hunk had picked out for him and a little more that Hunk had rejected, and had to practically sit on his suitcase to make it close. He finished up his hair products, face cleansers, and couple pictures of his family and tossed them into his backpack. He did one final swoop before his eyes fell on a crate in the corner of his room, filled with tapes he shared between his siblings. His old Walkman sat at the top of the crate, with dozens of different music tapes all scattered below it.

One part of him told him no, the practical packing Hunk side of him to say he did not need to bring his music with him, that it was a waste of space. Too clunky. But the other part of him, the screaming, clingy part of him, felt himself reach down and grab the walkman and shove it into his backpack. He felt his brain go on autopilot as he carded through the tapes, glancing at the writing scribbled as labels for each tape and what consisted of it, making sure to specifically bring the recording he had of the ocean waves. He remembered what it felt like to miss the sound, to want to be back on Earth and hear the ocean and rain and water, something so familiar to his world growing up. It’s not like he was gonna disappear in space for another three years. He would definetly be back in a month, tops. But still, he found himself adding that tape to his stash. He eyed one more tape that was Veronica’s, noticing her writing and the little sketches she had made on it to indicate it was hers. He took one quick look at the mix and threw it in his bag.

Lance almost tripped down the stairs with his suitcase as he lugged it, a lot more heavy than he expected. His backpack hung low on his back, also just as heavy, and he nearly crashed all the way down before Hunk jumped in and took his suitcase for him, alleviating his pain getting down the stairs.

“You have everything you need?” Mrs. Mcclain asked from the front door, turning away from the outdoors. Lance nodded, fearing what would happen if he used his voice.

“I can’t believe my best friend is gonna be an official Blade! I’m so proud of you.” Hunk sniffled, pushing his suitcase out the door past his mother, “oh, other than you of course. The OG Mr. Blades!”

Lance heard a low rumble of a chuckle, and Hunk moved enough out of the doorway to find Keith waiting for him outside. He was dressed in his skinny black jeans and combat boots, adoring a brown leather jacket that Lance had never seen before. He had goggles on his head, pushing his wild hair back and out of his face. He had his bike gloves tucked into his belt, and that same intense, unreadable expression on his face. His hair, a little longer now, caught the sunlight as he scanned the driveway and locked eyes with Lance. Kosmo patted around the bike, circling in anticipation for the journey.

“So I didn’t scare you off?” Keith asked, his words a little breathy, a little awkward. Lance snorted, puffing his chest out.

“Please, you think you can scare me? I know you too well, mullet. Nothings scary about you anymore. Except maybe your mom. Oh god is your mom going to be ok with me joining? Maybe I should have had an official meeting with the Blade members over like, a call or something? Are you sure this is fine.” Lance felt himself growing small again, the anxiety creeping back in like a dark cloud. Keith’s brows furrowed over his forehead, his eyes snapping in to Lance’s as if they were on emergency alert.

“I told you, the Blades are always looking for new members. They already know who you are anyway, its not like you are a complete stranger. You already have their respect, being a member of Voltron and everything.” Keith’s voice was smooth, gravely, like an anchor that suddenly yanked Lance’s swirling mind back down to shore.

“See, you got nothing to worry about. Your resume is stacked!” Hunk shouldered him, and Lance couldn’t help the lump in his throat that became difficult to swallow.

His mom, who had been standing quietly on the porch, stepped down and placed her hands on his shoulders. "Lance, mi amor, you’ve been worrying about what could go wrong for too long. Sometimes, you just have to leap and trust that you’ll land on your feet.” Lance hadn’t realized how badly he needed that.

Hunk leaned in a bit, lowering his voice into Lance’s ear, “and if you don’t land on your feet, Keith will be there to catch you and help you up anyways.”

Lance immediately felt his entire body go red for no reason at all as he shoved Hunk, quickly glancing at his mom and Keith to see if they heard. His mother then reached over and squeezed his cheek as she took out her phone to snap a picture of him. Lance grumbled in embarassment, feeling the heat seep down his neck.

“Ok, going now!” Lance heaved his suitcase down the porch and plopping it down aggressively right at Keith’s feet. Keith looked down at his, amusement in his eyes as he took in the sheer size and weight of Lance’s luggage.

“That everything?” He tilted his head up to look back at Lance.

He could feel his mom and Hunk watching, and it made everything feel heavier, more real.

Lance nodded, swallowing hard. “Yeah. Just the essentials. You know me, packing light always.”

Keith tilted his head back to his motorcycle that was parked at the edge of the driveway. “You ready?”

Ready? No. Not even a little.

But Lance forced himself to grip his bag tighter, willing himself to speak. “Yeah. I’m ready.”

Before he could walk toward the bike, Hunk pulled him into a tight, bone-crushing hug. “Okay, you listen to me, McClain,” Hunk said, voice suddenly thick with emotion. “If you don’t call at least once a week, I

will

find a way to track you down.”

Lance laughed, hugging him back just as tightly. “Yeah, yeah. You’d probably have a beacon sewn into my jacket somewhere.”

Hunk sniffed, grinning through the emotion. “Damn right.”

When they pulled apart, Lance turned to his mom, who was waiting with open arms. She wrapped him in a warm embrace, her hands cupping the back of his head like she did when he was little. “No matter where you go, mijo, we’re always here. Don’t ever forget that.”

Lance closed his eyes, letting the moment anchor him. “I won’t, Ma. I promise.” It was still too early for any of his siblings to be awake, and honestly, that was probably for the better. He couldn’t imagine going down the line and saying his goodbyes, especially giving them an explanation. He had jostled down a quick letter that his mother was gonna read them later. It was better this way.

When she pulled back, her eyes shimmered, but she smiled brightly. “And tell Keith—he better take care of you, or he’ll have me to answer to.”

Lance felt his face heat up, turning back to see Keith leaning against his bike, attaching Lance’s suitcase to the back of it with a strap. “Uh... noted.”

His feet felt heavy as he approached Keith, each step bringing him closer to the unknown.

Keith looked at him then—

really

looked at him, like he was trying to read the emotions that Lance was working so hard to keep hidden. There was something unspoken in Keith’s gaze, something warm and complicated that made Lance’s chest ache in ways he wasn’t ready to unpack.

“You sure about this?” Keith asked quietly, his voice softer than Lance expected.

Lance hesitated, meeting Keith’s gaze head-on. “Not really,” he admitted, the words slipping out before he could stop them. “But I think I’d regret it if I didn’t try.”

Keith’s stern face softened a crack, letting Lance in. Letting Lance see the soft side of Keith that he usually kept walled up and away, the side that people didn’t always understand. But Lance did, and he forgot what it looked like to witness it after all this time.

“Looks like you already got a bit of yourself back with that answer.” Keith stuck his tongue in his cheek, raising a brow at him as if sizing him up. Lance tried not to squirm at that.

“Ok, whatever. We going or what? I gotta see if this Blade stuff is all what its worked out to be.” Lance huffed, but not before Keith brought down a helmet on top of Lance’s head, slotting it perfectly into place and nearly scaring Lance off his feet.

“Saftey first.” Keith flicked the side of the helmet, letting the sound echo around Lance’s brain as he threw a leg over the bike, settling in, giving Lance a moment to gather himself. Lance took a deep breath, his hands trembling slightly, and slid ongo the seat behind him.

He felt immediately awkward, not knowing where to exactly put his hands, and he hadn’t ridden a motorcycle before. Keith must have sensed his reluctance and his frigid demeanor, so he turned to glance over his shoulder, his goggles pulled over his eyes. He looked ridiculously adorable, or, erm, stupid. Like a nerd.

“This thing goes pretty fast, so you’re gonna want to hold on to something.”

“Pshh, ok. And I’m guessing you aren’t talking about safety bars?” Lance blinked back, but Keith suddenly revved the engine, making the bike roar to life. The sound rumbled and shook at Lance’s core, the tires spinning and kicking up dust around them. Lance yelped, his hands immediately grabbing at Keith’s waist and gripping him tight. He felt the rumble of Keith’s chest as he let out a laugh as he then tore the bike out of the driveway, everything electric and loud. A machine that was a mechanical beast, plowing through whatever was in its way, only tamed by its driver. By Keith.

As Lance dared to glance behind him at the porch, he watched Hunk and his mother waving, their figures becoming distant as the bike flew across the farmland, leaving Lance’s past exactly what it was becoming; a small distant point in the horizon.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I take it someone had a fun time tonight?” Shiro hummed, watching Keith slump down in the passenger seat next to him. They were finally leaving Lance’s house from Pidge’s party, and Keith’s mind was a swirl of everything. Overwhelming, constant chatter, loud noise, vibrant colors, screams and shrieks, and a flow of liquor. Constant heat, constant questions, constant touches and looks. It was definitely a lot to be thrown into again, a change of scene of the world he found as his constant as a humanitarian aide with the Blade. His work was a lot more quiet. More independent. Less showy and loud and colorful. He got to find the quiet and peace, and his voice only used in hush tones or quiet, contemplating conversations he got to have with Krolia. Strong, commanding discussions with diplotmaic leaders and persuading members of the Galactic Coalition to listen to him. Other than that, he never needed to constantly be on edge of what to say next, the flow of conversation always so much easier to his friends then it was to him.

The party, as loud as it was, was now filled with a quiet hum of the cicadas around the farm as Keith has sloppily slugged his way to Shiro’s car, ducking in quickly as he felt Lance’s eyes watching from the front porch. He hated that he was being watched, feeling on edge from the one boy in particular he always felt a little on edge around. That feeling certainly hadn’t gone away.

The quiet night finally felt nice and peaceful, what he liked. The kind of peace that was a rare luxury when you spent your days in the Blade of Marmora, where quiet usually meant danger was just around the corner.

Keith liked his life with the Blades. It made sense to him: missions, plans, action. No parties, no awkward small talk. Just orders, movement, and the satisfaction of knowing he was doing something that mattered. Something

real

.

But coming back—being around everyone again—made that part of his life feel... far away. Distant. He hadn't realized how different he'd become until he found himself standing alone at Pidge’s birthday party at times, a little off to the side, watching the others laughing and dancing, and feeling like an outsider among the people he cared about most.

Keith felt the gentle lull of the car as Shiro left the driveway, the soft sounds of the radio crackling to life and the tires against the dirt outside filling the air between the two men.

Keith remained hunched in the seat, arms crossed and glaring out the window, watching the farm disappear in the night. The radio crackled in and out of a song he was semi-familiar with, one Shiro used to always play when wiping down his car when he was little. Shiro reached over to tune the radio, clicking in right as the chorus came in.

You’ve got a way to keep me on your side

You give me cause for love that I can’t hide

For you, I know I’d even try to turn the tide

“Because you’re mine, I walk the line.” Shiro’s low voice hummed along to the lyrics, a small smile on his face as he happily hummed along to the rest, knowing Keith had peaked up to look at him. Keith couldn’t help himself from letting a small trace of a smile spread across his face, rolling his eyes and not stopping the warm endearment spreading through his chest. Shiro loved this song because of someone important at the time, and made sure that Keith was introduced to the entire world of early folk music because he thought it suited him, being out there in the desert. And Keith did like it. It was the only station that ever came through his old transistor radio that he had with him in his shack left over from his own father, back before Keith was alone. Now, the song blended in memory, fading that fine line of who his father was and who Shiro became, both figures crossing into each other and meshing at times. It provided Keith a bit of peace, and that was the best he could take with his situation.

“You still sing just as bad like you did the first time.”

“I don’t know. I feel like my age deepened my voice and fit Johnny Cash’s perfectly now.”

“Sure, gramps.” Keith scoffed, but there was no real heat in it. He leaned his head back in the seat, letting the beer soak through him, unaware of how much he must have been slumping.

Shiro glanced over from the driver’s side, raising a brow. "Rough night?"

"Not really," Keith muttered, arms crossed tightly over his chest. His face remained cold, his brows furrowed tightly as his chest felt a little heavy, the warm feeling of the music Shiro was singing along to quickly replaced.

Shiro breathed out through his nose, a deep sigh escaping. "You’ve got that 'annoyed' look. What’s up?"

Keith shot him a sideways glance but didn’t answer. Instead, he stared out the window, listening to the engine rumbling and the car shake with the bumpy farm roads. Listened to Jonny Cash’s deep voice and guitar pickings slowly fade out and blend into some other unrecognizable song.

Shiro didn’t let it drop, because of course he didn’t. “You’re mad I talked to Lance.”

Keith groaned and sank further into the seat. “I’m not

mad

.”

Shiro gave him a knowing look. “You’re something.”

Keith huffed, rubbing the back of his neck in frustration. "It’s just—" He hesitated, feeling stupid for even saying it. But this was Shiro, so it wasn’t like he could lie his way through it. The man knew him better than he even knew himself sometimes, as frustratingly annoying as it was. "I know you were probably trying to help, but... I just wish you hadn’t."

“Hadn’t...?” Shiro raised a brow, waiting for Keith to finish.

Keith grimaced, pressing his lips into a thin line. “Talked to him. About—” He stopped himself just in time, cheeks heating. "

Stuff.

" Man, way to be incognito.

Shiro’s smirk deepened, but he kept his voice light. “Relax, Keith. I didn’t say anything... compromising.”

Keith shot him a look, and Shiro chuckled softly. “You’re really that worried I’d tell him, huh?”

“I’m

not

worried,” Keith said, way too quickly. “I just—” He paused, running a hand through his hair, frustrated with himself for how dumb this was making him feel. “It’s complicated.”

“Complicated?” Shiro repeated, as if the word tasted strange on his tongue.

Keith scowled. “Yeah. You know. Complicated.”

Shiro didn’t respond for a moment, focusing on the road ahead. But Keith could see the corners of his mouth twitching, like he was trying not to smile. It was infuriating.

Keith squeezed his chest tighter, like physically holding himself together would stop the chaos in his head. But it didn’t. It just made it worse.

He could already picture it—Lance showing up, smirking that infuriating, heart-flipping grin. Throwing out dumb jokes, testing Keith’s patience, being charming and obnoxious and—God. So

Lance

.

The worst part—the part that made Keith feel like his brain was eating itself alive—was that he

wanted

it. He

wanted

Lance there, wanted to be around him, even if it meant constant teasing and banter that always left Keith on edge.

But at the same time, it felt like standing on the edge of a cliff, staring down at the drop, heart pounding in his chest. What if being around Lance made everything harder? What if it blew up in his face? What if Lance found out how Keith really felt?

The mere

thought

of that was enough to make Keith’s stomach twist painfully. His feelings for Lance weren’t just a quiet, manageable thing. No, they were a full-on, heart-racing, head-spinning,

spiral

of epic proportions.

It wasn’t fair. Keith had spent so much of his life learning to control himself—his temper, his emotions, his fear. But

this

? This thing with Lance? It was wild and unpredictable, and it made him feel like a kid again, confused and terrified of something he couldn’t name.

And the cherry on top, he shouldn’t be feeling this way towards Lance at all. It felt illegal, like every time he even looked at Lance’s direction to spoil himself a bit out of greed would set off secret hidden alarms that would alert the masses and have him thrown into a pit. Because at the end of the day, he didn’t get Lance. He didn’t win him over, he wasn’t the one Lance fell for. Because how could he. Keith was a disaster, a hot head, a distant darkness that no one would ever dare trying to tame, because they couldn’t. They tried to understand, but Keith couldn’t possibly have someone try to get close to him, because all his favoirte people, the most important people to him, always somehow left. Sure, he got his mom and Shiro back, but not after they had disappeared and left a huge pit in his heart, blocking him off from wanting to let his guard down around anyone. He would never tell Shiro that in his deepest beliefs, he waits for people to hurt him. So when they finally do and he could be smug about being right, he could just breeze through the pain. Being hurt and trusting anyone. That came very few to anyone, yet somehow he trusted Lance.

Lance, who had somehow managed to weasel his way in. Lance, who Keith saw a new light in, a world of blue explosions and warmth and laughter and jokes and prickling challenges and pushing to do better and leaning into his leadership and trust. Lance, who saw Keith with his fatal challanges and flaws as the Red Paladin, and still chose him to be the right leader of Voltron when no one else saw it in him. He lifted Keith up in ways he didn’t realize could be possible, and for that awful, stupid reason, Keith went soft. Melted a bit. Saw the light and world in the colors and vibrance that Lance did, and found himself needing that aspect of Lance. Needing to watch the way he lit up a room, easily naviating conversations and socializations that Keith felt awkward and caught when they visited planets for them to join the Voltron Coalition, sliding in at his side and steering him away with an off handed joke to whoever had cornered Keith. Needing to listen whenever Lance went on the stupidest, wildest tangents of stories he had with his family back on Earth, or the way he would paint these memories of the beaches and the sand and the sun, and how when he spoke of those he cared about, you could see the way it melted on his face.

And how someone as bright and vibrant as Lance, could share his love with someone and they would get to experience it in whole.

And that someone would never be him.

In the end, Lance had picked

Allura

. And Keith—well, Keith had been the runner-up in a game no one else knew they were playing. Lance had loved Allura, and Allura had been everything Keith wasn’t.

Beautiful, elegant, radiant in a way that Keith could never hope to be. Allura had this gravity about her, this kindness and grace, even when the universe itself was falling apart around her. She was the kind of person you

chose

—the kind of person anyone would choose.

And Lance

had

.

That was the part Keith couldn’t shake, no matter how much time had passed. Even now, thinking about Lance—those dumb jokes, that stupid grin, the way his eyes sparkled with mischief—made Keith feel like a fraud. How could he even think about wanting Lance when it was so obvious Lance had given his heart to someone else?

Keith pressed his forehead against the window, the cool glass grounding him for a moment. It wasn’t like he

blamed

Lance. Who wouldn’t have fallen for Allura? Keith had admired her too, and in another world, sure, he would have gone for Allura himself if he was straight. But when Lance had chosen her, it had felt like a silent confirmation of something Keith always suspected but never wanted to admit—he’d never be enough. Not for someone like Lance.

And Keith? Keith was a half-Galra dropout with too many issues to count. He wasn’t charming or funny or graceful. He was awkward. Prickly. The kind of person who pushed others away without meaning to.

So what the hell was he doing, thinking he could somehow stand next to Lance and

not

make things worse? Keith was stuck. Stuck in this ridiculous, one-sided spiral, with a crush that felt more like a weight dragging him down.

Despite everything, Keith still wanted it. He wanted Lance there, wanted to see him smile again—not the fake kind of smile Lance had been flashing at the party, but a real one. The kind Keith had only seen a few times, in rare, unguarded moments.

That’s what made it worse—because Keith knew, deep down, that Lance showing up would make him happy. He hated how selfish it felt to even think that. It was like holding onto the edges of a dream he had no right to want.

What if Lance figured out how Keith felt? What if all this—this stupid mess of feelings—came spilling out in some awkward, clumsy moment? Keith didn’t know what he’d do then. He wasn’t like Lance; he couldn’t charm his way out of situations. He was blunt, awkward, and too honest for his own good.

What if Lance looked at him, really looked at him, and saw everything Keith was trying so hard to hide? The longing, the frustration, the guilt.

Keith exhaled sharply through his nose, his heart pounding against his ribcage. He wasn’t sure he could survive that—having Lance look at him with pity or, worse, disgust.

“You okay over there?” Shiro’s voice cut through the mess of thoughts, calm but curious.

Keith forced a nod, though it felt like his whole chest was knotted up. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

Shiro glanced at him, unconvinced but patient, like he knew better than to push too hard. "You sure about that?"

Keith gave a tight shrug. "Not really."

There was silence for a moment, the hum of the road filling the car again. Another country song crackled to life over the radio, and Shiro hummed along to the guitar strums of it. Then Shiro smiled, soft and understanding in a way that made Keith want to crawl out of his skin.

“You know,” Shiro said, “you’re allowed to want good things, Keith. It’s not selfish, what you’re feeling. If anything, you’ve been a little too selfless with this.”

Keith’s throat tightened, and for a second, he didn’t know how to respond.

Shiro gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Even if it’s a little complicated.”

Keith swallowed hard, staring out the window as the horizon stretched out before them, endless and uncertain.

“I told him to come with me.”

More silence with the radio humming. Keith felt his fingers dig into the side of his arms, awkward and impatient.

“And did he say he was going to?” Shiro glanced at the broody man who was replicating his teenage years. Keith sucked his bottom lip in, biting along it.

“He said he was gonna think about it, let me know tomorrow.”

“That’s good. You really think he would say no to hanging out with you?”

The car hit a bump, forcing Keith to inhale sharply at the idea of Lance willingly wanting to spend time with him. Hell, it’s not the craziest thought. They got along, especially towards the end of Voltron. When they were playing leader and right hand man. When they voted for each other to lead the universe and escape Bob. When they sought out each other for comfort and companionship, easing each other’s anxieties. When Keith learned when to step back when Lance started leaning to Allura, disappearing with her more than when he used to fall into step with him. When Lance started standing next to Allura in briefing instead of him, when Lance completely shifted into seeking out Allura, leaving Keith to wonder what he had done wrong to loose who became arguably his closest friend, even if that was the only way he could have him.

“You look like you’re gonna explode,” Shiro said lightly, keeping his focus on the road.

Keith let out a frustrated noise, slumping further down. “I just... I don’t get why this is so hard.”

Shiro chuckled. “It’s only hard because you care.”

Keith clenched his jaw, glaring at the dashboard. “Yeah, well... caring sucks.”

“Welcome to adulthood,” Shiro teased, giving his shoulder a friendly nudge. Keith let out a huff at that, and Shiro gave him one final knowing look.

“Hey, don’t overthink this. It’s Lance we are talking about here. Even though things have been complicated, he still means a lot to you, and you to him. You’re gonna figure this one out. You always do.”

They continued the rest of the ride in silence, Shiro having seemed satisfied with their broken conversation, letting Keith brood and muddle around his whirlwind of feelings. At the end of the day, Keith was going to be selfish. He always was when it came to Lance. Wanting more of him. Wanting to indulge in him. Teasing him when he could just to get a reaction. Hanging around when he knew Lance would be around the corner. It had gotten him further and further into the

fucked up screwed horribly down bad

territory, but hell, Keith had pushed it away before. Forced it to burn and drown and flicker out when he left for the Blades the first time. Distanced himself and made himself short and scarce around Lance’s presence to help himself forget him.

Hell, he disappeared for two years on a space whale, and that certainly wasn’t a memory that was helping him forget Lance.

In the end, he couldn’t escape. He was right back to square one the moment he returned to Voltron. He found himself needing Lance’s support, prodding Lance along, leaning against him in battles and knowing that if he ran in swinging somewhere, his back was covered by a Sharpshooter.

So this is what Keith knew he was going to have to do again.

Bury, hide, distract, and most importantly, be a friend.

Because he knew thats all Lance needed of him, and if Keith couldn’t have him any other way, then this was the closest he would take gladly.

“So you get your own space shuttle? You need your own liscense to be able to fly this, right? Or is it like, just yours adn you get your own keychain and everything. You think red is gonna be pissed off that you have your own flying machine now other than her and Black?” Lance poked around Keith’s small space shuttle. It was quaint, nothing like a space ship or big enough to provide tranpsotation for a group of people. It was a sleek design, small enough to duck into and sit at the front, with a small amount of space for luggage and room for a full grown space wolf and Lance to squeeze into. Keith usually used it when he wanted to come visit Earth, or on specific missions when he had to zoom in and out, make a fast entrance and clean exit. It was in no shape or form a battle jet, just something to fly him places. It was quaint. It was small. Simple.

“Just strap in back there. This thing has a kick to it when we break Earth’s outercore before hitting space. I’m only gonna warn you once.” Keith glanced back from his seat up front. Lance was sitting happily in an awkward position crouched next to Kosmo, whose tail was flapping around widely, content with the new addition to the passenger area. Lance rolled his eyes dramatically at him, but dutifully obliged, clicking in some straps over his shoulders and into a side snap, locking him in.

“You got a seatbelt for Kosmo too?” Lance narrowed his eyes over.

“Kosmo is over 200 pounds and used to flying in my space craft. He’s not the one I’m worried about here.”

“Aww, you worry about me?”

Keith let out a small growl in response, spinning his head around to flick on the controls. The space craft hummed to life, the control panel glowing and the steering wheel locking into place above Keith’s thighs. He reached out to grab it, letting his grip tighten around it before relaxing, the feeling of being at a steering wheel of an aircraft calming, familiar. His eyes locked on the diagnostics of the craft, the engine whirring with energy, the tank filled halfway, the space locks set and the oxygen tank flowing. Keith flicked a couple more controls, feeling the pressure inside grow as the ship trembled a bit from the force of being awaken, ready for take off.

Keith paused, letting his gaze soften at the world outside. Earth, the farm land, the simple innocence that Lance had known for so long. Suddenly, the weight of what he was about to take from below Lance’s feet felt so much more heavier.

“Are you sure you wanna do this?” Keith glanced over, breaking the smile on Lance’s face. His expression faltered, taking in Keith’s face, his eyes dancing over him, the electrifying blue a little too much for Keith to handle. But Lance recovered quickly, slapping a huge dorky grin on himself and throwing a thumbs up.

“If you are trying to use a tactic to get me out of this, it’s not working. Now, I’m not getting any younger back here. Onwards, Mr. Marmora! I got postcards to send and aliens to whoo!”

Keith’s own chest fluttered, knowing Lance was putting up a front. It was scary how easily he could read him. He would never call Lance delicate, in fact he wholeheartedly believed in how strong his spirit was. But beneath the charisma and jokes, Keith saw the cracks of anxiety. Of worry. He hadn’t had that since the first months of Voltron, when Lance expressed his worth of being in Voltron to begin with. It broke Keith’s heart a bit, knowing that Lance was the glue. He was the bridge, forcing them all to be friends more than just teammates. He allowed himself to the butt of the joke if it meant that everyone else had something to talk about and bond over him. He got them to participate in silly traditions, making sure they all had team dinners, and wanted there to be dance parties when the tension got too thick. He was the heart, and never even knew it.

For that reason, Keith was driven more to get that back, to make this broken look disappear, just like he saw it leave the first time when he helped.

Keith pulled a trigger back, and the spacecraft suddenly blasted off the ground, tearing through the sky. Lance let out a yelp, the sound of his legs flopping out in front of him and the strap jangle from his grip, before there was nothing but laughter. Keith tilted the controls as he felt his stomach flutter with the dip of the aircraft, the shuttle bending with him as it angled itself higher into the atmosphere, climbing higher and higher with speed. Lance continued to laugh, his breath gasping and shuttering in pure bliss, and Keith wished he recorded the sound. He hadn’t heard Lance make that noise in ages. It was the same sort of laugh of adrenaline he used to hear over the intercoms in their Lions, when Lance first began piloting Blue, shooting across space, when he did a cool barrel roll to avoid a shot, when he learned how much faster and slicker Red could fly, when he hit a far away shot that he didn’t expect to hit. Suddenly, Keith was 19 hearing Lance again, the sheer innocence of adrenleine and pure fun filling the cockpit around them.

The aircraft broke through the final layer of Earth, snapping into the zero gravity of space, slowing down the spacecraft and bringing it to a slower lull as the ship continued a steady pace off and away.

Keith flicked on the gage for the oxygen that filled the room, checking the air pressure and clicking in the coordinates for the Blade’s base. Lance’s laughter disappeared into a comfortable silence, the only sound coming from the hum of the craft as Keith kept a steady steer through the galaxy, shooting past familiar planets. Keith clicked another button on the pannel to switch it into a second gear, feeling the weight as the craft launched out faster, another booster being used to exit the Milky Way Galaxy.

The shuttle hummed steadily as it soared through the black expanse of space, stars streaking by in flashes of white. Keith gripped the controls with practiced ease, glancing briefly to the side to finally take in Lance. Wide-eyed and buzzing with energy like a kid who’d snuck too much candy, his face dropped slack and eyes taking in everything outside of Keith’s front windows. The air felt thick suddenly, an invisible wall separating the two of them. Keith argued with the small voice in his head, sucking in a breath as he finally felt himself mumble out, “You can unbuckle now. Come look at this.”

He felt the shift in Lance, and his neck burned from where he felt his eyes staring back at him. Keith hunched his shoulders up, already regretting what he said. Why was this so hard? But, he heard the familiar click of the seat buckle and a shuffling, and suddenly the overwhelming existence of Lance appeared over Keith’s shoulder, his hands resting on the back of Keith’s seat. They shot past several star clusters, the black world outside swirling in dead stars as they exited the galaxy.

“Those are stellar streams. Old star clusters were pulled apart into thin remains of stars. I usually pass that every time I come visit Earth. It helps me know how much longer until hitting the planets.” Keith felt himself saying, motioning to the glowing remains as they shot past quickly.

Lance hummed in acknowledgement, his eyes blown wide and gazing out, taking in space for the first time in a year and a half. His fingers strummed along Keith’s headrest, a chaotic rhythm indicating the anxious anticipation he was clearly feeling. Keith came to be familiar with the wild strumming Lance did, probably unknowingly. His leg always bounced in meetings, his fingers always twisting in his lap or strumming along surfaces. It always drew Keith’s attention, always next to him and around him. That was the thing with Lance. Always moving, ever encompassing his energy outwardly. And Keith was the sucker who could read him.

Keith stiffened when he felt Lance lean more over the seat, his eyes tearing over Keith’s control panel, a huge smile on his face.

"Man, I forgot how good this feels!" Lance said, his voice alight with adrenaline. He twisted to peer out the window at the star-dotted expanse. "It’s been

forever

since I’ve been in a cockpit. Feels like flying in the Lions again, obviously not as fast though."

Keith’s heart did an uncomfortable flip at the sound of that laugh—loud, genuine, and unfiltered. He hadn’t heard it in so long, not like this. Not since... before Allura. Before things got complicated, and quiet, and distant between them.

It

hurt

—he hadn’t even realized how much he’d missed the sound of Lance being

happy

until now, when it was sitting right next to him, too close and far too easy to get used to.

Keith swallowed, forcing his attention back to the controls. He couldn’t let himself fall into that spiral again. But it was hard, especially when Lance leaned over, bracing a hand against the dash as if he couldn’t sit still for another second.

"You gotta let me fly this thing sometime." Lance flashed him a grin that was both teasing and earnest, and Keith felt his stomach twist into knots. "C’mon, I bet I still got it."

Keith arched a brow, fighting to keep his voice steady. "With you at the helm? Not a chance."

Lance laughed again, and the warmth in it curled around Keith’s chest, loosening things he wasn’t sure he wanted loosened. “Oh, come on. You mean to tell me you

don’t

miss my amazing piloting skills?”

Keith gave him a sidelong glance, trying to keep it cool. “You mean your crash landings?”

“Excuse

me

! That only happened, like, twice. Three times, tops.” Lance’s grin widened, and something about the way he leaned just a little closer made Keith’s pulse quicken. “And most of them was thanks to you being a distraction. You had it out for me and you know it.”

“Sure, as if you are forgetting you being the entire reason why we even raced each other in the first place. You wanted a challenge.” Keith rolled his eyes, biting back a smile.

“A challenge? I saw it more as a pity race to show off how awesome I could fly and all the extra trainning I got at the Garrison way after you dropped out.”

“Sure, I bet they really taught you the good stuff. You forget everything I learned was when I finally left, and you don’t see that affecting my piloting.”

“That’s debatable.”

God, it was so

easy

to fall into this rhythm again—this back-and-forth that had always felt like a dance they didn’t know they were doing. But beneath the banter was that old tension Keith felt creeping up in his chest, humming under the surface like the quiet whine of the shuttle’s engines. So Keith just pushed his gears and shot the aircraft faster, zooming through more systems and letting his body push back in the seat, hearing Lance stumble backwards as he gripped at Keith’s headrest.

The shuttle dipped slightly as Keith adjusted their course, the Blade base finally coming into view in the distance—a dark, jagged station tucked between asteroids. It should have grounded him, reminded him of the serious reason they were here. But with Lance in the cockpit, grinning like that, everything felt... lighter. Dangerous in a way Keith wasn’t prepared for.

“So...” Lance’s voice cut through the hum of the cabin, and Keith tensed, sensing the shift in his tone—like he was probing the edges of something fragile. “What’s it really like out here? Being with the Blades, I mean.”

Keith’s hands tightened on the controls, knuckles going white. “It’s... different.”

Lance rolled his eyes. “Wow. Riveting. ‘Different.’ You should write travel brochures.”

Keith huffed, a reluctant smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “It’s not exactly a vacation.”

“Well, no kidding. But seriously.” Lance leaned closer, elbows propped on his knees, flashing that easy grin that made Keith’s chest ache. “What’s the vibe over there? Like, do you guys train all day? Is it weird? Are the aliens super intense or just regular-intense?”

Keith tried to focus on piloting, but Lance was relentless. He always had been. “It’s... structured,” Keith said slowly. “There’s a lot of discipline. Missions, strategy, stuff like that.”

“Wow. Fascinating.” Lance wiggled his eyebrows. “Come on, man. I need details. I mean, you’ve gotta have some downtime, right? You don’t just sit around sharpening swords 24/7.”

Keith smirked despite himself. “You’d be surprised.”

Lance let out an exaggerated groan and flopped back dramatically in his seat. “You are

the worst

at explaining things.”

“You’ll see when you get there!” Keith let out a sigh, feeling tongue tied. It wasn’t like this was rocket science here!

Lance chuckled, but it was quieter this time—more thoughtful. His gaze drifted toward the stars outside the window. “I don’t know how you do it, man. I’d go nuts without a little fun and friends to goof off with.”

Keith didn’t respond right away, his throat tightening. It was true—there hadn’t been anyone to talk to. Not in the same way Lance was always willing to. He had Krolia, which was the msot amazing asset he could have asked for, after getting 2 years to bond with her and figuring out things about each other that otherwise would have taken a while to get to if it weren’t for the space induced flashbacks. They got to bond faster, understand each other at their core, and overall, be able to learn how to be a son and a mother, two roles that neither had for over 19 years. He had his new companionship with Axca, whom he trusted deeply as a co-partner, but it was different. She trusted her for her warrior mindset, for the way she would fight and knowing that she could handle herself out there.

And now Lance was sitting right there, filling the cabin with his presence, his laughter, his

Lance-ness

. And it felt like some part of Keith, long dormant, was waking up again.

It was terrifying.

“I have friends.” Keith finally spat out, but felt his blood temperature immediely rise at the awkward bluntness of it. Lance let out a snort.

“Sure buddy. I’d love to see how you were able to make best friends with the very broody soldiers at the Blades. I guess you guys can all bond over being so serious all the time?”

“There’s…Axca.” Keith mumbled, gripping his steering tighter.

“I

knew

it! You’re totally besties, huh?” Lance waggled his eyebrows. “What’s she like? Is she cool? She was always a little scary to be around on the Atlas, all

Lotor betrayed me and I betrayed Lotor and I am giving my undying loyalty to you

vibe. Or is this one of those

we’re just friends

things, and she’s like you’re partner in crime up here?”

Keith’s ears burned, but not for the reasons Lance assumed. “It’s just normal,” he muttered.

“Ohhh, so you’re

not

denying this new found companionship,” Lance teased, eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

Keith rolled his eyes and stared out at the starfield ahead, desperate to steer the conversation somewhere—anywhere—else. But Lance kept going, enjoying the game far too much the more Keith burned.

“Aw, come on,” Lance nudged Keith’s arm, playful and familiar. “You guys must at least have a little vibe going, right? She’s the only other person who gets your emo loner thing, I bet.”

Keith gritted his teeth, his voice coming out rougher than he intended. “It’s not like that.”

Lance blinked, caught off guard by the sudden intensity in Keith’s tone. And for a second, the teasing faltered—just a fraction—but enough for the mood to shift, becoming something heavier,

warmer

.

Keith could feel it—the unspoken weight hanging between them, thick and complicated. It wasn’t just the awkwardness of two people learning how to be around each other again. It was something else. Something Keith wasn’t sure how to name.

Lance’s grin softened, though the amusement in his eyes lingered. “Okay, okay. I’ll drop it.” He tilted his head, studying Keith with that curious, thoughtful expression that always felt a little too perceptive for Keith’s liking.

He leaned forward, giving Keith a cheeky smirk. “Well... guess you’re stuck with me now.”

Keith’s heart stuttered, a strange mix of panic and anticipation flooding his chest. “Guess so.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The hum of the shuttle and the distant hum of stars filled the silence between them, thick with things unsaid. Keith could feel Lance’s presence beside him, too close and not close enough all at once.

Lance shifted, his knuckles bumping against Keith’s shoulder, sending a jolt through him. Keith tried to ignore the way his pulse quickened at the brief contact, but it was no use.

“So...” Lance said, voice low, playful. “When do I get to meet Axca? I feel like I need to assess the competition.”

“Compeition?”

“Duh, she’s like you’re new right hand man and partner in crime out here. I used to proudly wear that title. She’s gotta know that there’s no outdoing the doer.”

Keith let out a soft, disbelieving laugh, shaking his head. “You’re impossible.”

“Yeah, but you missed me.” Lance grinned, his voice teasing but with a hint of something genuine beneath it.

Keith swallowed, trying—and failing—to keep the corners of his mouth from tugging upward. "

Maybe.

"

The counsel below the two then beeped, and Keith was quick to snap in and flick on the message request.

An image then flickered to life in front of them, the familiar face of the Blade mask glowing back over the call.

“Reason for entering Blade territory?” The masked voice boomed over the intercom. Lance stifled a squeak as Keith sat up straight, dropping his voice he hadn’t realized had softened in conversation.

“This is Keith Kogane, Blade Code 19X00, requesting permission to dock and embark.”

“Permission granted. Kolivan is expecting you. Extra baggage?”

Keith flicked his eyes back to Lance, whose face glew back with the coloring of the deep purple the Blade mask gave over the call. His eyes were wide, his fingers strumming in patterns behind Keith’s ear.

“New recruit. I’m sure the Blade will be thrilled to have the Blue Paladin joining along.” Keith spoke back sternly, refusing to let Lance squirm from the question. The Blade remained silent, before finally tilting to click a button off to the side and ending the call.

Keith felt the air blow out of a breath Lance had been holding as Keith pushed the aircraft forward towards the base, preparing the flight map for the correct landing course.

“Hope you’re in the mood to people please.” Keith muttered, pulling the craft into a landing formation.

“Please, that’s basically my middle name.” Lance scoffed, but Keith could easily hear the drip of nervousness, the shake at the end of the sentence.

The ship docked outside the base, several Blade members immediately swarming around it. As Keith was shutting off the controls and preparing to exit, he watched as Lance remained frozen by the lock, caught in his own thoughts. He looked small, young, like the 22 year old he really was. Not some retired war veteran and universe hero, but someone in their early adult years still trying to figure it out. Unsure of himself. Not realizing how amazing he really was. Keith brought his hand to Lance’s shoulder, making him jump a bit from the contact and bringing him back to reality.

“Ready?” Keith asked, and Lance nodded, taking in a deep breath. Keith nodded back, and undid the airlock, pushing open the door.

Keith had landed them in their hangar and let the ship be pulled in, some maintenance crew immediately jumping in to assess the ship. Keith undid the luggage from the back of the ship, throwing Lance’s backpack over his shoulder without question as Lance took his suitcase, giving him a dirty look to mean

I got this

while Keith just remained stubborn and moved along.

He watched as Lance craned his neck to take in the place as he shivered, feeling the immediate chill that radiated from the dark, metallic walls. To someone who wasn’t used to the view, you could see how intimidating it seemed. Dark, masked individuals bustling around, long empty halls with metallic and steel beams providing the infrastructure. It was cold, it was prickly, it was his new home for the time. It was the complete opposite of the world Lance had grown up in, and Keith tried to ignore their stark differences. Kosmo immediately leaped out from inside, running a lap around the hangar and immediately poofing out of sight, probably off ripping through rooms and tearing through halls for all Lance knew.

Keith pushed through a heavy door to lead down a hall, noting the way his friend’s earlier excitement seemed to falter as he slowly dragged his feet to follow behind. Lance was drumming his fingers on his thigh, a nervous tick Keith recognized from years of knowing him.

“Hey.” Keith leaned forward, voice quiet but steady. “You good?”

Lance blinked, forcing a grin onto his face. “Pfft, yeah. I’m golden. Why wouldn’t I be? This place is super cozy. Love the whole...

evil alien interrogation chamber

vibe.”

Keith smirked. “You’ll get used to it.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” Lance looked out at the dim lights that lined the hangar. The silence was heavy and unfamiliar—no idle chatter, no background noise. It was unnerving. “So... what now? We just walk in, and everyone gives me a warm, fuzzy welcome?”

Keith chuckled softly, unbuckling his seatbelt. “Not exactly.”

Lance let out an exaggerated sigh, running a hand through his hair. “Why am I not surprised?”

Keith felt himself pout, his weight shift as he took in Lance’s offput stance. This really was galaxies away from the warm Mcclain household they were just at. There was no annoyingly loud music, no one running around hugging each other at first glance, no messy drawing taped to the walls. Keith softened his voice for a moment glancing around to perceiving the hangar the way Lance was possibly seeing it. “Look... I know this isn’t really your thing. The Blades, the whole... mission-focused, all-business thing. But you’ll be fine. Just stick close to me. Kolivan’s serious, yeah, but they’ll respect you.”

Lance scoffed. “Great. That’s exactly what I want: respect from spooky space ninjas.”

Keith leaned closer, his gaze steady. “You’re not gonna be alone in this, okay? I want you here. I mean it.”

The sincerity in his own voice shook his own system, and apparently, it was so much of a statement that Lance seemed surprised by it too, catching him off guard. The playful mask he wore slipped, just for a moment, and something softer flickered in his expression.

Lance exhaled slowly, a nervous flutter still lingering in his chest, but the knot in his stomach loosened slightly. Keith’s confidence in him was grounding, in a way he wasn’t prepared for.

“Alright, Kogane,” Lance muttered with a lopsided grin. “Lead the way.”

The halls of the Blade headquarters were narrow and dark, illuminated only by faint strips of bluish light embedded in the walls. Shadows stretched across the floors, making the place feel like an endless maze. The air smelled metallic, and every footstep echoed ominously through the space. Lance felt as if the walls were closing in on him—oppressive in their silence and starkness.

They were immediately greeted by two Blade members, faces obscured by their hoods and masks. Keith nodded to them in silent acknowledgment, and they began walking without a word, gesturing for Keith and Lance to follow.

“This place is... something,” Lance muttered under his breath, trying to suppress the unease crawling up his spine. He glanced at Keith, who seemed completely at ease, his expression calm and focused. Keith glanced at him, his steely eyes briefly tearing over him, making Lance shutter, the cold from the halls and the look from Keith almost too much.

“Just keep your head down. They don’t talk much, but they’ll warm up. Eventually.”

“Define

eventually

,” Lance whispered, side-eyeing the hooded figures. “Because right now, I’m not getting warm-and-fuzzy vibes.”

Keith smirked but didn’t respond. Lance for the most part knew the Blade of Marmora wasn’t exactly a place for warm welcomes. He had learned slowly about it when they joined the alliance with Voltron, and knew just as much about it as they allowed themselves to show over calls. It was built on secrecy, survival, and discipline—things that Lance didn’t thrive in naturally.

As they wound their way through the corridors, Lance kept glancing at Keith, noticing how seamlessly he fit into this world. The way he walked, his posture, the quiet nods he gave as they passed other Blades—it was like he belonged here. The world he was meant to be in. A world opposite of Lance’s.

It made Lance feel... strange. This was a side of Keith he hadn’t seen before, or maybe hadn’t been ready to see. It wasn’t the reckless, hot-headed Keith who used to challenge him at every turn. This was someone different—sharper, colder, more at ease in the shadows. It made Lance feel like he really didn’t know Keith after all.

Finally, they reached a set of heavy doors that slid open with a low hiss, revealing a large, dimly lit chamber. At the far end stood what Lance recognized as Kolivan, tall and imposing, his presence commanding even in the dim light. His sharp yellow eyes locked onto Keith the moment they entered.

“Welcome back, Keith,” Kolivan said, his voice low and rumbling. There was no warmth in it, but there was respect.

Keith gave a small bow of his head in greeting. “Kolivan.”

The two came to a pause in front of the looming Blade leader, and it took everything in Lance not to drop down and start kneeling on the spot. He felt his skin crawl as Kolivan’s eyes took in Lance, surveying, as if he was fresh prey about to be pounced on. He straightened instead under the aliens stare.

“This is the Blue Paladin who wants to join our team?” Kolivan’s voice was deep, commanding, rumbling. Lance felt Keith nudge his shoulders next to him, and Lance snapped straighter to attention.

“Lance, sir, or, commander. Nice to meet you, again. I mean.” He forced a grin, but it felt awkward and out of place in the cold, serious room.

Kolivan gave him a slow, assessing look, and Lance shifted uncomfortably under the scrutiny. It was like being sized up by a wild animal—not hostile, exactly, but definitely not friendly.

Keith stepped in smoothly, his voice steady. “He wishes to help us expand the coalition. Come along on missions to sign peace treaties, talk through planets negotiations. He’s familiar with the needs of planets in need through the diplomacy work we did with Voltron, and I’m confident he will be helpful in missions we have coming up.”

Kolivan gave a curt nod, seemingly satisfied with that explanation. “Very well. We have much to discuss since you’re brief absense.”

But he refused to move, instead his yellow eyes focused on Lance. Lance suddenly felt very obviously out of place. Keith then cleared his throat, stepping to the side to draw Lance’s attention away from the size up.

“I’ll just, bring Lance to his room and come back later.”

Kolivan just nodded, still staring down the two of them. Lance stifled a noise as Keith grabbed him by his elbow and yanked him into a fast walk, the two of them walking out of the room.

Once in the halls, Lance struggled to chase after Keith as he hurried at a fast pace.

“Is it just me, or do these guys make the Galra seem downright

cheerful

?”

Keith shot him a warning glance, but there was a flicker of amusement in his eyes. “They just don’t know what to make of you yet. Remember that this place is built on trust and proving yourself. There’s a mission briefing that I am definitely gonna be lectured about that I gotta get to, so I’m just gonna leave you in my room, if that’s ok. Keep it together.”

Lance grinned, though it was strained. “Hey, I’m trying. But this place is

intense

. Are they always like this? Or is this just... Blade casual Friday?”

Keith suppressed a chuckle, though it was difficult. “This

is

casual.”

Lance groaned quietly, dragging a hand down his face. “Great. I’m gonna die here.”

Keith leaned closer, his voice just above a whisper. “Relax. You’ve survived worse.”

Lance gave him a sideways glance, muttering under his breath, “Yeah, but those things usually had... I don’t know,

windows

and people who laugh occasionally. Maybe some sunlight even?”

Keith smirked. “It’s not so bad once you get used to it.”

Lance rolled his eyes but followed Keith deeper into the chamber, feeling more like a fish out of water with every step. The whole place was dark, quiet, and serious—a stark contrast to the chaotic, vibrant world Lance was used to. They turned a corner and immediately paused, Lance nearly crashing into Keith’s stopped body. As he was about to protest, his own voice became lost when his eyes focused on the 8 foot tall alien woman standing in front of them. Arms crossed, brow furrowed, yellow and purple eyes dancing back and forth between the two of them and clad in Blade armor, she stood tall with a dignified power and clear authority.

“You’re later than you should have been.” Krolia’s deep, smooth voice washed over Lance, and this time he really felt like shaking. Kosmo sat at her feet, head tilting to look at them and tail wagging. The sight would have been comical if the sheer size of the space wolf didn’t make Krolia any less intimidating besides her, calm in her presence.

“Had to pick up some extra baggage. I told you last night that Lance was gonna join us.” Keith gritted, walking past her and entering a code on a keypad on the wall. A door slid open, and Keith breezed through, leaving Lance to feel a little weak at the knees being alone in the hallway with Krolia.

Krolia instead just eyed him for a moment, her gaze lingering, as if she could read every emotion Lance was feeling, before turning towards the opened door and walking in following her son. Lance couldn’t have been happier to see Kosmo at his side, the smallest sense of familiarity in the cold, emotionless space.

Keith dropped Lance’s backpack on a small bed before turning to look up at Krolia, who stayed with her arms crossed.

“Kolivan is going to want a better explanation then picking him up. You missed an important debriefing this morning.” Krolia’s stern voice slapped Lance across the face at the offhanded referral as simply

him

, but Lance was not gonna fight it. Whatever the scary woman called him was what he was going to own.

Keith huffed, crossing his arms to mimic Krolia. Seeing the two like this, both moody, arms tightly crossed over their chests, eyes piercing and shaggy hair styles, Lance could really see the resemblance between them. Like mother like son.

“You’re telling me we made progress in the Xyank treaty in the time I was gone?” Keith deadpanned.

“Get yourself to Kolivan and maybe you’ll find out yourself.” Krolia shot back, and the two just looked at eachother before Keith finally broke it with a sigh, combing his fingers through his bangs and letting it fall back over his eyes. He glanced over at Lance who remained standing still, too scared to even breathe in the moment.

“I gotta go to a meeting quickly, but I’ll be back in a bit, I promise. Will you be ok here waiting?”

Lance felt Krolia’s gaze on him, and he felt the overwhelming fight to prove he wasn’t just some weak pet needing babysitting.

“I’ll be fineee. Go, do your fancy blade work or whatever. Maybe ask Kolivan when I can wear one of your fancy suites? I’m good, swear.” Lance threw on his best attempt of a smile hoping it was enough to appease Keith’s worry lines. Thank god Keith’s scowl dropped a bit, giving him a small nod.

“I’ll leave Kosmo with you. I’ll be quick.”

“Go already. I’m bored with you still here.” Lance shooed, and watched as Keith and Krolia exited the room, Keith lingering for a moment before letting the door shut behind him. Lance let out a huge exhale, dropping down onto what he assumed was Keith’s bed, hard and lacking decorative pillows. The room was empty of any decoration, just cold, plain, and dark, just like Keith. It had a closet that was half open, and Lance could pick out some hoods and purple colored suits hanging, along with a red and white striped jacket that Lance could detect anywhere. A pair of combat boots sat abandoned at the floor of the closet, the only proof someone was living in the bedroom. Lance sighed back into the bed, turning to look at Kosmo sat in the middle of the room, tail wagging and looking at Lance with interest, like he was confused someone other than Keith was in the bedroom.

“Well, just you and me now, buddy. Any games you like to play?” Lance managed, a small smile to the wolf. Kosmo stood up, let out a defiant bark, and like that shimmered out of existence, likely following his owner. Lance let out an exhausted sigh and flopped back onto the bed, letting himself feel the weight of everything wash over him in peace for once.

“They are putting me in a meeting already?!” Lance squaked, wanting to go over everything again. Keith looked over at him from his closet, pulling out a glowing blade. His blade he always carried and used to snap at anyone who even came close to touching it.

“Like I said, I had my debriefing and caught up with what I missed. After all that, Kolivan wanted to see what you could do. He wants you on our next mission, even though he was really tight lipped about what that entailed.” Keith shoved his blade into a shieth on his hip. When Keith had returned from his meeting, he found Lance curled up on his bed, knocked out from the anxiety and excitement the entire day brought, especially having woken up so early that morning to even clean his house. Lance nearly had a heart attack when Keith led with the proposition of a mission already, before Lance even got the chance to settle and open up his bags.

“Am I even authorized to do something for the Blades right now? Don’t I need, like, at least the uniform? A badge of clearance? Orientation?” Lance’s knee bopped aggressively up and down at his seat on Keith’s bed, shifting uncomfortably from the thought. Keith glanced up at him, his eyes focusing on Lance’s knee before landing back on Lance’s face.

“Its definitely just a simple scouting mission to seize you up. Test your strengths and skills. They wouldn’t put you anything you aren’t ready for. Things are different here now anyway.” He shrugged, but his eyes stayed on Lance, his eyes lighting behind those swirling colors. No matter how many times Lance looked at Keith’s eyes, he doubted he would get used to it. It was always so intense, swirling back in rages of defiance, of hurt, of understanding, of patience. A whole galaxy lived in them, and a fire that burned so strongly that never went away despite all the years that tried to force it to go out. Lance gulped, nodding.

“Yah, ok then. Guess its like that thing mother ducks do to their babies to force them to learn how to swim?”

Keith gave him an incredulous look, like he wasn’t believing how unserious he was being in the moment. Lance just stood up and stretched, pointing to the door.

“Let’s get this over with.”

Keith led him back into the intimidating halls, passing by hooded suits with glowing masks, some of the Blades maskless and with disheveled, scary looking alien faces. All of them were taller than Lance.

They arrived back at the room Lance had first met Kolivan in, instead this time, the table was surrounded by more Blade members, with Krolia at the head of the table standing next to Kolivan, idly chatting away. Lance forced himself not to glue himself to the floor, his feet heavy and immedelty feeling on edge as Keith led them up to the table, unwavering in his stride. Like he belonged at the front of the room, an integral part to this all. And as Lance watched Keith take a spot standing next to Krolia, he realized how much Keith really was someone important here. The leader. An elected head and symbol of the Blade and the future.

Lance quickly slipped into an empty chair at the front next to where Keith was standing, trying his best to seem inconspicuous, but his presence was clearly visible. Heads of all types of aliens and half galran beings turned to size him up, their eyes just as piercing and engulfing. Lance tried not to make eye contact with them, but found himself glancing across from him to three familiar faces.

Axca, Ezor, and Zethrid, three aliens whom he very much had the pleasure of meeting and working along side, only after their several heated attempts at killing him when they were Lotor’s team. The three of them looked back at Lance with interst, their eyes dancing with emotions and looks that Lance couldn’t decipher, and didn’t give himself the time to even try as he quickly glanced down at his hands, wanting to disappear as easily as Kosmo could.

“The meeting is adjourned, now that Keith has returned back and graced us with his presence again.” Kolivan boomed, and Lance could hear some soft snorts and chuckles coming from the Trio. Lance instead just kept his eyes on Keith, watching as his jaw was clenched and moving, clearly grinding his teeth to keep himself poised.

“We have a new member with us today who will be joining on our mission. Lance of Voltron wants to see how we do it here at the Blades, welcome.” Kolivan’s yellow eyes flicked down to meet Lance, so Lance could only nod back, too scared to open his mouth.

Krolia stepped forward, her arms behind her back and clicking a button on a remote, a screen materializing in the middle of the table. It glowed before Lance with the outline of a planet, with some alien writing surrounding it as an inscription. He wished he paid more attention when Allura and Coran tried to teach them different languages of the planets they visited.

“This is planet Thimle, a neutral planet, currently balancing an uneasy peace between several factions. The central government has stabilized relations with us and is open to a future alliance.”

The hologram rotated, revealing the jagged cliffs and dense forests that stretched across the planet’s surface.

“The issue,” Krolia continued, “lies on the outskirts—specifically, in this sector.” She pointed to a blinking red marker hovering above an abandoned station on the planet's edge. “We’ve received intelligence suggesting that rebel uprisers—opposed to the government’s treaty with the

Blade—are stationed here. They’re small in number but dangerous. If they succeed in gathering enough support, the planetary peace will collapse.”

Lance shifted in his seat, absorbing the weight of her words. This wasn’t a simple recon mission—it sounded like the first domino in something much bigger.

Kolivan stepped forward, voice low and deliberate. “The mission is simple: infiltrate the outer station, retrieve the flash drive containing the rebels' communication data, and extract undetected.”

“The drive contains valuable intel—encrypted files with lists of potential sympathizers across the region. If we recover it, we can prevent an uprising before it begins from the information it provides, showing where exactly the uprisers are communing. They are a group who believe in the agressing ways of the world we used to live, one where the witch still had power over the planet”.

Krolia flicked her fingers across the projection, zooming in on the layout of the station. “The station was officially decommissioned years ago, but the rebels have reactivated it. Expect minimal guards, but the place will be wired with security measures—lasers, surveillance, and traps. It’s not going to be a walk in the park.”

Keith crossed his arms, frowning deeply. “Wait a second.” He turned to Kolivan. “You can’t be serious. This mission’s too risky.”

Lance watched as the Trio shifted, Ezor leaning forward a bit as Axca rose a brow. Kolivan huffed, turning on Keith.

“You’ve done excavation missions way worse. How is this any different?”

Keith’s brows furrowed, his jaw clenching and unclenching, and Lance felt himself heat as he caught the way Keith’s eyes flicked briefly to him and back at the hologram. Oh.

Kolivan regarded Keith with his usual calm, unreadable expression. “The mission requires more than brute force. We need someone adaptable, quick, and capable of thinking on their feet. And that means everyone in this room who has had experience with getting in and out fast.”

Keith’s jaw tightened, and his voice dropped lower. “I get that. But if things go sideways—”

“They won’t,” Kolivan said, cutting him off.

Keith scowled. “You don’t know that.”

The room fell into an uneasy silence, thick with tension. Lance sat back, arms crossed as he let Keith argue on his behalf. But something about it—about Keith’s concern—stirred a knot of frustration in his chest.

Lance wasn’t sure what annoyed him more: the fact that Keith thought the mission was too dangerous for him or the fact that he wasn’t entirely wrong. Who was Lance to think that he was capable of doing a mission like this for the first time being back in space. Hell, Lance should be sat in the mailroom if anything! He hadn’t worked out other than the chores of slinging heavy bags of birdfood over his shoulder and fixing up fences and chasing down stray pigs on his families farm, so how was he able to hold himself out there in something like this?

But then Kolivan’s gaze flicked briefly toward Lance—a deliberate, calculated glance. And in that fleeting moment, Lance realized exactly what this was. He knew the look from Allura. He knew the look from Shiro.

Kolivan was testing him.

Oh

.

This, this was new. This was something he hadn’t been forced to feel in a long time. It should have defeated him, thrown him down on his back and made him want to go back to Earth with his tail between his legs.

But this, this lit a strange fire in his stomach, like he did have something to prove on behalf of Keith’s pick to bring here.

It wasn’t just about retrieving the flash drive or completing the mission. This was about

proving

himself.

As Keith was visibly writhing up there, Lance sat up straighter.

“So recon mission, in and out, make sure no one gets caught from the security cameras and lazars, data retraction, that sorta thing? This is the kinda stuff we did half asleep back in Voltron.”

The room turned to Lance, and he almost punched himself for speaking. Keith’s brow furrowed deeper, but Kolivan spoke over whatever Keith was about to snap back at Lance.

“We will have two teams, one coming from the North and the other from the South. The building will have cameras that detect movement and lazer in on anyone who nears the front of it. It used to be a Galran base back in the day. Find a way to deactivate the cameras, hopefully with our scanners that throws off the wavelengths.” And that, he looked over at Ezor, who just threw a grin at Kolivan.

“Already on the disrupter signals. Get me in close enough and we will breeze right through.” Ezor’s eyes lidded, glancing back over to Lance as if she was waiting for him to speak. He kept his mouth shut.

Kolivan nodded.

“We have our understanding? Get in, retract, get out?”

The room nodded, some Blades standing to start to shuffle around the table, scanning the hologram with a secret scanner from their suit into their arm, some turning to get in a conversation with Axca, Ezor, and Zethird. They seemed to be the scouting team who went in stealthily first.

Lance turned to Keith, who looked like he was about to pop a brain cell. He glanced coldly at Lance, his jaw tensing, and as Lance was about to stand to try to snap Keith out of his brain, Krolia placed a gentle hand on Keith’s shoudler. She leaned in to whisper something into her son’s ear, and Lance watched in quiet shock as a glaze slid over Keith’s eyes, his frown softening as he took in whatever his mom said. She leaned back then, giving him a small nod as he glanced up at her, both of them exchanging an expression that was secret, just for them. It made Lance’s stomach twist at the realization that Keith did have his own world of people who understood him up here. He then shifted as Keith brought his attention back to him as Krolia approached him as well.

“Go get suited up and your weapons. You’ll have Keith at your side during it all. If anything goes wrong, you abort. Understood?” Her voice was calm, asserting, lacking permission to speak. But there was a tone of motherhood deep and buried under there, like her sharp piercing eyes could see the slight edge of fear on Lance’s face. She definitely saw it all over her son.

“Crystal clear,” Lance replied, the cocky grin on his face not quite masking the knot of nerves twisting in his stomach.

Keith exhaled through his nose, clearly not happy with the decision as he nodded to the door, silently forcing Lance up. He shot up on instinct, waving an awkward goodbye to Krolia as he chased after Keith, his stride fast and long.

The halls of the Blade headquarters felt even darker and colder than before, but this time, Lance didn’t flinch from it.

He was nervous—terrified, even. But there was a flicker of something else beneath the fear.

Excitement.

For the first time in a long while, he was heading into something unknown, something dangerous. And, more importantly, he wasn’t standing still anymore.

Keith walked beside him, silent and brooding as ever. Lance could practically feel the dark cloud circling him.

“So,” Lance said casually, glancing at Keith. “Any pointers before I walk into my inevitable doom later today?”

Keith sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah. Don’t be an idiot.”

Lance laughed, the sound echoing through the narrow hallways. “That’s some real deep wisdom right there.”

Keith gave him a sideways glance, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Look, if you haven’t figured out by now, they want to test you. See how you act under pressure and intense circumstances. Just... follow my lead. Stay alert. And don’t try to be a hero.”

Lance’s grin softened slightly. “You know that’s, like, my whole brand, right? All I got on my resume is hero and defender of the universe.”

Keith shook his head, though there was something fond in the way he looked at Lance—like he couldn’t believe they were here, doing this together again. “Just don’t be stupid and listen to be out there, alright?”

Lance bumped his shoulder playfully against Keith’s. “Don’t worry. I’ve got a professional brooding ninja watching my back.”

Keith rolled his eyes, but the small smile lingered. “You better keep up.”

“Oh, I’ll keep up,” Lance said, grinning. “Just try not to slow me down.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Lance looked at himself in Keith’s mirror, so much smaller and thinner than the mirrors he always opted to have. His eyes took in the dark uniform, such a stark contrast to the white and blue he usually adorned. It was clad tightly on his body, the boots looking heavy but surprisingly light with grips for mobility and silent movement. It was skeek, stealthy, looking like he belonged in the moon’s shadows. The dark palette reflects stealth and secrecy, suitable for covert operations. It was lightweight, yet oh so ominous looking on his body, and as Lance gripped the helmet in his hands, he felt a lot more out of place looking back in his reflection.

“You look…”

Lance tore his eyes away from his own reflection to see Keith through the mirror, paused in the door frame. He wore the same suit Lance was currently in, the sleek, dark material hugging Keith's form, all sharp edges and subtle gleams, like it was crafted to make him look equal parts warrior and shadow. The glowing, cool-purple accents lined his armor just enough to highlight his movements, and the mask resting on the side of his hip added this intimidating flair that sent a weird shiver down Lance’s spine—part awe, part jealousy, part

something

else he wasn’t ready to name.

While Lance was simply wearing the uniform, Keith

was

the uniform.

But it was his face that was the most striking. His eyes weren’t steely, weren’t the warrior narrow that he usually had when wearing the uniform. They were widened, his purple eyes softened, his brows rose up in small interest, his lips parted slightly, and Lance squirmed at the thought that he was the one causing Keith’s daze. His eyes were glistened over in a haze, looking at Lance in his uniform, his eyes drifting from Lance’s face and down his body and up again, as if he was drinking in Lance’s very existence, so he shifted a bit of his weight, immediately feeling stripped down.

“Yah, like you.” Lance snorted, carding a hand through his own hair to shake them both out of it. Keith blinked, still looking like he was looking at a ghost through Lance, before clearing his throat.

“You say that like its a bad thing.”

“Well we only need one of you ruining a cool ninja look with out of date hair. I’m just here to add some extra dazzle to the personality hires.” Lance shot him a wink, and he watched in shock as a small pink faded along Keith’s cheeks before he spun quickly on his heel.

“Let’s go, sharpshooter.” Keith slung his mask over his face in one quick motion, not pausing to look back, returning back to the warrior of the night Lance so often saw him as when wearing the uniform, the opposite of that crack he just had on his face of strange vulnerability.

A small shuttle hurtled them towards the planet Thimle, with an upgraded detection cloak on their shuttle to keep the planet from being notified of their whereabouts and intention to land. The Blades believed it was best to do this undercover without the help of the government, to keep a low profile and not alert anyone on the planet that they were even there in case the uprisers heard about it and decided to double down on protection or get rid of evidence of their communication.

Inside the shuttle was the stealth team that would go on land, consisting of Keith, Axca, Zethrid, Ezor, and Lance. Lance picked up quickly that Keith and the other three were always paired together on stealth missions, able to work off each other brilliantly and effectively, and the most highly appreciated stealth team within all the Blades. Of course this egged on the outsider feeling Lance was drowning in, watching as Axca and Keith spoke in hushed tones on the shuttle, both clad in their uniforms and looking ready to slit a throat if needed. It was definetly something watching Keith with this new team, like a replacement of Voltron. Darker, serious, and 100% more intimidating.

He watched as Ezor leaned into Keith’s side and whispered something, and Keith’s face break out in a reddened blush as he turned to glare daggers at her as she leaned away. It definitely was a different dynamic. Keith really did have a new team, and Lance strummed his fingers along his knee as it bounced when Ezor glanced over to him, the same lidded and sneaky expression on her that made Lance avert eye contact.

The shuttle entered the planet’s atmosphere and circled around the forrest a bit before finding a distant place to land tucked on the outskirts of the forrest environment. Once landed, the team began moving around like they were trained to know exactly how to respond, forcing Lance to scramble after them. They unloaded two ground hover bikes from the shuttle, Axca throwing a leg over one and Keith doing the same to the other. Lance stood awkwardly watching as Ezor bounded over and gracefully lept onto the back of Axca’s, while Zethrid stayed crouched in the shuttle pulling out screens that Lance had no idea were present.

“Axca and Ezor will come in from the Northern side and clear out that area, while Keith, you come in from the South. The plan will be for both of you to arrive around the same time and wait for the other to arrive, where Ezor has the device to hijack the wavelengths of the base and intercept the security cameras, shutting them down to be able to even step foot on the property. There, you’ll find out how to break in through the doors, hopefully in time before the cameras come back online and alert for help.” Zethrid’s deep grough voice rumbled over the crew, and Axca began revving her hoverbike.

“Lance, you coming?” Lance looked over at Keith sat on his own bike, leaning forward to prop his arms on the handle bars. He had a brow risen in concern, his face colored in emotions Lance tried to place as everything other than concern for him. Lance threw on an award winning smile and climbed on behind him.

“Was born ready, samurai.”

Keith slipped his mask over his face, shielding him off, and Lance followed suit. Keith revved his engine, the bike lifting as it hovered and roared to life, and Lance yelped uncooly as the bike shot off, followed in suit with Axca and Ezor behind. Lance shut his eyes as the bike soared through the forrest, zooming around trees and branches, narrowly missing colliding with surfaces that would easily desetory the
bike and send Keith and Lance into a year long coma concussion. Lance didn’t dare look, putting his trust in the way Keith navigated with ease, feeling his muscles tighten and relax under Lance’s hands. Everything seemed a lot more narrower and dim looking through the Blades mask, seemingly shielded out from the rest of the world.

They came to a gentle lull as the bike slowed, Lance feeling the force of the bike changing speed as he was forced forward against Keith’s back. His mind stilled, his throat feeling dry. This was definetly a new closeness than Lance was ever comfortable being with Keith. If anyone as so much breezed past Keith, reached over to slap him on the shoulder, flicked his hair, Keith tensed up, glaring you down if you even orbited his space without permission. Lance once tried to pull at Keith’s hair and that ended in several utensils being chucked in his direction as he scrambled out of the room in fear.

The bike slowed to a stop as Keith leaned back in the seat, flicking off the switch and letting the hoverbike drop back down. Lance leaned back and away from Keith, dropping his hands but then nervously reaching them around his own back to clasp behind, awaiting whatever Keith was about to do. Keith held up his arm and clicked on a pad that had been installed into his forearm, and two dots appeared on a small screen. The heat trackers of Axca and Ezor’s location, still coming in having to take a long way around.

“So, are we here?” Lance leaned forward, peeking to look at the mask in front.

Keith simply slipped off the bike with one swift move, crouching low and weeding through the vegetation.

Lance scrambled off to follow suit, tripping on a branch and making a little too loud of a rustling noise as he kept his eyes trained on Keith’s dark back.

They slid through and around more strange planet life for a couple minutes before Keith paused, crouching down low and removing a branch to peek through. Lance came down next to him, a little out of breath, and kinda wishing he had done some training before something like this. Because at this point, it kinda seemed like he was put up to fail.

Lance followed the opening from the branch and saw a small compound, made out of a greyish stone and sat in a small clearing amongst all the trees. It looked empty and secluded, no one milling about it, with some cameras pointed outward into the clearing from the corners of the building, but that was about it.

“Why don’t we just go in and shoot at the cameras instead of waiting for them to arrive?” Lance whispered, his voice a muffled and changed tone through the mask. It came out deeper, more configurated to sound different. Keith just picked up a stone lying on the ground and simply chucked it with such perfect agility and marks as it landed in the center of the clearing. Just as fast as he had thrown it, two of the cameras immediately snapped into position and shot off lazers, zapping the rock into a glowing smoke on the ground.

“The sensors act faster than we can move. Meaning we have to wait and avoid it completely until we have Ezor’s tech to fuck up the system.” Keith’s cold voice came back, dropping the branch of leaves. Lance gulped. Right, this was all planned out perfectly.

Keith looked at his arm again as it beeped, and in came an intercom sounding like Axca’s voice, crackling a bit from the feedback.

“We had to make a quick detour. We saw movement other than us in the forrest, so we dipped around to circle back again in a bit.”

“We don’t have that much of a window, our sources said they always come by to reset guards on the hour.” Keith snapped back, hunching close to his arm. There was a crackle of static over before he heard what sounded similar to a small growl coming from Axca.

“We’ll be there. Just hold position like planned.” and then she beeped out.

Lance watched as Keith visibly sunk a bit, heaving out a sigh and turning back to peer at the base.

“We should be heading in. No one is here now to see us.” Keith muttered. Lance picked at a branch next to him, his mind flying.

“Well, we can’t just walk up to it. We’ll get shot.”

“Yah no shit.”

“Ok, here me out. If we can’t walk up, why don’t we just, I don’t know, go in a different angle?”

Keith’s mask turned back to face him, and Lance bit back a smirk as he could already picture the furrowed brows pushing together under there.

“Alright, let me spell it out for you, hot shot. We can’t jsut walk up to it clearly. So why don’t we just climb one of those big trees and make our way using those branches and go on top of the base and enter from that angle? That way we are out of the scanners viewpoint and have enough time to get in?” Lance pointed above the two, where the trees were thick and spiraled up to the sky, their branches filled with large looking maple leaves, almost similar to lilypads. They were wide enough to conceal someone climbing the branches if someone did come to spot them. Keith seemed to pick up what Lance was insinuating, the pieces clicking in as his head snapped back down to Lance.

Despite the mask covering his face, Lance could read him like a book.

“Axca, we got a new plan. Lance and I are gonna go in from the top so we don’t have to wait.” Keith got up from his crouch, already sizing up the trees around them.

“What?!” Axca’s cracked voice came back over the intercom, and it took a second before another voice boomed through, this time deeper.

“Keith, your orders were to wait for your team to get there.” An unrecognizable Blade voice came through, but Keith just snapped back just as strong, his voice unwavering.

“This mission was to get in and get out undetected. We are running out of time before more of their troops get here and catch Axca and Ezor on their way. We have a new advantage point. This is the better way.”

“You have your orders to do it the way you were briefed.”

“Dully noted.” Keith clicked the comms off and turned back to a tree to size it up again. He looked over his shoulder at Lance still squat.

“Well, this was your idea. I hope you’re good at climbing.”

Lance popped back, stretching his arms, feeling his stomach turn.

“Bet I could climb up that faster than you can.”

Lance knew the Keith he came to grow with would never back down from a challenge. It was like baiting a dog with a piece of meat in front of him. He was glad to find that despite their time apart, despite the distance they may have grown with, this didn’t change. Keith immediately lept onto the husk of the tree, gripping his arms around and scaling. Lance stifled a successful laugh as he jumped up to grab a branch, hooking his foot in some indentions in the base of the tree and climbing after him.

The two managed to get up onto a higher point of the tree, pulling themselves onto thicker branches that could hold their full bodies. They were high enough to be hidden by the large lillypad type branches, concealed and away from anyone who could be approaching.

Keith’s arm comm beeped again, and as Keith went to mute it, Axca’s voice crackled through.

“Don’t tell me you guys are in a tree right now.” Her voice edged with annoyance.

“Fine, I won’t tell you that.” Keith shifted over, finding a comfortable position to sling his legs over a thick branch to practically staddle it. Lance shimmied over behind him, glancing at the height they were at.

There was another long sigh on the other end before Ezor’s voice clicked through.

“There’s some scouts on the ground circling the base right now. Thanks to your stupid idea, we are up a tree too.”

Keith’s mask turned to look at Lance, and Lance felt like he could lazer vision himself through and see Keith’s expression. Watchful, thinking, and a little impressed that they were one step ahead. He was definitely pouting.

Jeez Lance, obsessive much?

“So what I’m hearing is we were right to drop in on them?” Lance loudly whispered over, grabbing Keith’s arm to speak. Keith tensed and began to pull back, but there was a snort from Ezor.

“Let’s see you drop in, Blue Paladin. I wanna see those moves you used to throw at me.”

Lance felt his neck heat up, thankful for the mask. He dropped Keith’s arm as Keith fully yanked away now. Yah, this was definitely weird working with Ezor of all aliens after the amount of times they were at each others throats, especially when she tried to kill of Pidge when they were thrown in a cell from them. Lance will never forget that about her.

Keith began scooting along the branch until he popped himself up onto his feet with a stealthy balance that would give a gymnast a run for her money. He motioned down for Lance to do the same, so Lance shook a bit as he popped up onto the backs of his feet, still in a crouched position as he attempted to follow along. The two shimmied their way further down the branch, just barley drooping over the roof of the base. Keith did a quick scan before turning to Lance.

“I’m gonna drop in on the roof and find a way to cut a hole through it. Don’t drop down until I tell you.” Keith gave him a pointed look, even from underneath the mask.

“What! This was my idea after all. Let
me help.” Lance whined, slowly standing up straight, but Keith just pointed a gloved finger at him in warning.

“I mean it, Lance. Don’t try to fight me on this. Stay. Here.” and with that, Keith lept down through the leaves and the branches, landing with a practiced roll onto the roof that left no noise and ending in a crouched position, an arm in front of him to still himself.

That….would have been a lot cooler if Lance wasn’t so annoyed at him in the moment.

He could help! What was the harm going down on the roof if no one could see them anyway? He heard some more rustling and the soft thud of what sounded like feet padding along stone, and he could only guess that Axca and Ezor had joined him from their own leaps in the trees. Lance let out another annoyed sigh, growing impatient, so he brought up his own arm and clicked around, hoping it was the same type of intercom in his suit.

“This is offensive, mullet.” Lance breathed low into his arm, and had a sigh of relief when his arm crackled back and he wasn’t just speaking like a crazy person into his body part.

“What did I say about just trusting me? Stay up there until we get an opening. Its safer like that.” Keith’s voice crackled over, a little breathy and low.

“Ooh, trouble in paradise?” Ezor’s higher voice teased over, and there was an immediate snap and crackle of the intercom, probably indicating one of them cracked out and powered off.

“Stay.” Keith’s voice crackled over after a couple seconds, this time with a slight growl to it. Lance let out a loud groan, throwing his head back as he slapped his own forearm out of frustration. However, he should have been a lot more smarter about the way he was moving and remember the fact he was on a BRANCH above ground, because his foot slipped off the side, leaving Lance to stumble backwards and awakwrdly clutch out at stray smaller branches and leaves before feeling the weight of his own body tipping him backwards. He let out a stifled scream as he gripped a stray vine, twisting around as he fell face first, kicking around and grabbing at anything. He shut his eyes, and expected to his the ground, when there was a small bounce and pull upwards. Lance opened back up to find his leg had gotten twisted around and caught in a sprawl of tree vines that dangled around the branches, a lot lower in the tree’s canopy but still up and high from the ground. Lance let out another groan, dropping his arms to dangle above his head, feeling at a loss.

So much for being important help.

As Lance brought his arm back up and close to his mouth to comm in, he heard footsteps below him. He snapped his mouth shut, cranning his neck and practically shooting his eyes wide as he saw three figures shuffling below him, coming out from the thick forrest. They were definitely aliens of the planet, with a foul pig like face with tusks coming out from their mouth and twisting to come to a point in front of their nose, protecting them. They had on neutral colored cloths with what looked like types of long shooting guns strapped loosely around their bodies. They walked just below Lance, and if they had simply decided to look up at the sky, they would see an awkward body dangling above them, all gangly limbs underneath the famed Blade suit. Lance stiffened, gripping his forearm and watching as they made their way from under him and closer to the building, one pausing directly beneath him.

Man oh man oh man this is bad. What if they saw Keith and the rest of them on the roof? Were they even in the right angle to be seen? Were they gonna cause noise loud enough to be caught?

Suddenly, Lance’s arm crackled to life and Lance had to shove his forearm under his armpit, hoping that was enough to keep the volume down. He heard the crackling of Keith’s voice, and then another question. Lance felt his own seat begin to pool and drip down his neck and over his face, thankful the mask would be keeping in any body fluid from dripping down.

Another crackle, and Lance was this close to shooting Keith himself. One of the aliens began talking to the one below him, calling over from out of view.

“--before the sun sets. That way when we round up the rest of the uprisers, we can make sure the word is out before midnight, when we overthrow.” The alien spoke loudly, unknowingly, over to the one underneath him. Lance reacted in a millisecond, holding his arm above his head to try and get their conversation hopefully picked up over the intercom. Lance prayed that they were smart enough to stay the fuck quiet and not crackle back and ruin his hidingspot. His head started to feel lightheaded and a little fuzzy from being upside down, but Lance remained still, biting his lip and keeping his arm held out to pick up the last of the conversation.

The alien below him then said something in some language Lance didn’t understand, but the conversation must have been enough because there was no sound or reaction coming through his forearm. It was finally quiet, no more calling out to him. Lance held his breath, bringing his arm back and trying to focus on not blurring out.

However, there was a slight pull around his leg, and as Lance craned his neck to look back up, he saw the way the branches were shifting, the way the vines were now straining from the weight of holding him up. Lance let out a gulp, wanting to shriek, when suddenly there were sounds of gun blasters going off.

Lance shot his head back down as he saw the alien below him shoulder their blaster into their arms, cocking it upwards and Lance could only assume was being angled at the rooftop of the base. There were some shouts and more sounds of explosions shooting off from more gunshots, and the sound of people shuffling around the clearing below.

Great. Of course they were found. Did his quick thinking on making them listen to him really do no goo–

Suddenly, there was a loud snap, and the feeling of freefalling swallowed around Lance as he pummled downwards and landing hardly on top of the alien below him, his limbs sticking out and his body screaming in pain from landing and having his fall broke by another body.

Lance sat up at the sound of another shot a little too close to liking, looking down to see the alien below him knocked into a daze and confused. The alien blinked, a tusk broken in half and stuck into the armor that was providing a shoulder pad. Lance’s stomach twisted at the visual of it, physically fine and untouched but twisted up about the fact this species lost its tusk into Lance’s shoulder pad. Oh godddddd.

Lance focused down on this creature’s chest, where there was a small tag that looked like an ID. It had an inscription and an image of the creature, and as Lance reached down to grab it, he was yanked from his feet and flung through the trees, stumbling on his own feet in front of him.

“We need to go NOW.” Keith yelled, pulling him by the arm and dodging around branches right as a gunshot seared through some leaves and landed a hit on a trunk right next to Lance. Axca and Ezor were close behind Lance, ducking around shots and springing over bushes, all while Keith’s grip on Lance’s arm remained steel.

“Where is your hoverbike?” Axca called over, keeping in pace with Keith in front. A shot flew through the leaves and nearly singed off Axca’s side.

“There. Get on it and wrap around to your guys bike on the other side. You guys are farther away and we need both bikes to make sure they don’t take it for proof we were here.” Keith came to a stop behind the large fallen branches where they had ducked down to hide the hover bike.

“What, and leave you guys rideless and alone with them?” Ezor yelled, and suddenly there was a low hum of an engine from the base. Keith gripped his hands into fists, releasing and tightening, thinking.

“This is the shorter way out. If you get on this bike and go off the other direction, that will distract them into thinking we left the other way, letting us slip out the forrest from here and back to the shuttle. You’ll be fast on the hover bikes and be able to catch up with us outside.” Keith commanded, and the hum of more engines became louder, closer. Ezor’s head turned to look through branches as Axca just shook her head.

“That’s too risky.” She stated, but Keith just shoved the key into her hand and pushed her towards the bike.

“Go! That’s an order.” Keith’s voice was deep, booming, transforming into a power that Lance had never seen. He’s heard the way Keith sounded leading Voltron, making the final call during a battle or demanding his voice to be listened to by the team when no one else agreed, but this sounded different. Felt different. Like he wasn’t fighting for the power and authority. He spoke like he knew he already owned that authority, and expected his voice to be law. Lance shivered at that.

Axca let out a frustrated growl as her and Ezor climbed onto the hover bike. It roared to life, and she gave a pointed look down at the two of them hunched before she revved it, circling around and tearing off through the forrest. Keith yanked Lance into a more huddled position below a deep bush as four other types of hoverbikes roared through, zooming around in a long lap before turning to charge after Axca and Ezor. Lance held his breath as they disappeared through the thick before they both stood up, preparing to make a wild spring out the forrest the way they had entered towards the shuttle.

“Just run.” Keith breathed, and Lance didn’t have to be told twice as the two began dashing wildly, ducking beneath low branches and dodging around weird twisted vegetation that resembled strangely more lilypads, but they had spikes on it. When it was just the sound of their breaths echoing through their masks, Lance paused as he felt a rumbling around them.

“Keith… how many of the uprisers were at the station?” Lance spoke slowly, feeling the energy around them picking up. Keith paused, turning to look back at Lance.

Suddenly, three of the hovercrafts roared into view, chopping through low hanging branches and vines, the metal of the machines vibrating and destroying all in its path.

“Great, there’s more.” Lance deadpanned, and felt the pull from Keith at his arm as they took off at a mad dash away from them.

The dense jungle exploded into chaos around them—branches snapped, dirt kicked up beneath their boots, and strange alien flora slapped against their faces as Keith and Lance sprinted side by side, dodging blasts of plasma fire. Behind them, the high-pitched whine of alien hoverbikes tore through the undergrowth, closing in fast.

"Please tell me you have a plan!" Lance yelled, vaulting over a fallen log and landing in a stumble.

Keith ducked under a low hanging branch, keeping pace. "Yeah. Don’t get shot!"

"Wow, that’s genius!" Lance huffed, dodging a plasma bolt that sizzled past his shoulder, scorching the bark of a tree.

They tore through the jungle at full speed, the bikes roaring behind them—gleaming black machines piloted by masked aliens, weaving effortlessly through the dense forest. Each time the trees thinned, the bikes closed the gap, firing at them in short bursts.

Lance risked a glance over his shoulder. “Uh, Keith? We’ve got, like, thirty seconds tops before they make us crispy! And I’ve seen enough movies to know that when its man vs machine, the machine always wins the race!”

The hoverbikes were closing in on them, a lot faster than simple human legs. It was easier for the two to loose the riders in the thick of the jungle, ducking down and away to huddle from the protection the wildlife provided, but the constant sound of the humming of an engine let them know that they were still close on their tail.

Lance watched Keith’s head snapping around, eyes scanning the terrain as they ran. Just ahead, Keith’s gaze locked onto a narrow dip in the land right in front of a fallen tree trunk—barely wide enough for them to slip through.

“I have an idea!” Keith shouted, darting toward the gap.

Lance didn’t ask questions—he just followed, lungs burning, legs aching. As they approached the narrow opening, Keith glanced back over his shoulder and saw one of the alien riders lining up another shot. Perfect.

Keith steadied himself right in front of the dip in the land, sheidling the way the branch was fallen behind them. Lance stayed put as Keith’s side, but his body felt on fire and burned to move away as the hoverbike came to a still a couple feet in front of them.

“Keith…” Lance drawled, but Keith remained silent, standing oh so still as the hoverbike roared and began hurtling towards them.

“KEITH!” Lance shouted, and at the last second, Keith yanked Lance downwards into a roll as they slid down and under the fallen trunk into the dip in the ground– just as the first alien hoverbike shot forwards and over the gap, the bike’s wide handlebars clipped the fallen trunk and steering out of control. The rider yelped in surprise, his bike spinning wildly out from under him. With a screeching whine, the machine hit the ground, rolling to a stop, throwing the alien from the saddle in a tangle of limbs and metal.

Keith was already moving before the bike even stopped skidding. “Now!”

He sprinted toward the wrecked bike, Lance hot on his heels.

“You think it still works?” Lance asked breathlessly as they reached the fallen hoverbike.

Keith gave it a quick once-over. "We’re about to find out."

With a grunt, Keith swung onto the driver’s seat, powering the bike back on with a flick of switches. The machine roared to life, hovering a few feet off the ground.

Lance leapt onto the back, gripping Keith’s waist for balance. “Okay, okay! This is happening! We’re doing this! Totally not even gonna look at the other guy and see if he’s still breathing”

Keith gave him a quick look over his shoulder, and Lance could already hear the smirk on his lips. “Hold on.”

Without another word, Keith gunned the throttle, and the bike shot forward with a deafening whine.

The jungle blurred around them as the bike zipped through the undergrowth at breakneck speed. The two remaining hoverbikes roared after them, their engines snarling like angry beasts. Plasma bolts streaked past, some so close that Lance swore he could feel the heat against his skin under the suit.

“Oh man, oh man, oh man—” Lance muttered under his breath, clinging tighter to Keith as they wove through the forest.

"Relax," Keith said, dodging low-hanging branches like he was born for it.

Lance peeked over his shoulder at the two bikes closing in. “They’re gaining on us!”

“Not for long.” Keith’s voice smiled through the mask, and Lance gripped tighter with a small yelp as he swerved hard to the right, taking the bike through a narrow corridor of twisting trees and thick vines. The two alien riders followed, struggling to keep up with Keith’s reckless maneuvers.

Lance felt a wicked grin spread across his face as the adrenaline kicked in. “Okay, I’ll admit it. This is way more fun than the shuttle you flew us in earlier when we left Earth.”

Keith chuckled under his breath.

Up ahead, the path forked—one route winding sharply left, the other descending into a steep ravine, snaking down and dissapeairng depe in the jungle. Lance was impressed with the versatility of the land at this planet. Keith shot a quick glance over his shoulder.

“Alright, get ready. I’ve got an idea,” Keith said.

“Oh no. I hate when you say that,” Lance muttered, but braced himself anyway.

Keith veered left at the last second, skimming dangerously close to a row of thick branches. The first alien rider mirrored the move, trying to follow—and that was exactly what Keith had been counting on.

Keith yanked the handlebars sharply, skidding along the edge of the ravine, and at the perfect moment, slammed the bike back into the original path.

The alien rider wasn’t as quick—his bike clipped a vine-covered branch and spiraled out of control, careening straight into the ravine. With a yelp and a burst of sparks, the bike vanished into the depths below, hitting against branches sticking out over the darkness below as the body hit a couple before falling.

Lance whooped in triumph. “One down!”

“One more to go,” Keith muttered, his gaze narrowing as the final hoverbike closed in.

The last alien rider was relentless, sticking close no matter how sharp Keith turned or how many obstacles he weaved through. Plasma bolts zipped dangerously close to their bike, and Lance knew they couldn’t outrun the guy forever. He was memorizing the reckless driving Keith had, zipping to the side every time Keith zipped and doged, falling into speed with the chaos of the drive. So this guy liked surprises thrown at him, hun?

“Alright, my turn!” Lance called, grinning like a madman.

Keith gave him a quick, curious glance over his shoulder. “What are you thinking?”

“Something dumb,” Lance said cheerfully. “Get me close to him.”

Keith paused for a moment but didn’t question it. With a quick flick of the handlebars, Keith slowed just enough to let the alien pull alongside them.

Lance grinned, adrenaline pumping through his veins. “Hey, buddy!” he shouted at the alien rider, who looked over in confusion. One hand remained on his steering, while the other lifted to attempt to unstrap the gun to his back.

“Catch!” Lance suddenly grabbed a loose vine hanging from a tree and whipped it at the alien’s face. The alien yelped, startled, swerving wildly—and that was all the opening Keith needed.

Keith slammed their bike sideways into the alien’s, sending it spinning off course. The rider tried to correct, but it was too late—the bike veered straight into a low-hanging branch, flipping end over end and crashing into the undergrowth with a deafening crunch.

Lance whooped again, throwing his arms in the air. “Yes! That’s weird aliens, zero, Blades, 2-2!”

Keith scoffed under his mask, revving up the engine to pull them to find the outskirts of the jungle at last.

“This isn’t a videogame.”

“And yet, we still got the high score.” Lance then shoved his hands into Keith’s side, earning a disgruntled huff from the raven haired boy as he shoved an elbow back into Lance, but Lance couldn’t wipe the smile from his face.

They exited the jungle to find the shuttle they came on, and none other than the two parked hover biked that they came with. Ezor was pulling the final one onto the shuttle as Zethrid and Axca were hurriedly talking to each other, Axca making wild gestures with her arms.

The three of them looked up as Keith pulled to a stop in front of the shuttle, leaning forward on the handles as Lance popped off.

“How did you get that?” Axca demanded, crossing her arms.

“What, this old thing?” Lance gave it a hearty pat as Keith slid off, pulling his mask off his face. His eyes glanced over at Lance, a satisfied smirk on his lips, and Lance almost missed the sight of it after it being hidden for so long. Just like old times.

“We should head out and recon with the base. We definitely caused a news alert within the uprisers.” Keith nodded to their shuttle. Axca glared between Keith and Lance, but Zethrid stepped in.

“Did you even get any of the vital information we were sent in looking for?” She huffed. Lance watched Keith flinch as Axca continued to glare daggers at him, her face twisted.

“We got compromised. There was nothing inside the base that provided the information we needed. We couldn’t get into the database without some sort of clearance, so we are going to need to find a way to hack into their system. We need more help on this other than just us.” Keith stated, his voice rigid and void of the tease he had momentarily ago with Lance.

“Ughhhh, this is why I hate techy people! Always gotta make things so complicated for the rest of us who just wanna steal some info!” Ezor sighed, strolling onto the ship. Her nonchalant attitude seemed to simmer the steam on Zethrid, who just grunted and followed the smaller alien onto the shuttle. Keith began to embark when Axca cleared her throat, drawing his attention.

“Kolivan is gonna kill you for how this ended up.” She stated coldly. Keith sucked his teeth, eyes stubborn and jaw clenched.

“Yah, but it wasn’t my fault we weren’t prepared for all aspects of this mission. He’s gonna have to learn to be ok with that.”

Axca gave him a pointed look again before climbing in as Keith stood to the side, letting her on first. He then turned, his eyes catching Lance as Lance was pulling off his own mask. Lance flashed him a crooked smile, knowing his face was red and gleaming in sweat from the adrenaline and heat of being under a mask. Keith’s steely eyes glazed over a bit, loosing its bite as Keith tilted his head, motioning for Lance to climb in after him. Lance didn’t have to be told to follow as he scrambled up after Keith, and he realized he would quite literally do as he wanted, especially after blindly listening to him with the chase that just occurred. It was kinda terrifying, realizing how easily he would listen to the crazy stunts Keith was pulling, but something also tingled on the verge of a new energy. A drive. And in that fleeting moment, Lance felt something he hadn’t in a long time: alive.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

The ride was quiet, tense, and Keith knew exactly why. They never messed up a mission, the four of them always being sent in to be tactical. Agile. Quick. They were always seamless, in and out with these types of recon missions to require intel, but this was went completely different than what usually occurred. They missed the vial part of the fact they needed a security code or clearance to even have access to the files at the station. It was in these moments that Keith realized how differnt the Blade was from Voltron. Not everyone was equipped with the knowledge of decoding, of hacking, or overriding a system with their own knowledge and technology the way Pidge did. Pidge was brilliant, quick on her feet, and somehow always managed to break into any encryption of a system to get the answers needed. She was brilliant, and never cracked under the pressure. That was the big difference between who he worked with now and working along Pidge.

Its not like he could blame his team. Axca and Ezor had no idea they needed an extra security breach into the data base, the same way Keith had no idea to expect it either. They had gotten into the base and through some firewalls before being stuck with a main code, requesting log in details. They had froze, stuck, not sure how to go through. Axca wanted to outright punch the machine whirring next to the computer, and Keith didn’t blame her. Ezor had quickly taken a scan of it, sending it over to the base to have in case, but without an access code or a password, they couldn’t get in. Screwed was an understatment when the doors to the base slid open and they were found by some of the uprisers.

The next thing the three of them new how to do best was fight. Evade. Take down and disarm. Slip around and out. That’s what they train with, their strengths coming to play in hand on hand combat and technical fighting.

So now as the shuttle touched down back at the base, he could feel the tension pooling around him and his team, the way Ezor nervously bit at her bottom lip, the way Zethird breathed hard through her nose, the way Axca tightly held her crossed arms over her chest, her finger’s twitching on her arm. Lance seemed to be the only one not freaking out the way they were, innocently unaware of the way they were going to be ripped in one.

As they disembarked, Keith’s anxiety rose in his chest as he saw Kolivan standing with his arms crossed behind his body, his eyes set on strictly Keith, yellow eyes glowing back.

Axca, Ezor, and Zethrid stood silently at Keith’s side, watching like vultures, waiting, knowing it was going to be Keith that was picked apart.

“You were given one objective.” Kolivan’s deep, gravelly voice cut through the room like a blade. “Retrieve a flash drive of information from the database. Secure critical intelligence. And you failed.”

Keith’s jaw tightened, guilt and frustration bubbling beneath the surface. "We didn’t have the chance. The security—"

“No excuses.” Kolivan’s cold gaze bore into him. “Your mission required discretion. You led your team straight into enemy territory and returned empty-handed. You’ve compromised the integrity of the Blade’s presence on Thimle.”

Keith’s hands clenched into fists at his sides, his nails pinching into his palm to center himself. Every instinct told him to fight back, to argue that things had gone sideways beyond his control. But he knew Kolivan wouldn’t care, so Keith grinded his teeth instead. Patience Yields Focus. The hangar was silent, every eye pinned on Keith as Kolivan continued.

“This is your team. You have the honor to be able to be tasked with these specific missions, yet you failed. You failed your team with your command.” Kolivan barked, and this time Keith felt Axca shift next to him, clearing her throat.

“Keith commanded us with his best intentions on how he saw fit for us to–”

“How he saw fit was going against your wishes for how to enter the base, must we forget we can hear all transmission between your intercomms.” Kolivan cut through, shutting up Axca. Her eyes glared down at her feet, and Keith grinded harder against his molars. Biting back. Any second now he was about to snap completely.

“You were reckless. Leadership requires precision—something you clearly lack. You listen to your team if they have a divergence. You wait for them to reconvene and go in together. And if there comes an issue on the mission, you find a way out. Leave no trace or proof of existence. Instead, you clearly caused a commotion, and if this is the level of discipline I can expect, perhaps you’re not ready to lead a team at all at this rate.”

Keith’s gut twisted, and for the first time in a long time, doubt crept in. Krolia had prepared him to become the warrior he was with the Blades. He had taken up the leadership position unwillingly and under terrible circumstances with Voltron, falling into the lead like Shiro had wished when he wasn’t there. Keith did it out of dire necessity. He continued to push through decisions that may have not been the best, putting the team in times of trouble, and suddenly every bad leadership decision he made when he was pilot of the Black Lion came swarming back, cancelling out all the good. Then came the leadership role he fell into with the Blades, stepping in to be a beacon of hope for the new generation of Galra, seeing him as a half Galra leader who defined victory and good, hopefulness for the future he helped shape with his mother and the Blades. Krolia and Kolivan were pillars of leadership and a step to the future with bringing the Galra into a movement of peace and assistance across the galaxy with the Galra United Coalition, being members on the board along with several other ranking officers, while Kolivan remained head in charge of the Blades. Keith, having gained hierarchy through being the leader of Voltron and a famed member of the Blades, got offered a seat on the council for the Galra United Coalition, but he declined it to avoid the diplomacy issues that he would likely have to face, not feeling fit for that kind of responsibility. He instead climbed in the ranks in the Blades under Kolivan’s watchful eye, everyone knowing him as the star pupil and son of esteemed Blade warrior Krolia. It was constant pressure, it was constant eyes, it was high expectations. But at the Blades, despite all the work he had done on himself in Voltron, he wasn’t some standout pushed to be a leader under dire circumstances. There were others who had been around a lot longer than him, bred into the leadership position under the necessity of war, while he was taught the leadership position through the new era of peace. He was already preparing himself for the fallout—until he felt it.

A subtle brush against his hand.

Keith glanced down to see Lance, standing beside him with that familiar easygoing expression—calm, like they weren’t in the middle of being torn to shreds.

Lance slipped something small and hard into Keith’s palm. The movement was so smooth, so fast, that no one else in the room noticed.

Keith’s heart stuttered. He gripped the slick piece of flimsy metal in his hand, feeling the shape of it. He glanced down despite Kolivan’s icy eye contact swooping across the four of them and opened his hand just enough to see the sleek edge of an ID card—the face of one of the aliens who was attacking them earlier. It had clear inscriptions of a code on it, and something that looked like a bar code to be scanned.

What the—? How had Lance—?

Before Keith could ask, Lance gave him the faintest smirk, tilting his head toward Kolivan in an unspoken gesture.

Go on, hand it over.

Keith, still stunned, didn’t have time to question it. He closed his fingers around the ID and stepped forward, presenting it out to Kolivan with a blank expression.

Kolivan’s sharp gaze flicked to the card in Keith’s hand, and Keith could feel the energy around him shifting to a dead silence.

“This,” Kolivan murmured, taking the ID and examining it closely, “is an access key.”

Out of the coner of his eye he could see Ezor and Axca exchange glances, and the hard line of Kolivan’s face ease tension.

“Ezor did a scan of the data base before we left it. We needed a code or anything to get into it. The system was sent to you here. This should be enough to get access.” Keith set his jaw, his eyes burning into the ID Kolivan was turning around in his hand before looking back up to meet the yellow eyes. Kolivan’s own gaze flickered between a twist of slight shock before settling into his neutral stare, his lips pulled tight into something resembling approval.

“Well done,” Kolivan said, nodding, straightening his back as he kept his gaze meeting Keith’s unbreaking it nor backing away. “With this, we’ll be able to breach the rebel communications network. You’ve managed to salvage the mission, heavens knows how. Good work, Keith.”

Keith blinked, his mind racing to catch up. Kolivan’s approval landed on him like an unexpected blow—acknowledging Keith as if he’d pulled off the impossible.

Keith could only stare, stunned. He hadn’t even known the card existed until Lance slipped it into his hand.

Kolivan nodded then, dismissing the crew and giving Keith a nod of acknowledgment—a rare gift from the stoic leader. Keith chest fluttered, as if releasing the tension he had been holding since the moment he stepped foot on the shuttle. Kolivan turned quickly and retreated through the halls of the base, and Keith could finally stop grinding his molars. Keith stood frozen in place, trying to process what had just happened.

“Why didn’t you say you had that this entire time?” Ezor bounced over to his side, tilting her head in an accusatory look.

“Didn’t realize I had it.” Keith muttered, blinking slowly. Zethird came to Ezors side with a huff, rolling her shoulders as Axca came to his other side, looking at him like she was trying to pick through a puzzle.

“You could have saved us all that trouble if you just told him you had it on a call before landing. You know he doesn’t approve of waiting last minute.” Axca’s tone was balancing on something dangerous, so Keith just threw his hands up.

“He has it, alright? And you guys weren’t even the ones in trouble, so why does it matter. Go clean up.” Keith gave Axca a steady glare, forcing himself to make her shut up and not press any more than she already was. Axca just narrowed her eyes back before snapping to look at Zethrid and Ezor.

“Come on, meal time is soon.” She started to head down the hall. Ezor let out a shocked squeal.

“You’re letting him off the hook? Just like that? You’re no fun with him.” She dragged her feet, followed by Zethrid silently, who gave Keith a look over. Keith kept a steady glare at her before she sighed, following the other two down the hall.

Keith valued his girls, always there to go through extensive and exhausting missions at his side, listening to his command without fail. They took up the space around him when he didn’t have the familiar companionship in space that he missed from his Paladins. As much as they were pains in his ass, they stuck by him. Listened to him. Stayed around with him. He valued them a lot, not realizing how much he would have to be relying on their support to see him as a commanding figure, despite feeling like one.

Finally, he turned to Lance, still stunned, still at a complete loss for words. The guy was standing with his hands on his hips, a stupid cocky grin on his face as he was watching the scene unfold with Keith and his team.

“How—When did you—?”

Lance gave a lazy shrug, grinning. “You know me. Stealth master. You should’ve seen the guy’s face when I clipped it off of him. Although, I don’t think he was even conscious enough to realize that.”

Keith gaped at him, struggling to keep up. “But—how—”

Lance made a dramatic movement to stretch out his arms, grinning, and Keith fought the urge to let his eyes trail down Lance’s body and the way it moved and his muscles tensed and stretched under the suit. “Relax, hotshot. You can thank me later. Maybe buy me dinner first or whatever meal Axca was talking about.”

Keith stared, caught between disbelief and something suspiciously close to admiration, the heat pooling in his chest and twisting down to his stomach. He’d never known Lance to be subtle, let alone

quiet

. Let alone not be boastful about pulling something this nonchalant off. But somehow, Lance had pulled it off—right under everyone’s nose. And now

Keith

was getting the credit for it.

“You—” Keith started, still scrambling to find the right words, feeling like his heart was hammering in his chest. God, his body functions really did seem to fail lately when it came to Lance.

“Saved your ass?” Lance interrupted, smirking. “Yeah, I do that a lot.”

Keith could feel his cheeks heat slightly, a mixture of frustration, gratitude, and something else—something unsettlingly warm—buzzing under his skin.

“Seriously,” Keith finally managed, the words awkward and a bit stiff. “Thanks. You didn’t have to do that for me. You know he was testing you and you still let me take the credit for that.”

Lance’s momentarily cocky face slipped, faltering a bit as his lips twitched, his eyes fading over for a second. But just as fast as that happened, he grinned wider, that easy, playful grin that always seemed to throw Keith off his rhythm. “No problem, fearless leader. You were drowining out there, and I was not about to watch you loose your mojo to a guy in a braid. You have a reputation to uphold with these people, and that means being the hero they expect you to be. Trust me when I say I know when to step aside and let the symbol be the symbol.”

Keith blinked, reeling from the fact that Lance had maintained his reputation for him, kept him looking like a put together, thoughtful leader. His throat felt dry, so he instead opted to grind his jaw a bit.

“Let’s get you something to eat. You’ll need it after what we just did.” Keith drawled, spinning to head inside. He heard Lance huff out a short laugh, as if he couldn’t believe what Keith was saying.

“Whatever you say, team leader. Hey, haven’t called you that in a while. Still rings just right.” Lance poked at his side, and as Keith lightly swatted at him, he bit down a small smile breaking free. Yah, maybe he did miss Lance calling him that. He seemed the only person that when calling him a leader, Keith truly believed he felt like one.

Keith had brough them into the Blades mess hall. It was nothing different and shiny from what the rest of the base looked like. It was practical, a grey lounge and kitchen area with stations to serve food. They had shipments that would come in once a week on the loading docks from different planets that were signed to their peace alliance that sent differnt types of foods and pre made meals for the base in exhcnage for their protection, a happy deal that only did more good for the Blades, having proper meals to eat. It was also a good initiative to get to know the types of foods from the differn planets they helped liberate, showing the connection between the universe and its delicacies. Hunk was always so fascinated by the idea when Keith told him about the meal exchange that Keith helped implement the first few months the Blade became the humanitarian relief program that it became, and Keith would be lying if he said that Hunk didn’t help inspire him and encourage him to have this deal with the planets. It was like everywhere around him in his work he attempted to bring a little part of the Paladins with him, like a reminder of who they were and what they stood for.

“Are there like, heaters anywhere in this base, or do you Galra have like, regulated body temperature to keep you warm?” Lance babbled the entire walk to the mess hall, staying at Keith’s side and continuously asking questions about things he saw in their passing. Most of the time Keith would struggle to come up with a response when Lance would ask about specific rooms and doors they would pass, because honestly, he never explored those areas. He knew the command room, the general areas on the base, the training room, and the data bases. Other than that he never really needed to poke around, having the advantage of being told everything that happens at the base. The information he got to handle with was already so overwhelming that he never saw a need to seek out more that didn’t seem important. That, and he liked to mind his own business, away from questioning eyes behind masks. He liked to keep to himself.

“Guess I never noticed the room temperature.” Keith shrugged, walking up to one of the meal tables. It was stacked with packages meals, labeled from the planet that had shipped it in. Today was planet Nym, a water based planet that had a lot of what resemble sea kelp, if Keith remembered correctly. The Galra used to force them to dive to the deepest part of their ocean to retrieve these rare metals that could only be found there, and then melted down to be used in their superweapons and hardware for specific types of sentrys. They were abused, threatened to have toxins dumped into their seas if they didn’t compromise, and were thankful for the new way of the Galra being led by Kolivan, Krolia, and Keith, showing that change can be made and finding protection in the Blades.

“That goes back to me theory that your body is regulated to always be warm. I mean, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you complain about being cold. You ever think of that?” Lance tugged at the end of Keith’s hair, and Keith felt his skin burn from the contact and the pull. He glared back at Lance, pouting slightly.

“Don’t tell me this is where you find a way to segway into saying its because I’m a self proclaimed ‘hothead’?” Keith made air quotes before scooping up a packaged box. Lance rolled his eyes, a huge smile on his lips. Keith’s stomach twisted in ways he hadn’t felt in over a year, and that was definitely the trouble he was dreading from this.

“Hey, you beat me to the punch with that one. I was just saying how its definitely due to your cat like physique that keeps you warm?”

“Catlike?” Keith deadpanned, walking them over to an empty table. He felt the eyes of several other Blade members in the room, perched at their own tables and away from them, watching in corners in interest and judgement, as if they didn’t know what to think of this new, loud addition to their world.

“Dude, you’re literally half a race that resembles felines. You think I’m not gonna think you got some extra chromosomes and DNA to make you all catty. I mean, you got the attitude down.” Lance popped down next to Keith, and Keith just let out a small rumble in his throat, not wanting to deal with whatever weird tangent this was already becoming. Lance then pointed at his face, his blue eyes blown out a bit.

“See what I mean. You literally growled. It’s not just that. The way you move, how you land on your feet all the time, that whole brooding thing—very feline energy,” Lance said, eyes gleaming with amusement.”

“I don’t have feline energy.”

“Spoken like a true feline.”

Lance then turned to open up his meal as Keith grumbled, his face feeling flushed at the jabs. Right when Keith believed Lance was done, he had to just turn around and pop his mouth open one more time to get a final jab.

“Bet you purr when you’re happy.”

Keith’s mouth fell open in pure disbelief. “I do

not

purr!”

Lance threw his head back with a laugh, enjoying how easy it was to clearly fluster him. “You totally purr! You’re just too embarrassed to admit it.”

Keith tried to glare, but the corners of his mouth betrayed him, twitching upward. “You’re an idiot.”

“If anyone else got caught calling a member of Voltron and idiot, we’d end up in detention.”

Keith and Lance’s faces snapped up to see Axca standing above them, her arms crossed and her brow raised slightly. She looked like she had been observing them, and it made Keith feel strangely on blast.

“You’re right, Keith treats me terribly. No respect over here. Is this really the welcome to the Blades attitude I get?” Lance blinked dramatically at Keith, leaning in a bit. Keith scoffed, shouldering him off as Lance’s body continued being deadweight, pushing in on him. His body burned from the simple presence of him.

“You’re so ridiculous. I respect you.” Keith rolled his eyes, but the tone of it came out a lot more serious then he intended. Lance seemed to be caught by it, faltering a bit as he stopped leaning in. Keith immediately felt his face flush as he turned to Axca, clearing his throat.

“You ate already?”

“Kolivan wants to speak with us about the mission debrief, go over all the specific details.”

“Felt like we already debriefed.”

“Krolia wants to talk too.”

Keith’s throat clogged up a bit, finally reaching the reason why he was being ushered away. Of course his mother had something to do with this, and by the way Axca’s eyes were gleaming back at him with a knowing look, he she could sense his embarrassment at being called in.

Keith sighed, gritting his teeth in annoyance as he turned to Lance, who had shoved in a piece of the kelp dumpling into his mouth.

“I gotta go do something really quick. I can bring you back to my room first though.”

“You got me a meal and now you’re bringing me back to yours? Careful or else I would be thinking you’re trying to whoo me.” Lance flashed a stupid smile on, and Keith nearly melted on the spot. Instead, he just stood up, avoiding eye contact from Lance or Axca.

“Just, let me bring you back.”

“Can I tag along? I was on the mission too, anway.” Lance awkwardly chuckled, glancing between Keith and Axca with such expectant eyes that it made Keith’s body shutter. As he was about to open to possibly cave in, Axca tossed down a small device in front of Lance. It blinked with a map of the base on it, a red arrowed zig zag leading through hallways Keith knew like the back of his hand.

“Here’s a map of the base. I highlighted recommendations of places you have access to. Keith, let’s go.” Axca’s stare screamed at Keith to snap back into his authority. Keith breathed through his nose and looked back at Lance, pouting an apologetic look and already feeling terrible.

“Sorry, its just, I have to do–”

“Blade stuff. Got it. Go on, I’ll be fine thanks to this. I’ll catch you later, ok? Maybe I’ll have some fun with roaming around.” Lance’s smile wavered, and Keith wished he couldn’t see the cracks being bolted back, but Keith just grimaced, nodding a goodbye and following Axca out of the room.

The air in the halls felt heavy as Keith and Acxa walked side by side toward the debriefing meeting, quiet except the sound of their feet against the metal floors echoing around them. Keith felt the tension between him and his second in command ever since they returned from the mission—Acxa’s sharp gaze was practically drilling into the side of his head. Keith usually told her everything, every little piece of his long winding strategies, and she was the one who usually cleaned up after him to perfect it. They were a power duo together in the time Keith had been here, although less of a conversational friendship and more of respect and understanding. Keith wouldn’t be who he was here without her, if he was being honest. She understood him when he felt like he lost the only people who ever really did, the only other second in command he had who let him be him. She had been quiet at first, but Keith knew that wouldn’t last long.

“So,” Acxa said smoothly, crossing her arms as they walked, “are you going to tell me how you got that ID card?”

Keith kept his eyes forward, jaw clenched. “I thought we were past this discussion. It’s done.”

“You didn’t have it when we left the outpost,” she pressed, her voice low but persistent. “I know you didn’t. And then, suddenly, you’re the hero of the mission a little too late after letting yourself be ripped into one by Kolivan. What was that?”

Keith exhaled sharply through his nose, trying to stave off the rising tension. He hated how she always managed to corner him like this. “Lance…” he muttered reluctantly, hoping she’d let it go if he gave her just enough. “Lance got it somehow.”

Acxa shot him a sidelong look, one brow lifting. “Lance. The same guy who got stuck in a tree during the mission”

Keith fought the urge to snort. He could hear the weight of implication in her voice already. He tried to stay calm, but his pulse betrayed him, quickening under her scrutiny as she continued staring at him, waiting.

“How?” she asked, clearly amused now. “And why did that happen like tha? Wasn’t the entire point of sending Lance with us to make Kolivan like him? Why didn’t he just offer the ID up?”

“I don’t know,” Keith muttered. “It just… happened. He, let me take the award for it and I don’t know why I let him.”

She hummed as a response, her eyes narrowing but turning back to face forward. They lapsed into silence after that, but it was far from comfortable. The corners of Acxa’s mouth twitched with barely-contained amusement, while Keith kept his gaze straight ahead, walking faster than necessary toward Kolivan’s office, feeling heat on his neck.

The last thing he needed was Acxa reading into things—because, honestly, he wasn’t sure what

there

was to read into himself.

They arrived at Kolivan’s meeting room just in time, it emptying out with a lot of the Blade members whow ere on the tech side of the team who were definitely breaking through the inscriptions of the scans Ezor had sent over. Several of them gave Keith a side eye as he and Axca entered, bustling out when they noticed who exactly was coming in. The Blade leader greeted them with a curt nod, and they fell into place at the long conference table. He ushered the two of them to sit before sliding them two keypads connected to the monitor that hummed to life in the center of the table, encryption notes of the base, the planet, transcripts of their intercom messages between the team during it. Keith eyed Krolia sat opposite of him during the meeting, keeping an eye on him. He felt out of place in the moment, unsure of why his mother was staring at him with such intent. She always sat in on these debriefs, always listening to what happened. It’s not like she didn’t know herself, having stayed back and had access to all the information.

Kolivan’s debrief was as thorough and meticulous as ever, reviewing every detail of the mission with precision. Keith sat stiffly, answering questions when asked, though most of the praise was directed at him. He hated every second of it—knowing the credit wasn’t fully his, knowing Lance had somehow made it all work while Keith was still catching up. Keith and Axca filled in the files of what needed to be fixed on theri own hoverbikes, detailing the damage that occurred to them while riding them out of the planet, and halfway through the meeting the screen beeped with a message. As Kolivan opened it up, the room was earned with an announcement that the ID worked, and that the Blades now had important files from the data base and could use it to alert the planet’s government of the uprisings planned, where their specific stations were across the jungle, and shut down future plans of unrest. Keith’s eyes flicked to Axca, whose eyes just widened in approval and a little bit of relief as she glanced back at Keith, a silent message that Keith knew

thank god for Lance.

Keith bit down on the side of his cheek to keep himself from sighing out loud.

Once the meeting concluded, Kolivan dismissed the group, and everyone filed out. Keith hoped to escape the lingering tension, but just as he reached the door, Krolia’s voice stopped him in his tracks.

“Keith.”

He froze for a second, catching Axca’s eye from in front of him as she gave him a small smirk, a

have fun with your mom,

before marching off to leave Keith to his wits. He turned to find his mother watching him with that same patient, knowing look she always seemed to have, sat still at the table and tapping along a digital screen.

“Can I have a word?” she asked, gesturing to the seat next to him. Fuck, Keith was fucked. Keith nodded reluctantly and followed her there, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets as he slid into the seat next to her, grinding his molars again as he watched her through his bangs. She clicked on a couple other digits before shutting off the screen, placing folding her hands on the table.

“You’ve been on edge,” Krolia said gently, her gaze searching his face. “Even before this mission. Something’s bothering you.”

Keith shrugged, shifting his weight awkwardly. “I’m fine.”

She gave him a look, one that Keith was slowly learning as the mom look. He had seen it given to Pidge by Colleen when they were on the Atlas and she would fill her plate with everything but a vegetable. She saw the look given from Lance’s mother when he would say he did a chore earlier in the day when in reality he hadn’t. He saw the look from Shiro to him when he was hiding something that he didn’t want to fully say.

Safe to say, it was a look he hadn’t realized he would ever be getting from his own mother until he got her back in his life, and it was a weird numbing feeling, yet it swelled some sort of happiness in him. Like he was ok to be on the receiving end of the famous mother look now that he actually had a mother to give it to him.

Krolia gave him a soft, knowing smile—the kind only a mother could give as she leaned back in her seat, prodding an open conversationf or her emotionally constipated son.

“You’ve been on edge before you left to visit earth for your friends birthday. We know how the last mission ended with that explosion on planet Zeryx and those mines.”

“That was a freak accident and you know that.” Keith crossed his arms, looking up at Krolia. Krolia pursed her lips, not shaming away from his closed walls.

“I know, and Kolivan understood that what happened was unfortunate, and it was unfortunate that you were the lead on that mission. He covered for you, you know.”

Keith’s chest felt tight as his mind flicked back to the last mission he went on before he came for Pidge’s birthday. It was an ugly one, defiently. What was supposed to be a routine investigation had turned into a nightmare. Mines buried deep beneath the planet’s surface had detonated while he was still inside, killing several locals in the process. He could still hear the explosions, still feel the earth rumbling beneath his feet as he scrambled to escape the collapsing tunnels. The worst part wasn’t the danger—it was the aftermath. The planet’s inhabitants, grief-stricken and furious, had nearly turned on the Blades, yelling at Keith and the 20 or so members of the Blade that had been sent down there to check up on the mines, see how they were doing. Seeing the Galra instead of seeing dutiful Blades who only want to help in their midst only amplified their anger and mistrust. Keith had stood at the center of it, helpless to explain or make amends, the weight of those deaths pressing down on him.

Kolivan had arrived just in time to smooth things over, pulling diplomatic strings to prevent a total fallout. Keith had stammered, cracking under the pressure as a civilization turned ot him to demand answers for what went wrong, why there was a blow up, why thee was deaths. And the more they yelled and began blaming, the more Keith cracked. The more he couldn’t speak, his mind meddling with static at an explanation. He wished that he could have thought about anything else other than Allura, and how smoothly she was able to talk to people, to negotiate conflict and amend worries. But instead he was the leader who demanded action, who helped dictate how stations would be set up or where to send certain Blades and to do what in certain sectors of the galaxy. He wasn’t built for diplomacy, which was the entire reason why he turned down the Galra Coalition board that Krolia insisted him on joining, sticking with just the Blades and their peace efforts and conflict prevention. But the guilt lingered, heavy and suffocating. Kolivan had ordered Keith back to headquarters after that, telling him to lay low until the tension cooled. His head had reeled, not trusting his own self to be a leader forcing command, and Pidge’s birthday couldn’t have come at a better time as he had an excuse to slip away.

“You’re still carrying it, aren’t you?” Krolia asked gently, pulling him back to the present.

Keith didn’t answer, but he didn’t have to. She could see it all over him—the guilt, the frustration, the anxiety.

“I shouldn’t have been so distracted,” Keith finally admitted, his voice low. “I missed something. Maybe if I’d noticed the pressure buildup or checked the scanners more closely…” He trailed off, the weight of the what-ifs settling on his chest.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Krolia said firmly, her gaze steady. “You didn’t plant those mines. You couldn’t have known.”

Keith shook his head, rubbing the back of his neck in frustration. “I was supposed to protect them, though. That’s the whole point, right? But I couldn’t even do that.”

“You did everything you could,” Krolia replied. “And Kolivan knows that. That’s why he stepped in—for you.”

Keith felt a soft growl in the back of his throat, so he cleared it, flexing his jaw.

“I feel like I keep messing up to Kolivan.” Keith muttered out, the stress tensing down his neck.

“He’s just hard on you because you know what he wants you to become.” Krolia offered. Keith breathed out slow, avoiding her eyes, a pit in his stomach returning.

“Well, he needs to stop thinking I’ll be leader of the Blades anytime soon with the way things are going. I can’t as so much address a berating crowd without freezing or saying the wrong thing in defense.” Keith sucked in, thinking about the weight that he knew Kolivan was placing for him. Its no secret Kolivan wanted Keith to take his place in authority when he was no longer around to do it, and that terrified him. Kolivan only trusted him as the rightful leader of what the Blades would be in years to come, since Keith was a huge reason why they had changed to become a humanitarian organization. He saw the drive Keith had to help change the Galra way, and saw the way planets agreed to join with the Galra and the Blades because they saw Keith as a symbol of peace and moving forward. They trusted Keith, despite knowing Keith was half Galra himself. He tended to keep that more private, more close. The Blade all knew, but the entire galaxy didn’t need that fact. Besides, if it got planets to trust the Blade knowing Keith was a big face of it, who was it harming?

“Kolivan just wants you to be the best leader you can be. He’s harsh because he cares, and you know that he would drop anything to help you.” Krolia’s voice broke through, and Keith had to snort.

“Yah, is he doing that on behalf of me or to impress you?” He drew a sly smirk as Krolia tensed, her eyes glinting back at him to hide any shame.

“I’m trying to help you go easier on yourself and trust your team more with the stress you clearly have muddled all over you.” Krolia gentled her eyes, nodding at Keith as if she could smell his stress. Which, if he was being honest, she definitely did. He learned that quickly that once she tracked his scent and familiarize herself again to him, she could sense his heart rate. Practically tase the boundless stress crushing him, so she had no excuse to ever ignore when he felt like he was being eaten alive by his responsibilities.

“And if you’re bringing up people to impress…” She lowered her voice, her own lips quirking up. Keith eyes widened before quickly glancing at the table, scowling back at her.

“Is this what you were trying to do all along, try and talk to me about something that isn’t an issue?” Keith muttered, but he glanced back to see his mother fighting back a smile.

“You do realize I quite literally saw everything.” She stated, practically sucking the air out of his lungs.

“There’s nothing to–”

“Keith,” Krolia interrupted, her voice calm but firm. “You don’t have to explain yourself. I know what happened between you two, and most importantly I know what you feel about him. I saw it all during our time in the quantum abyss.”

That hit Keith like a punch to the chest. His throat tightened, and he tried to swallow down the flood of emotions rising to the surface.

“So tell me, what’s making you so anxious now? I for one would have thought you’d be thrilled to have him here.” She snaked out a smile, and Keith tried not to burn from a blush. She really did know too much, hell, she did see

everything

.

“You know, I’m really starting to hate that you saw into my head. It feels like an invasion of privacy.”

“I think the quantam abyss was on my side. Most mothers already know whats going on in their kids heads, and it helped me play catch up.”

“I don’t hate Lance being here. It’s just…” Keith slumped slightly, the tension in his shoulders loosening but not fully gone. “It’s not just about that,” he muttered. “It’s everything. Him being here... It feels wrong.”

Krolia’s brow furrowed, her gaze sharpening. “Why?”

Keith dragged a hand down his face, struggling to put it into words. “Because he doesn’t know what he’s getting into,” he admitted quietly. “He has no idea how dangerous things get with the Blades. And I’m not sure I can keep him safe. And that…”

Terrifies me.

He refused to loose him to anything. He had promised himself in Voltron he would get Lance back on Earth again, and now it seems like he had to double down on a promise he thought he completed.

Krolia’s expression softened, but she didn’t interrupt. Keith kept going, the words tumbling out now that the dam had finally broken.

“I’m supposed to be a leader. Kolivan expects me to make the hard calls, but if something goes wrong—if Lance gets hurt because I wasn’t good enough—” Keith’s voice cracked slightly, and he swallowed hard. “I don’t think I could live with that.”

Krolia rested a hand on his arm, her touch light but grounding. “You’re not responsible for every outcome, Keith. No matter how much you care about him, you can’t control everything. But you also can’t protect him by pushing him away.”

Keith let out a frustrated breath, his heart pounding in his chest. “I just… I don’t know how to let him see this part of me. The Blade leader. The mistakes. The part that doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing half the time and the other half that makes decisions that could be…less morale. Something to make him realize maybe Voltron me is gone.”

Krolia gave him a small, reassuring smile. “Maybe that’s exactly what he needs to see.”

Keith stared at her, his mind racing. It felt like a freefall—like no matter what direction he went, there was no safety net. But Krolia’s steady gaze held him, grounding him in a way only she could.

“Keith,” she said softly, “you really think that that Blue Paladin out there doesn’t already know who you are? What you’re like under pressure. I saw the way he interacts with you, the way you got under his skin and him under yours, but did he ever turn away from you when you weren’t even as close as you are now?”

The knot in Keith’s chest loosened, just a little. He wasn’t sure if it was enough to make everything better, but it was something. And right now, he could live with that.

He nodded slowly, letting out a shaky breath. “No, I guess,” he murmured.

Krolia gave his arm a reassuring squeeze, her smile gentle. “I know you care about him a lot, and unfortunately had to deal with minimizing how you felt towards him in exchange for his own feelings and healing, but I think you are missing out on something real you actually have with him. He respects you a lot, Keith, and sees the world in you. And you have to trust me on this, as a mom, I am an excellent observer.”

They sat in silence for a moment longer before Keith finally straightened, letting out a shaky breath.

“I just can’t mess this up again with him. I don’t want to push him away, or make him see me different. I want those years back that I left him.” Keith muttered, squeezing his leg tightly with his hand. Krolia’s own hand came down on his shoulder, bringing him out of his tension.

“Based off how he acted with you when you did return, I have no reason to believe he wants that distance either. You need to believe in him, Keith. You’ll be surprised.”

Keith licked his lips, nodding slightly as his mother began to stand.

“Also, stop underestimating him with everything and what he can or can not know. He was in Voltron after all. He may agree with some of your, tendencies and side projects.” Her eyes glinted down, an unspoken secret exchanged between them. Keith’s mouth popped open in surprise, his eyes flicking around the room even though he knew it was empty.

He definitely wasn’t going to tell Lance every single secret and ongoing that’s happened recently with his life in the Blades, but maybe it really was time to start trusting him here. After all, he was one of the best fighters he knew.

Keith ended up finding Lance in the trainning deck. Although he didn’t attach a chip to Lance, he might as well have with how difficult he made it tracking him down. Of course he didn’t make it easy not staying put. For a second he was scared that he had gotten lost, and wanted to curse at Axca for even giving him a map in the first place made with technology he wasn’t familiar with. After he unsuccessfully checked his room, the hangar, and looped back around to the only other place he had taken Lance which was the briefing room, he found Lance in the training deck, sat and watching several members of the Blade duelng with each other in a short handed knife fight. He had changed out of the Blade suit, and he was in a pair of jeans and a loose fitted blue shirt, one that always made his eyes pop and sparkle. Great, he found the time to change and look nice while Keith definitely looked like he hadn’t slept and probably reeked, which to his defense, he hadn’t had a moment of rest being pulled from meeting to meals to debriefing to mother intervention.

His eyes felt heavy as he watched Lance sat on the floor, his own eyes focused on the quick and seamless movements of the Blades in the middle of the room, their attacks careful and coordinated, planned and memorized. Keith’s eyes trailed Lance’s back underneath his shirt as he came to plop down next to him, scaring the brown haired boy.

“Jeez, someone needs to put a bell on you.” Lance jumped, turning to him, but his eyes broke into a smile. Keith wanted to glow under the look, receiving something so warm from him.

“And I need to put a tracker on you. How did you even get here, anway? I’ve never shown you this place yet.” The clanging of knives rung through the room, and the light footpads of the Blades danced in the heavy space. Lance shrugged, turning to look back at the fight.

“Went back to your room to change, but it’s not like you got much in there to keep busy with. So I wandered around a bit and talked to some Blade people, which, still intimidating, until one of them told me where this place was. It’s cool, kinda reminds me of the one we had on the Castle.”

Keith hummed, drawing his eyes away from Lance to take in the large arches of the room, the ceiling high, and the room illuminated with the low purple glow of the Blade’s color. It had several weapons tucked away in closets along the sides, seveal large swords of every size and curve imaginable decorating the walls. Keith came here just as often as he did on the ship, getting lost in the burn of training, pushing to get better at manuvers and techniques, and having a reliable sparring partner who also would be restless when there was no mission. But Axca wasn’t like Lance.

“The Castle’s was cooler.” Keith muttered out, earning a look of shock from Lance. Keith gave him a small smile, watching the way Lance so easily lit up at that. He would do anything to keep earning that smile from Lance if he could.

“You done with your meetings for the day?” Lance prodded him with his shoe. Keith let out an exhausted sigh, leaning back onto his hands.

“I hope so. If I have to talk to Kolivan one more time today I’m gonna lose it.”

“Man, you weren’t kidding when you would just blame your absence in our groupchats to ‘blade stuff’. I get it now. If I were you, there would be no way I’d keep up with a groupchat. Suddenly I don’t feel bad whenebvr Pidge complains how you don’t respond to her memes or twitter threads she sends you. And here I thought you were just being a dick.”

“I look at her twitter threads at night sometimes to catch up. Its the only thing that makes sense between Hunk’s memes and your dumb videos you send.”

“My videos are NOT dumb. It’s very important that you guys are aware that there’s a new Wicked movie coming out, and you got to be updated with SNL at least a little! That’s like, peak pop culture.” Lance groaned, but an even wider smile appeared on his face when Keith stifled a laugh. Another loud clang of metal against metal rang through the room, and their attention was brought as the Blades bowed to each other and finished their fight.

“So like, most of you guys are good in close up fights, right?” Lance drawled. Keith shrugged. Hand on hand combat was what most of the Blades were good at, fighting with their own gifted daggers and having a backbone of stealth combat.

“And if I’m now a part time blade member, shouldn’t that mean that I have to learn to fight like you guys?” Lance spoke slowly. Keith blinked, frowning as he watched Lance’s brain turn.

“I guess, but that’s not necessarily a make or break–”

Lance shot up then, stretching his arms out over his head and cracking his back as he dropped a hand in front of Keith’s face.

“What are you waiting for then?”

Keith blinked at Lance’s outstretched hand, furrowing his brows as he looked up at Lance’s determined face. It nearly blew Keith to the ground seeing the way his face was glowing. He handn’t seen an expression like that on Lance in….well…since he was a Paladin. Lance shook his hand again, wagging his fingers before tapping Keith’s nose.

“Cmon, mullet. You keep saying everyone wants me to prove my worth and what not. So, help me earn my keep. Show me some of your moves and what I need to know, like a crash course.”

Keith looked at his hand and back up, and something twisted in him. Something selfish, like he wanted to cradle this fired up look on Lance. Keep it alive. So he ignored the parts of him that was screaming no as he took hold of Lance’s hand, eyes widening at how fast he pulled him up to his feet. Lance squeezed Keith’s hand once more for good measure before dropping it, and Keith’s head swirled in a daze at the momentary hand hold before Lance began jogging to the center of the room, snapping back into it.

“You sure?” Keith followed Lance as if he was magnetically pulled, and Lance let out another groan.

“Yes, I’m serious," Lance shot back, rolling his eyes. "I wanna learn. I can’t keep relying on my sharpshooter skills forever.”

Keith huffed a quiet laugh, but the look in Lance’s eyes made him pause. There was something deeper beneath the playful exterior—a spark of determination, frustration, and maybe a little desperation. Like he wanted Keith to give him something he could work with, something he could do, something to learn. It was a glimpse of the Lance he used to know. The one who never gave up.

“Alright,” Keith relented, tilting his head. “We’ll start simple. Classic hand to hand combat without weapons.”

Lance grinned, but Keith could tell it was more bravado than anything. He stepped closer, motioning for Lance to mirror his stance. “Feet shoulder-width apart. Keep your knees bent and loose. You want to stay light on your feet so you can react quickly.”

Lance shifted, adjusting his feet with a grunt. Keith nudged Lance’s elbow into place and lightly tapped his hands down to guard his face. “Keep your hands up at all times. Always protect yourself.” Keith’s heartbeat thrummed in his ears as he adjusted Lance’s stance, stepping close enough to feel the warmth radiating off him. His hands lingered a moment too long on Lance’s elbow, guiding it into place, hoping Lance’s didn’t catch his selfish touch.

"Like this," Keith murmured, his voice lower than he intended, pulse quickening as Lance turned his head slightly—too close, way too close—and locked those bright blue eyes on him.

Keith swallowed hard, his fingers twitching as he forced himself to step back, clearing the knot forming in his chest.

Focus. This is just training. Just training...

But it wasn’t. Not really.

Lance gave a small mock salute, his hands now in position. "Yes, sir, Captain Keith."

Keith rolled his eyes, but his lips twitched into a reluctant smile. “Focus, Lance.”

They started slow, with Keith demonstrating a basic punch and the mechanics behind it—how to twist his hips into the movement, using momentum from his whole body. He felt Lance’s eyes focused on him as Keith leaned and ducked, showing the movements first before turning to look at Lance to mirror him back. “Don’t just punch with your arm. Put your weight into it. Use your core.”

Lance tried, throwing a clumsy jab that made Keith chuckle under his breath. “Not bad. A little more rotation in the hips.”

After a few more practice punches, Keith showed him how to block and parry—small, subtle movements meant to redirect force rather than absorb it. He guided Lance step by step, walking him through a few controlled exchanges, testing his reactions. Every time Keith moved, he was painfully aware of how close Lance was—how his breath came in shallow bursts, how his muscles flexed beneath his sweat-dampened shirt. It was maddening. Lance not being in his Blade suit just forced his casual shirt to dampen from sweat, the light material floating around his body and lifting up when Lance rolled his shoulders, exposing a bit of skin. Keith’s eyes snapped back every time, feeling guilt for even looking. This was awful.

It wasn’t just that Lance was here. It was that Lance was

alive

again, sharp and determined, the fire back in his eyes. And Keith couldn’t look away.

“Alright, let’s pick up the pace,” Keith said, hoping the fight would burn through the tension building in him. He bounced lightly on his toes, motioning for Lance to come at him and swing instead of just hitting the air in practiced motions.

Lance smirked. “Oh, so we’re finally taking the kiddie gloves off?”

“Something like that,” Keith muttered, shifting into his stance to hide the flicker of heat crawling up his neck.

Don’t blush. Don’t blush. Focus.

Lance lunged at him, throwing a right hook that Keith dodged easily. Keith pivoted, catching Lance’s wrist mid-swing and twisting him off-balance. Their bodies collided for a split second—chest to chest, Lance’s breath warm on Keith’s neck—and Keith’s pulse surged dangerously fast.

He shoved Lance back a little too forcefully, trying to cover the fact that his entire body felt like it was on fire. “Don’t overextend.” His voice came out rougher than intended.

He motioned for Lance to go again, watching with careful eyes the way he moved, how he decided to lunge in. Keith carefully dodged around, swooping in practied motions to divert Lance’s punch and have him sailing past him, unsuccessfully landing a hit on Keith.

They continued to dance around each other a couple more times, Keith dodging every blow Lance attempted, and every time Keith caught Lance and was about to swing the blow, he pulled back last minute, opting to just trip Lance’s legs a bit. It was going great to Keith’s standards. Lance was learning the motions, picking up where to step and how to avoid hits as Keith scolded lightly when he made the same mistakes twice, wanting to fix it immediately.

But after a few minutes, Lance stopped abruptly, frustration flashing across his face. “Alright, come on. Stop holding back.”

Keith arched a brow. “I’m not holding back.”

“Yes, you are,” Lance snapped, his voice sharper now. "You’re treating me like I’m some fragile rookie. Fight me for real, Keith.”

Keith clenched his jaw.

God, why does he have to say my name like that?

It wasn’t even flirtatious. He was clearly annoyed and sweaty and heaving a bit as he breathed. It was just... Lance. But somehow, it hit him like a punch to the gut.

"Come on, Kogane. Fight me for real."

Keith froze, caught off guard by the fire in Lance’s tone. For the first time in a long while, Lance looked alive—like the same reckless, determined kid who used to challenge him every chance he got back in the Garrison. The spark in his blue eyes wasn’t just anger. It was hunger. He wanted this. Needed it.

“Fine, put me on my back.” Keith dropped his voice. Lance’s face twisted into an unreconizble expression, but his lips smirked.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

Keith’s heart stuttered for a second, but he gave a small nod, and without warning, Keith lunged forward. Lance barely had time to react, his instincts kicking in as Keith closed the distance between them in a flash. Lance threw a punch, but Keith sidestepped easily, his body flowing like water.

Keith's palm shot out, not hard enough to hurt but fast enough to make Lance stumble back. He helped Lance up immediately, but Lance shouldered him off, lowering down again. Before Keith could react, Lance side stepped and kicked swiftly at him with his leg. Keith’s trained reflexes reacted fast enough to step back, but not before Lance came down with another punch. Keith avoided getting smacked in the face as he barred it off with his forearm, stuttering a breath at how fast Lance was hitting back to back. He narrowed his eyes back at Lance, pushing a bit until he swept him down to crash to the mat. Keith hovered over him for a second, panting, their faces inches apart.

Lance stared up at him, flushed and breathing hard, and Keith’s stomach twisted painfully. His gaze flickered to Lance’s lips before he could stop himself, and he had to tear his eyes away, feeling like he’d been burned.

“There you are.” Lance grinned up at Keith, egging him on. Keith felt his own heart stutter at the look Lance was giving him, looking up through lidded eyelids and his voice dancing in a taunt, as if to prove that he got some sort of beast out of Keith finally.

“You’re telegraphing your punches,” Keith said coolly. “Try again.”

Lance scowled, determination burning brighter now. He got up and then feinted to the left, then swung with his right, but Keith anticipated the movement, blocking it effortlessly. Before Lance could pull back, Keith caught his wrist, twisting gently to unbalance him and sweep his leg out from under him.

Lance hit the mat with a thud, groaning in frustration. Keith stood over him, his expression unreadable but his eyes gleaming with focus.

“Get up,” Keith said, his voice low but challenging.

Lance gritted his teeth, pushing himself off the floor. Sweat dripped down his forehead, and his heart pounded in his chest, but he wasn’t going to quit. He charged again, his movements sharper this time, more precise.

They exchanged blows in rapid succession—Keith moving with the ease of someone who’d fought a hundred battles, Lance fueled by sheer grit and stubbornness. Lance’s punches came faster, more unpredictable, forcing Keith to react quicker, parrying with smooth, controlled blocks.

Keith ducked under a wild swing, using Lance’s momentum against him to flip him over again. But this time, Lance twisted mid-fall, landing in a crouch and sweeping his leg at Keith’s feet. Keith stumbled, barely catching himself in time, and a flicker of surprise crossed his face. "Not bad."

“Finally,” Lance panted, grinning despite the ache in his muscles.

Keith shot forward again, faster this time, testing Lance’s limits. They circled each other like predators, the tension between them sharp and electric. Lance could feel his blood pumping, his senses heightened. It wasn’t just a fight—it was a challenge, a dance, and Keith wasn’t holding back anymore.

Keith fought the urge to smile as they fought, but it was hopeless. There was something addictive about seeing Lance like this—alive, laughing, challenging him. It felt too good. Too dangerous.

The fight went on several rounds, most of it in Keith finding a way to knock Lance with harder blows, the air leaving his stomach as he landed in awkward positions. Lance was a great fighter, but he had gotten sloppy. Not exactly lazy, clearly from the energy buzzing off of him with every attempt to take down Keith. It was jus different, like he was trying to relearn the movements he had grown so accustomed to when they trained together on the Castle. That didn’t seem to bother Lance, however, and Keith knew that it was like riding a bike. He was building the confidence, hitting firmer and more on point, moving quicker and avoiding Keith’s more genuine attempts. But the tension between them was sharper now, electric. Keith found himself hyper-aware of every movement Lance made, every brush of skin, every shared breath. It was suffocating, intoxicating. And Lance had no idea what he was doing to him.

Lance threw a punch, and Keith caught it mid-air, twisting Lance’s arm behind his back. He pinned him against his chest, and for a fraction of a second, everything slowed—the heat between them unbearable, their breathing in sync.

Keith’s grip faltered just slightly, his heart hammering against his ribcage.

Get a hold of yourself. Focus. This isn’t—

Lance shifted suddenly, slipping free from the hold, spinning to face him with a triumphant grin. Keith blinked, reeling from the lack of closeness they now had as Lance pushed into his space, whispering a deep, “Gotcha.”

The sheer joy on Lance’s face made Keith’s chest ache. He stumbled back, desperate for space, as Lance went in on his dirtiest trick. He full on lunged at Keith, sending both of them flying backwards, Keith on his back and Lance flopping over his stomach, the two on the ground at last.

Lance shifted on top of Keith, his weight pushing on his chest and making Keith wince all while his body burned and ached at the contact.

Lance rolled off Keith to fall at his side as Keith lay flat on his back, letting out a sigh of air without Lance suffocating him in more ways that he realized. Lance raised an eyebrow, a teasing glint in his eyes. “What’s the matter, Kogane? Thought you were supposed to be some unbeatable Blade.”

Keith couldn’t stop the blush from creeping up his neck this time. “Shut up.” It wasn’t exactly his most graceful comeback.

Lance just laughed, light and carefree, the sound wrapping around Keith’s heart and squeezing.

Keith exhaled sharply, sitting up and shaking his head to clear the dangerous thoughts that had been building the entire fight. “We’re done for today.”

Lance gave him a playful pout. “Oh, come on. One more?”

“No,” Keith said, quickly getting to his feet so Lance wouldn’t see the redness spreading across his face. “I’m still in my Blade suite and I haven’t even had time to just rest today.”

“I thought hell would be freezing over by the time Keith Kogane wanted to rest instead of train.” Lance wiggled his brows up at him, but seemed satisfied enough to not push. Keith held out a hand for Lance to take, one hand on his hip to act tired and wanting done with this situation. Lance just dramatically sighed, taking hold of it and letting Keith pull him up. Keith tried not to focus on the way their hands held for a second longer than what he expected one Lance was upright.

Keith was glad they finally left the training deck, listening to Lance ramble on about how he was gonna get in more training hours when Keith had to be in secret blade meetings or when he was napping, wanting to find more ways to get him knocked down. Keith listened silently, happy to be an ear for Lance to talk. He hated that he would listen to Lance talk about anything for as long as he could, and the heavy feeling churned in his chest that he so desperately tried to avoid with agreeing for Lance to get close to him again.

This wasn’t just a fight. And if Lance kept looking at him like that—with those bright, challenging eyes—Keith knew he was going to lose a battle far more dangerous than any they’d fought before.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Lance had spent the majority of the rest of the week learning the full extent of what the Blades were doing. He found himself slowly falling into the rhythm of life with the Blades of Marmora, a routine he hadn’t known he needed but was starting to enjoy more than he expected. It was strict, everything on time and practice, with call times expected of everyone, which didn’t bother Lance as much as he thought since he already was an early morning riser on the farm to get all his chores done in the day. Mornings came early, the days beginning before sunrise with sharp wake-up calls and grueling training sessions. Keith always kept a close eye on him during these drills, quietly assessing every move Lance made, correcting him with small nudges or silent gestures. Keith was never overly harsh, but Lance could tell when his former teammate was holding back—testing him, waiting for him to catch up to the new standard.

It was strange seeing Keith like this, a leader in every sense of the word. Yet, no matter how much progress they made together during training, Keith was constantly pulled away—yanked into strategic meetings and debriefings about a whole other side of the Blades that Lance never got to see, didn’t quite get to follow him to. Lance would watch him disappear behind closed doors with Kolivan and Krolia, always left behind to figure out how to navigate this new world on his own.

He’d started eating meals in the mess hall with the Blade operatives when Keith wasn’t around to be a barrier for him, though fitting in was still awkward. Keith’s team wasn’t exactly what he’d call welcoming. Zethrid and Acxa barely talked, and when they did, it was curt and to the point. Lance tried cracking jokes a few times, but they didn’t land—or worse, they weren’t acknowledged at all. He painted it up to a simple human-Galra miscommunication, since its not like they would understand his own Earthly quirks or references, but it still felt like a loud fumble whenever he would say something and he was just stared back at quizzingly through pairs of yellow eyes. Ezor was a bit friendlier, though it always felt like her kindness came with a sly undertone, like she was secretly mocking him, everything directed towards him said with a slight smirk before her eyes would catch Zethird’s as if they were secretly judging him, or pointing out his flaws or lack of communication between them. Sometimes she would make a point to ask where Keith was when Lance would walk into a room, but it never seemed like she genuinely wanted the answer. Like there was a secret game between her asking Lance every single time she saw him, and Lance just missing the concept by a long shot. At first, it irritated Lance, but he figured it was just her way of starting conversation with him. Besides, it wasn’t like they had the nicest history between each other. It was still mind reeling that Lance was now working with people who used to shoot guns at him. Still, those awkward interactions faded to the back of his mind whenever they went out on relief missions. These trips quickly became the highlight of Lance’s time with the Blades. The Blade headquarters is where most of them centered in for most parts, but they also had a large ship that would take in most of the crew and bring them to far away planets to check in on their peace treaties and alliances, help rebuild with supplies that need to be brought from planet to planet, and having random coalition meetings with the Galra Coalition that he learned Krolia and Kolivan were also part of, consisting of more leaders outside the blade that were Galra and lived on Daibazaal.

They visited worlds still reeling from the scars left by the Galra Empire—cities in ruins, communities struggling to rebuild, planets on the verge of collapse. Lance found purpose in these missions, hauling supplies, distributing medicine, and helping rebuild homes. It was hard work, and the gravity of it weighed on him, but it also filled a gap that had been sitting empty in his chest since the end of Voltron.

The most surreal moments came when the mask came off—when aliens recognized him, their eyes widening in disbelief.

“The Blue Paladin,” they’d whisper in awe, and for a moment, Lance felt the weight of what that title still meant. It was humbling in a way he hadn’t expected. Back on Earth, he was Lance again to his family, being only surrounded by them most days until the occasional reunion with the rest of the team would draw him to New Altea, or he would finally get enough courge to visit with Pidge and Shiro at the Galaxy Garrison for quick lunches. These people remembered him—not for being a soldier or a pilot, but for being part of a team that gave them hope when the galaxy was at its darkest. On these planets, as he knelt in the dirt to help patch a wall or hoisted children onto his shoulders, Lance felt something click inside him. There was no grandeur in what he was doing now. No big battles, no fame. Just hands-on work, one brick at a time, one smile at a time.

He liked that. He liked

this

. The simplicity of it.

It was a different simplicity than milking Kaltenecker or collecting eggs in the morning from the barn. It was different from helping his mom cook in the evenings or picking up supplies from the stores in town with his brother Louis. Those days were simple in the way that life was simply passing, like it was mundane in the lull of it.

Every day felt like it mattered at the Blades because he got to witness the direct affects his effort was having on the universe even after he was needed. And for the first time in what felt like forever, Lance felt like

he

mattered, too.

And he wanted these planets to feel like hope could return. It would hurt him sometimes when they would touch down and the planet leaders would immediately start firing questions at Keith the moment he stepped off the ship, demanding answers for why a supply chain hadn’t gotten to them faster, how they were going to recover from the poverty that was striking them after the Galra had wrecked them for thousands of years, or doubt that the Blades were someone worthy of helping because they consisted of majority Galra heritage. Lance would stiffen as if the blows were directed at him, because yah, he understood what they were saying for the most part. These were species and innocent civilans who were berated and attacked mercilessly for generations by ONE specific race, so it was going to take a while for them to learn to trust and accept that the Galra were changed for the better. But it was still a punch in the gut to see the way Keith took it all, jaw set and eyes firm as he listened to it all, took it in, let them take their anger out on him as a spokesperson.

With all the watching Lance was doing, more respective of the silence that the Blades worked in, the more Lance found himself studying Keith more than he probably should. Every time they touched down on a new planet, Lance would watch how Keith immediately stepped into his role as a leader, sharp and unflinching. He had a way of commanding attention without raising his voice, and even when alien leaders eyed the Blade emblem on his uniform with thinly-veiled distrust, Keith didn’t bristle. He didn’t lash out or force authority. Instead, he stood steady—patient in a way Lance hadn’t thought Keith could be.

This wasn’t the same Keith Lance remembered from their Voltron days. Back then, Keith’s leadership had been raw, impulsive, driven by instinct and emotion. The moment a species showed distrust of remotely working hand in hand with a half-Galra, Keith would explode and lash out, attacking them for being too quick to judge, being too quick witted himself to think for a second before Shiro would pull him back and step in with his grace and smooth words. But now, every interaction was calculated and careful, like he’d spent the last year and a half sanding down those sharp edges. Lance watched him handle tense conversations with alien elders, leaders, and civilians who couldn’t see past the Galra symbol sewn into their uniforms. Keith didn’t argue or defend himself. Instead, he listened—

really

listened—and answered with understanding, defusing tension with a quiet kind of strength that was more effective than any battle ever could be.

And then Keith would show them. He wasn’t big on words, Lance came to notice as he watched Keith and Kolivan navitage these difficult situations. Instead, he would order his own troops off the ships in bulk, carying down boxes of cleaning supplies, packages of food, clothes, water, and muscle to help rebuild. Promises that they would be taken care of in exchange for joining their peace coalition.

And slowly, planets gave in. Believed in the Blades. It felt like they were starting over with the trust, having witnessed the diplomacy Allura, Shiro, and Coran built with Voltron, but this seemed so much more different. Like they really had to be careful with how they acted and treated other planets, because they were still under scrutiny and judgement of the scars their race left behind.

It was... weird, in a good way. Lance wasn't used to seeing Keith this way—someone who could be so in control without being abrasive, who led with both conviction and care. It was impressive, even if Lance wouldn’t admit it out loud. Maybe not even to himself.

But there was something else, too. A warmth Lance hadn’t noticed before. When Keith spoke one-on-one with the people they were helping—whether it was a cautious leader or a young alien child clinging nervously to their parent’s leg—there was a softness in him that Lance didn’t think anyone else saw. Keith’s voice would drop, his posture would relax, and his hands—so sharp and efficient in a fight—would gesture carefully, as if the smallest movement mattered. There was a gentle kind of understanding in those moments, a reminder that Keith was more than just a soldier or a leader. And every time Lance noticed that change in Keith, something twisted deep in his gut—something warm and strange. It was a feeling Lance wasn’t used to, and he couldn’t quite put a name to it.

He tried not to think about it too much, but it kept creeping up on him—especially when he wasn’t expecting it. Like the way Keith’s brows would stay furrowed in quiet frustration whenever Kolivan stood nearby, piling expectations onto his shoulders without saying a word. And yet, the moment Keith broke away from the rigidness of command—just a second to interact with someone in need—his whole demeanor shifted. The weight he carried would lift, if only for a moment, and Lance would catch that familiar warmth in Keith’s expression.

It was... endearing, in a way. Not that Lance would call it that outright. But it was there, unmistakable, lingering under his skin. And it happened more often than he wanted to admit. Whether it was a brush of shoulders as Keith passed him by during a mission, his eyes catching Lance to ask a silent question to check in he was alright, or the way Keith’s jaw would tense in focus, or the quiet hum Keith gave whenever he was thinking something through before landing on a new planet—those little moments stuck with Lance. The more he noticed, the more he couldn’t stop noticing.

And somewhere along the line, Lance found himself waiting for them. Waiting to see those flickers of softness in Keith’s gaze. Waiting for Keith’s presence to steady him, even when things were tense.

So when Lance crouched near a group of alien kids gathered around a busted water pump, their wide eyes filled with a mixture of hope and frustration, he wanted to try his hardest to stop thinking about the way Keith’s softness was drilling into the back of his mind like an unwanted pest. Butterflies, maybe.
The pump sputtered weakly, dripping just enough water to make it worse—close, but not enough. The smallest one looked up at him with droopy antennae and big, glassy eyes that reminded him of his niece when she didn’t get what she wanted. Lance let out a soft sigh and knelt down.

“Alright, hang on, little guys,” he said, rolling up imaginary sleeves on his suit. “Let me see what I can do.”

With some quick tinkering, a couple of twists to loosen the pressure valve, and a good whack for good measure, the pump sputtered to life, spraying a thin stream of water. The kids squealed with excitement, their little hands shooting out to fill their cups, sloshing water everywhere in the process. Lance couldn’t help but grin.

But they weren’t done with him. One of them tugged at his sleeve insistently, babbling something in their native language. Another held up a ball—worn, lopsided, and on the verge of deflating.

“Oh, you want to play, huh?” Lance chuckled, giving the ball an experimental toss. “Alright, I got something for you. I used to do this all the time with my niece and nephew back on Earth.”

He lined the kids up and set the rules for a simplified game of "Monkey in the Middle." They didn’t entirely understand the instructions, but that didn’t matter. Laughter erupted almost instantly as they ran around, squealing as they tried to steal the ball from one another. Lance let them cheat and double-team him—grinning as they tripped over themselves to keep the ball out of his reach. He could practically feel the darkened energy that was on the planet moments ago lifting, letting kids be kids after everything they faced during the war time.

He tossed the ball again, faking a pass to one of the kids before spinning and letting the smallest one grab it. The kid cheered so loudly Lance couldn’t help but laugh with him.

“You guys are

good!

" Lance said with mock defeat, hands on his hips. "Way better than my nephew. Don’t tell him I said that, though.”

As he glanced up mid-laugh, the moment slowed. Across the dusty courtyard, Keith stood with a small group of the planet’s leaders, arms folded over his chest, half-listening to their conversation. But his sharp gaze wasn’t on them—it was on Lance.

Keith’s expression was difficult to read. He wore the same focused, neutral look he often had when assessing caught in a diplomatic conversation with elders and planet leaders/cheifs, but there was something softer beneath it. Not exactly a smile, but not quite a scowl, either. Just… Keith. Observing. Watching him with the kind of intensity that Lance could

feel

from across the space.

Lance’s heart thumped in his chest.

He gave the ball one last toss to the kids, ruffling the nearest kid’s head, trying not to wince at the feeling of an antenna sticking out. “Keep practicing, champs. I gotta take a break before you wear me out.”

As he straightened up, he shot Keith a grin from across the courtyard—half teasing, half testing the waters, just waiting for something to break on his face to let him know that everything was alright. Keith didn’t smile back, not fully, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes. Something that looked suspiciously like fondness. Lance’s stomach did a weird flip, and he quickly looked away, rubbing the back of his neck as heat crawled up to his ears.

What the hell is that look supposed to mean?

He could still feel Keith’s gaze lingering as he ambled over to the water pump to wash the dust off his hands. And for the first time since joining the Blades, Lance realized he didn’t mind being watched like this—at least, not by Keith. He used to hate when Keith would watch him in the early days of Voltron, like he was a vulture picking apart and waiting for Lance to stumble, keeping him on his toes so he could swoop in an execute a training sequence better. Could nab a shallow shot at someting Lance said or didn’t understand during group meetings on the Castle bridge. But slowly, Keith’s watchful eye melted into something different, less condescending, more like he was watching for the sake of studying Lance in an understanding way.

It was... nice. In a complicated, nerve-wracking, completely confusing way.

When they got back to the ship later that evening, all dirty, soar, and exhaustion working their way through their limbs, Keith once again had to be escorted off into a secret meeting. Keith’s eyes lingered on Lance, and Lance felt the private need to feel honored that out of everyone addressing Keith to be ushered somewhere else on the ship, Keith was looking for him.

“Go on, I’ll be fine! Do your blade agenda and I’ll be waiting for you somewhere when you get out.” Lance threw him a grin, but Keith’s face flickered with something else, almost like he felt awful. Lance watched Keith suck in his bottom lip before patting his leg, summoning Kosmo to come pad up between them.

“I’ll be quick, I promise. Feed Kosmo for me?” Keith’s lips turnt up slightly, and Lance tried not to focus on the way his eyes shone back, tried to ignore the exhaustion hanging under them, how frizzled his hair had gotten around his face.

Lance shooed him off, happily taking Kosmo and wanting to step away from how intensely he had been watching Keith. Yah, this definitely felt weird, and he wanted to sign it off as some over exhaustion and just being around Keith for so much after all this time. Once he got back to the room he got to have on the ship, shower, change out of his suit and feed Kosmo out of a bag Keith took aboard with him everywhere, Lance fiddled with himself, his legs bouncing as he sat patiently in the room he shared with Keith. It was small, with stationary bunk beds and the room designed to simply be somewhere to rest between missions. Keith always told him to not pack much when they got onto the ship, but that didn’t stop Lance from finding his CD player and phone and slipping off to explore the ship more, Kosmo in tail. It was like having a personal body guard, when his own needy body guard was off brooding in meetings.

Lance let a tape play of an old mixtape of spanish music he and his mom used to sing a lot growing up, always playing in the kitchen when they were making family meals, played when they were relaxing with a glass of wine in the backyard, played for him when he was was recovering at the Garrison the first time they returned back to Earth. It was familiar, it was comforting. Lance let himself get lost in the music and his slow thoughts of processing what the week had become until he found an alcove of the ship with large windows stretching to the ceiling, tucked away with some benches propped up against the windows and between pillars stablizing the walls.

He found himself crawling up into the space, letting the soft guitar strums of the music fade out as he watched the galaxy stretch out in front of him outside, the stars twinkling back, a sight he hadn’t thought he would be back in so soon. Or ever, to be honest. Once his thought started to feel like they were treading back to thinking about Allura, he decided to whip out his phone and attempt to call Hunk and Pidge.

He thanked the heavens that somehow it reached them, their faces blasted on his screen.

“You are dead to me. Finished. Over. I can not believe you right now.” Pidge’s face was smushed close to the screen, her amber eyes firing back at him over the call.

“Hey, this all was sort of a spur of the moment thing.” Lance defended, trying not to laugh at the look of utter shock and betray on the younger ones face as Hunk rolled his eyes.

“That gives no excuse for the LACK OF TEXT. No, hey Pidge I think I’m just gonna blast off to space with Keith for a bit, talk to you when I get there. No, I actually hate you and kept you out of the loop while EVERYONE ELSE knew that I was in space. FUCK YOU.” Her voie was shrill, nabbing, and Lance could only put on a dopey smile.

“Like I said, Pidge. I’m sorry I didn’t let you know. Things kinda got busy really fast and it was a spur of the moment decision. Hunk just happened to be at the right place at the right time the next morning when I made the decision to come to space with Keith!” Lance threw her his best puppy eyes, hoping to get some sort of acceptance, but she kept her eyes narrowed, her face close to the screen.

“If I can add, maybe now you’ll show up to help clean after a party every once in a while?” Hunk tried, a small smile on his face and knowing this was NOT was needed right now. Pidge audibly gakwed, letting out a snort.

“You are NOT pinning this on me not showing up to clean a party that was for me. Nope, not happening.” But she finally backed up from the screen, her glasses reflecting the colors of the call back to them. She looked a little calmer now. Lance took her in. Her hair, which she was letting finally grow out, was pulled back into two pigtails on the side of her head, attempts of it being tamed but still wild as ever. She was in a grey collared shirt, with the emblem

Holt Tech

imprinted on the side, clearly taking the call at work. Lance could make out the edges of the room she was in. The greenhouse her mother was growing at the Garrison full of different forms of vegetation, mulch, and all things gardening from different planets.

“I’ll bring you back souvenirs?” Lance drawled out, and Pidge just gave him her dirtiest look before finally rolling her eyes, her face softening.

“You could have at least called when you left. I had to find out from MATT of all people where you were. Matt! And he found out from Shiro, so I was like the third person in line to find out about all this. You’re not off the hook either, Hunk.”

“But I baked you those amazing brownies that I dropped off before leaving.”

“They were SABOTAGE brownies. You didn’t even say why you made them for me. It had guilt and your silence all over it.”

“To be fair, I get now why Keith’s a terrible texter.” Lance jumped in, helping to save Hunk from being his alibi this entire time. Hunk and Pidge stopped bickering and looked at their screen to Lance, both tilting their heads like dogs. Lance tried not to laugh at how much they resembled Kosmo, who was peacefully resting at Lance’s feet below him.

“The guy has nonstop meetings and things to do up here. He’s like, mega important. He downplayed what he does sooooo much. I feel like I never even get to see him unless we are training together. And his team! Don’t even get me started on those girls.” Lance leaned back in the alcove, feeling his exhaustion washing over him with this taste of normalcy. Calling Hunk and Pidge just to gab and fill in on each other’s lives, except this time, they were watching Lance with eyes wide, and he had something actually interesting to say for once that wasn’t an exaggerated attempt at making his farm days sound fun.

“By girls you mean Axca and Lotor’s team?” Pidge squinted, the words coming out of her mouth like she tasted something funny.

“Oh man, they were such bullies. They still scare me every time I see them.” Hunk shuddered.

“Oh, trust me, they are still just as scary looking. They follow Keith around everywhere, especially Axca. I think she’s like, his second in command or something because she joins him along meetings with Kolivan. They go everywhere together.” at that, Lance felt like he just bit down on something sour, not realizing the weird gut punch that felt like. Pidge seemed to pick up on that as she fixed her glasses, giving Lance a dirty look.

“Looks like we’ve all been replaced, then. How’s it feel to be taken over by a girl?”

“We aren’t replaced. Just, different. Its really different. I don’t know how to explain it, but they don’t seem like the same kind of team we were. I mean, we hung out with each other and were friends. We messed around and willingly wanted to just chill and hang out. No one plays video games, or hugs each other, or just hangs out with each other. Its so professional, and I have a feeling that its affected Keith a bit, not having us.” Lance looked out the window, not wanting to see his friends eyes at his conclusion to it all.

“Good thing he has you then.” Hunk’s voice brought him back. Lance looked back, and the kindest looks ricocheted off his friends faces through the screen. Like they understood what he was saying. Like they felt a little apologetic for the life that Lance was living up here. They understood he loved the warmth of a community, and while this was one, it was so cold at the same time. Not exactly the family Voltron created with each other.

“Oh yah, because I make all the difference.” Lance snorted back, voice seeping with sarcasm, but Hunk flinched a bit at that, his eyes catching Pidge’s on the screen as Pide bit her bottom lip. Lance was around enough of those looks lately to know that something unspoken was being said about him. Lance sat up, glaring back accusingly at the two.

“I just think after the way you described the place, that Keith is able to have some of what life was like with us in all of that. Like, you might not realize how much of a difference your making because its just you, but how many people are like you up there?” Hunk stammered out, blushing a bit under Lance’s stare. Lance shrugged, not thinking of it like that.

“Do you like it up there?” Pidge got out, her eyes watchful. Lance hummed, his other hand strumming along his pant leg as he thought about it.

“A lot of humanitarian stuff. You know—relief efforts, rebuilding. Bringing supplies to planets that the Galra messed up back in the day.” He glanced at the small, glowing screen, catching the curious tilt of Pidge’s head. “It’s been... really rewarding. Different, but good.”

He thought about the strict schedules, waking up at dawn to train with Keith under Kolivan’s watchful eye. He thought about eating in the mess hall, fumbling through awkward conversations with the Blades. Ezor’s weirdly cryptic jokes, Zethrid’s stone-cold silences. And how Keith—always Keith—moved through it all like he was born for it.

And, of course, Lance thought about Keith’s attention.

Keith was always there, hovering in the background, a steady presence in every mission and every training session. His dark, focused eyes catching Lance’s every movement. His quick, sharp instructions that were never harsh, even when Lance messed up. And the quiet moments in between, when Keith would let that careful exterior soften, just a little, like Lance had somehow earned a glimpse at the person beneath it all.

That was what stuck with Lance most—the way being in Keith’s orbit felt... familiar. Like slipping into something that had been missing, something he hadn’t realized he needed until it was right in front of him. And, yeah... there was a warmth to it that Lance couldn’t name. Or maybe didn’t

want

to name.

“I mean... yeah,” Lance finally said, his voice lighter than he felt. “It’s good to be back in space again, doing something that feels important. You know?”

Hunk smiled, though it was tinged with something softer—like he could sense there was more Lance wasn’t saying. “Well, as long as you’re happy, man. That’s all that matters.”

“Yeah,” Pidge added, though she gave him one of her patented

I’m onto you

looks. “Just don’t go getting all Blade-edgy on us. We like our goofy Earth boy.”

Lance laughed, but it came out a little weaker than intended. “Don’t worry. I’m still me.”

They seemed satisfied with that, although he could feel the studying look Pidge was giving him as he squirmed and hurried into talking about the mission relief they went on today, how he taught some space kids about Monkey in the Middle and probably changed the trajectory of their life forever.

Then, he heard some doors slide and watched as Pidge flinched as she looked to her side, and Lance could make out the sound of Colleen Holts voice calling her. Pidge looked back sheepishly.

“I gotta go. Lunch break is over and my dad needs help with something in the hangar. Now that you’ve been able to call and PROVE that our texts go through, Keith’s not gonna hear the end of it.”

Lance snorted at her fiery attitude, waving at her dissmisvely.

“I already told you, Keith’s just as busy as he makes it out to be. You’ll be lucky if you get a call from the both of us at the same time. But I’ll tell him you guys miss him.”

“I don’t miss him, the annoying idiot.” Pidge scoffed, but her eyes only glinted back in fondness, smiling at a thought of Keith.

“Ohh, what if I send you a care package? I have some of my magnets that have been selling amazing lately that I wanna give Keith.” Hunk interjected. Pidge groaned.

“What is Keith gonna do with a little magnet of your face?”

“Hey, those magnets go platinum in my house, I’ll let you know Hunk. My mom has like 8 of them scattered all over our already messy fridge. Plus, this place is like all metal so I bet if you send them over, I can stick them all over the Blade headquarters and actually put up some much needed decor!” Lance grinend over, earning a satisfied smile from Hunk and another dramatic groan from Pidge, but there was no real annoyance to it. Colleen’s voice was calling for her again, and Pidge yelled out to her mom that she was coming before turning to look back at her friends.

“Ok, I gotta go for real. Take care of yourself, ok Lance?” She gave him a small smile before blinking out.

“We really need to make sure that girl rests.” was all Lance could laugh out, leaning his head against the cool window with just Hunk’s comforting presence on the other line. The screen felt quieter without her rapid-fire commentary, leaving Lance in a comfortable silence with his best friend. He shifted his weight on the alcove seat, settling deeper into the quiet hum of the Blade ship.

Hunk gave him one of those soft, knowing smiles, leaning into the screen a little closer. “Yah, but is she actually gonna listen to any of us if we told her to take a day off? Cmon, that’s something her and Keith have in common. The most headstrong and stubborn people out there.”

Lance snorted softly, letting himself feel sleepier with just Hunk talking to him. He really did miss his best friend in the chaos of it all.

“Okay, now that Pidge is gone... Are you

really

doing alright up there, buddy?”

Lance exhaled slowly, his leg bouncing below him, making Kosmo lift his head and give a small snort in annoyance at the movement. “Yeah, man. I promise. It’s... weird, but I’m adjusting.”

Hunk didn’t look convinced. “Weird like ‘oh, space is weird,’ or weird like ‘Keith is my boss now and it’s making me question my life choices?’” He grinned slyly.

Lance rolled his eyes. “Keith isn’t my boss. He’s just—” He paused, trying to figure out the right words. “He’s just Keith. Same guy, just... I don’t know, he’s grown up a little.”

“

Grown up?

” Hunk snorted. “I bet he’s still got the emotional range of a fork.”

Lance chuckled, but Hunk kept going, leaning back in his seat with a playful smirk. “Man, it’s gotta be rough—hanging out with a bunch of super-serious Blade people all day. They probably don’t even know how to laugh. What do they even

talk

about? Galra tax policies? Diplomacy stuff? How they used to try to kill us 24/7?”

Lance shrugged, suddenly aware of how fast his heart was beating. “It’s fine. I mean, the Blades could definitely work on lightning up a bit. And with Keith its, yeah, we’ve been spending time together, but... it’s just work stuff.”

“Mhm.” Hunk’s grin widened knowingly. “Work stuff. Uh-huh. Look, I love Keith and all, but... you can’t tell me he’s not like super intense with how he does things up there. I mean, the dude is practically the leader of the whole Blades.”

“I mean, he does stare like, all the time, with that weird, broody look he does.” Lance tried not to think about the way Keith’s eyes always seemed to linger on him a little too long. Hunk’s eyes widened at that, a slow knowing smile snaked across his face.

“Oh, does he now? So you mean nothings really changed with him always staring, watching, having all that one on one Keith attention that you used to practically scream to me about when we were kids and he wouldn’t so much as look at you?”His voice was light, teasing—but there was something just under the surface, as if Hunk

knew

there was more going on, even if Lance didn’t.

Lance opened his mouth to respond, his entire face clearly as red as the Paladin they were speaking about, but before he could, the sound of soft footsteps echoed in the room.

Axca paused in her heavy stride, her eyes immediately landing on Lance. She raised a brow, as if mildly surprised to find him sitting there, but her face also twisted like she was caught. Stuck.

Lance tensed and scrambled, hitting the comm to end the call in a panic. “Gotta go—talk later!”

Hunk’s laugh echoed through the screen as it clicked off, leaving Lance sitting there, blinking at the blank interface.

Lance cleared his throat, feeling heat creep up the back of his neck. “Uh... hey.”

Axca stayed frozen a couple feet away, her lips pursed tight and her eyes flickering back with something that looked like uncofmrtableness, a little bit of fear. Was she actually nervous to be alone with Lance right now?

She just gave him a sharp nod, her eyes looking away briefly and flicking down to Kosmo before meeting his again.

“I was just looking for Keith.” She muttered. Yah, she definitely looked uncomfortable, and that warmed something in Lance’s chest, making her more human. Less of a robot.

“He got pulled away to some meeting with Kolivan, and you know how those meetings go. Snore fest! I’m waiting for him too, if you wanna wait with me?” Lance tried out, shifting in his seat. If Axca was frozen before, she really went frigid, her body tensing under Lance’s open look and attempt.

“I mean, if you have places to go and you don’t wanna wait here I totally get that and you don’t need to do that. Or hang around. Because you are totally someone who is busy and–” Lance rushed out, immediately embarrassed, but Axca’s steady eyes locked back on him.

“I know about the ID.”

Lance snapped his mouth shut. It had been a week since that mission had even occurred, and it blurred in with everything else they had done, so honestly that was the last thing on Lance’s mind. He squirmed under her look, not sure if that was something that was supposed to be a secret or if he was about to be punished. Instead, she just crossed her arms, shifting the weight from one leg to the other, looking down at Kosmo.

“You put aside your own glory and praise to keep Keith’s reputation for Kolivan. No other Galra would do that. You helped him out a lot more than you realized.”

Lance strummed against the seat next to him, his mind reeling from the fact he was even having this conversation with her to begin with.

“Well, good thing I’m not Galra then.” was all Lance could manage out, meaning for it to sound like a joke. Axca just glanced at him, her eyes piercing and looking him over, but didn’t seem offended at the joke.

“You know, its nice to know Keith has friends like you up here. Sometimes I forget that you guys have a bond and all. I guess what I’m saying is its just nice to see, you know, and what he’s like. I mean, lord knows the dummy needs it.” Lance gushed out, not knowing how to fill the awkward silence still brimming in the air.

Axca just furrowed her brows, looking at him like he just spoke a secret language.

“You think Keith is dumb?” there was a tone of edge in it, and Lance knew he messed up. Damn Galra-human disconnect.

“No no! I think he’s like, the smartest and most incredible person I’ve ever met. Honestly, I don’t know how he does it all. Dummy is like, a human term of endearment. Like a nickname to call your friends. Go ahead and call him that next time you see him, I’m sure his face is gonna be priceless!” Lance laughed awkwardly, watching Axca’s trained eyes focusing on him. She narrowed them, but her gaze seemed stuck and piercing on his cheek.

“What was your last name again?” her blunt question threw him off. He blinked, not able to hide the way his jaw snapped open.

“Mccclain. Lance Mcclain, the one and only.”

“You have a sister.”

“Yah, Veronica. I guess I forgot you guys probably hung out on the Atlas with the MFE’s. There was a lot going on during that time. We look alike, I get it all the time.” Lance smiled, but her eyes stayed focused on him. She held up her hand to point at her own cheek.

“You both have the same beauty mark on your cheek.”

“Oh, yah, its that Cuban beauty going strong.” Lance watched Axca still regarding him, and he went for another direction.

“Were you…friends with Veronica?”

She blinked, looking confused again.

“You ask the same kind of questions she did. She wanted to be friends, and I didn’t understand what that meant. She was so insistent on it and wouldn’t leave me alone. Followed me around like a leech.” She huffed, but Lance sensed a lightness in her tone. Memories creeping back. Lance hummed, twirling his phone around in his hand.

“Well, if I know my sister, and I do, it sounds like she was trying to be your friend. Maybe she was the first one you ever really had. She's annoyingly persistent like that. If she wants to be your friend, she won’t leave you alone until you cave, but its good like that. It means she sees something worth it in you.” Lance looked at her, and saw the small cracks breaking through in the stoic Galra. Lance then held up his hand to shake his phone, pointing at her.

“You got a phone on you?”

Axca blinked, but she slowly took out her own phone attached to her hip. Lance motioned for her to come closer, and with some reluctance, she took careful steps in. It was like trying to gain the trust of the stray cats around his families farm growing up, all skittish and standoffish. They never let anyone get near them, and Lance’s siblings were stubborn and excietable just seeing animals other than farm pets. With these stray cats, Lance learned a couple things. Let them approach you first, don’t be too intense, and just wait for their opening to realize you weren’t out to get them. It seemed dumb, comparing an actual person to an animal like a cat, but in a weird way, Lance always saw Keith like that, along with the rest of his half Galra world. Lance slowly took her phone and slid into the contacts, typing away the numbers he memorized since he was a kid, and typed up a quick message. He hit send quickly before he could second guess it and handed it back to Axca.

“That’s her number. There’s only two I memorized, and its hers and my moms that were practically carved into me when I was young. Now you can text a friend, like long distance relationships! She’ll love it. I let her know its me, and that this is your phone though.” Lance smiled, and he watched the complicated emotions swirling back and forth in Axca’s expression before the phone dinged with a message. She froze, not looking at it as Lance bent to see.

Veronica- dude no way. Still mad at Lance for disappearing without saying bye, but at least he’s up there with you guys. I trust he’s in safe hands. Give him a snack for me?

Lance laughed, watching Axca’s eyes slowly read the message. He offered his arm to her, motioning for her to swat it.

“Hey, if you guys are able to build a friendship on my behalf, I consider this a win. Go on, or else she’s gonna keep bugging you to do some sort of prank on me.”

Axca’s eyes blinked back at him in utter confusion and disbelief, looking at Lance’s arm and back at the phone. Lance wiggled his outstretched arm again, and watched as she lightly punched it, knowing she was holding back an actual hit. Hell, Lance had been on the receiving end of it before.

The phone dinged again, and Lance must have been seeing stars if he swore that he saw a slight blush of color pepper Axca’s cheeks as she looked down at it again. She looked back up to catch Lance’s eyes and gave him a quick nod before spinning around to stalk off, looking a little tense as he watched her off.

Lance immediately rushed to text Hunk about it.

“Wait, so they want me in this meeting this time?” Lance bounced at Keith’s heels, feeling stupidly like Kosmo as he followed the raven haired boy the next day. Keith gave him a quick glance, his brows furrowed a bit.

“I know just as much about this as you do, which is saying something. Usually when we are about to go help a planet, there’s no meeting like this before, like a briefing. Must be important.”

“Or lame since I’m getting access.” Lance sighed, but Keith paused in the hallway, turning to look at him fully.

“I don’t get how you could think you’re not worth it to sit in on these meetings after all the good you’ve been doing with the Blades all week. They see how you interact with different species and how willing you are to help. They definitely see you as part of it all now.” Keith’s blunt honesty through Lance for a loop, feeling his ears heat up at how earnest Keith was looking back at him.

“Oh, ok then.” was the wonderfully articulate thing he could get out. Keith rolled his eyes, letting a smile break free, that brilliant smile that Lance so much loved, er, was grateful to see on him. He looked good when he smiled, and Lance can admit when something suited his friends! He called Hunk handsome all the time and even said if Shay wasn’t in his life, he would happily marry him. So how was this different?

The doors slid open to the debrief room, with several operatives of higher standings were shuffling in and finding spots at the table. Kolivan was already there, speaking to Krolia. Upon entry, Krolia immediately locked eyes with Keith, her face flashing with something unrecognizable before Keith had a chance to see. Lance already began to feel uneasy as he slid into the seat at Keith’s left, something that came without thought and the rightful place he always took on the Atlas. A blade operative immediately handed Keith a tablet, diving into a conversation that Lance forced himself to tune out as his eyes wandered around the room, taking in the fully suited Blade members and their stoic faces.

“Now that’s interesting.”

Lance snapped his head up to see Ezor glinting a grin across the table at him, but her eyes were focused behind him. Lance swirled around to see Axca standing there, like she was caught mid step and looking a little torn. Lance immediately gulped as his stomach fell flights of stairs down as he realized what had just happened.

“OH! I can…I don’t need to sit here, I was just, it was open and—” he immediately stuttered out as Keith turned to see what the fuss was about. His eyes caught Axca’s and went back to Lance’s, his face a furrowed pout like he wasn’t even sure what was happening.

Lance stood up quickly, but Axca’s steady hand was on his shoulder as she pushed lightly down for him to sit. His eyes felt like they were bulging out of his head as he looked back up to see Axca shove him firmly back down in the seat before stepping away to take the seat next to Lance.

“I can totally switch.” Lance gulped, but her eyes just pierced back at him, shutting him up. They didn’t seem mad, just a little amused, and Lance tried hard to ignore the way Ezor and Zethrid were practically gawking from across the table.

“Since when were we playing nice with Keith’s boyrmfmf–” Zethird slapped a hand over Ezor’s mouth as she was quickly shut up, but there was no shame on Zethird’s grin she was giving Axca, and Lance hadn’t noticed how quickly she had hunched down and promptly kicked Ezxor’s shins. Axca breathed sharply through her nose as she sat up and flicked a glance at Lance, but he could only sit and watch their dynamic.

Kolivan then cleared his throat, causing whispering Blades to simmer down, shuffling around to find their seat. Keith nodded to the Blade he was speaking with as they rushed off down the row of chairs and Keith leaned up in his seat, straighter. His shoulders had broaden out and he filled out his suit nicely, a year helping him strengthen out his arms, his chest, and his sharp jaw had more cuts than Lance had remembered. Keith glanced to his side to look at Lance, giving him a small smile and realziing Lance was caught staring.

The lights dimmed slightly as the a holographic map of a
planet flickered into view in the center of the table. Bright colors indicated various cities, regions, and marked zones of conflict, overlaid with symbols denoting key sites: a royal palace, civilian encampments, and regions affected by recent skirmishes. Kolivan stood at the head of the table, his hands clasped behind his back, his expression set with the calm, heavy seriousness Lance had come to expect from the Blades' leader.

“The situation on Nalthoras,” Kolivan began, his gravelly voice cutting through the room, “has become precarious. As you know, the government recently entered into an alliance of peace with the Blades—an agreement that remains essential to ensuring the cessation of hostilities with the neighboring planet, Brantar.” He gestured toward the planetary system on the map, showing Brantar positioned ominously close to Nalthoras. “This peace treaty prevents further attacks between the two worlds, stabilizing this sector. However, Nalthoras’s rulers have made promises to Brantar that they now struggle to uphold due to a situation of economic distress hitting their world. The two have a trading agreement with the supplies each of their specific environments provide, and in the end are able to find peace and stability with each other through this trading. But with recent attacks to cause decline in their economic trading routes, this had made Nalthora more probable to pulling out on their agreement with Brantar for the sake of providing for themselves.”

Lance leaned forward slightly in his chair, glancing at the others gathered around the table. Axca sat with her arms folded, her gaze sharp and distant, exuding her usual cool composure. But Lance’s attention drifted instinctively toward Keith.

Keith sat to Kolivan’s left, his jaw tight, shoulders wound up like a spring that was ready to snap. Lance could practically hear his jaw grinding his teeth. His brow was furrowed in deep concentration, and he seemed strangely restless, his eyes flickering over to Axca every now and then, as if seeking unspoken confirmation—or perhaps reassurance. Lance couldn’t help but notice it. Keith looked... tense. Too tense, even for a mission briefing.

Kolivan continued, gesturing toward one of the cities marked in red on the map. “However, while the treaty holds, the internal stability of Nalthoras’s government is at risk. A bandit has gained the attention—and the support—of many among the civilian population.” The hologram shifted to show crude images of graffiti sprayed along the walls of Nalthoras’s capital city. A masked figure was painted in vibrant colors, depicted in the act of tearing down castle walls and leading the masses in rebellion. The mask was a combination of a red and white streaked pattern, its eyes and nose shape similar to what could possibly resemble a dragon. The image made Lance shiver.

“The bandit disrupts palace functions and undermines key celebrations, which the ruling class uses to solidify power among the elite,” Kolivan explained. “He has ransacked estates belonging to the upper class and caused significant damage to sections of the palace—enough to allow lower-class civilians to breach the grounds and lay siege to restricted areas. He steals the supplies that shared amongst the higher estates, takes their wealth, and leaves nothing but chaos and fear amongst the government hierarchies.”

Lance whistled softly under his breath, earning a quick side-eye from Axca. He didn’t miss how Keith’s hand twitched slightly at the sound.

Kolivan gave no indication that he noticed, continuing with measured precision. “As you can see, the bandit’s influence extends beyond simple vandalism. His actions have emboldened the population, many of whom now seek to overthrow the government, believing the rulers have taken advantage of them by hoarding resources and locking them out of power. If the townspeople seek to attack the government, the government will sieze to put effort in trading with Brantar, and Brantar will seize to amend their relationship with trading and take that as a sign of war. ”

The map zoomed in on the palace and surrounding streets, showing the extensive damage caused by the recent breach. Kolivan’s gaze darkened as he spoke. “While the Blades do not condone the methods employed by Nalthoras’s government to sustain goods and other wealthy needs to its townspeople, we cannot allow the alliance to fracture. If the treaty collapses, Nalthoras will likely reignite hostilities with Brantar, resulting in full-scale planetary war. This... cannot happen.

There was a heavy pause, the gravity of the situation settling over the room like a weight. Lance glanced again at Keith, who still looked uncharacteristically uneasy. His eyes flicked back to the hologram and then, almost unconsciously, shifted toward Axca, who was still sitting silently, as if waiting for something unsaid.

Kolivan’s deep voice broke the silence. “We have agreed to send several units to the capital to assess the damages and reassure the government of our support. Their continued trust in the Blades is critical at this juncture—fragile as it may be. While we may not align with their treatment of the civilian population, maintaining this alliance is necessary for the peace of the greater sector.”

Lance shifted in his seat, struggling to ignore the knot twisting in his gut.

So, we’re babysitting some entitled royals while the rest of the population gets shut out? Great.

Kolivan’s gaze swept across the room, lingering briefly on each of them. “You will be among the first wave deployed. Your mission is to stabilize the situation, secure the capital, and gather intelligence on the bandit’s movements if any. We need to understand his operations and neutralize his influence—preferably without further inflaming the civilian unrest. If there are civilians who continue to feed into the idea of this bandit, we neturalize before it has time to build.”

Keith, for the first time since the meeting started, leaned forward, his hands planted on the table. “What exactly does ‘neutralize’ mean here?” he asked, his voice low but steady.

Kolivan didn’t flinch. “Diplomacy first. Violence, only if necessary.”

Keith’s jaw worked in frustration, but he gave a tight nod. Lance his hand flex under the table before stilling again.

“Your presence will be monitored closely by the palace officials,” Kolivan added, his gaze falling on Keith in particular. “Their trust in us is... tentative at best. You must tread carefully. We cannot afford any missteps. We are there to be on their side of this, and assist where needed.”

Axca finally spoke, her tone cool and measured, like every word mattered. “And if the bandit attacks again while we’re there?”

Kolivan's expression hardened. “Then you ensure the safety of the government officials at all costs. Our alliance must hold.”

The room fell into a tense silence, the weight of the mission pressing down on everyone. Lance bit the inside of his cheek, feeling the strange anxiety and tension practically blasting out of the man next to him. He hadn’t seen Keith this worked up over something in a minute.

Kolivan gave a sharp nod, signaling the end of the briefing. “Prepare your gear. We leave within the hour.”

Keith exhaled through his nose, visibly holding back whatever thoughts were simmering just beneath the surface. His eyes flicked to Axca one last time before he stood, his movements tight and deliberate.

Lance stayed seated for a moment longer, watching Keith with a furrowed brow. Something about him felt... off. Keith had carried tension before, but this was different—like he was walking a fine line between focus and unraveling.

As Keith turned toward the exit, Lance pushed himself up from his chair, heart thumping louder than it should. Whatever Keith was dealing with, Lance had the sinking feeling he was about to find out soon enough.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Keith glared out through the windows of the ship as it neared planet Nalthoras. He had excused himseslf from standing in the control room, where he usually found himself before touching down on a planet, so he and Kolivan could always be seen together, as one, a unit of leadership and prime example of how an image of moving forward looks like. But now, he had hurried off to find the alcove he always disappeared off to when he had to clear his mind, and especially before this specific mission, he needed to be on his best behavior. It was getting harder, doing this, hiding this from everyone. There was only a few people who knew why he was so on edge about this specific mission, and only 2 of them were on this ship with him.

His mind raced, unable to slow down as he grinded his jaw, glaring out at the planet inching closer and closer into view, trying to still his nerves, when he heard footsteps come to a halt from behind him.

“You are actually the worst person to try to find.”

Keith watched as Lance dropped down onto the seat in the alcove next to him, letting out an annoyed huff. Keith’s face immediately fell, his stomach twisting with guilt.

Fuck, Lance was here. Right.

He couldn’t act as rabid and thoughtless as he used to, when he was able to slip away when he didn’t want to find anyone, finding ways to calm his thoughts and needing to step away before he did something too rash. It was what always worked best for him. Find a quiet spot away from the rest of the world to work through your untamed emotions without letting anyone see, away from possible repercussions or hurting others. At least, that’s what he learned in the foster homes. It was always better to hide and diffuse then stay and wait to see what his behvaior did.

Lance didn't say anything at first. He fixed himself into a comfortable sitting position beside Keith, the side of his body illuminated by the glow the window gave him, crossing his legs in front of him and settling into the silence. There was no teasing grin, no sharp-witted comment. Just... quiet.

Keith swallowed hard, sensing Lance’s presence beside him like a weight on his chest. He kept his eyes locked ahead, refusing to look over, but the air between them thickened with every second of quiet. His pulse pounded in his ears, an annoying, insistent beat that matched the discomfort squirming inside him.

When Lance finally shifted, Keith could feel the weight of his gaze land on him—steady, patient, and searching. Keith bit down on the inside of his cheek, trying to ignore it, but it gnawed at him. That look. Like Lance was trying to understand him.

“I didn’t mean to leave you back there. I just, needed a break for a second.” Keith pulled his legs up towards his chest, feeling just as small as he wanted his emotions and thoughts to be. Lance leaned back on his side of the bench, eyeing Keith up. Keith tried not to squirm under that gaze, but it was so hard to when Lance looked at him like

that.

Keith hated it.

Lance's gaze was soft, curious but careful, like he was trying to find the right thread to pull without unraveling Keith completely. That gentleness was always there, and it twisted something fierce in Keith’s chest. It made him feel like a glass that was already cracked, held together by the most delicate of touches. Lance was too patient. Always patient with

him.

Keith had no idea how—or why. He clenched his fists, nails biting into his palms, and shifted slightly as if the tension in his body could hide from Lance’s attention.

Lance leaned back against the wall that caved them into their secret spot, exhaling slowly through his nose but never looking away. “You good? You kinda stormed off after that meeting.” he asked, his voice light but edged with quiet sincerity. Not prodding, not demanding—just... there.

Keith let the question hang between them, the urge to answer warring with the fear of letting Lance in too far. He wanted to say yes, but it’d be a lie. He wanted to say no, but what good would that do? He couldn’t exactly say what was on his mind, because this entire shit he found hismelf in was getting too complicated and risky, feeling out of hand and too hard to fix. Keith was a mess—a mess who couldn’t afford to unravel right now. And yet Lance was here, waiting. Patient, calm, like always.

It made Keith feel small in a way that hurt, but not in a bad way. Just... achingly raw. How could someone so electric, so fiery, sit with him like this every single time?

Keith closed his eyes briefly, hating how tight his chest felt. “You’re always like this,” he muttered, more to himself than to Lance. It was better to deflect all this anyway. Safer. His voice was low and strained, almost swallowed by the hum of the nearby ships.

Lance blinked, tilting his head slightly. “Like what?”

Keith gritted his teeth. “Like... patient.”

The word tasted bitter on his tongue, tangled in guilt he didn’t know how to express. His hand flexed and unflexed around his knees, trying his hardest to focus on words that would make sense. “I don’t get it. I’m—” He stopped himself, shaking his head in frustration. "I don't make it easy. Even when I thought I grew up a bit."

Lance gave a quiet chuckle, soft and warm, but not unkind. “No, you really don’t.”

Keith shot him a half-hearted glare, but Lance’s expression wasn’t smug. It was understanding, with just a flicker of something... fond.

“But I don’t mind,” Lance added, his voice gentler now, almost careful. “I don’t think you’re supposed to make it easy. Not really.”

Keith stared at him, his thoughts a tangled mess. How could Lance

not

mind? How could someone like him—so bright, so full of life—be okay with the broken, inconsistent person sitting next to him? It didn’t make sense. None of it did. Lance must’ve sensed the turmoil Keith was swimming in because he didn’t push. He just stayed, his presence as steady as ever. It was infuriating and comforting at the same time—a strange warmth wrapping around Keith’s tangled thoughts, even if he didn’t fully understand it.

“Look,” Lance said softly, finally breaking the silence. “You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to. I’ll just... be here. No pressure.”

Keith exhaled shakily, his fingers loosening from the tight grip they’d held on his knees. The knot in his chest didn’t unravel completely, but it loosened—just a little.

“Also, you got to cut that out. Its a nasty habit.” Lance leaned closer to Keith, and as Keith leaned back on reflex, Lance held out a hand, going to touch Keith’s jaw. Keith’s skin prickled at the contact, his back against the wall as he tried his hardest to oavoid it. Lance simply cupped his jaw quickly, his fingers brushing against the bone before retreating quickly, his own ears a slight red.

“That grinding you do with your teeth? You’ll be stuck eating mashed potatoes and gross smoothies for the rest of your life if you don’t quit that. It’s a terrible habit.”

Keith immediately unclehced his jaw, unaware he had been doing it. He flexed the tight muscle, letting the tension ease out.

“Yah, well, you strum on like everything.” Keith shot back instead, peeking at Lance through his bangs. Lance didn’t seem hurt by it, just gave him a slight surprised look as he drew his own legs up to mirror Keith. This close, they looked like kids tucked away in an alcove, their feet barley touching each other in their hunched over and tucked up positions.

“I really thought I outgrew it. Its a nervous tick, or like, I guess my ADHD? Whatever it is, I haven’t done it in over a year. Guess there was nothign to be anxcious about on the farm. I strummed a lot when we were in Voltron, but I guess it didn’t bother you then.” He let out a soft laugh, his fingers already beginning to twist around in his hand. Keith followed the movement, tracking it with his own eyes and feeling a little embarrassed for bringing it up.

“No I noticed. I just thought it was a very Lance thing that you do.” He muttered softly. Lance stilled for a second, before humming out in response, swaying his knees a bit.

“Are you…nervous with the Blades?” Keith spoke out slowly. Lance shrugged, making his thinking face Keith could have memorized like the back of his hand. It was a stillness in Lance that he grew to love and appreciate, one that was always a little tucked away and private, not as often shown as his other expressions.

“Not nervous, just, figuring out this new environment. I mean, there’s always something going on, so I think this is just my body’s way of channeling all this energy that it doesn’t know where to go. You know, on Voltron, my strumming used to annoy Pidge so much that she finally made me a space fidget toy one day so I could even sit with her while she tinkered with things in her hangar. You know those quotes, loving someone to the point of invention? I wanna believe that was her way of showing she cared.” Lance smiled fondly, looking out the window. Keith sat with that for a second, his brain tracking around from the memories in Voltron. He hate to say that a lot of it was dark and traumaziting for the most part, scared and angry, exhausted and primal. It was survival, but there were small moments when the team really did feel like being out there was worth it, and they became people Keith would drop dead to protect. It was the first family he had ever expereinced. He tried his hardest to recall when Lance was strumming or fiddling. He must have missed that part of his life while he was so consumed with finding Shiro, joining the Blades, becoming the Black Paladin, or avoiding Lance in general to help his own feelings. That part hurt the worst.

So instead, he instinctively grabbed at his low hanging ponytail and ripped at the hairtie, feeling his longer locks drop and curl at the ends of his shoulders. He held it out, awkwardly watching as Lance turned to stare down at it, his own blue eyes wide in confusion.

“I know its not, like, some crazy invention. But maybe this will help a bit?” Keith offered, pushing his hand more further into Lance’s space for him to take, feeling the back of his neck heat. Lance blinked again, his eyes looking back at Keith, full of openness, full of searching, a slight blush on his face and his mouth dropped open in shock, and it took everything not to launch himself forward at him.

It felt like hours passing before Lance finally took Keith’s hairtie and snapped it onto his own wrist, bringing his fingers to fiddle and twist around it. His own face was flushed, and Keith wanted to hammer his own head against the window to no longer be in this situation anymore, feeling extremely aware of how hot his entire body felt and how awkward he continued to be.

Lance, being Lance, thankfully was a lot more smoother in transitioning as he just put on a huge smile.

“Thanks, man. Although, now you’re really gonna have to do something with that hair.”

A scoff left Keith’s lips as he went to tuck a strand behind his ear. It really was getting long and harder to tame.

“Yah, well, you can either have something to fidget with or me in a ponytail. Pick your poision.”

Lance hummed, studying Keith in a way that made him feel SICK.

“It’ll grow on me, just give me time. Or I can braid your hair like I do to my niece?” He began reaching over, an evil grin on his face.

“In your dreams.” Keith shoved Lance, knowing the look he was giving and saving himself from acting on any more impulses.

They finally touched down on the planet, and as Keith stepped off the shuttle onto the cracked marble landing of Nalthoras, the weight of the mission settled heavily across his shoulders. The air was warm and dry, carrying the faint scent of incense and desert flowers. Towering pillars lined the grand walkway leading to the palace entrance, gleaming with gold accents that caught the sunlight, making the entire palace appear as if it was sculpted from light itself. The beauty of the architecture was undeniable, but it did nothing to ease the tightness in Keith’s chest. He could feel his jaw clenching, teeth grinding together with the tension he tried desperately to keep in check. He flicked his tongue over his back molars, Lance’s burning words in his head about the habit, nagging yet endearing as they were. Keith followed Kolivan’s steady walk towards the leaders of the planet who stood just outside the castle doors, awaiting a greeting. Axca fell into step at his immediate side, poised and clearly not cracking the way he felt like he was.

A sharp glance from Axca caught his eye—one of those looks that said,

Keep it together

. Keith gave a barely perceptible nod, shifting his weight uncomfortably beneath her silent judgment. He rolled his shoulders to loosen the knot forming there, but the tension remained like a coiled spring.

The royal family stood at the entrance to the palace, waiting to receive them. The king, draped in layers of crimson silk, wore an expression of forced grace—like a man too familiar with empty courtesies. His wife stood beside him, her golden crown glinting in the sun, a bejeweled hand resting on the shoulder of a young prince. Behind them, a row of advisors shifted impatiently, their robes dragging along the polished floor as they awaited the procession to move inside.

Keith felt Lance drift closer behind him, his presence warm and steady. Lance didn’t say anything—he didn’t have to. Keith knew that curious, wide-eyed look anywhere. Even without turning his head, he could feel Lance’s awe radiating as they passed beneath the grand arches into the palace’s interior. The walls were lined with shimmering mosaics, intricate patterns of glass and gold forming scenes of ancient battles and prosperous trade alliances. It told stories of the history of the race, from differnt leaders posed in different outfits and positions over time, to darker looking images of what was undeniably an attack. The old Galra rule over them. Keith tried not to stare at them. The ceiling above them was vaulted so high that it seemed to kiss the heavens, and the floors beneath their feet were inlaid with obsidian and alabaster tiles that reflected every flicker of light. As much as Keith tried to stay focused, even he couldn't deny the splendor surrounding them. It felt like stepping into a world where wealth and power intertwined seamlessly, where the worries of ordinary people were kept out of sight and mind.

Lance, on the other hand, was fully taken in by the palace’s grandeur. His gaze darted from one glittering fixture to another, marveling at everything around him. Keith could practically feel the energy radiating off him—the quiet excitement, the fascination with something so foreign and extravagant. Even now, Lance hovered close by, his elbow brushing Keith’s arm every so often as they walked through the halls. It was a simple, absentminded gesture, but Keith felt it like a spark each time their skin made the lightest contact. Kolivan led the Blades into the throne room, where the royal advisors and ministers gathered, all draped in garments that shimmered with the wealth of a thousand planets. A cold knot tightened in Keith’s stomach. As they were escorted further inside, the leader of Nalthoras began to speak, addressing Kolivan directly, though his gaze flickered over to Keith every now and then.

“We are grateful for the presence of the Blades,” the king Nartu said in a smooth, polished voice. “Our agreement of peace remains delicate, and your assistance is both welcome and necessary.” He gestured broadly toward the walls where massive tapestries depicted scenes of their victorious past. “As you know, our peace agreement with the neighboring planet comes with great risk. There are those who would see us fail.”

Keith could feel Lance watching the exchange closely, curiosity flickering behind his eyes. The tension in Keith’s body wound tighter, though he kept his expression neutral, arms crossed over his chest. The king continued, his words flowing like a practiced politician’s speech.

“The bandit we’ve spoken of is a plague upon our kingdom. He and his followers disrupt the ways of ruling we have mastered over the eras of our royal leinage. It has always worked this way, and it is the best way that we keep our people in line and the society running.” The king’s tone grew bitter. “Their actions have emboldened the lower classes. They use these attacks as an excuse to riot, to force their way into places where they do not belong. To disrupt the way of living. They do not realize that their actions make them fools, unaware of the protection we are ensuring for our planet and the well being for our economy and the future endorsements we can bring our race. They have been inspried by a made up imagery that someone decided to pull from folklore. Ridiculous and weak, hidin gbehidn our old stories we used to tell our kids.”

Keith’s jaw clenched again at the way the king so easily dismissed everything, painting them as a problem to be controlled rather than a symptom of deeper issues. But he kept quiet, grinding his teeth more despite Lance’s wishes.

“They must be stopped,” the king continued. “The attacks are not only a danger to us but a threat to the trading routes we rely upon.” He gestured toward the grand windows overlooking the city below. From this height, the market streets could be seen snaking through the heart of the city, bustling with life. “Even now, the civilians grow more reckless. It is no longer safe for anyone to walk among them.”

Keith felt Lance shift beside him, his attention drawn to the marketplace far below through the tall windows, over a large wall separating the wealth status. His face lit up with that same familiar spark Keith hadn’t seen in so long—a glimmer of curiosity, of someone eager to experience everything firsthand.

“That’s the market down there, right?” Lance asked, cutting in with a small grin. “We could check it out—get a feel for what the people are like.”

The king’s expression soured instantly. “That will not be necessary,” Natu said curtly. “The streets are dangerous, especially for outsiders. It is better to avoid them altogether. Best not give them any sort of incentive to cause some chaos, especially to look bad in front of our guests. By the way, who are you? I don’t recognize you from past check ins.”

Lance’s grin faltered slightly, and Keith immediately snapped in.

“This is the Blue Paladin of Voltron, Lance. He’s fought for your freedom way before you even realized there was hope to begin.”

Natu’s eyes widened, looking between Lance’s apologetic smile and Keith’s narrowed glare.

“Oh, my apologies. I didn’t mean to offend…”

“He’s a new recruit, proven to help assist in our aide work recently.” Kolivan quickly cut in, easing Natu’s questioning look.

Keith hadn’t realized the way his shoulders tensed and his lips curling into a slight snarl, ready to fight in an instant at the way the king had absent mindedly offended Lance. Keith caught the way Axca shot him a quick glance—another unspoken warning to stay professional. He exhaled slowly, letting his gaze fall back to the king, who was now speaking directly to Kolivan about the logistics of sending Blade troops into the city. He was excitedly talking about some party? Keith missed that part.

Keith kept his stance rigid, forcing himself not to fidget, though every instinct screamed at him to get out of this suffocating palace. Beside him, Lance lingered close, his easy smile a stark contrast to the tension wrapping tightly around Keith’s chest.

“Which is why we need troops in advance for the celebration tonight.” Natu’s voice brought Keith back. Kolivan nodded, thinking it over.

“We can send a couple of our Blades into the town to make sure there is no movement from the Bandit’s side of it, and neutralize any threats that the civialns may cause?”

Natu’s face broke out into an incredulous smile, leaning forward to grasp Kolivan’s hands and shake wildly.

“Wonderful! We can have the celebration tonight to honor you brave Blades and all the work you do to keep our complicated peace in balance. I insist!”

Keith’s stomach immedielty began turning at the thought of Blades being sent out into the streets, around the markets, seeing the images of the bandit. He didn’t realize he had taken a stpe forward when Axca stepped in front of him, jumping to interject.

“Might I suggest a team outside the Blades?”

Kolivan and Natu turned to look at Axca, but despite their authority and looks, she didn’t back down. Keith watched her shoulders move as she took in a stead breath before continuing.

“The townspeople are already…feeling delicate about the work the Blades have been doing amongst the royalties. They don’t understand our protection to you up here benefits their overall protection in general. So if they see some of us walking around, they may feel the need to lash out or cause a scene for us, make more unrest.” Axca’s eyes caught Keith, and he could now see the connection she was trying to get at.

“Who are you suggesting then?” Natu blinked, and Kolivan kept a straight face, glaring back at Axca as if he couldn’t believe she was actually speaking.

“Rolo’s team, sir.” Axca straightened up further, casting another look at Keith. Keith took this as his opportunity to jump in.

“It makes the most sense, they fly a lot more under the radar looking like the average space pirate. They aren’t as known around here, yet alone recognizable. They would work perfect to be our accomplices outside these walls and have an eye on everything.” Keith set his jaw, glaring back at Natu and feeling the way Kolivan was staring at Keith. He held strong.

“That…is a brilliant idea! You Blades sure have everything planned out to a T. We can move forward with the commencement and welcome party for you all!” Natu nodded, as if satisfied with the stunt he and Axca miraculously pulled off. Keith fought back the sigh of relief he so needed to let out.

Kolivan gave a slow nod, his gaze flicking between Keith and Axca. "Rolo’s team will be briefed then. In the meantime, the three of you will meet them at the landing bay and await their arrival.”

Keith felt Kolivan’s eyes settle on him, and it was like standing under a weight he couldn’t shrug off. Kolivan’s expression was unreadable, but the look felt like

I see something is off with you again.

Keith clenched his jaw, forcing himself to stand straighter.

And then, Lance’s eyes landed on him too, though with far different energy—concern, curiosity, something lighter and softer. Keith could feel the contrast between Kolivan’s heavy scrutiny and Lance’s gentle attention like two opposing forces pulling at him from both directions. He exhaled, trying to push it all away. Blade operatives were set out to break, Natu encouraging them all to relax and take their time exploring the castle as they prepped for the event. Kolivan met with a couple more Blade operatives to go over a perimeter sweep, but overall put on a face to show a willing party guest, wanting to ease the royals milling around and keeping an eye on the Blades, still iffy on the whole ‘working with Galra’ thing.

“Might I suggest giving you all a tour of the castle grounds?” Natu interjected as Keith was beginning to step away. He straightened his shoulders and presented himself the best he could to awkwardly reject the offer. The less he was around everything the better.

“That’s very generous, but we don’t want to impose on–”

“Nonsense. My daughter would love to be a personal escort for the Paladins of Voltron, after all. This is a ceremonious endeavour!” Natu clapped his hands, summoning a graceful figure from the nearby corridor—a young woman with flowing robes, a golden circlet resting on her brow. She resemble the king, just a younger, prettier version of the species.

“This is my daughter, Princess Nimbana,” the king announced proudly. "She will show you the palace while you await your comrades' arrival."

Keith’s stomach churned. He hated every part of this—the lavish surroundings, the king’s smug politeness, and most of all, the idea of wandering the palace with the princess as his guide.

This wasn’t part of the plan.

He needed to stay low, not parade around corridors that held too many memories and too much risk.

Keith opened his mouth to refuse, desperate to find a polite way to decline without raising suspicion. “That’s really not—”

“Oh, it would be an honor!” Princess Nimbana interrupted, clapping her hands together with excitement. "I’ve been so eager to meet the Paladins and the Blades up close—I’ve heard all the stories for years about the legendary Voltron. It would be the highest honor to show you all that you have saved for us!" She smiled warmly, her bright eyes locking briefly on Lance. Lance just gave her the brightest smile back, and Keith had to bite back a sigh.

“That would be an honor, thank you.” Axca broke in, her eyes glaring at Keith to get it together. Keith ground his teeth, tension curling down his spine. His protests were lodged uselessly in his throat, and before he could spit out an excuse, Kolivan’s sharp gaze sliced through him like a warning.

"Lead the way, Princess," Keith grimaced, his jaw tightening as he managed a weak nod at her. Her eyes lit up, looking at her father before hurrying out of the hall. Kolivan was left to stay with Natu, discussing other matters that Keith in the moment wished was his job instead. The clicking of their boots on the polished floor sounded deafening to his ears, each step a reminder that he was dangerously close to the palace’s secrets—his secrets that were dancing a little too close for comfort. Lance hurried along in front of Keith, staying close to the excited princess as she pointed out the chandeliers and the decor lining the room. Axca stayed at Keith’s stride, her own eyes watching Keith, a warning, checking in, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. All he could focus on was staying composed. Yet, every step through the palace felt like a noose tightening around his neck.

Nimbana led them eagerly, her words pouring out like water as she pointed out various chambers and grand halls. "This hallway leads to the feast hall where we hold our seasonal banquets... and over there is the Council’s chamber. Oh! And you must see the view from the southern tower—it’s absolutely breathtaking at sunset."

Lance ate it all up, as Keith expected, effortlessly slipping into his usual charm. "Sounds like you guys have this whole hosting thing down," he teased, walking beside the princess as she beamed at him.

"Only the finest for our allies," Nimbana said, giggling. "And, well, anyone as famous as the Blue Paladin."

Lance winked at her, his usual swagger in full force. "So you’ve heard of me? I’ll have to make sure to live up to my reputation."

Keith watched it all in silence, his teeth on edge. He hated how easily Lance could charm people—how quickly he could light up like the sun, even in a place like this. The way he laughed with the princess stirred something bitter and sharp inside Keith, a gnawing resentment he couldn’t quite name. But at the same time, this was Lance. The Lance he grew to unfortunately treasure so fondly, who made him feel like his heart was expanding and his lungs contracting. Who used to thrive on the attention and adrenaline of the world around him. It looked good on him, the way his eyes shined with a harmless teasing flirt. Keith had hoped for times like this again, seeing him so freely cocky, so open and blissfully fashing. Confident. He hadn’t been like this after Allura. Hell, he hadn’t been like this even with Allura. Keith bit harder on the inside of his cheek to punish that thought as they continued following into a long hall of mirrors and windows, looking out over a courtyard to get peeks of the civilians and their small homes.

“So, what’s the story with that bandit?” Lance asked suddenly, his tone casual but curious.

Keith’s stomach lurched. He forced his expression to remain neutral, but his mind began to race.

Damn it, Lance.

That’s what he gets for letting Lance be the leader of the conversation while he stayed muddled in his own thoughts a couple steps behind. He glanced over at Axca, who sent a warning look back at hime.

Don’t react.

Princess Nimbana’s smile faltered for the first time. A shadow crossed her face as she slowed her pace, brushing a strand of hair from her eyes. Or tentacle. It was hard to tell. “It’s… It’s been terrible,” she admitted, her voice softer. "The bandit has brought nothing but chaos to the palace and the city."

Lance’s playful demeanor shifted, sympathy softening his features. “That bad, huh?"

Nimbana nodded, her voice dropping further. "He tears down walls to let angry civilians inside… ruins important events… disrupts trade routes that are oh so important for manitnaining the stability of our economy with other planets. My father is trying to maintain peace, but this bandit makes it harder every day. He keeps trying to go for our lives, threatening my family. It’s so scary sometimes when I hear nosies at night. I can’t sleep.The people see him as a hero, but they don’t understand how dangerous it is to tear apart the government like this."

Lance’s expression shifted into something more serious. “I’m sorry… I didn’t realize how scary that could be.”

“He’s just some silly folklore story of our people, this ancient story that we used to read to our children at night. About a shadow who moves at night, destroying everything and using the policies of fear to take down the palace. Someone must have thought it would be a fun idea to hide behind the cowardness of a mask and bring back a children’s story. That’s the magic of folklore, huh?” Her words echoed in the grand hall, but all Keith could hear was the dull thrum of his pulse pounding against his temples. He kept his gaze forward, forcing each step to remain steady, but his hands had already curled into tight fists at his sides.

They paused in front of another painting, this time it was small and framed, with a small painted scene detailed on what looked like a papyrus parchment. Lance leaned forward as the princess held out a finger, pointing at it.

The painting was vivid and haunting—aged but still alive with its terrifying detail. The centerpiece was a masked figure, draped in black robes that coiled like smoke around his limbs. A grotesque, dragon-like mask covered his face, colored in stark red and white, with slitted eyes and a long, curling tongue that slithered from its snarling mouth. In both hands, the bandit held long, curved blades that glinted even in the painted form. Below his feet, burning villages lay in ruin. The flames swallowed everything—homes, animals, people—while blackened silhouettes of civilians followed behind him in a chaotic charge, storming royal estates and throwing the noble figures depicted into anguish and despair. The agony in the royals' faces was captured with brutal precision: mouths open in silent screams, hands outstretched in vain attempts to shield themselves.

"It’s horrifying, isn’t it?" the princess said quietly, folding her hands in front of her. "This used to scare me so much when I was a child. My father always said it was just a myth—just a monster in stories to keep people afraid of rebellion." Her voice dropped, laced with a mixture of disdain and fear. "Now, though... it's our reality. Some awful person has decided it’s all too fun to spread fear and terror."

Keith stood frozen, staring at the twisted imagery. The mask. The fire. The blades. He felt like his heart was crawling up his throat. He felt Axca tense up next to him, both of them standing a few feet away and inspect as Lance gawked at the image, leaning in close and his eyes running along the imagery.

"You know..." Lance’s voice broke through Keith’s spiral.

Keith blinked, turning just enough to see Lance studying the mural with a quizzical expression. There was a glimmer of amusement in his eyes, the way it always was when he was about to say something ridiculous. Lance tilted his head, gesturing toward the bandit’s outfit. "Keith could probably take this guy in a knife fight, no problem."

Keith’s heart skipped a beat, pulse thrumming awkwardly in his ears as Lance grinned, completely oblivious to the way Keith felt his own face flush red.

"Actually..." Lance added, tapping his chin with mock thoughtfulness. "This dude and Keith might’ve hit the same store. Y'know, all that edgy, dark stuff? I’m pretty sure they’re shopping at the same Hot Topic or whatever."

The princess giggled, covering her mouth with a delicate hand, her eyes crinkling with delight. Keith could barely breathe. Lance nudged him lightly, flashing that familiar cocky grin.

"What do you think, Keith? You got a mask like that stashed somewhere? C’mon, man, I bet you’d totally rock it."

Keith clenched his fists tighter, jaw locking hard enough to make his teeth ache. Every word from Lance’s mouth was like a slow, agonizing unraveling of his carefully constructed mask.

He forced a shrug, trying to hide the stiff tension in his shoulders. "Doubt it," Keith muttered under his breath, hoping that would be enough to brush it off.

But Lance, as always, was persistent. "Aw, come on! I can totally picture you—"

"Enough already." Keith’s voice was sharper than he intended, cutting Lance off mid-sentence. The playful grin on Lance’s face flickered, confusion flashing briefly in his expression. His eyes widened, his mouth opened in a small O shape, so Keith just bit hard as he looked at the princess, not quite making eye contact, fearing she would see a resemblance as Lance had.

“We should keep moving, so we have time to finish the tour before the shuttle arrives.”

The princess nodded, her eyes scanning from Keith to Lance before she cleared her throat, shuffling them along.

“Well, you know what they say about people behind masks. Total losers anyway.” Lance flashed an apologetic smile to the princess, already jumping in to move along the awkward tension sitting heavily between the esteemed blade members right now.

She glanced back at Lance with a sweet smile. "He’s clearly trying to imitate those myths—like he’s some kind of hero. But really, he’s just driving people into madness. The people think he’s liberating them. But they don’t realize my family is

saving

them. If we let chaos spread, everything will collapse. They need us to keep the planet stable."

Lance stole another glance at Keith, brow raised slightly in curiosity. Keith could feel the way Lance was observing, picking apart, watching the way his own skin was crawling.

"Yeah," Lance finally said, his voice now wavering a bit. "I guess it’s easy to talk about the guy like that when he’s not exactly... in the room."

Princess Nimbana laughed. "If only I could get him in a room! I’d make sure he saw how foolish all of this really is. Lock him up and make the people see where someone who manipulates their fear and craving for chaos ends up."

Keith forced himself to swallow, the muscles in his throat working painfully. He kept his expression neutral, but his heart thudded heavy and restless in his chest. Every word she said felt like a stone pressing deeper into him, dragging everything he kept locked away closer to the surface.

Lance shot Keith another glance, his teasing smile softening into something more inquisitive. "You okay?" Lance asked quietly, his voice low enough to be missed by Nimbana as she continued pace, but not by Keith.

Keith gave the barest of nods, unable to meet Lance’s eyes, his mind a warzone of conflicting thoughts. Lance frowned, his curiosity deepening, the tension between them palpable. But before he could say anything more, Princess Nimbana turned and gestured toward the next wing of the palace with an excited grin.

"Come on," she said. "There’s so much more to see."

Lance faltered next to Keith, so Keith just nodded forward, edging for Lance to follow. He lingered a moment longer before giving Keith a wry smile, following along with the princess. Axca was quick to be at Keith’s side as Keith let out a deep breath he had been holding.

“You held that a lot better than I would have expected.” Her voice was low, her eyes trained on Lance and the princess a few steps ahead. Keith rolled his neck, letting the muscle tension diffuse.

“Yah, well, I’d like to think I’m less impulsive than I used to be.”

“I know I’m not one to understand the concept of jokes, but I know that was a lame one.”

Keith scoffed as Axca let out a small smile, and for a second, he noticed the way Lance’s face turned to look back, focusing on the two of them trailing behind, his face pulled sour for a moment before turning back to listening with the princess. Keith chose to ignore that.

The three of them made their way to the shuttle landing zone just outside the palace walls. The princess had said her goodbyes, repeating how honored she was to show such esteemed guests a look at her home, and how she was so thankful that she had their protection and could rest easy. Keith had given her a quick nod, thanking her for her kindness and courtship, while Lance had hopped in to excitedly say how he hoped to see her on the dance floor, throwing her a wink. None of it felt like actual flirting, since Keith had to suffer through the brunt of Lance’s lame attempts during Voltron. He knew how much of a bravo he coud put on, knew all his tricks and sly comments to make to women-resembling aliens. The way he was with Nimbana was light hearted, happy, like he was learning how to interact with aliens for the pleasure of entertaining them again. Like he was being Lance again. That thought warmed a small spot in Keith’s chest, but his own bitter heart had to be annoyed and a little jealous as he opted t onudging Lance with his shoulder to get him to walk away as he waved goodbye. Lance didn’t seem to mind, blabbing on how nice she was and how cool the palace looked, and how he wondered if he could bring back some souvenirs for Hunk, or if it was worth if to see if they had any Voltron murals that they could sign for fun.

Keith stalked ahead, his hands twitching to squeeze his fists and flexing out his hands, nerves rattling beneath the surface. His legs moved too fast, almost like he was trying to outrun the anxious thoughts threatening to spiral. Axca kept a few paces behind him, her usual stoic expression unbothered, though Keith knew she was keeping a close eye on him.

“Your ass on fire or something?” Her voice murmured low, just out of reach from Lance who was scarmling to follow, too into looking around at the huge halls. Keith scoffed lightly, looking at her. She looked annoyed, like she wanted to smack him for the way he was acting.

“You wanna bet how this night might end?”

“Might I remind whose ass we are all pitching in to save here. Get it together.” Her voice was curt, and if Keith was any other person he would have snapped into place and listened to her out of fear of her tone. But this was Axca, and he was Keith. He instead just grunted, gnawing on the inside of his cheek as he looked ahead.

Lance, as always, was right on his heels. "So…” Lance began casually, his voice cutting through the tense silence, “Nyma’s gonna be with Rolo, right?”

Keith’s steps faltered just enough to give him away. Lance noticed—of course he noticed—and Keith cursed silently under his breath. He could hear the grin in Lance’s voice.

"Wonder what she’ll say when she sees me again. People forget the trials and tribulations being honorary loverboy was, successes and failures alike," Lance teased, nudging Keith’s arm with an elbow. "You think she’s still mad about how everything went down?” Keith clenched his jaw tighter and kept walking, hoping if he stayed silent long enough, Lance would drop it. But, of course, Lance

never

dropped anything. Even the sound of Lance saying her name made him feel sour, the prickling envy burning back in his chest. This definitely felt different than the tinge of jealousy he had with Lance interacting with Nimbana. That felt polite, charismatic, a diplomatic friendship. Nyma on the other hand????

Keith huffed through his nose, biting back the urge to respond with something sharp. Lance clearly had no idea what was eating at him, no idea why he was practically crawling out of his skin waiting for this shutte. Could throw up at the idea of seeing Lance actually flirt again.

Lance’s grin widened, undeterred by Keith’s silence. "C’mon, Keith. You think she’ll ask for another chance since the last time she sorta tied me to a tree? Maybe she learned some new knot tricks?"

Keith bit the inside of his cheek hard enough that the metallic taste of blood filled his mouth. His mind was racing, every teasing word from Lance twisting into a mess of frustration and longing inside him.

How are you this oblivious?

Keith shot him a glare, and Lance just snickered, falling into step beside him like they were on a casual stroll rather than waiting for a critical rendezvous. But Keith could feel his nerves fraying at the edges, and Lance’s relentless teasing was both grounding and maddening.

Axca remained silent, her gaze flicking between the two of them with a knowing glance. The tension was palpable as Axca shot him a glance from the side, and Keith could practically hear what she was thinking:

You’re a mess.

He hated how right she was.

Ahead of them, the landing bay came into view, the wide open expanse glowing in the dimming light of the planet’s twin suns. The air was cool, and the distant hum of a ship’s engines echoed faintly in the sky. The sound should’ve been grounding, but Keith’s nerves were still on high alert. Keith folded his arms across his chest, pacing slowly back and forth along the edge of the platform. The wide expanse of sky stretched out above them, pale gold in the fading afternoon light.

Lance approached him with a bemused look. “You’re really wound tight today, huh?” His hand reached out to tug at the edges of Keith’s hair, yanking softly at a small bundle. Keith sucked in a breath, the sensation sending electric shocks down his nervous system. Lance’s fingers lingered for a second longer before dropping back, and Keith could feel those blue eyes begging to Keith to say something in response.

Keith said nothing, grinding his teeth as he scanned the sky for any sign of Rolo’s shuttle, trying hard to ignore the feeling that burnt across his scalp as it tingled from the ghost of the pull.

"Think she’s missed me?" Lance pressed with a grin, moving on as he always did when there was silence he didn’t want. "Maybe she’s gonna wanna sneak away from her serious guard mission with Rolo and ask me to dance. Reconnect. It’s not like she’s gonna steal my lion anytime soon."

Keith inhaled sharply through his nose, trying to hold onto the fraying edges of his composure. He had no idea how Lance could be so casual about this—how he could just

not see

the mess he was stirring up inside Keith.

"You’re really enjoying this fantasy, huh?" Keith muttered, finally breaking his silence. Explaining it wouldn’t help. Lance wouldn’t get it. He never did.

Lance laughed, his grin widening. "You kidding? This is the most fun I’ve had all day."

Finally, the distant hum of a ship’s engines reached his ears, and a sleek shuttle crested over the horizon, its landing lights flickering as it descended toward them. The vessel descended gracefully, landing with a soft hiss of air and metal.

"Relax, Keith. It’s just Rolo. The guy was outsmarted by us more times than we could count back then." Lance said, giving him a light shove on the shoulder, as if that would magically untangle the knot in Keith’s chest. The knot that was growing for more reasons then one at this point.

The ramp of the shuttle lowered, and Keith felt his heart thud painfully in his chest. Axca folded her arms, watching him with that same unreadable look she always wore. Except Keith could read it, and he opted to just avoid eye contact with her all together, the guilt heavy on him as he could feel her judgment simmering off her. The shuttle door opened, and Rolo stepped out with a grin, but Keith barely registered it. His thoughts were still tangled in knots, all centered around the one person standing next to him, completely unaware with the stupidest, most charming grin Keith had ever seen. His eyes locked on Keith the moment he stepped out.

“Looks like you needed my help after all, boss.”

Keith straightened himself, meeting the pirate’s eyes. He had the same nonchalant smirk on his face, his eyes lidded and lazy. He was just as tall, the his muscular chest etched with old scars and bruises on display as he lacked any sort of shirt other than bandages around his wasit that seemed ever present. A pair of goggles sat pushed up on his aviator hat, the color matching his dark brown pirate boots.

“Thank you for coming on such sort notice. The Blades will repay you for your efforts of assistance today.” Keith greeted the alien, but Rolo just leaned back, propping his hands on his waist as he continued smirking at Keith.

“Always so formal, boss. You can drop that act around here, with me after all.” His mouth played with a toothpick, flicking it from one side of his mouth to the other, and Keith grunted. Did Rolo really have to go there?

“Its nice to see you again, buddy. Good to see you’re on a better working ship!” Lance poked in, sliding up next to Keith and holding out a hand. Rolo’s eyes tore away finally from Keith, his face flickering with recognition at Lance in front of him.

“Hey, I know you. You’re that blue lion pilot we tied to a tree.” His face twisted in amusement, looking Lance up and down.

“Haha, yah, good times. No more lions to steal this time around.” Keith felt Lance shift next to him, his hand scratching the back of his neck.

“Got our pleasantries out of the way? Did Kolivan send a message already to fill you in on the task for the night?” Keith asked, his voice low, trying desperately to stay professional as he stepped up closer, using his shoulder to block Lance a bit behind him and get Rolo to look away. Which, wasn’t a problem, because Rolo automatically snapped back to Keith’s voice, his eyes gleaming with a dark hunger and amusement that made Keith want to rip his own hair out. He took a step forward—too close—into Keith’s space. His body screamed, warning his own reactionary pulse to back away before he punched Rolo for getting too close.

“Why so quick to ruin the fun, boss? All business and serious, although its cute that hasn’t changed. Can’t a guy spend some time catching up with old friends?” Rolo flicked his toothpick again, and Keith let out another small huff. At that, Keith caught movement over his shoulder as his eyes were pulled to Nyma and their small robot, Beazer, climbing off the shuttle. Her gaze flicked across the group, landing briefly on Lance, who had been waiting to make a reappearance after their previous encounter with her.

"Hey," Lance greeted, forcing his usual swagger back into his voice. He shot her a grin, as if trying to smooth over their complicated history. "Long time, no tree, right?"

Nyma gave him a sidelong glance, raising an eyebrow as though mildly amused by his attempt.

“Good to see you’re still the same.” Her smile was quick and teasing, but she didn’t linger on him long, her attention drifting easily back to the silent interaction between Keith and Rolo.

"Nice to see you too, I guess," Lance muttered under his breath, his grin faltering slightly. Nyma’s eyes flitted between Rolo and Keith with something close to knowing amusement, crossing her arms as Beazer whirred at her side.

"You two seem... cozy," she remarked slyly, her lips quirking into a knowing smirk. Rolo’s grin widened as the group centered around Keith and Rolo, Lance and Axca behind Keith, both their eyes heavy in different ways on Keith’s back, and Nyma and Beezer behind Rolo. His presence was too casual, his hands tucked lazily in his pockets like he had all the time in the universe. And of course, his eyes were pinned on Keith.

“You know,” Rolo said, tone light but with an undertone that immediately made Keith’s shoulders stiffen, “it’s nice getting to work for you again, Keith. Always a blast having those...

personal assignments

.”

Keith’s teeth clenched, his gaze hardening as he felt Lance stiffen next to him.

Rolo chuckled, clearly pleased by Keith’s discomfort. “Just catching up, that’s all. I mean, it

was

fun, right? You remember.”

“Rolo,” Keith ground out under his breath, his voice low and sharp like a warning growl. His entire body twitched, tension coiling tight in his muscles. But Rolo was relentless. He flicked his gaze to Lance, then back to Keith, a smug look crossing his face—like he knew exactly where to press. And to Keith’s misfortune, he 100% did. “Kinda interesting, isn’t it? Having the

Blue Paladin

here for one of these missions?” His grin widened, a little too mischievous. “Think he’ll get the same treatment I did? Or is this a strictly professional gig as always, boss?”

That was it. Keith’s patience finally shattered. His fists curled tight at his sides, and he whirled toward Rolo with a look that could cut through steel. The back of his throat rumbled into the resemblance of a growl as his mouth opened, anger ready to pour out in full force—

"Okay," Lance said suddenly, his voice too bright and a little forced. "We get it. Old pals and all that. How about we save the reminiscing for later and get on with it, yeah?"

Keith felt his chest rising and falling as he tried to rein in his temper that had nearly snapped. What kind of leader was that? The air between him and Rolo was thick, practically buzzing with tension, and all Keith could sickly focus on was the fact this was his fault for having it to begin with.

"Yeah," Keith said shortly, shifting away from Rolo at last, grinding his teeth so hard it was a wonder they didn’t crack. "We’ve got work to do."

Rolo just smirked, satisfied with how close he’d gotten to riling Keith up. “Relax, pal,” Rolo said smoothly, throwing up his hands like he was innocent. “I’m just teasing after all. Nothing but buisness partners, if I remember correctly last time we spoke.”

Keith choked back a laugh, so instead looked at Nyma, whose eyes were blown wide.

“If Kolivan reaches out, I expect you to be at your stations. Do we understand?”

Nyma and Rolo exchanged a glance before nodding, holding back smirks that Keith knew too well from the both of them.

Lance gave a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yup, so... uh... let’s get going, right? Busy day ahead. Lots of bandits to chase or whatever.” He was talking fast, trying to break the tension with humor, but it came out awkward—like even

he

wasn’t sure what had just happened.

Keith just nodded, turning sharply as he felt Rolo’s gaze on him, pushing past Axca and Lance. Axca stalked next to him in pace as he heard Lance scramble behind him, saying polite goodbyes first.

“Smooth.” Axca muttered just loud enough for Keith to hear, internalizing just how much of a mess he let himself become, so much of his past haunting him on this stupid mission.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

“So was that, like, a normal thing between them? Or is that like, how they act usually?” Lance sat at the edge of the bed in the master suite of the palace, leg bouncing against the blankets and watching Axca sharpen her knife. They had been escorted to the top floor before Keith was called to a meeting with the king and his advisors alongside Kolivan. One more second of watching Keith and Lance thought he was going to have to put out a fire, watching Keith let out a low grumble as he was torn away from the group, leaving Lance and Axca to await the rest of the nights festivities in a large suite.

Axca methodically dragged her blade against a whetstone she apparently just carried around with her, stealthy eyes trained on the way she was quickly sharpening her weapon to an ever sharper point. Lance strummed his fingers against his knee, his leg still bobbing around as he grew impatient with just her, so he attempted again.

“Not a fan of Rolo and his team either?” Lance whistled out, and Axca finally paused mid drag, her eyes piercing up to Lance. She let out a disgruntled growl, one that would have been amusing to hear if it weren’t coming from someone so terrifying.

“Rolo’s team has worked closely with the Blades in the past on some security efforts when needed, often times called to this planet due to the fact they can blend in well with the surroundings and not be spotted or recongized as one of us. Rolo and Keith tend to…get on each other’s nerves sometimes.” Her words seemed calculated, glancing back to look at her dagger. Lance just nodded, his fingers finding a steady rhythm as he went to play with the hairtie around his wrist instead.

“Cool, so it’s just another one of those

Learning-how-to-get-along-with-Keith

moments everyone ends up having to do?”

“You could say that.” Axca’s lips wavered on a half smile, and right as Lance thought he was making progress, Ezor and Zethrid barged through the doors, stepping into the room. Axca turned immediately, her voice dropping into a more commanding tone.

“And where have you two been?”

“Relax. We were with a couple other operatives getting a lookout of the castle grounds for any weak signs of entry, or possible entry. Sorry we weren’t graced with the princess treatment like you guys.” Ezor flipped gracefully onto the bed besides Lance, making the entire bed shift and bounce as Zetrhid found a seat on a lounge chair besides Axca.

“Twas all good. You just missed having to deal with Rolo and gang. Boy, were they happy to see us.” Lance threw on a welcoming smile at Ezor. In truth, he wanted to get on her good side. This was the team that was held so closely to Keith, always at his side and on expeditions with him. They were his close confidants, so Lance wanted to make some sort of attempt to be on good terms with them, even if they still didn’t know exactly what to make of his presence. Ezor’s brows shot up, taking a look at Axca before smiling back at Lance, her smile not quite reaching her eyes.

“So, you finally got to meet Rolo. How was that interaction with Keith? Just as disastrous as always?”

The comment was laced with something deeper, like a tease that Lance wasn’t quite in on, as usual coming from her. Lance could feel it—a weird, uncomfortable knot twisting in his chest. It wasn’t like him to get caught up in things like this, but... something about Ezor’s words left a strange taste in his mouth, the way she was hinting at something maybe….more about that interaction he witnessed.

“I mean, just like any other interaction with Keith. You know the guy, just can’t seem to look thrilled to be anywhere!” Lance let out an awkward chuckle, but he saw the way Ezor leaned more in, like she was dangling a bait for Lance to bite.

“Oh, boy am I aware of how Keith can be...” Ezor’s grin stretched wide, filled with an energy that Lance couldn’t quite place. She rolled onto her side, propping her head up with one hand. “They’ve got this...

thing

. All tension and sparks. It’s honestly a shame you haven’t seen more of it. They can be quite the duo on a trip.”

Lance blinked. “Tension?” He hated how his voice sounded—too curious, too focused. He tried to brush it off, but something in his gut twisted. “Like... what kind of tension?”

Axca, seated stiffly across from them, shot Ezor a dark glare. “Don’t.”

“Relax,” Ezor purred, shooting a teasing glance toward Axca. “What, we can’t talk about the obvious tension in the room? Or are you just a little too wound up for our fearless leader yourself that you can’t have some fun?”

Axca’s jaw clenched. “You know it’s not your place to talk about him that way.” Her voice was low, measured, like she was fighting to keep her temper in check. Lance’s stomach churned, though he wasn’t sure why. He told himself it was just the awkwardness of being an outsider to their weird Blade dynamics—but a small part of him felt like there was more to it. Something... uncomfortable and gnawing at the edges of his mind.

Ezor’s grin only grew wider, clearly enjoying the game she was playing. “I’m just saying, Keith and Rolo have... a historical bond when it comes to these types of missions.” She tilted her head toward Lance, her eyes glittering with amusement. “And you take it a little too seriously every time any of us try to talk about it. What, you jealous that you get pushed more down his roster every time Rolo gets brought around Keith again? Sad you can’t be the only one to suck up to his–”

That was it. Axca snapped. With a fluid, explosive motion, she lunged at Ezor, grabbing her by the collar and shoving her hard off the bed. Lance nearly felt the breeze at the swift way Axca had lept across the room in record time, efficiently flying over Lance and taking only Ezor down with her. Ezor hit the ground with a yelp, landing in a tangle of limbs, still laughing even as Axca sat over her, radiating fury. Lance gawked, expecting some sort of huge cat fight, but instead Ezor just rolled under Axca’s body, giggling a manical laugh up as Axca attempting to clamp her mouth shut, actually letting out strangled hisses as Ezor knocked her elbows into her body. Ezor finally clampered up to run behind Zethrid, who held up her hands as Axca came chasing her across the room.

Before Axca could grab her, Zethrid stepped between them with a heavy sigh, placing a hand on each of their shoulders. “Alright, that’s enough. If you two want to kill each other, do it somewhere

I

don’t have to clean up.”

Axca jerked against Zethrid’s grasp, glaring past her at Ezor. “Never undermine Keith like that again.”

Zethrid gave her shoulder a squeeze, her voice gruff. “And never attack one of your own again. Both of you, enough.”

Ezor snorted from behind Zethrid, leaning casually against the wall as if nothing had happened. “Aww, see? Zethrid

does

care.” She leaned her head on Zethrid’s arms, who just lightened a bit at the touch, putting a protective hand on her shoulders.

Axca huffed, glaring at the way Ezor practically shined under Zethrid’s protection.

“Well, that was a cat fight if I’ve ever seen one. You practically fight the same way I used to with my twin sister!” Lance let out a soft laugh from his seat frozen on the bed, a little too scared to move. The girls all turned to look at him, but Ezor apparently wasn’t done.

“Was it ever about the same boy plaguing everyone’s attention?” She quipped, and Axca just narrowed her eyes and flicked her wrist. A small dagger, this one seemingly protuded out of a secret pocket in Axca’s forearm, whipped through the air with a metallic hiss, spinning so fast that Lance barely saw it coming. It struck the wall a mere

inch

from Ezor’s head, the blade quivering from the force of the impact.

Ezor turned her head, looking at the dagger embedded in the wall beside her, and let out a soft whistle. “Touchy, touchy.”

Just then, the door hissed open.

Keith and Kolivan stepped inside, the air in the room instantly thick with tension. Keith stopped short, his eyes flicking to the dagger still vibrating in the wall, then to Ezor’s amused grin, Axca’s murderous scowl, and Zethrid’s exasperated stance. Kolivan’s gaze swept over the scene, slow and deliberate. His expression didn’t change, but the weight of his presence alone was enough to drain any remaining amusement from the room.

Zethrid, ever bold, gave a mock salute. “Welcome back, boss. You missed all the fun.”

Keith’s jaw twitched, visibly restraining the urge to groan, as Kolivan stepped forward. “What the hell is going on?”

Zethrid shot a warning glance at Ezor, who was clearly enjoying herself far too much. “Nothing that can’t wait,” Zethrid muttered, pulling Axca back from where she still glared daggers at Ezor.

Ezor then pointed at Axca, immediately blurting like a child, “Axca started it.”

“You don’t ever shut up?” Axca groaned, and turned on Ezor immediately as Zethird had to physically put her body in between the two about to squabble, before Kolivan cleared his throat, causing the tension to diffuse quickly when they both realized who was in the room.

Kolivan crossed his arms, his presence commanding the room. “I assume you’ve all finished acting like children.”

Axca lowered her gaze, tense but silent. Keith, meanwhile, ran a hand through his hair, muttering under his breath something Lance couldn’t catch from across the room.

Kolivan’s sharp eyes flicked between them all. “You were supposed to be preparing for the next stage of the mission.”

Lance cleared his throat awkwardly from the corner, still feeling the heat of unspoken tension. “Yup, everything’s... totally under control.”

Keith shot him a tired look, somewhere between gratitude and disbelief, before turning back to the room, holding out some packaged clothing that was tucked away under a protection.

“The king requested us all to wear traditional garments to show we stand with the people here, and they gracefully supplied us with outfits. You are to change quickly and without any more drama.”

Kolivan gave a small nod, his expression unreadable, and turned to leave the room. “Get ready. We’ll reconvene shortly.”

The door slid shut behind him, leaving Keith standing in the middle of the mess, rubbing the bridge of his nose as if that might stave off the headache brewing.

Ezor leaned casually against the wall, still grinning. “You

always

bring the best energy back from meetings, Keith. Just delightful.”

Keith shot her a glare so sharp it could’ve rivaled Axca’s dagger. “I don’t even want to know what that was all about, but you all need to get it together. Might I remind you all represent the Blades here? Every action is watched and judged. Now, go put these outfits on before I remove you all from this mission.”

He stood, holding out each outfit for them to take as they cleared the room. As Axca approached, Keith held her outfit away, bringing her attention to him.

“Can I speak to you. In private?” He muttered, and the tone sent chills down Lance’s spine. Axca just nodded, standing to the side as the rest took their outfits and headed out. Lance gave them one last look before the door closed behind, locking them away.

Ezor whistled as they made their way down the hall to the changing rooms, earning Lance’s attention.

“What’d I say about Axca being Keith’s little suck up?” Her eyes glinted with mischief as they continued on, and Lance couldn’t exactly place the sick feeling he had brewing around. Axca and Keith? Like? Together? Were they always a thing? Had Lance really missed it this entire time? Were they a thing back on the Atlas? They were always training together, but Lance chalked it up as just two restless half Galra warriors who didn’t know when to take a chill pill. Lance mind continued swriling, the further away from the room making him feel more nauseous, and not fully understanding where this nauseating feeling was exactly coming from, or why he was even feeling this way to begin with.

Lance stood in front of the tall mirror, shifting uncomfortably as he tugged at the cuffs of the formal attire the king’s servants had brought for him. The deep sapphire tunic shimmered under the soft glow of the lights, its fabric adorned with delicate golden embroidery in swirling patterns that mimicked the night sky. Fine silver threads traced the shape of constellations along the collar and cuffs, and the hem was trimmed with intricate beadwork, tiny reflective gems catching the light with every movement. It made his eyes stand out, the deep coloring making his skin look tan and his body complimented in all the right ways that would have made Lance gush about it to anyone in earsight.
He adjusted the belt that cinched the tunic at his waist—a thick, braided cord of black and gold—and ran his hands down the soft material. Even the trousers were luxurious, made from fabric so light they felt like air, tapering smoothly into polished leather boots that hugged his calves.

He let out a sharp breath and forced himself to grin at his reflection, trying to inject some swagger into his posture. "Looking good, McClain," he whispered to himself, flashing a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. But the weight pressing against his chest didn’t budge. He smoothed his hair back one more time before turning on his heel, setting off toward the main suite where Keith and Axca were supposedly still “talking”. As he made his way through the corridors of the palace, the fabric of the tunic whispered with every step, the boots clicking softly against the marble floors.

When he reached the suite’s grand door, however, he hesitated. His hand hovered inches from the ornate metal, knuckles poised to knock. But something twisted deep in his gut, a gnawing anxiety that kept his hand from making contact.

What if Axca and Keith were...

something

? The thought was like an itch he couldn’t scratch. It didn’t even make sense, not really—but it had wormed its way into his mind ever since that weird exchange back at the ship. Axca’s constant presence around Keith, her fierce protectiveness. The way she had lashed out in defense of him so easily, how they always seemed to be whispering to each other away from the group. The quiet looks they exchanged, the way Keith’s guard always seemed to lower slightly when she was around. He tried to tell himself it didn’t matter. If they were together... Well, that was none of his business. But the idea still made his stomach twist uncomfortably.

Why hadn’t Keith told him?

They’d been through so much—shouldn’t he have known? Shouldn’t Keith have said something if there was someone important in his life?

The thought stung more than it should’ve. Keith had always been hard to read, sure. But that was at the start of their meeting, when he was a firefly cannonball who went off if you got to close. Until he started to loosen up, lean into Lance, allow himself to be quiet and open around him. Trust in Lance’s presence, and Lance would be lying to himself if he didn’t find Keith’s own presence grounding for himself. But lately... Lately, Lance wasn’t sure if he even knew him at all. He kept finding himself on the outside looking in—watching Keith from a distance, trying to piece together the bits of him he hadn’t been around to see.

Maybe Keith didn’t trust him like that anymore. Maybe they weren’t friends like they used to be. Maybe Lance had let the time slip by between their own bond, drifting away and letting Keith forget what they used to be like. Maybe he let his own mourning get in the way of relationships that were still alive, and he let die too. He clenched his jaw, feeling ridiculous for letting his mind spiral. It wasn’t like Keith

owed

him anything. But still, the weird jealousy clawed at him, a sourness in his chest he couldn’t explain. It was stupid, right? This gnawing feeling that something had shifted between them—and worse, that he hadn’t even noticed it until now.

He shook his head, trying to dislodge the thoughts. It wasn’t like Keith was

his

to be jealous about.

Lance let out a slow breath, steeling himself. It was just a door. He was overthinking everything, as usual. With one last glance at the ornate metalwork, he gave the door three sharp knocks.

The door cracked open, and suddenly he was met with Axca’s famousy piercing yellow eyes, looking back at him with a small confusion before opening the door fully. Lance gulped, feeling like he definitely interrupted.

“Hey, I was just coming over to, like, check in and make sure I’m wearing this thing right. But if you guys are still busy…I don’t wanna impose, or like, take up time away? You guys are totally busy, I can just go bother Ezor and Zethird again if–”

“We are done in here. He’s all yours.” Axca stepped to the side, opening the door fully. Lance caught she was wearing her own version of the authentic formal attire Lance had on, with more feminine accents added but otherwise very similar to his own. Lance blinked, unsure if he was misstepping as she Axca brushed past him, her gaze cool and unreadable, as always. She gave him a brief glance—more acknowledgment than greeting—before slipping through the door without a word. The silence she left behind felt heavy, and Lance awkwardly cleared his throat, standing there in the middle of the room, unsure what to do with his hands.

From somewhere deeper in the room, Keith’s voice drifted out, low and familiar. “Lance? That you?”

“Aha, yah, buddy. Axca just stepped out, if thats fine. Sorry to say your stuck with me now!” Lance pulled at the hair tie, aggressively letting it snap back onto his wrist and letting it burn to help center himself for a second. He heard a small scoff behind a screen door, indicating Keith was most definitely alright with Lance there.

The sound of it made something flutter strangely in Lance’s chest.

Relax, it’s just Keith,

he told himself.

Good old Keith. The same Keith you’ve known for years.

And yet, for some reason, standing here in this room felt... different. Lance rubbed the back of his neck, shifting awkwardly as he circled aimlessly near the bed, sitting down before standing back up, his nerves bouncing. He wanted—

needed

—to just ask. Be casual. Something that could cut through whatever weirdness had been settling between them lately. But the words tangled up in his throat. When had things gotten this hard? This nervous energy thrumming in his veins... This wasn’t him. Not around Keith. Keith was someone Lance

liked

to seek out, to be around. Someone steady and dependable in a way Lance had never really been himself. Keith had this frustrating habit of making him feel like things made sense, even when they didn’t. But now? Now Lance felt jittery, on edge, like every word might come out wrong. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this nervous around Keith.

“Hey, Keith? My man? I got sorta a weird question? If you totally don’t mind. I mean, I got a lot of questions recently. But like, this one is more pointed I guess? After everything. But also it’s like, totally not a big deal.” Lance scratched at his arm, pulling the wristband into a twist with his fingers. Man, way to keep it cool and casual. He wanted to be able to talk with Keith again. Moments spent side by side, missions that ended in shared looks, late-night conversations by campfires, the brush of shoulders, the quiet trust they never had to talk about. When had all of that gotten so tangled up in... this weird tension? And why was it so hard to shake?

Just as his mind threatened to spiral further, the screen door slid open.

Keith stepped out—and the sight of him hit Lance like a sucker punch to the chest.

He couldn’t stop his breath from catching as Keith stood there, dressed in formal attire that looked like it had been tailored to perfection. The black jacket fit snug across his shoulders, its high collar trimmed with a hint of deep violet stitching. The cut of the jacket accentuated the lean strength in his frame, tapering just enough at the waist to show off his athletic build without being too flashy. The cut was deep down his chest, showing off collared bones that pierced through his skin, Lance’s eyes stinging a bit like he was caught looking at a medieval woman’s ankle. His pants were slim but elegant, tucked neatly into polished boots that somehow looked both formal and practical. And then there was the subtle gleam of silver embroidery along the edges of his sleeves—sharp, minimal patterns that hinted at something regal without being ostentatious.

But it was Keith’s eyes that really stopped Lance in his tracks. The deep violet hues shimmered, practically glowing against the dark fabric. There was an energy in them that Lance hadn’t noticed before—or maybe hadn’t

allowed

himself to notice. A quiet intensity that made his pulse quicken.

His hair was the unruly, chaotic part of the entire outfit that just screamed Keith, curled a bit at the edges, softening the sharper angles of his face. And as he ran a hand through it absentmindedly, smoothing it back and pushing his bangs around his eyes, Lance’s gaze tracked the movement without meaning to.

Since when did Keith look….good?

Lance’s brain tripped over itself, and he blinked hard, trying to snap out of it.

Stop. What the hell are you even thinking right now?

Keith glanced up, finally catching Lance’s gaze, and a flicker of confusion crossed his features. “...What? Did I put something on wrong?”

It was just one question—simple, direct, and very Keith—but it sent Lance’s brain scrambling. He opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it again, trying to say

anything

that didn’t sound completely unhinged. But for the life of him, he couldn’t seem to form a coherent sentence.

“Uh—nothing! I just—uh. Wow. You, uh. You look... dressed?”

The words tumbled out before he could stop them, and as soon as they were out in the open, Lance wanted to slap a hand over his face and sink into the floor.

Dressed?

That’s what he was going with?

Keith raised an eyebrow, clearly confused. “...Thanks?”

Lance gave a weak laugh, rubbing the back of his neck again like it was some kind of nervous tic. “I mean—yeah. It’s just the outfit. It suits you. Looks... nice.”

God, shut up,

Lance’s brain screamed. But now that the thought was loose in his mind, he couldn’t stop noticing. The way the jacket framed Keith’s shoulders perfectly. Wider in the year he had doing everything still so strictly and intensely. He definitely never took a day off training. His jaw looked sharper, flexing and unclenching. Lance felt his eyes trail the sharp ridges of his jaw to his neck, and immediately snapped his eyes back to Keith eyes. The way the dark colors made his eyes stand out. The way Lance’s heart was doing a weird little flip in his chest every time Keith so much as glanced at him. He was allowed to appreciate his friends! Its not like he was blind, he complimented Hunk all the time for being such a , well, hunky guy! Lance never shied away from placing a wet sloppy kiss to his friends cheek after his brilliant mind was able to figure out a tricky solution, or always collapse into him when he made a hearty meal after a long fight, saying how he was gonna marry Hunk one day if he kept cooking him amazing meals. A happy husband was a well fed husband!

Keith frowned slightly, tilting his head. “You okay?”

Lance forced another laugh. “Yeah! Yeah, totally. Just... you know. Formalwear. Not used to seeing you in it. It’s... different.”

Keith gave a small shrug, clearly unimpressed with the entire ordeal. “I get it. You can say whatever insult you wanna say and get it over with. It’s just a suit.”

“Right,” Lance muttered under his breath. “Just a suit.”

Keith’s hands then went back to his hair, messing around with the sides and tugging a bit at the ends, the hair oh so unruly and sticking out in so many places that Lance tried not to find it endearing.

“Hey, do you still have my hairtie? It’s ok, if you still keep it, my hair’s just..a lot right now.” Keith’s face faltered, his eyes looking a little timid to even look at Lance, a slight blush on his cheeks that made Lance’s entire chest squeeze. Lance cleared his throat, suddenly feeling a little too hot.

“Oh, yah. Totally. Its all yours. The hair tie. Yah.” Lance stammered out, wanting to bite off his tongue. What the hell was wrong with him? Keith seemed satisfied, relaxing a bit as he stepped over to Lance criss crossed on the couch, but Lance’s mind must have practically shut off as he watched from a different realm his body ask this question.

“You want your hair braided?”

Keith paused midstep, looking at Lance like he had just grown a second head, which he might as well have.

“You know how to braid?” Keith’s lips quirked up into a half amused smirk, like he actually was interested in Lance’s wild question. Lance just hurried on, crossing his arms to look smug and nonchalant when he very much felt like the world was tilting on its axis.

“Please, you insult me. You do realize I grew up in a house with four women who all had thick Cuban hair that needed to be tamed down. This is a guy who made sure my niece always looked her best for picture day. I knew how to churn out hairstyles before I knew how to ride a bike.” He puffed out his chest, batting dramatically at a surprised looking Keith, who just looked like he wanted to laugh. But there was something incredibly fond in the way he was looking at Lance, his hard and demanding demeanor seemingly miles away from what it had been just a bit ago when yelling at the room with Kolivan. Lange just pushed along, shifting on the bed and scooting to the edge, slapping at the short bench at the foot of the bed directly under his feet.

“Step into Salon de Lance, my man. You’re about to get the treatment of your dreams.” He flashed him his award winning smile, and his stomach tugged at how easily Keith gave in, rolling his eyes as he tugged at his own hair ends as he sat down in between Lance’s legs, locking himself in. He was stiff, his fingers itching and pulling at his hair until Lance slapped them away.

“When was the last time you ever had someone do your hair. This is the longest I think I’ve ever seen it. You trying to match Kolivans freak and really grow it out like him?” Lance began to work, carding his fingers at the top of Keith’s scalp to brush out any tangles, and was immediately thrown off by how soft his hair was. Silky almost.

“Please, I want nothing to do with looking like Kolivan and give him more of a reason to compare us or make me some freak expectation I’ll just fail to meet after all.” Keith sighed into the touch, and Lance tried hard to focus on what Keith was opening up to instead of the way Keith practically melted under Lance’s touch, leaning back on the seat and tilting his head forward, letting Lance have as much unfiltered access to his full head. And Lance was hyper-aware of every tiny shift in Keith’s posture, of how natural it felt to be close like this.

Lance just hurried on, letting his fingers selfishly drag down Keith’s scalp, liking the deep hum coming out of the man.

“It can’t be that bad. I mean, that is like, where you’re headed, right? Basically being his apprentice or whatever?” Lance had a little too much joy toying with the strands of hair, milking in how long it had gotten and how every touch was silky soft, before beginning to separate them into three sections. He felt the way Keith’s shoulders tensed up, so Lance instinctively sunk a hand deeper into his hair, letting his fingers tug heavily and bringing Keith’s head to dip back. Keith let out a low hum, a soft sigh escape out of him that Lance didn’t even know if Keith realized he was doing that. But the entire action seemed to have put Keith at ease a bit.

“I don’t know. It’s been, complicated I guess. Feeling like everyone’s expecting you to be the next great leader while someone already has that position. It’s not like I’m ungrateful, with everything Kolivan has done for me. It’s just, a lot on my mind always. Needing to act one way when I really feel another way. Having to navigate complicated diplomacies and decisions knowing one wrong decision can screw up our entire effort for peace. Or, believing in one way and having to pretend like I don’t. ” Keith hummed, but he was leaning more back into Lance. Lance was stricken with how eerily familiar this situation seemed to be with Keith, the way it was almost like how Shiro was with him and the Black Lion. Lance felt himself frown, pulling a loose strand back that had fallen over Keith’s ears and begged himself to ignore the way Keith shivered. Lance’s heart squeezed a little at the weariness in Keith’s voice. He’d never thought about how isolating it must be for Keith—living up to expectations without the warmth of someone like Shiro to anchor him. The more Keith spoke, the clearer it became to Lance how much responsibility weighed on him, and how deeply he’d been hiding it.

“I get how that all can seem like a lot, but I’m sure that you’re just not getting that out of anyone, you have the skills to lead people. People want to follow you. I certainly did when you led Voltron, although it took me a second. But once I did choose you, I never looked back. They trust you without you even realizing how much influence you have. Like, I can’t imagine someone else doing what you do half the time. Guess that’s what makes you a natural born leader, anyway.” Lance shrugged, ignoring the heat pooling in his chest. Keith stayed silent, clenching his jaw. Lance groaned, letting his hand fall forward to cup at Keith’s jaw, feeling how frigid it immediately went at the touch.

“I swear to god, mullet, if you don’t stop this habit you’re not gonna have any teeth left to growl at people you’re mad at anymore. Kolivan is gonna be the least of your problems. Trust me when I say you do NOT wanna mess with dentists.” Lance sighed, nudging his thumb against Keith’s jaw and feeling shamefully how tight and sharp it was before yanking his hand back and shoving it into the comfortability of Keith’s hair.

“I don’t growl.” Was all Keith could mutter out, which erupted the deepest laugh out of Lance. He made another low hum in his throat. It wasn’t intentional, but it was enough to send a jolt down Lance’s spine. His lips twitched before he could stop himself.

“Dude, we’ve been over this. You growl on multiple occasions when you don’t like something. Give me a couple more sessions like this with your hair and I’ll catch you purring with me.” He gave a playful tug again on a strrand. “What, you’re gonna start kneading me next? Maybe curl up in a sunbeam?”

Keith made a face, rolling his eyes, but didn’t pull away. “You’re obsessed with this idea that’s far from real.” His voice was tinged on such open softeness that Lance wanted to bubble up and keep in a jar.

“I’m serious!” Lance grinned, relishing the fact that Keith wasn’t shutting him down completely. “I bet if you had a tail, you’d be swishing it right now.” He mimicked the motion with his hand, waving it back and forth like a cat’s tail. Keith huffed, a reluctant smile tugging at the corners of his lips, but Lance caught the tiniest flicker of something warmer behind his expression—a fondness that seemed to appear more and more often.

Then, because the moment felt too good to let slip by without saying something real, Lance took a breath and let his grin soften. “I... I missed this,” he admitted, almost sheepishly. “Us. You. Is that... weird to say?”

The question lingered in the air between them, a little too vulnerable, but Lance couldn’t backtrack now. He didn’t know what had compelled him to admit it, but once it was out, there was no taking it back. And to his surprise, Keith didn’t recoil or shut down like he might have expected. Instead, Keith’s body stayed flush against Lance’s legs, his lips a small pout, like he was mulling over the words, taking his time to respond in the way he always did.

“No,” Keith said at last, quiet but certain. “I missed you, too.”

The simplicity of the words hit Lance harder than he expected, the warmth of them wrapping around him like a balm. He felt something inside him loosen, like a knot that had been tied too tightly for too long. For the first time in a long while, it felt like the invisible distance that had been growing between them was finally starting to close. Like the wall that had been growing and growing during their year apart, the chasm stretching further and further, had all stopped constructing. Like he finally got the pick to knock it down, like he was able to lay down the bridge to cross it. Like he was finally able to fall back in step with the man he always felt like chasing.

And it was everything Lance hadn’t realized he needed.

Lance paused, fingertips lingering at the nape of Keith’s neck as he secured the braid. “You don’t have to do it alone, you know. Like, pretend the pressure doesn’t bother you. You’ve got people here. I mean... you’ve got me.”

Keith was quiet for a moment, and in the stillness, Lance could feel the weight of those words settle between them. It wasn’t just something you said casually—

You’ve got me.

It was a promise, a reminder that Keith didn’t have to carry everything by himself.

Keith tilted his head slightly, leaning back just a little closer, as if testing the waters. “Thanks,” he murmured, voice soft with unspoken gratitude.

And that was enough to drive Lance crazy enough to finally blurt out his weighing question, ignoring every impulse not to ruin this moment.

“So, speaking of, being there. And having people around. Like, you know, other than me of course. And Shiro. And you’re mom. Like, you got a line of people awaiting to help you and all. I mean, I just, with Axca. I guess I was just wondering??” He began stuttering, his words coming out in a fast and messy jumble. Keith leaned forward, turning around in his seat to meet Lance’s eyes, and that was almost worse for him. His heart was doing this weird thing where it wouldn’t calm down, and he was running out of things to say that didn’t involve him embarrassing himself.

“So... uh...” Lance started, glancing away like the ceiling held all the answers. “Not that it’s any of my business. I mean, you can do whatever you want, obviously. Like... I

totally

get it.” He was rambling now, and he knew it, but he couldn't seem to stop. Keith’s expression was unreadable, and somehow that made it worse.

“It’s just...” Lance cleared his throat, feeling his palms grow clammy. “You and Axca... You’re... a thing, right? Like, if you are, that’s... That’s fine. I get it! Seriously, who wouldn’t want to be with the fearless leader, right? She’s cool, and, like, she totally matches your whole dark-and-broody vibe.” His words were tumbling out too fast now, tripping over themselves as he hurried along. “I mean,

emo queen

with the

emo king

—it just works. Perfect match. Right?”

Keith’s stare remained steady, tearing through Lance and watching with the most unreadable expression, brows thick and furrowed, and Lance felt like he was about to fall through the floor from the sheer weight of it. He forced a nervous laugh, trying to play it off like it didn’t matter.

“It’s fine if you guys are a thing. Really. I mean, I was just wondering because of something Ezor said and you guys are always kinda doing your thing so—”

“Lance.” Keith’s voice cut in, sharp and to the point.

Lance froze, the words dying in his throat. Keith tilted his head slightly, looking at him with the most exasperated expression, a whirlwind of emotions flying across his face before he just shut his eyes, breathing sharply out and turning away slightly.

“I’m gay.”

The room went dead silent.

“Like, I like men.”

More silence.

“And not women. Which is Axca. Axca and I are not a couple. Or will ever be in that way.”

Lance blinked, his mouth opening slightly, but no words came out. His brain stuttered to catch up, like someone had flipped a switch and he needed to reboot. “Oh.” He swallowed, eyes wide. “Oh. Uh... okay.”

Keith just kept staring at him, waiting for some kind of reaction.

Lance let out a shaky laugh, rubbing his neck again in a futile attempt to act casual. “Well. That’s... good to know!” He forced a grin that felt way too big for his face. “I mean, obviously. That’s, uh... cool. Very cool. Its not a big deal or anything. I mean, it is. It should be. Cuz like, it’s important. And I totally rock with it! Why didn’t you say anything earlier?”

Keith raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed with the floundering attempt.

“It wasn’t exactly an important topic to share while saving the universe from evil.”

“Right. That. I mean, it’s not like we were gonna be homophobic or anything. Does Shiro know? I’m sure he does I mean the guys got a husband. Wait, did you just not wanna tell the rest of us? You know Hunks got lesbian grandmas, so he’d totally be down about it. And Pidge…well…I don’t even think sexuality is even close to her.” Lance couldn’t stop himself from blabbering on, trying so hard to make things seem fine while also realizing his entire world was shifting. But why would that even matter? Its just Keith and his newfound interest in men. That’s fine! Totally a normal thing to be spinning out about. Suddenly all the times in space made since when he would groan or roll his eyes at Lance when he made attempts of flirting at alien babes. Go figure he wasn’t interested in any of them and found Lances lame attempts annoying.

“No, it’s nothing against any of you. Really. It just, didn’t seem important at all. Not like it really would have changed anything.” His eyes were careful, searching Lance’s face for something.

“Duh. Of course it would have!” Lance blurted out, catching the way Keith’s careful eyes widened a bit, “Imagine all the gay alien clubs we could have attended for you! Now I really know why you were bound so tight during those years. No where to blow off some steam!” Lance watched Keith’s face blank, his cheeks reddening a bit.

“You’re an idiot,” Keith muttered under his breath, but there was no heat behind the words. He turned back quickly to let Lance take a hold of his hair again, crossing his arms and looking the most uncomfortable he had been since this all started.

Lance let out a weak laugh, heart still pounding, not really sure why Keith’s plain admission felt like it was hitting him harder than it should.

“Yeah,” he mumbled, the tips of his fingers carding through Keith’s hair one final time, graveling in the feeling and trying to memorize how it felt before this moment in time ended. “I guess I am.”

The ball was in full swing, the grand hall brimming with music, laughter, and the clinking of glasses. Opulent chandeliers bathed the room in golden light, reflecting off polished marble floors and gilded walls. The royals spared no expense, with lush fabrics draped across every surface, towering floral arrangements dotting the room, and servers gliding gracefully between clusters of nobles, offering trays of exotic drinks.

Blades operatives still dressed in their usual dark suites, keeping a watchful eye, while king Natu had insisted on Keith’s private team to be awarded the decorative garments they were adorning. That wasn’t an issue to Lance obviously, any chance to dress up he was going to take. But it was a little weird, feeling all dolled up and expensive while other members of the same team he was on milled around the crowded room in their comfortable and reliable suits, weapons tucked away.

Lance had been pulled every which way, being paraded by the wonderfully kind and enthusiastic Princess Nimbana, becoming his close friend as she excitedly beckoned him to more royal and elite families, egging him on to tell wonderful stories of his time in Voltron and what saving the galaxy was like.

“So tell them about that time with the giant space worm!” the princess urged, her eyes bright with excitement. She clung to every word of his stories like he was the most interesting thing in the galaxy, and soon enough, a small crowd gathered around them. Lance chuckled, feeling the warmth of the spotlight settle over him. “Oh man, that one was a nasty time. Except it was my buddies Hunk and Keith, you know him, Blade leader and all over there? Anyway, they had to go in and basically find a way to kill it from the inside, and my buddy Hunk basically saved their lives by getting farted out the worm! Can I say that?”

The crowd erupted into laughter, with some more pressing comments and adoration. Lance grinned, finding his rhythm again. He launched into the next part of the story, exaggerating the twists and turns, reliving the wild ride of his Voltron days. It had been

so long

since he’d talked like this—since he let himself get swept up in the rush of storytelling, in the thrill of remembering the good parts. Lance initially was all over it. He excitedly launched into the charming decorum he loved about meeting new people. It was a rush, being able to gush about yourself, and as Lance struggled at some points to remember exact details about certain times during Voltron, he realized how long it had been since he was this excited to talk about his past life. He hadn’t spoken this much about it since returning to Earth, feeling guilty at first for even reminiscing on the good times that Voltron brought without thinking of the one bad ending that was earned from it. Lance laughed along with his new audience, embellishing how ridiculous Hunk looked covered in slime after one mission, gesturing wildly as he described Pidge's elaborate traps for Galra patrols and the time they overrid one of their systems and took it as a personal joyride throughout Lotor’s base. He hadn’t realized how much he missed this—the ease, the energy, the joy of being the center of attention without the guilt weighing him down.

He found himself leaning into it, feeding off the crowd's laughter and eager questions.

Had they really battled a massive warship in the middle of a black hole? Did the lions really roar to life on their own? What was it like flying Blue through the void of space, commanding her like an extension of himself?

Lance basked in it, flashing a grin that felt almost natural again. For the first time in a long while, it didn’t feel like he was walking on broken glass every time he talked about the past. The knot in his chest—that constant ache he carried with him since Allura—eased just a little.

On Earth, it always felt... complicated. The moment someone asked about Voltron, the weight of everything with Allura would settle over him, dragging his mood down like a heavy anchor. It didn’t matter how incredible their adventures had been—the loss always felt sharper. The stories tasted bittersweet on his tongue, and he avoided them as much as possible. It felt complicated. Wrong, even. But also freeing. The laughter around him made it easier to push those feelings aside, at least for now. Maybe he

deserved

this, after everything.

He glanced across the ballroom, instinctively searching for Keith, wondering if he was watching him too. For some reason, that thought twisted something warm and uncertain in his chest. But before he could linger on it, the princess nudged him, eagerly pulling him into the next conversation.

It wasn’t long before she finally released him of her parading as she excused herself to go refill her drink, giving Lance a moment to lean against a pillar, his throat soar from his storytelling and feeling finally wiped of energy. He hadn’t been this much of a performer in such a long time, and honestly, it felt good. Like the Lance he was. Maybe that part of him didn’t die with the woman he loved. He felt his cheeks tingle a bit at that thought, smiling a bit to himself as he began circling around the room, nodding along to elites and just sheepishly motioning that he was heading somewhere else in the room to keep them from rushing him for another hour.

The music of the royal ball swirled through the room, and with a lack of the princess and her people to entertain, Lance’s mind was miles away to a topic that had been plaguing him all night. He leaned against a grand marble pillar near the edge of the dance floor, half-listening to the hum of conversation, but his thoughts spiraled somewhere else entirely. Specifically, they kept circling back to

one

thing:

Keith.

Keith was gay.

He sipped his drink, the fruity taste lost on his tongue, and tried to smooth past the earth-shattering revelation. It

shouldn’t

be a big deal. It really shouldn’t. Lots of people were gay. Cool. Great for them. Why did it matter so much? He didn’t know, but somehow it

was

a big deal, because it was

Keith

.

He was

gay

. He liked men.

Lance let out a slow, shaky breath, gripping his glass tighter. It shouldn’t matter. It really shouldn’t. But somehow, it felt like his world had tilted slightly off its axis. Keith was attracted to guys. Which meant Keith could... end up with a

guy

. Someone who Keith would find close, seek comfort in, look for when he needed reassurance.

Someone else could have Keith and leave Lance in the dust without him.

He stared at the rim of his glass, replaying the memory of Keith’s deadpan “I’m gay” over and over again in his head. There was no big confession, no emotional turmoil in Keith’s voice—it was just a fact. A fact Lance had somehow missed entirely over the years. How? How did he

not know

this about Keith? He thought they were close—

best friends

close.

So why did hearing it feel like he’d been hit in the chest with a comet?

eith could end up with a guy. The thought burrowed into his brain and stayed there, stubborn and annoying, like an itch he couldn’t scratch. Would it be someone tall and broody, like Rolo? Noooo, no way. Not in a million years would Keith go for an annoying loser like THAT with an attitude problem and a show off. No, that’s weird, shut up. And it wasn’t that it was weird that it was a guy, Lance would rather die than be accused of being homophobic. It was the fact that another guy would be important in Keith’s life.

Keith was... intimidating and strong and….fine, arguably attractive, and weirdly charming in his own grumpy way. It made sense that guys would be into him.

The idea made Lance’s stomach twist, though, and he couldn’t for the life of him figure out why. So why couldn’t he stop thinking about Keith being with

someone else

?

He glanced across the room again, his eyes automatically finding Keith in the crowd like a magnet trained to him. It wasn’t like he meant to stare—it just sort of

happened

. His gaze kept gravitating toward Keith, helpless to resist the pull. Keith stood near the back of the hall, arms crossed over his chest in that brooding way he’d perfected, with a slight slouch to his shoulders that said

I’d rather be anywhere else

. But damn if that didn’t make him look cooler somehow, like some aloof hero from an old movie. The flickering candlelight caught the glint of his earring, the sharp angles of his jaw, and the way the formal clothes—tailored snug in all the right places—emphasized his lean strength. The black-and-silver outfit was simple, but on Keith, it looked regal. Magnetic.

Way too magnetic

, actually. His dark hair framed his face, neatly braided by Lance’s own hands earlier, which made something stupid flutter in Lance’s chest every time he remembered it.

Keith was speaking with Axca now, his posture stiff, his expression tight—but Lance caught the smallest flicker of ease in his features when she said something to him. Something gentle. That little flicker made something curl low in Lance’s gut, like a knot he couldn’t quite untangle. He shifted on his feet, chewing on his lip. It was so... stupid. None of this made sense. He wasn’t jealous—why would he be jealous? He just... didn’t like being left out.

That was it. That had to be it.

Not being as important as he is usually in Keith’s life is what made him on edge and sick in the head. That is a completely normal reaction! Like loosing your friend to a relationship!

He huffed a breath, trying to focus on anything else—the lights, the music, the grand decor—but his gaze kept drifting back to Keith. To the way Keith carried himself now, steady and sure in ways Lance hadn’t noticed before. To how comfortable Keith seemed talking with Axca, like they’d known each other for years.

He clenched his jaw and tore his gaze away for a second, only for his eyes to betray him and find Keith again a moment later.

It wasn’t just how Keith looked—though

that

wasn’t helping. It was how he

was

. Quiet, intense, and a little distant, yet sharp as a blade. Keith’s intensity practically hummed around him, the same way it always did in battle, like he was always on the verge of something dangerous. Yet, it made Lance feel so grounded. Like everything was going to be ok, his raging ocean of emotions put out with Keith’s flickering fire. And that’s what Lance couldn’t seem to stand.

Some stranger out there getting hit with the full weight of Keith’s focus. It would be electric, wouldn’t it? That’s what Keith was like. Electric. The kind of person someone would fall for hard and fast without even realizing. And Lance… Lance wasn’t ready for that.

Someone’s going to see him. Of course, they will.

The idea left a bitter taste in his mouth, and he gulped down the strange drink, hoping it would help. It didn’t.

His grip tightened around the glass. He told himself it wasn’t jealousy—not

really

. It was just… fear. Yeah. Fear. Fear of having to share Keith. Because, well,

who wouldn’t

want to be close to Keith? They’d fought through a war together, saved the universe—hell, Keith was probably the most important person in Lance’s life right now.

He huffed quietly to himself, trying to settle the knot in his stomach.

This isn’t about feelings. No way.

It was just that Keith mattered to him—more than anyone else. And Lance wasn’t ready for some other guy to come in and change that dynamic. That’s all it was. Plain and simple. He had just gotten Keith back, and he refused to grow that distance again with him.

Lance gritted his teeth, but groaned at the action reminding him exactly what he had told the red paladin he was spiraling about not to do, as he spinned quick on his heel to stalk away so his gaze wouldn’t keep being trapped in one area, when he hit against something hard and big.

“Oops, sorry, that’s on me.” Lance took a sheepish step back, preparing to throw on his bravado and swagger until he saw exactly who he had hit.

Zethrid’s arm was slung around Ezor’s waist, and the smaller woman leaned into her like they shared some inside joke the world didn’t get to hear. They seemed a little thrown off by Lance’s suddenly appearance, like he was in the wrong from being in their space to begin with. Ezor immediately rushed into a snakey smirk, leaning into Zethrid as she crossed her arms, and Lance already saw the gears turning in her head to begin whatever show she wanted to put on for him.

Perfect. If anyone could give him a distraction, it was

her

.

He grinned, holding up his half finished drink to them to cheers. "So this is how the Blades do it, huh? All secret missions and five-star galas? I would’ve joined ages ago if I knew this was part of the deal."

Ezor gave him a sharp, cat-like grin, immediately seizing on the opportunity. "What’s the matter, Blue Boy? Looking a little

nervous

there. Thought this kinda thing was your

thing

—smooth-talking, charming people’s pants off. Saw you standing alone in the corner over there for a bit."

Lance scoffed, feeling warm under his suit. Did he really give away that much already? "I’m

great

at this. For your information, I am a hit around here with the Voltron stories. I was just, you know, taking a break, keeping an eye on things. Being vigilant. Can’t be too careful."

Ezor snickered, clearly not buying it. "Uh-huh. Vigilant. Sure. You’ve been standing over there with a

look

on your face for ten minutes, like you’re waiting for someone to trip over their shoes."

Zethrid, who’d been mostly quiet up to this point, gave a low hum of amusement. "You mean he’s been staring after Keith?" She spoke with a low casualness, but there was the same evil glint in her eyes that radiated off the smaller alien.

Lance sputtered, immediately on the defensive. "I was

not

staring at Keith."

Ezor’s grin grew wicked. "Oh no, you’re right—

watching

would be a better word."

Lance shot her a glare that had absolutely no amount of intimidation that those two women could give with a single glance. "I wasn’t watching Keith, okay? I’m just... making sure everything’s running smoothly. That’s all."

"You’re a terrible liar, Blue." Ezor leaned closer, grin practically eating her face.
"Ooooh, yeah, that explains why you’re standing over here acting like your entire

world

will collapse if he doesn’t talk to you soon. Kinda cute, actually."

“Ignoring this. You’re both crazy and have no idea what you’re talking about!” Lance’s voice felt like it pitched up several octaves, his entire face burning.

Ezor and Zethrid exchanged a glance, a private joke hanging heavy in the air. Ezor gave him a final, pitying smirk. "Oh, Blue. Bless your little heart."

Lance threw his hands up, exasperated. "Why does everyone keep saying that?"

Zethrid huffed a laugh, but there was something thoughtful in the way she tilted her head, her heavy-lidded gaze flicking between Ezor and Lance. "You know, if I had to bet, I’d say you’d have joined sooner."

“What, so I could keep hearing how you two think I’m only here for Keith? Are you forgetting how I basically thrive on doing good and being a hero and saving the universe and all that jazz?” Lance sighed, oblivious to the way Ezor's grin was a little too knowing and the glances exchanged between her and Zethrid a little too meaningful. Here he thought he was able to find someone distracting and maybe knock him down a bit to not be focused on Keith, yet these two were practically obsessed with anyone who was somewhat close to him. Ezor had basically acted the same way about Axca and Keith, and yet, Lance knew the truth. And somehow, that made him feel a little better about the monstrous rumor monster Ezor was.

Zethrid cut in, her tone more grounded, almost reflective. "The Blades... were able to provide that for me too."

Lance blinked, thrown off by the sudden shift in the conversation.

Zethrid continued, her voice low but firm, like she was speaking from a place deep inside herself. "After Lotor... I lost sight of everything. My power, what it was for, who I wanted to be. All I’d ever been was a soldier under his command. I thought power was everything—control, domination, bending others to your will. But that? It’s... empty." She flexed her hands slowly, like she could still feel the weight of those choices.

Ezor slid closer, brushing her fingers briefly over Zethrid’s arm in silent support. Zethrid didn’t glance down, but there was a subtle shift in her posture, a small softening that Lance noticed immediately.

“The Blades gave me purpose again. Helped me understand what it means to change—for real. That all this strength, this agressiveness, my own heritage, could be channeled a different way. That I was still able to salvage the lost parts of me and grow onto the new ones I was able to plant here." Zethrid exhaled, as if the words carried weight she’d been holding onto for a long time.

"When the Blades found me, I thought they’d throw me in a cell or leave me for dead." Zethrid’s voice dropped, quieter now, like a confession. "But they didn’t. Kolivan gave me a chance, with the help of Axca and Keith. But I wouldn’t have had their trust if it wasn’t for Ezor." Her gaze flicked briefly toward Ezor, who gave her a sly, knowing smile. "They didn’t give up on me, even when I wasn’t sure I deserved it. That’s why I joined the Blades. It wasn’t just about redemption—it was about becoming more. With Lotor, I was just a soldier, a tool for his ambitions. But with the Blades? They made me a warrior. For something

good

."

Lance shifted, feeling the heaviness of her words settle over him. "That’s... really something." He scratched the back of his neck, unsure of what else to say but knowing instinctively how important it was. "It’s cool that you found something worth fighting for, you know? That you didn’t give up."

Zethrid gave him a small, sincere nod. "Yeah. And that’s the thing about the Blades—with all the strict guidelines and demanding schedules, they don’t give up on people." She locked eyes with him, as if the statement was meant to mean something more than just her story. "And give back the life to someone who think’s their time was behind them."

Ezor leaned against Zethrid with a mischievous grin, disrupting the serious mood. "Plus, the uniforms are cool. Can’t forget that part."

“Just saying, with the way the Blades have been growing now, that dummy you’ve been staring at all night because you’re bored and want to talk to him finally, is part of this entire mission to build the Blades into what it has become now. Every diplomatic meeting. Every action reflecting the new branding.”

She gave him a small smirk, cracking her fingers.

“Watching you slink around like Kosmo is exhausting. He may be this grand symbol of the future, but if you know him as your friend, just go over there already.”

Lance could only nod as Ezor snickered, but he didn’t feel the least bit subconscious, the weight of what the Blades were changing and rolling around in his head. They were a home for people who’d lost their way. They took in the strays, the broken, and the outcasts. They gave them a purpose again. Zethrid, Axca, Ezor—the closest and most loyal to Lotor as henchmen and at one point being the biggest threat to peace across the whole galazy, had all been given a second chance. And Keith... Keith was the front of it all who helped persuade the Blades to give them that chance. He’d helped build something from the ground up that had become bigger than just a fight against the Galra. Something meaningful. Something

good. Of course

Keith would be at the heart of all this. Keith, who was stubborn as hell, who never knew when to stop. Keith, who always threw himself headfirst into danger for someone else’s sake. It made sense, didn’t it? This whole operation, this mission—it

felt

like Keith. He was the kind of person who wouldn’t give up on anyone, not even when they deserved it.

But then his mind drifted further, unwillingly, to himself.

Hadn’t Keith done the same thing for him, in a way? Lance bit the inside of his cheek, trying to dismiss the thought, but it wouldn’t leave. Keith had been patient, always showing up when Lance needed it, even when Lance didn’t know he needed it. From the moment they reunited with the Blades, Keith had stayed close—not smothering, but steady,

reliable

. Lance never thought of himself as someone who needed saving, but... wasn’t that exactly what was happening?

Keith had never been the most expressive guy—at least not in words. But now, with all the pieces in place, Lance could see the ways Keith had tried to connect with him. How Keith’s efforts were subtle but persistent, unwavering, even when Lance had been too tangled up in his grief to notice. Too consumed by guilt and sadness over losing Allura to realize that someone else was standing right there, refusing to leave him behind. Checking in on calls with him late at night when he was lightyears away from Earth and Lance had been so depressed that he couldn’t even leave his room when they first returned back to Earth. Calling just to check in, and Lance rejecting it every single time, the same way he ignored when Pidge called sending over Garrision applications to be a professor, or when Hunk would drop in to make house visits and leave freshly baked goods at his doorstep, or how Shiro would text reaffirming messages to him about how it was probably good to talk to someone and he knew a thing or two about grief, but Lance never dug in further.

The first call Keith had made with him after the dust settled suddenly washed over his memory, right after the universe was saved and Voltron disbanded. Keith’s voice had been awkward over the line, unsure but

genuine

. "Hey, just checking in... You doing okay?" Lance had brushed it off, cracked a joke to make the conversation end faster, unwilling to confront how

not okay

he’d felt. Keith had hummed in that quiet, thoughtful way of his before signing off with, "If you need anything, let me know." And then he’d called again. And again. Even when Lance ignored almost all of them. All the attempts he had at making himself scarce, and Keith had stubbornly refused to let that happen. There were the texts too—short, almost mechanical in tone, as if Keith had typed them out with the bluntness of someone who didn’t know how to be comforting but was trying anyway: sending him sporadic pictures of star constellations from wherever he was, random videos of variants of rain on different planets, all for Lance to receive and not respond to. Then there was the time Keith showed up, unannounced, outside his family’s farm. It was a month after saving the universe. Lance handn’t picked up a single call Keith had made, or was very quick to say he was too busy with his family in the groupchat when Pidge and Hunk suggested a farmhouse sleepover. Lance had been home for weeks, buried in his room and shutting out the world. He hadn’t expected Keith to come all the way out there, but Veronica had rudley barged into his room with his mom watching from the hall, shoved him to his feet and pushed him down the stairs to find Keith just standing on the porch, arms crossed, as if daring Lance to tell him to leave. Lance immediately had felt so small, knowing he wasn’t eating or taking care of himself. He didn’t offer grand words of sympathy or pep talks—because that wasn’t Keith. He simply said, "Come on. Let’s get some air." And then they’d driven around for hours on Keith’s hoverbike, tearing through the desert until the sun set and the moon was well risen, barely talking, just existing together in the quiet until Lance’s head felt a little clearer. Keith had dropped Lance off that night without asking a single question. No prodding to see if he hadn’t eaten, even though one look at him made the answer clear. No promises to be made that he would pick up future calls. Just let Lance grieve with his presence. In that moment, silence never felt so comfortable to Lance.

Keith had kept doing that—reaching out in his own quiet, stubborn way, no matter how many times Lance shut him down. He remembered pushing Keith away with snark, bitterness, or silence, thinking it was easier that way. Easier to drown in his own sadness than to let someone pull him out. But Keith had never taken the hint, or maybe he had and just refused to care. And Keith had

stayed

, through all of it. Not because he was obligated to, but because that was who Keith was. Relentless.

Until Lance started to leave the house more, be a part of family dinners, visit Pidge and Shiro, get onto calls with Hunk and smile when Hunk talked about the world around them. That’s when Keith started to fade more. He wasn’t as easily able to call. His texts became less frequent. He wasn’t visiting Earth every couple weeks.

It was a dawning crushing realization that maybe after everything, Lance was really the one to blame for their momentary disconnect.

The realization pressed down on him, heavy and confusing. Lance ran a hand through his hair, ignoring the strange look Ezor and Zethrid were giving him as he was finally the one lost for words for once. Keith had been there for him because that’s what Keith did—look out for people. Take care of the ones who were drifting. It was just part of who he was.

And Lance was the biggest idiot of them all for not even realizing it.

Lance excused himself from another diplomat elite who had tried to catch Lance in conversation when he was alone again. Ezor and Zethrid had happily abandoned him, seeming bored of toying around when Zethrid swept Ezor up and they raced to the dancefloor with some affectionate smiles that made Lance soften.

After he had thrown a huge sympathetic smile to the diplomat alien and said he couldn’t talk about secret Voltron stuff when demanded about the whereabouts of the Lions now, Lance spotted Keith across the ballroom, and the sight stopped him in his tracks. Keith looked like he’d rather be in the middle of a battlefield—stiff as a board, shoulders tense, his hands awkwardly half-raised as an alien woman, some regal-looking figure with colorful scales and flowing robes, was enthusiastically tugging him toward the dance floor. With each tug, Keith remained stiff and anchored to the floor, his jaw clenching and his mouth sputtering out what Lance knew were lame attempts to get out of it.

Keith’s expression was

classic Keith

: that wide-eyed, deer-in-headlights look that screamed

I’d rather die than deal with this right now

. His lips were pressed together in that tight, uncomfortable way he always did when he didn’t know what to say. It was almost comical, seeing

the fearless leader of the Blades

—a guy who had fought in intergalactic wars—brought to his knees by a persistent dance partner.

Lance felt the corners of his mouth twitch up before he could stop it.

Oh, buddy. You are so out of luck.

Keith looked around desperately, as if searching for an escape route, but he froze when their eyes met. The moment Keith spotted him, something flickered across his face—part exasperation, part silent plea for help. And God, if that didn’t make Lance’s stomach twist with the same strange endearment he had all night. Of course Keith would rather endure an alien invasion than handle five minutes of social interaction. Lance was already moving before he could second-guess it. He crossed the ballroom, sliding easily through the crowd with that familiar swagger, the easy charm he hadn’t felt in years. As soon as he reached them, he plastered on his brightest smile, sliding right between Keith and the alien woman like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Well, well, well! Looks like our fearless leader is malfunctioning,” Lance said with a grin, giving Keith a playful nudge. “Pilot of the Black Lion, but no clue how to dance. Must’ve skipped that upgrade, huh?”

The alien woman blinked in surprise, her hands still wrapped around Keith’s wrist, but she smiled at Lance’s energy. Keith shot him a half-glare, half-glimpse of relief, shifting uncomfortably under the attention.

“C’mon, Keith!” Lance continued, leaning dramatically against him. “All this time saving the universe, and you didn’t learn

one

dance move? I mean, even Hunk can manage the cha cha without looking like he’s in physical pain.”

Keith scowled, which only made Lance grin wider. “I’m fine,” Keith muttered, obviously not fine at all. His eyes flicked away from the woman’s eager expression, silently begging Lance to get him out of this situation.

Lance turned back to the alien with an apologetic smile, tilting his head like he was letting her in on a little secret. “He’s just shy around pretty aliens,” he said, voice lowering conspiratorially. “It’s adorable, right? But unfortunately,

Commander Broody Pants

is all business tonight. I those drinks over there aren’t gonna finish themselves. How about you finish off some, and maybe circle around at some point and see how he’s loosened up himself too for another round later?”

The alien giggled, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “If he changes his mind, you know where to find me,” she said, giving Keith one last lingering glance before floating back into the crowd.

As soon as she was out of earshot, Keith let out a quiet, barely audible sigh of relief, his whole body unwinding a fraction. Lance caught the way Keith rolled his shoulders, shaking off the tension like a dog shaking off water. He couldn’t help it—he chuckled.

“You’re welcome, by the way,” Lance said, crossing his arms with a smug grin. “Man, you were really struggling there. It’s almost like you’ve never had fun in your entire life.”

Keith gave him one of those classic, deadpan looks. “I’ve had fun.”

“Oh yeah?” Lance shot back. “Name one time.”

Keith opened his mouth, closed it, then frowned. “That time we beat the Galra?”

“That does

not

count. I mean real fun. Like... parties, Keith. And before you say,

Pidge’s birthday

, that is banned also. Dancing. Relaxing. Do you even

know

what that means?”

Keith gave a little huff of frustration, which Lance knew was Keith-speak for

I’m trying, okay?

Lance bumped his shoulder into Keith’s. “You’re lucky I was here to save your butt. You almost got kidnapped by an alien with a thing for awkward space commanders.”

Keith rolled his eyes, but there was a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. That small, subtle Keith-smile that felt like a reward because it didn’t come easy. “I could’ve handled it.”

“Oh, sure. You looked real ‘in control’ back there,” Lance teased, folding his arms dramatically. “Next time, I’ll just sit back and let you charm your way through it, Mr. Social Skills.”

Keith made a low, exasperated noise in his throat, the kind that always sounded suspiciously like a growl. “You’re annoying.”

“And yet, here you are. Not running away,” Lance said with a grin, and Keith gave him a look—half annoyed, half fond.

Keith let out a breath, glancing around the ballroom, still visibly uncomfortable in the fancy setting. Lance noticed the way Keith’s hand hovered near his side, like he was subconsciously reaching for a knife that wasn’t there.

“Relax, man,” Lance said softly, nudging him again. “It’s just a party. No bandit ambushes. No space explosions. Just weird aliens and bad music. Didn’t you tell me about the time you literally almost got arrested because you brought your knife to a birth ceremony?”

Keith frowned, but there was no real anger in it and Lance shivered as he snapped his eyes back from even LOOKING at his mouth.

“That was one time and a really unfortunate misunderstanding of a planet’s customs. I mean, who invites an entire group of people to watch your queen give birth in a dark cave after signing into the coalition? I don’t think I’ll ever get that image out of my mind.” He shivered, and Lance could only snort at how much he looked like a disgruntled cat with his shields down now.

“Yah, well, this is very much not that. Just a perfect time to let your hair down and have some well earned fun.

Keith gave him a look, the faintest ghost of a smirk on his lips. “And you?”

Lance blinked, caught off guard. “Me?”

“You’re here,” Keith said simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. His voice was soft, almost... grateful.

And for some reason, that single statement hit Lance harder than it should have. His heart stuttered in his chest, and suddenly, everything felt too warm. He cleared his throat, forcing a grin to cover the strange flutter in his stomach.

“Well, yeah,” Lance said, keeping his tone light. “Someone’s gotta make sure you don’t embarrass yourself, right?”

Keith gave him a small, lopsided smile—barely there, but real. And damn if it didn’t make Lance feel like the center of the universe for just a moment.

They stood off to the side, watching the way the aliens all seemed to fall into step of a cultural dance, all knowing exactly how to move and what was coming next. Lance shouldered Keith and pointed out dancers who were absolutely killing it, to some more refined dancers who looked like they needed to take their stick out of their ass. Lance applauded when dances ended and music was brought back again, threw apologetic smiles when aliens came up to them and Keith visibly tensed next to him but he navigated their way out of having to dance, and would point at Zethrid and Ezor, genuinely and unbashfully surprised with how quickly they learned some dances. Keith stayed at his side, humming lowly to every outburst Lance made, arms lightly crossed over his chest and looking like he was experiencing peace for the first time since the ball started.

The music shifted, the upbeat rhythm ebbing away into something slower, smoother. Lance perked up at the sound, feeling the buzz of excitement bubble under his skin. He loved moments like these—the way the whole ballroom seemed to slow, couples coming together, swaying gently under the warm glow of chandeliers. For a moment, everything felt softer, easier. No wars, no missions. Just music, people, and fleeting moments that were meant to be enjoyed.

He glanced at Keith, who was doing his best to blend into the background, leaning back against a pillar, foot propped up behind him, shoulders hunched like he was trying to disappear into thin air. Still the awkward lone wolf in a room full of people not even realizing his presence at the moment.

Lance grinned, the idea forming in his head before he even realized what he was doing. “Y’know,” he said, nudging Keith with his elbow. “It’s about time you learned how to dance.”

Keith gave him a suspicious look, like Lance had just suggested skydiving without a parachute. “I’m not dancing.”

“Correction—

you weren’t

dancing,” Lance replied cheerfully, offering his hand. “But that’s about to change.”

Keith’s frown deepened, and Lance could practically

see

the excuses forming in his brain. “No way.”

“Keith.” Lance wiggled his fingers invitingly, his grin stretching wider. “C’mon. It’s good for diplomacy and all that boring stuff! You mean to tell me Kolivan never made you attend important strategy meetings about dancing?”

Keith gave him a look that screamed

Are you serious right now?

Lance rolled his eyes dramatically. “Alright, that’s it. You’re coming with me.”

Before Keith could argue, Lance grabbed his wrist and gave him a gentle tug. Keith groaned in protest, dragging his feet, but Lance wasn’t about to let him squirm his way out of this. “C’mon, you survived battleships and gladiator rings. What’s one dance gonna do, huh?”

Keith glared, but there was no real heat behind it—just that stubbornness Lance knew too well. “This is dumb.”

“You’re dumb,” Lance shot back, grinning as he pulled Keith further into the crowd. Keith stumbled a little, awkwardly trying to keep up as Lance gracefully manuevered around citzens. His feet were stiff, his whole body radiating discomfort, and Lance could feel the tension practically vibrating off him.

“Relax,” Lance said, letting his hand slide down from Keith’s wrist to his palm, linking their fingers loosely. “You’re acting like someone just asked you to deliver a political speech.”

“A speech I could do gladly.” He gave a final pull, stopping the two of them near the center of the room, surrounded by a sea of swishing garments and sparkly jewels.

Keith’s jaw tightened, and for a second, Lance thought he might pull away. But then, with a deep breath, he held his arm out awkwardly, waiting for Lance to jump in and move him around. He stood guarded, but his eyes lay trained on Lance, as if studying him. Waiting on him. Lance caught the slightest flicker of discomfort in Keith’s eyes—so guarded, so unsure—and something in him softened. He held out his hand again for Keith to take, making an effort to dramatically bow for him. Keith scoffed, but gently placed his hand in Lance’s outstretched one. Lance immediately grinned, popping up to step into Keith’s space. Keith flinched, but he didn’t back away. He stayed with his famous pout as Lance grabbed his other hand.

“See?” Lance whispered, giving Keith’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “Not so bad. It’s just dancing.”

Keith huffed out a small, frustrated noise. “I still feel dumb.”

“That’s the beauty of it, mullet. Nobody cares.” Lance’s voice was warm, teasing, as he guided Keith’s hands into place—one resting stiffly on Lance’s shoulder, the other still clasped in his. “Look, it’s easy. Just sway a little. Like this.”

Keith gave him a skeptical glance but awkwardly mimicked the movement. It wasn’t smooth—Keith was all rough edges, like a soldier unsure of what to do when the battle was over—but it was

so Keith

that Lance couldn’t help but smile. He stepped a couple times on Lance’s feet, flinching as if he was the one taking the pain, but Lance moved on, slowing down his pacing.

“See, here’s the thing about me and dancing,” Lance began, his voice playful, yet tinged with the warm memory begging to be released. “People look at me now—smooth moves, killer hips, undeniable movie star face, absolutely crushing it—and they think, ‘Oh yeah, Lance must’ve been born knowing how to dance.’” He paused, glancing up at Keith with a mischievous glint. “Ever the humble one.” Keith rolled his eyes, but his mouth twitched up. The curve of his lips—unintentionally soft, not quite smiling, but far from a frown. The slope of his jaw, the way his collarbone peeked from under the high collar of his formal outfit, accenting his sharp, clean features.

How had he never noticed just how…

Lance blinked, hurrying on instead with the story as if it were second nature, leaning into Keith’s space with a crooked grin and that familiar spark of charm lighting up his face.

“When I was little, my abuela used to lecture all of her grandkids that we had to be good at dancing if we so much survived a family gathering. It was law. We all ranged from the most terrible disasters ever to some being naturally gifited. If you think that was me, you’re wrong. Louis was a murderer on the dance floor, and Rachel was also a killer. I think that’s what made her abuela’s favorite. Me and Veronica though? Abosulte trainwrecks!” Lance laughed, and Keith’s shoulders relaxed, his steps not being so ragged, as he gave him a curious look, but there was something soft about it, as if he liked listening to Lance talk—like he could listen all night and still not get tired of it. Lance would talk for hours if it made Keith look at him the way he was now.

“One day at Veronica’s quinceanera, when my family had to do a dance for her, I completely messed it up. Like, the family dance is a big thing. All the cousins, the aunts, the uncles—

everyone

. My mom kept saying it would be easy, but man, I was like twelve, and easy wasn’t even in my vocabulary when it came to dancing.” Lance gestured dramatically, lost in the memory. “I was tall and lanky and had no clue where my limbs were supposed to go. I kept stepping on Veronica’s dress and nearly took out one of my uncles trying to spin her. It was chaos.”

Keith’s mouth twitched, clearly holding back a laugh. "What'd you do, trip over yourself?"

"Worse,” Lance groaned. “I was supposed to dip Veronica at the end—

real suave

—but I panicked. Instead of dipping her like a gentleman, I dipped

myself

. I mean, full-on toppled backward. Took Veronica down with me. We crashed so hard we knocked over half the decorations."

Keith blinked, looking both horrified and amused. "You... dipped yourself?"

"Like a chip in a salsa bowl. It was

bad

, man." Lance dragged a hand down his face, groaning at the memory. "Everyone was watching, the whole room. I was

mortified

. I thought I'd ruined her entire quinceañera. I ran and hid under one of the tables."

Keith snorted, clearly biting back a full laugh now. “Smooth.”

Lance waved a finger at him. “Hey, it’s a perfectly valid response to trauma, okay?”

Keith just gave him a look, but it was warm, patient. And, for some reason, it made Lance feel like he could tell him anything.

“So I’m under the table, right? Full-on sulking. I’m thinking, ‘That’s it. I’ve brought shame on my entire family. The McClain name is

ruined

. Might as well stay under this table forever.’” Lance paused dramatically. “And then... my abuela found me.”

Keith tilted his head slightly, listening. "What’d she say?"

Lance smiled softly, the memory shifting from embarrassment to something sweeter. “She sat down next to me, let me be annoying and silent and everything. Until she finally asked if I was done ruining my own mood and I crawled out. She just sat down with me and said, ‘The beauty of dancing isn’t in how good you are, but in how the music makes you feel.’”

Keith’s expression shifted, something quiet and understanding flickering in his eyes.

“Obviously, it sounded a lot more deep and beautiful because she said it in spanish, because that’s the only language she knows how to speak in. And that just... stuck with me,” Lance continued, his voice softer now. “I stopped worrying about getting every step right or looking cool. I just started

feeling

the music. And somehow, it all clicked.”

He shrugged, a self-deprecating grin tugging at his lips. “Next thing you know, I’m the stud you see before you today.

Effortlessly smooth,

” he added, with a little wiggle of his eyebrows for good measure.

Keith rolled his eyes, but there was no hiding the small smile tugging at his lips. "You never fail to surprise me with a new compliment for yourself."

"Yeah, but you love it," Lance shot back with a playful grin.

Keith didn’t respond right away, just stared at him with that quiet intensity he always had. But there was something softer in it now—something almost deeply secret and pained.

Lance’s heart did a weird little flip, but he pushed it down, trying to act normal.

“You’re doing great,” Lance said with exaggerated encouragement, grinning ear to ear.

Keith’s nose scrunched, the closest thing he’d get to rolling his eyes, but there was a flicker of something softer beneath the annoyance—something almost grateful. And Lance couldn’t help but feel a strange warmth settle in his chest at that.

“I can’t believe you’re making me do this,” Keith muttered under his breath, his voice laced with both exasperation and a begrudging kind of amusement.

“And yet here you are. Still dancing with me. The award winning teacher.”

Keith let out a low chuckle—a rare, quiet thing—and Lance’s heart did an unexpected flip at the sound. He wasn’t used to hearing Keith laugh like that. It was soft, genuine, unguarded. And for some reason, it made Lance feel like he’d just won the lottery.

They swayed together, the crowd around them blurring into the background, the music filling the space between them. Lance could feel the warmth of Keith’s hand in his, the weight of his touch grounding in a way that felt... too good. Too right.

And Keith, surprisingly, seemed to relax. His body softened, the stiffness melting away little by little as he let Lance guide him. There was something strangely intimate about it—this quiet moment between them, just the two of them moving to the rhythm of a slow song.

And damn did it feel too perfect.

Keith shifted his grip slightly, his fingers brushing against Lance’s hand, and it sent a flicker of heat curling through Lance’s veins. He swore his pulse stumbled at the brief contact, every nerve in his body suddenly tuned to Keith’s presence like he was some kind of magnetic force pulling Lance closer.

Lance tried to clear his throat, but it came out awkwardly, so he covered it with a quick grin. "You're doing surprisingly well for a guy who fights more than he dances."

Keith's gaze flicked up, sharp but fond, the corners of his mouth quirking slightly. "You're just saying that because you're leading."

"I’m an

excellent

leader, thank you very much." Lance squeezed Keith’s hand, trying to inject some humor into his voice, anything to distract from the way his heart was racing for no good reason. Keith huffed, but it was almost a laugh—a low, warm sound that seemed to settle somewhere deep inside Lance. And somehow, it only made things worse.

The song slowed further, and their movements followed, bodies drifting closer without thought. Keith’s hand rested a little more comfortably on Lance’s shoulder, and Lance felt Keith’s fingertips brush the back of his neck, setting off a spark along his skin that made him almost shiver.

Lance's breath hitched.

God. Why did this feel so different? Why did it feel so... right?

They weren’t even doing anything. Just swaying, slowly, in the middle of a crowded ballroom. But it felt like the rest of the world had melted away, leaving only the two of them, moving together in perfect, silent rhythm. The easy banter was still there, but underneath it was a weight Lance didn’t know what to do with—a weight that settled into his chest, warm and heavy, like something important was pressing in on him, waiting to be understood.

He tried—

really

tried—to ignore it, to shove it down and focus on the music, the lights, anything but the fact that Keith was right there, close enough to kiss if Lance just leaned his head an inch—

Wait. What?

Lance’s thoughts skidded to a halt, and he nearly tripped over his own feet. Keith shot him a curious glance, and Lance coughed loudly, covering his awkward stumble with a lame smile. "S-sorry. Slipped on air. Happens all the time."

Keith raised an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything. He just kept swaying, letting Lance recover without a word, as if that was just... normal for them. And in a way, it was. Keith had always been like that—steady, unwavering, a quiet presence that Lance could lean on without asking.

And damn it, that only made everything worse. Because Lance

loved

that about him. Loved that Keith was still here, still Keith, still

his

.

Except... Keith wasn’t really

his

, was he?

The thought hit Lance square in the chest, knocking the air out of him. Because suddenly, it wasn’t just about the dance or the teasing or even the friendship they’d rebuilt. It was about the fact that Keith—this awkward, quiet, fiercely loyal idiot—was someone Lance didn’t want to share. Not with anyone. He was striking back to square one since the start of this ball.

“You okay?” Keith asked softly, his voice low and a little unsure, like he wasn’t used to asking but wanted to try.

Lance’s throat felt tight. He forced a grin, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. "Yeah. Yeah, I’m good. Just really feeling the heat this suit punches with."

Keith gave him a long, searching look, but didn’t push. He never did. And somehow, that only made Lance’s chest ache more. The music slowed to a stop, and the crowd began to shift, but neither of them moved right away. For a moment, they just stood there, still holding on, still swaying slightly even though the song had ended.

Lance didn’t want to let go.

But eventually, Keith pulled back, his hand slipping from Lance’s shoulder, leaving behind a strange emptiness that Lance didn’t know how to fill. Lance’s heart stumbled, and he forced himself to look away, swallowing hard against the sudden rush of emotions.

Nope. Not going there. Absolutely not.

Instead, he plastered on a grin, nudging Keith once more. “You’re officially no longer the worst dancer I know. Hunk still holds that title.”

Keith’s smile quirked higher, impossibly fonder, his purple eyes dancing in swirls under the ballroom lights.

“Then you clearly weren’t paying attention to Shiro at his own wedding. If there’s someone who dances worse than me, its him.”

“He gets an excuse that night. The dude was finally settled with someone, drinking an open bar, and finally didn’t have anyone to be responsible for that night. He deserved to boogey on that dancefloor.” Lance grinned, shuffling at Keith’s heel as Keith navigated their way through the crowd.

“He made me promise to delete all the videos I took of him the next day because he was so embarrassed that he tried to bring back the dougey in this day and age. Don’t tell him that it was all a lie and I still have every damning piece of evidence from that night.”

“You’re sending that to me immediately.”

“No way, I’d be dead.”

“You’re already dead when he finds out you still have the videos! Just send it over and no one has to find out.” Lance’s cheeks hurt from how hard he was grinning, getting an adrenline rush from simply watching the way Keith smiled so fondly at the memory of Shiro. He rolled his eyes at Lance, biting down a smile that Lance wanted to frame, before Axca suddenly spawned out of thin air like a ninja of the night. Lance would have let out a scream if he wasn’t so focused on Keith’s smile.

“Sorry to interrupt the dance band over here.” Axca’s eyes caught Lance’s momentarily before landing back on Keith, her brow arched a bit in amusement. Keith cleared his throat quickly as Lance straightened at his side, feeling the need to salute.

“We were just finished. Is everything alright?” Keith’s voice deepened, as if he had flipped his switch back into the commanding officer he was. Lance bit back a smirk.

“I just was requesting a quick word with you, Krolia’s on the line with Kosmo.” Axca’s eyes flitted back to Lance, her gaze sharp. Keith’s face darkened, and the small switch he just had was completely wiped, now transforming into the brooding, heavied Blade with all the weight of the world brewing in him.

“Is Kosmo ok?” Lance turned to Keith, and for a second Keith’s face faltered with a break, his brows pursing together and a small pout of reluctance, before he steadied and hardened.

“Everythings fine, just a routine call, that’s all. I’ll be back in a second, go get me a drink? I’ll find you on the dancefloor.” Keith gave him a small smile before nodding back to Axca, hurrying off. Lance wished he didn’t feel like a punch knocked the air out of him at the deafening lack of his presence.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

It wasn’t supposed to get as messed up as it became, and Keith was learning with a deepening guilt at the bottom of his stomach that this was all getting so much harder to keep from the one person he wanted to tell everything to.

But once again, Axca’s warning eyes kept him at bay for the time being.

The two had slipped easily from the ballroom, disappearing into the night like the shadows they have been trained to become. The music drifted faintly behind them, muffled by the stone walls as they made their escape into the quieter wings of the building. He clenched his jaw, the weight of his secret settling deeper in his gut. Every step away from the party felt like another lie etched between him and Lance. He knew he should’ve told Lance. Should’ve told

someone

. But it wasn’t that simple—how do you explain that the hero of the Blades of Marmora was also the thief haunting the city, wearing the very mask painted on the palace walls as a villain from folklore?

The guilt gnawed at him, an irritating presence in the back of his mind. Lance’s easy grin flashed through his thoughts—his laugh, the way he’d tugged Keith onto the dancefloor earlier. Keith had wanted to stay, just this once. Wanted to believe for a moment that he could dance with Lance, pretend the weight of the world wasn’t pressing on his shoulders. Wanted to believe that the dance had meant something more to Lance. But there were other things at play. Bigger things.

"Stay sharp," Axca muttered beside him, and Keith forced himself back into focus.

“Aren’t I always?” Keith shot back, and Axca just threw him an exhausted look, like she knew 100% what was throwing him off his game lately, or who for the matter.

They reached the outer hall that led to the storage wing, where a vault filled with a good sum of wealth was locked away in storage, meant to be distributed into the economy to support all aspects of life on the planet. However, Keith came to the knowledge that this amount of wealth was being redistributed to, you guessed it, the upper class, enriching them in their livelihood of balls and riches, keeping them in their tax bracket and failing ot help support the lower class. This amount of money could help feed thousands, yet the entire government was failing the innocent people they were meant to protect. It was all one corrupt world, one that Keith refused to let slink by unreprimended. So this is where he found himself, taking up this folklore of a bandit to be able to help, knowing the higher class was too pussy to do anything about it. He was able to maintain the peace with the planets as a Blade member, far away from the “bandit” local turmoil, while also being able to directly help in an offhanded way, without the Blades knowing.

Keith had scouted the area earlier after Rolo had come. He had a private meeting with Kolivan to go over the course of the night, be noble and a protecting gaze around the hall, keep up the good look that the Blades were pushing for, but moreso just be vigilant. Kolivan wouldn’t get what he was doing, so he was never going to know. Cameras swept the hallways, guards patrolled the perimeter, but none of them expected anyone to be foolish enough to stage a break-in tonight—during a royal ball filled with dignitaries and warriors.

Axca crouched beside the wall where they’d planted the explosives earlier. Keith knelt next to her, checking the makeshift detonator in her hands. It was simple but effective—just enough to blow through the wall and leave an entry point from the outside. She gave him a one over, her eyes trailing the sparkly suite Keith forgot he was wearing.

“You gonna change out of that or you wanna steal something just to shine like a glitter bomb on the courtyard when they find us?”

Keith huffed down at what he was wearing, and yah, he could be less conspicuous. But its not like he could just quickly change from the suite he was gifted, he had to save face. Instead, Axca just reached into a duffle she had been carrying and threw him a long black cape to wear. Keith gratefully took it, hiding himself under the material.

Then Axca reached into her cloak and pulled out

the mask.

Keith stared at it for a moment, tension knotting in his chest. The mask. The same red-and-white dragon-faced mask from the old folklore paintings, the one that now haunted the halls of the palace in legend. Its long tongue curled beneath the beast-like snout, and the empty eyeholes stared back at Keith like an accusation.

"You know the drill," Axca said, holding it out.

Keith hesitated only a second before taking it from her hands. The smooth, cool material pressed against his palms, fitting too easily into his grip. This was who he had to be—at least for tonight. The weight of the mask seemed heavier than usual, as if every decision he’d made since joining the Blades was culminating in this moment. The bandit. The chaos bringer. The one stirring unrest in a place that deserved it.

He slipped it on.

The mask fit perfectly, molding to his face like it belonged there, the sharp edges of the snout casting ominous shadows. Keith felt a strange sense of detachment, as though the mask severed him from himself, from the Keith who had danced with Lance just hours ago. He exhaled, rolling his shoulders. It had to be done. If they didn’t take the supplies meant to fuel the elite lifestyle of the royals, no one would. This wasn’t just a heist. It was a message—

redistribution.

It was about more than the Blades or the planet’s politics. It was about righting an imbalance. But it still didn’t make the pit in his stomach any easier to ignore.

"Now or never, fearless leader," Axca whispered, a sly smile tugging at her lips as she handed him the small detonator. Keith swallowed hard, thumb hovering over the trigger. He pressed down.

The blasts went off in quick succession, muffled booms vibrating through the walls as dust and debris clouded the air. The wall groaned, cracked, and then collapsed inward with a thunderous crash, exposing the storage room beyond.

"Move!" Axca barked, already slipping inside with her usual sleek grace.

Keith followed without hesitation, slipping through the wreckage and scanning the room. Ornate crates and bags stuffed with wealth—jewels, gold, rare spices—lined the walls. It was wealth meant only for the powerful, a hoard that would never have reached the people who needed it most. One bit of this stuff could kepe the people of the planet surviving for years if smartly done correctly. Rows of gold coins, jewels, and valuable artifacts gleamed under dim lighting. Keith moved with practiced speed, filling a black duffel bag with stacks of money meant to keep the elite comfortable while the common folk suffered. Every coin that slipped into the bag felt like an act of quiet defiance, a line drawn in the sand.

Axca moved fast, filling the bags they’d brought with anything she could carry. She passed a few stuffed sacks to Keith, who slung them over his shoulder, keeping his movements swift and efficient. She then pulled out a second detonator, one that she clicked as it crumbled through the walls on the inside, the moonlight slipping in from the vast courtyard. She immediately bounded over the rubble, taking off at a dash as Keith was quick to follow, right as alarms began blaring through the night–jarring and shrill.

Keith’s head snapped up. "Shit." His fingers clenched around the strap of the bag as red warning lights flashed in the hallway outside. He darted out of the vault, moving fast and silent, disappearing into the palace’s heavily decorated courtyard.

The two weaved between hedges and rows of garden bed, the flowers glowing a low hue of blue. Keith’s boots pounded against the soft earth, every stride eating up the distance between him and the shattered wall they’d escaped from. The heady perfume of foreign flowers surrounded them, heavy in the humid air. Bushes with glowing tendrils scraped his legs, but he didn’t slow, not with the palace alarms screaming louder, piercing through the otherwise serene night. He darted through a dense patch of flora, Axca just ahead of him. She glanced back only once, her hood slipping slightly as her lips curled into a grin—this was as exhilarating for her as it was for Keith, even with danger nipping at their heels.

His lungs burned, his pulse roaring in his ears as he sprinted through the alien garden, weaving between glowing trees and strange, curling vines. Every second felt like a crack of lightning through his veins. The world blurred around him—the cool night air whipping against his face, the electric scent of alien blooms mixing with the acrid sting of smoke from the detonation. His heart hammered in sync with the blaring palace alarms, louder and louder, like the world was closing in on him.

His body moved like a machine—years of combat instinct driving every step. The thrill coiled tight inside him, a dangerous kind of satisfaction. He hated how much he craved it—the danger, the edge, the rush of being seconds away from failure. But this was what he was good at. This was where he belonged. The garden paths twisted unpredictably beneath his feet, branches clawing at his cape flowing behind him and cutting at his suit, but he didn’t slow. The distant shouts of guards grew louder, mingling with the relentless wail of the alarms. He shot a glance toward the palace behind them—the glow of the grand ball still in the windows, shimmering chandeliers and slow-dancing figures so removed from the reality he was trapped in now.His chest clenched for a moment—

Lance

—but he shoved it down. No time for that.

He made a sharp turn around a hedge wall, a little ahead of Axca now and the confidence boiling through his bloodstream at the familiarity of this garden run, feet skidding on the gravel path—and then stumbled hard. He had crashed into something solid, earning two yelps as they all tumbled hard. Keith crashed to the ground, cursing under his breath as he scrambled back up, hands digging into the dirt. He looked down—and froze. Two bodies.

No, not bodies—Lance and the princess.

They lay tangled in the grass, startled from where they must’ve fallen during their evening walk. The princess’s scream sliced through the night, sharp and shrill, full of panic. Lance scrambled upright, wide-eyed with disbelief. His expression twisted—first into confusion, then fear, and finally something darker. Something like betrayal.

“

You

—” Lance’s voice was sharp with shock, his whole body going rigid. Then, in an instant, it clicked for him on the mask he was looking at. His eyes filled with righteous fury, locking onto Keith in the black mask and dark cloack hiding his suit.

"You’re the evil harming these people!" he hissed, voice low and dangerous. "The bandit."

Keith stood there, frozen, his breath caught in his throat. The alarms faded to the background as all he could see was Lance’s face—fear twisting into anger, the look hitting him like a punch to the gut. Lance moved in front of the princess instinctively, throwing a protective arm out. "Stay back!" he barked, eyes never leaving Keith.

Keith’s stomach churned as he watched Lance—his Lance—fall into the role of the hero without a second thought. The way he squared his shoulders, rooted his stance, ready to fight for someone even if it meant his life. Keith hated how much he admired him at that moment. Hated how much worse it made everything.

"You—stay right there, bandit," Lance growled, patting his hip, clearly searching for a weapon he didn’t have. His hand hovered over an empty holster, but he lifted his other hand anyway, clenching it as if willing a gun to materialize from thin air. "I swear I’ll shoot!"

Keith’s heart clenched painfully. Lance didn’t know that Keith was this dangerous bandit, thinking that he was pulling off the fake out that he actually had a weapon, while Keith on the other hand knew for a fact Lance had nothing, and Keith hated every second of this.

A glint of silver shot through the shadows—Axca’s daggers.

Two sharp blades flew from the dark, one landing just inches from the princess’s feet, the other embedding itself in the dirt near Lance’s hand. The princess shrieked again, stumbling backward, clutching at Lance’s arm. Keith's heart twisted as he saw Lance lurch forward, still shielding her even as his eyes darted toward the source of the attack.

Keith’s voice caught in his throat, almost calling out his name instinctively, but he couldn’t. He

couldn’t.

Axca’s voice hissed through the hedges low enough just for him to hear. "Move, now."

Keith hesitated—just a second—but it was enough. Lance’s eyes locked with his for one agonizing moment, filled with a thousand hateful and hurtful emotions Keith couldn’t even begin to name. And then Keith tore away, sprinting back into the dark without another word. Axca was already moving ahead, disappearing through the garden paths.

He wanted to vomit. The guilt twisted in his gut like a blade, every step feeling heavier than the last. The alarms were shrieking. The garden was a maze of shadows and flashing lights. But all Keith could hear was the scream of the princess and the rage in Lance’s voice as he’d stepped between them.

The gate finally appeared in the moonlit distance, half-obscured by a wall of drooping alien leaves. Keith sucked in a breath, every muscle taut, and surged forward. They came to an exhilarating halt at the gate, pushed open slightly just enough to slip things through, catching sight of a familiar figure lounging just against the iron frame. Rolo.

He leaned against the metal like he had all the time in the world, a lazy smirk spreading across his face as if the palace alarms were music to his ears. "We really need to stop meeting like this, though I gotta say, I missed the man in the mask." Rolo said, eyes glittering as Keith skidded to a halt. His grin deepening as he stepped closer, invading Keith’s space with an infuriating confidence.

Keith sucked in sharp, shallow breaths, his fists curling at his sides. The mask over his face felt heavier now, the leather cool and slick against his skin. Keith clenched his jaw.

Not now, not here.

Rolo’s teasing voice dropped an octave, low and loaded with innuendo. "So... think I’ll get another

personal

assignment after this?" His gaze flicked toward Keith’s mouth, his meaning painfully clear.

Keith’s eyes narrowed, a warning boiling in his throat. "Shut up, Rolo."

The adrenaline screamed at Keith to move, to act, to

not

stand here wasting precious seconds. But Rolo only grinned wider, leaning closer. "Relax. I’m just catching up—" His voice turned sly as he flicked a glance toward the glowing palace windows. "Though it’s interesting... Blue’s here too, huh? Think he’s ready for that treatment?"

The comment hit Keith harder than a punch. His muscles coiled, white-hot anger flashing through him, and for a split second, he nearly swung at Rolo.

But before he could, Axca appeared from the shadows, her breath quick but measured. She dropped a few bags at Keith’s feet with a grin. "We’ve got company," she whispered, tilting her head toward the approaching voices from the palace.

Keith’s heart kicked back into overdrive, the tension between him and Rolo snapping like a taut wire. There was no time for this.

Move. Now.

Without another word, Keith yanked the mask from over his face, handing it off to Rolo.

“Go, now.” Keith barked at Axca, who just dropped all her bags at Rolo’s feet, already backing up.

“Way ahead of you.” She took off quickly, barley making any noise as she slipped into the courtyard’s weaving vegetation, disappearing as if she was never present.

“She’s still so scary.” Rolo grinned, and Keith gave a huge groan, throwing the rest of th ebags through the gate for Rolo to take.

“Yah, I’ll give you something to be scared of if you don’t hurry up with this.”

“Ooh, promise?”

Keith let out another low growl, but Nyma appeared at Rolo’s side, snatching up the bags and helping hoard them through the gate to disappear to the other side. They worked quickly, handing everything off and getting it to the other side into an old truck that looked like the local’s farm transportation trucks. The back was stuffed with crates meaning for small animals meant to be slaughtered, and it was a perfect getaway. Nyma threw the last of it before climbing into the front.

Keith looked back, hearing the sound of guards approaching, before looking back at Rolo.

“Punch me.” he whispered urgently, his voice low and sharp.

“Excuse me?”

“God damn it will you follow an order for once? Punch me and get out of here. Make it look like I lost a fight.” Keith gritted his teeth, his eyes glaring at him as his heart thudded against his ribcage. Rolo’s grin faltered for just a second before twisting into something cocky again, amusement flickering behind his eyes

“For you boss, anything.”

At that, Rolo wound back and tore down a punch right at Keith’s cheek, sending him flying back and seeing white for a second. Keith landed hard on his back, letting himself not catch the fall to make it all the more believable. He barely registered the sound of Rolo’s retreating steps, blending into the rustling leaves. Another hit—this time to his side—came as Rolo leaned in close, just to sell the act.

“Sweet dreams, boss,” Rolo muttered before vanishing into the shadows. Keith let out a low groan, rolling onto his back, and lay still as he heard the gate rumble to a close, allowing them to make their seamless exit.

Keith stayed down even when he heard the shouts of guards and some Blades appear around him, approaching and yelling manic orders of figuring out what just happened.

“Over here!” one shouted, footsteps skidding to a halt as figures swarmed around him. Keith let his breathing slow, feigning unconsciousness as hands grabbed him, pulling him upright. “He’s hurt! Someone get him back to the palace!”

The guards' frantic voices blurred together, but one thing was clear: They thought he was a victim, not a culprit. Keith cracked his eyes open, just enough to catch Kolivan's gaze through the confusion. His mentor's sharp eyes lingered on him a little too long, searching, calculating. Keith gave a subtle shake of his head, barely noticeable, but enough to make his point:

He got away. I didn’t hurt anyone. I didn’t overstep.

Kolivan’s jaw tightened, but he gave a brief nod in return. A silent understanding. One of the palace guards stepped forward, his face pale with concern. “You fought the bandit?”

Keith winced, pressing a hand to his ribs for effect. “Yeah… There were civilians with him too. I didn’t want to risk hurting anyone, so I had to let him go.” He glanced toward Kolivan again, making his words sound deliberate. “He slipped away before I could stop them.”

A murmur rippled through the gathered guards.

“Brave of you, young warrior,” the king said, stepping into the circle, his expression heavy with remorse. “It’s shameful that some of my citizens behave this way. Please, accept my deepest apologies.”

Keith swallowed hard, the weight of the lie pressing against his chest like a leaden chain.

Hero.

He didn’t feel like one. The guards helped him to his feet, his body stiff and sore from the running and carrying pounds of wealth and the impact of Rolo’s punch. As they began escorting him back toward the palace, Keith’s mind whirled. Every step he took felt heavier, guilt digging into him with every beat of his pulse.

Lance...

He hadn’t told Lance anything. He’d left him in the dark, again. He was still grappling with that thought when a familiar voice cut through the haze.

“Keith!”

Keith’s heart stuttered as Lance appeared at the edge of the garden, the princess trailing behind him. Lance’s expression shifted from confusion to concern in a heartbeat as he sprinted over, eyes wide with worry.

“Are you okay? What the hell happened? Did you run into the bandit too?” Lance demanded, scanning Keith like he expected to find hidden wounds.

Keith swallowed thickly, the weight of his secret pressing harder than ever. "I'm fine," he muttered, forcing a tired, crooked smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

Lance wasn’t buying it. “Fine? You look like you just got run over by a space cruiser,

man.

”

Keith shifted awkwardly under Lance’s gaze, guilt gnawing at him. He hated how warm it felt to have Lance fussing over him, how badly he wanted to lean into it—and how much more he hated that Lance had no idea what was really going on. But Keith just shrugged.

The princess took a step forward, resting a gentle hand on Lance’s arm. “Let’s get him back inside. He needs to rest after making valiant efforts to protect us.”

Lance’s brow furrowed, still scanning Keith like there were puzzle pieces missing. He really had no idea that it was Keith he had faced mometraily, threatened to shoot. It was Keith who had been the reason why he had attacked, forced to put himself in harms way to protect a royal who did not deserve it. Who does that to someone they love? But after a moment, Lance exhaled sharply and gave Keith a soft nudge toward the palace doors. “Come on, dumbass. Let’s get you patched up.”

Keith let himself be led inside, surrounded by a wave of nitpicking guards, listening to their screaming King about the safety of their guests and how embarrassing this entire night was, Kolivan promising that everything was fine on their end and they are not to blame for one of their members getting caught in this dispute, and Lance staying flush at Keith’s side, refusing to move. The ache in his ribs was nothing compared to the gnawing guilt in his chest. He glanced at Lance out of the corner of his eye, wondering—not for the first time—if Lance would ever forgive him when the truth eventually came out.

Keith sat hunched ontop of the nose of one of the Blade’s stealth ships, his knees tucked up to his chest and one arm stiffly around his shins, the other mindlessly petting Kosmo’s head as his loyal wolf lay curled up next to him. The night was still, the only sounds coming from the soft hum of the ship’s systems below and the steady rhythm of Kosmo’s breath beside him. The wolf stretched lazily across the metal surface, his glowing eyes half-closed in contentment. Keith ran his hand through Kosmo’s fur, grounding himself in the comfort of the silence. He needed it—the silence.

Because every thought running through his head was

too loud

.

The quiet was just what Keith needed to ignore the swirling loom of everything that has been happening within the 24 hours they had landed on the planet to fix everything. After the ball had ended, the king and the Blades decided that it was best to take some time to regroup, the King promising that they had everything under control and Kolivan claiming they had important work to get to in other planets, but for the most part getting the reassurance that the King would hold the deal with Planet Brantar. Nalthoras was going to be left just as the Blades had intended, but forever changed a bit in how they were dealing with hightened secuity towards the lower class. They were going to be more distrusting, more aggressive, and Keith hoped that Rolo and Nyma were able to bring it to the underground network of redistrubters before they were found out. There, the wealth would be intelligently sold around to different planets to be returned back to the lower class, so there would be no questions from the upper class of where they got their sums of wealth.

Yet, Keith felt like he made this entire issue between the upper and lower class so much worse. He had been doing this for a while, since they first came to planet Nalthoras. Keith was just like any other of the Blades, wanting to help stablize peace between this planet and thier trading alliance, but after he saw how the lower class was being treated, after he realized how corrupt and unfair they really were, he wanted to step in. Begged Kolivan to threaten the king with pulling back on their protection, but Kolivan had insisted that they were mean to keep peace stablized between planets. What happens politically between their own inner conflicts was not their buisness if it meant it wasn’t harming the stabilization efforts the Blades were making for the welfare of the entire galaxy. Keith had been outraged, nearly blowing a fuse, untamanle and on edge every single time they had to check in on Nalthoras, until he learned about their masked folk story. About the figure who was misunderstood by the rich, but so treasured and respected by the lower class. And suddenly, that was Keith’s in. It changed everything.

He found out who to talk to in secret, using Rolo and Nyma’s team as the stealth in betweeners with the citizens, learning about the underground network of people who wanted to fight back. Who couldn’t handle the abuse anymore. Rolo and Nyma had been called to the planet by the Blades once for backup security efforts, but Keith quickly found they aligned with Keith’s viewpoints more after they were experiencing the lowerclass in a more intimate and personal setting. Backed by Axca, Keith now had a new team of secrets. Sure he became the face when handed the bandit mask from one of their elders, but none of this would be pulled off without the trust he had placed with this new team. He couldn’t tell others, knowing it had to be small to even be able to work everytime they came. And they were flawless every time. Learning about the weaks parts of the palace, where some guards would turn a blind eye, where the workers for the palace sneaked in, where the vaults were held and how to get the money flow back to the citizens. How Rolo and Nyma were protected when they disappeared into the crowds by the people, knowing that their trust was in this new team who just wanted justice. It was a whole delicate balance of politics and maintaining a face, all while being the disrupter that caused the Blades to check in on the planet time and time again. But with every call for check ins, Keith was able to put on the mask and cause more chaos for the sake of fighting back for what was right.

And now, Keith didn’t know what was right because it was all going so well until Lance had to be involved. He knew having Lance along for all of this was going to catch up to him somewhere along the line of what he does. It just hurt that he had to have secrets from Lance, ontop of the main overwhelming one he bit back everytime Lance so much as looked at him. The words choked on his throat every time, especially when Lance had asked him to dance. It was so intimate, so raw, so delicate. It was sweet, it was patient, it was understanding yet still lightly teasing. The way Lance had held him close, had looked at him with those eyes that made Keith practically drown. It was all just so Lance that Keith had to remind himself to breathe around him. The thing he was

desperately

trying to keep buried was slipping from his grasp with every second he spent near Lance. The weight of it was unbearable. His feelings—it wasn’t just some passing crush. He was

in love

with Lance. Deep, stupid, can’t-breathe-without-you love, and keeping it inside was suffocating him.

Keith tilted his head back and stared up at the stars, his heart a mess of knots. He tried not to think about how Lance looked at him earlier—like Keith was a stranger. Even though to Lance he had been, it was heart shattering to be on the receiving end of something so cold from someone so usually warm. He swallowed hard, jaw clenching as the memory twisted in his gut. That look of fear… followed by anger.

And it was worse because Keith knew—knew in his soul—that he’d deserve it when Lance eventually found out the truth. When everything unraveled and Lance realized just how deep the lies went. The guilt was a sharp, constant ache in his chest, like a wound that wouldn’t heal. And underneath all that guilt was the aching truth that Keith had been holding back for years now. He loved Lance so much it physically hurt. He’d kept it buried, hidden away, because what else was he supposed to do? Lance deserved better. He deserved someone whole, someone who could give him the world without the baggage.

But Keith—Keith was selfish. He knew that now. Because he still

wanted

Lance, even when he had no right to.

He’d almost told him a hundred times. When they danced tonight, Keith could feel the words building at the back of his throat, right on the edge of falling out. Every time Lance smiled, every time he laughed, Keith felt himself slipping. The worst part was how natural it all felt. How easy it was to imagine staying by Lance’s side, not as a leader or teammate—but as someone Lance could love in return.

The thought of that—of

Lance loving him back

—was terrifying. But not as terrifying as knowing that, at the end of this mission, he might lose Lance forever. Keith closed his eyes, his mind dragging him back—back to the moment when everything changed. When he knew he was a goner.

It was during the bonding moment. The memory came to him vividly, as if it had happened yesterday. The team had rushed in after gaining control again of the Castle, both of them exhausted and finally able to be at peace as they were recovering. Lance had been leaning against the wall, breathing heavily, trying to hide how scared he was while his time being unconscious and protected roughly from Shiro. Keith had rushed straight for Lance as others helped Shiro up, holding out his hand to ask if he was ok. Instead of simply taking it and getting up, Lance had lazily pulled Keith down to his level, giving him a tired smile as he said those haunting words to him.

We did we. We are a good team.

Somehow, that was it. Keith for the first time in his life
hadn’t felt annoyed with the loud mouthed, teasing Blue Paladin. He’d felt

fond

.

And then Lance had looked at him—really looked at him, not with sarcasm or arrogance, but with something raw. Vulnerable. Like Keith was someone Lance could trust with all the broken pieces inside him. It hit Keith like a lightning bolt, striking him clean through the heart. He knew, in that moment, that he was a goner.

And he’d been falling ever since.

Now, sitting on top of the ship with Kosmo resting against his side, Keith clenched his fists so tight his knuckles went white in Kosmo’s fur. He didn’t know how much longer he could hold it all in—this secret, this love, everything. It was

too much.

It was eating him alive from the inside out.

But if he told Lance—if he let him in—would that be the end?

Would the friendship they’d fought so hard to rebuild fall apart?

Or worse, would Lance look at him the way he did tonight—with fear and anger—and never see him the same again? Would all his trust he had built fall apart, no longer seeking him out or finding a safe space when Lance needed it. Would he think Keith had taken advantage of his emotions and weakened state after Allura. Would Lance think he was selfishly replacing Allura??

Keith exhaled shakily, running a hand down his face. The stars above him blurred as his vision stung with unshed tears he’d never let fall.

Kosmo nudged his side with a soft huff, as if sensing the turmoil within him. Keith gave him a small, weak smile, scratching behind his ears.

"I’m so screwed, Kosmo," Keith whispered. And the stars stayed silent.

Until it wasn’t.

“You need to stop climbing things and going all Batman on everyone every time I wanna find you.”

Keith turned at the shuffling sound of metal squeaking and hands hitting sloppily as Lance climbed the side of the ship, shuffling along the edge of the nose as it narrowed to the point Keith was sat at. Lance gave him a sheepish smile, his arms a little wobbly as he figured a way to scoot to find Keith at the edge, propping back on his legs.

“Is everything ok? The girls giving you a hard time in there?” Keith asked, leaning back on his arm and feeling his muscles tense up a bit, ready to jump up if asked. Lance blinked, looking confused, before plopping down at Keith’s side, shaking his head quickly.

“What? No no no, why are you asking me if I’m fine. I already told you its all great. I was looking for you, idiot. You kinda have been quiet all day. Did the bandit mess you up that bad?”

Keith stilled, bringing his eyes back out at the stars above and not wanting to look at Lance, because he knew he would be too weak and easily cave in to the truth. Keith had been very reclusive. The moment the ball had wrapped and the Blades parted ways with the planet, Keith had been restless around the ship as they made their way back to the Blades base. They had all sat in a debriefing to learn everything that happened to Keith, and Lance had gladly been there to fill in some spots about how the bandit attacked him and the princess when they were on a courtyard stroll. He dramatically gushed how he protected her, and Keith fought back the need to roll his eyes at how endearing it sounded despite the weight of himself being the culprit. They got back to the Blades headquarters and bandaged up for any injuries, but Keith had slunk away to the outskirts of the Base, needing the space and silence and opted to climbing on an unused ship at the edge of the hangars. He thought it was a great hiding spot until Lance found him. Like he always did.

“He messed you up bad, huh?” Lance tried, his voice softer and looking at Keith like he was waiting for him to crack. Keith just combed his hands through Kosmo, giving a disgruntled pout.

“It’s just unfair to the people of the planet with how they’ve been treated, and the entire inner conflict between the royals and the lower class isn’t something we can interfere with. It feels like I’m stuck with the responsibility of the Blades and what they expect vs helping out someone in need.” was what Keith went with. Lance hummed next to him, letting his legs dangle over the side.

“You were doing good, though. You helped defend the palace from anything further. I mean, you literally got beat up to defend. That’s doing something, right?” Lance smiled, and Keith’s stomach turned with how false that entire statement was.

“I guess…” Keith opted, grinding his molars instead. The two sat in the silence, thick like molasses, but Keith enjoyed it. Silence wasn’t something that came natural to Lance, but Lance was learning more and more how to be in it with Keith, if there was anything Keith was teaching him. Finally, Lance blew out air, leaning back on his hands too.

“So, what, you’re just sitting here brooding now about everything instead?”

“I’m not brooding.”

“Dude, look at you right now. You’re literally pouting and sitting in silence right now. That’s like, brooding 101.”

“I like the silence. It helps clear away everything else going on in my head right now. Like, shutting it off.” Keith shrugged, finally able to be honest for the first time in this conversation. Lance just blinked back at him like he was crazy, a small smirk of amusement on him.

“You do realize how crazy that sounds? When something is on someones mind that they don’t want there, they use distraction as a way to ignore it. This is the complete opposite of a distraction.”

“Silence is the distraction.”

“Distractions are usually loud and stimulating. You are actually insane for calling this a distraction.” Lance scoffed, his head looking around at the quiet around them. Keith just shrugged, making a point to look annoyed while his entire chest warmed and fluttered.

Lance then reached back and unclipped something from the back pocket of his jeans, pulling out the small box Keith didn’t realize he had.

“Usually if I am in a brooding mood, which isn’t always. I don’t wanna surpass our champion here. I put on music. It helps drown out the rest of the noise. A distraction.” He held up the box Keith made out to be a tape player. Wired headphones dangled between their space as Lance held it out for him.

“When we were in Voltron, I didn’t have my music to help distract me and it was awful. I couldn’t sleep at night, I felt restless. It was making me feel insane that I didn’t have anything to help stop the chaos going on up here.” Lance tapped a finger to his forehead, and continued on, “But then Pidge was able to make these like, makeshift headphones that tuned in on random radio frequencies. It wasn’t like listening to your own music, but she gave them to me so I could put them on at night to help block out my own thoughts and anxieties. I definitely was listening to weird alien newscasts and really weird music, but it worked. It helped be a distraction for that bit of time.”

“I had no idea. You used her headphones the entire time?” Keith blinked, taken aback by Lance’s struggle. Lance shrugged a bit, his eyes glazing over in the memory he was rifling through.

“For a bit, yah. I needed it every day, would bug Pidge into giving me the headphones every night, and give them back during the day for her to rewire and track different frequencies. It was the only time I felt grounded a bit. But as time passed on, I found other ways to let out my anxieties. Other people to talk to about the mess in my mind that made me feel more sane and not like something was wrong with my thoughts.” Lance caught Keith’s eyes, and Keith stuttered a breath out.

“I’m glad the other Paladins were able to be there for you. They care a lot.” Keith murmured, but was thrown off by the exhausted groan Lance let out, his shoulders shaking with a laugh.

“I’m talking about you, dummy.”

Keith blanked, unsure if Lance was being serious.

“Dude, you listened to me every single time. You found me when I was up wandering around the Castle at night because there was so much going on up here. You sat with me while I talked about Earth, or the ocean, or my family. You never shut me up, or told me to get it together, or look annoyed at how much I rambled. You just sat and let me talk, and I honestly needed that. I talked until there was no more juice left in me to burn and I finally was able to sleep.”

Keith frowned, his fingers carding through Kosmo’s fur and thinking back at those times. He hadn’t realized what he was doing. He just genuinely enjoyed listening to Lance talk, about nothing and everything. He loved hearing the way he lit up describing his home, how he teared up a bit at the birthdays passing he wasn’t able to witness with his family, or about stupid troubles he got into at the Garrison with Hunk. He just wanted to be there and listen, learn more about why his heart beat so fast for the boy, and with each passing story, Keith could only give in and see why he loved him.

Because Lance cared so boldly and loudly about everything.

“I liked it.” Keith stated, cautiously glancing over at Lance. Lance froze, his smile faltering a bit.

“As much as I like my quiet, I like listening to you. Guess that was my own distraction from everything.” Keith finished firmly, watching the way Lance’s face flickered for a moment before putting on a huge smile again.

“Keith Kogane? Liking noise? Never thought I’d live to see the day.”

“Shut up.” Keith shoved him with his arm, but Lance didn’t fight it. He instead laughed another hearty laugh, the sound rumbling through Keith’s body like a warm wave.

“I guess you taught me to like silence too, in a way. It’s nice. I found quiet areas of the farm back home to sit at, and I guess I took on after you in a way.” Lance leaned his body closer to Keith, tilting his head in a thoughtful look.

Keith stayed silent, holding his arms locked over his knees and just basking in Lance’s presence, his closeness. His confession. His heart squeezed and his body wanted to melt closer to Lance, but he stilled himself from pushing too hard, biting on the inside of his cheek to keep him present and not seep away like the lovefool idiot he was.

Finally, Lance pushed his tape against Keith’s knee, nudging it a bit for Keith to take.

“I was listening to this wandering around earlier, and went back to switch out the tape before finding you. This is Veronica’s, so I don’t know how terrible it is. I just feel like her taste in music might suite you better than mine. It was from her middle school years, so plenty of angsty stuff when she wanted to marry Gerard Way.” Lance’s face lit up, finally shoving it into Keith’s hand. Keith flicked his eyes up, feeling his brows furrorw in surprise and recognition.

“Your sister liked My Chemical Romance?”

“Dudeeeeeee I knew I shouldn’t have mentioned that. Oh god, you were definitely a fanboy of them. I mean, its practically written all over you.” Lance snorted, reaching over to tug at the ends of Keith’s hair. Keith hunched his shoulders at the action, letting out a puff of air as the sensation sent a chill down his spine.

He looked down at the tape recorder, popping it open to look at the tape inside with a messy scribble of words over it. Lance scooted in closer, leaning in to point at it, and Keith was painfully aware of Lance’s hovering body.

“We all burned our favorite songs onto mixtapes when we were little, and wrote down all the songs and titles of what they were called. This is little Veronica’s handwriting. She must have been in, what, 8th grade? Going into freshmen year? Anyway, this is the kinda stuff she liked and me and Rachel would bully the hell out of her about it, but I guess now it comes in handy when I’m stuck with another emo years later.” Lance leaned his head up, throwing Keith the most beautiful smile that made Keith shiver. His eyes were practically sparkling, his skin so close to Keith that if Keith tilted his head to the side, they would make contact. He could feel the breath off Lance’s lips on his own cheek, and it burnt a hole down to his soul. So instead, Keith just turned back to the tape to ready the messy handwriting, a pout returning.

“I don’t see any MCR on this?”

“That’s because she had a whole other tape filled with just those kinds of songs. I purposefully didn’t take that with me. This actually has some good stuff. See? The Smiths. David Bowie. Ooh, Arctic Monkeys. Thats a good song she has on there.” Lance leaned in more, pointing at each scribbled in artist with its adjoining song.

“I don’t…” Keith muttered, growing more confused. Lance paused, snapping to gawk at him.

“Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of any of these artists before.”

Keith’s silence seemed to be the answer Lance needed before he plugged in the earbuds and held the left one up, a silent question requesting permission to stick it in Keith’s ear. With a low grunt, he tilted his head to the side, letting Lance in and allowing him to step that boundary Keith kept so guarded up. Lance shoved the headphones into Keith’s ear and then reached around to stick the other one in before pausing to snap the tape recorder closed, pressing down play.

Keith stilled as a soft melody of drums started, and low strums of a guitar came in. Immediately, a male voice began singing with an accent, a little hard for Keith to focus on but he tried, shutting his eyes to focus on the words and letting just that be his focus. It was soft, reminiscing, the singer yearning a bit in his voice with the words he was using and the drawl in it. Keith listened in silence, stunned by the quiet intensity of the song. It felt... different from anything he’d heard before—so raw and honest, like it was peeling back layers of feelings he wasn’t ready to confront. But he couldn’t look away, couldn’t stop listening. He suddenly felt Lance’s weight as he leaned against Keith’s shoulders, and Keith’s snapped his eyes open to see Lance grinning and swaying a bit, clearly hearing the music that leaked through the headphones.

And if a double decker bus, crashes into us

To die by your side is such a heavenly way to die

Keith watched Lance snort, hiding a smile back like he knew something further about the song that Keith hadn’t caught onto. He hummed along next to Keith, his eyes watching the stars while Keith’s eyes stayed painfully transfixed on Lance’s face.

“And if a ten ton truck kills the both of us, to die by your side, well the pleasure, the privilege is mine. ” Lance hummed out, his toothy grin basking all over Keith. Keith’s eyes stayed trainning on his open and content look, the music suddenly drowning out at the sight in front of him. Lance just snorted, rolling his eyes as he bumped shoulders again with Keith.

“Veronica used to blast the Smiths all the time and overplayed that one song in particular. I thought it was the most devastating lyric, she wanted it tattooed on her. Thank god mama caught her trying to sneak out that one time, she would have been murdered if she actually went ahead and got that tattoo. The song sounds so tragic, but she thought it was so romantic. To think dying by someones side was a heavenly way to die? Like,

‘who even says that?’

Right?" He chuckled, though his voice had a tinge of wistfulness to it. "But the older I got, the more I kinda… got it. It’s tragic, yeah. But it’s also beautiful."

Keith tilted his head, watching Lance intently, hanging on every word.

Lance’s voice dropped to a quieter, more thoughtful tone. "It’s not just about dying—it’s about

who

you’d want to be with in that moment. It’s saying... if everything had to end, if the world had to fall apart, there’s only one person you’d want next to you when it does." He gave a soft, self-deprecating laugh. "Sounds pretty stupid when I say it out loud, huh?"

Keith didn’t answer. He was too busy trying to process the strange ache that had settled deep in his chest.

To die by your side is such a heavenly way to die.

The words echoed in his mind, slow and deliberate, like they were carving something permanent inside him. And for the first time, Keith felt like the song was speaking directly to him—like someone had peeled open his heart, taken a look inside, and written everything he was too scared to admit.

Lance kept talking, oblivious to the emotional hurricane brewing in Keith’s chest. "I used to think it was stupid, but now… I don’t know. There’s something kinda tragic and beautiful about wanting someone that much. To think that in the end, being with them as you literally die from this earth, is the best way to go." He smiled, looking out at the stars. "I get it now. I really do."

Keith swallowed hard, his throat dry.

I get it now, too,

he thought.

The words that had felt so foreign just moments ago were now etched into Keith's soul. And as he watched Lance—his soft smile illuminated by starlight, his voice gentle but full of meaning—Keith realized, with a quiet certainty, that the lyrics weren’t just a romantic notion. They were a reflection of everything he’d been holding inside. He knew, without a doubt, that if the world ever fell apart, there was no one he’d rather be with than Lance.

The song began wrapping up with a repeated phrase,

there is a light that never goes out

, and the two sat in wistful silence, both so lost in their own private thoughts about what the song reminded them of. Keith was too painfully aware that Lance was thinking about Allura, the way he was turned up to look at the stars above him, and Keith churned with the feeling that every thought consuming him was always pointing back to Lance.

The song finished and suddenly a singular voice took on the next song, this one very different from the first band. Lance leaned in again, taking a beat to listen to the song, and then leaned back, giving Keith a final satisfied smirk before shuffling to sit back up. Keith tensed then at the loss of Lance’s presence.

“Relax, hot shot. I know I'm impeding on brooding time, so I wanna give you your space.” Lance held out his hands in defense, and Keith couldn’t stop the small whine in the back of his throat to fight back.

“You’re fine, honest.” Keith tried, but Lance just rolled his eyes playfully at him, scooching to stand up now.

“I’m gonna go find the mess hall, I’m starved after today. Really, Keith. I get how you can be. Everyone needs their private time and I don’t wanna hover over you all the time. I just wanted to check in and give you that to help with all this up here.” Lance leaned forward to gently tap at Keith’s temple, his contact feeling like fire. Lance gave him a quick knowing smile as the song Keith was listening to continued on.

“I actually really think you’ll like this artist. I think you’re both really similar. His name is David Bowie. Fire dude.”

Keith could only watch as Lance climbed away, letting Keith to focus on what this David guy was all about, and how he kept singing about a starman.

Keith clicked away at the screen in front of him, having to make one more report to the file to add to the planet Nalthoras and just be done with every aspect of it. He dragged his mouse across the screen, dropping the report into its respected file, humming along to the same song he kept repeating over and over on the tape as he kept the headphones in. He had left the ship an hour ago and wandered inside, hoping to catch Lance, but Lance had respectfully crashed back in their room, passed out from the excitement around everything, mouth open in snores and eyemask over his face to block out the low glow etched through the room that stayed humming throughout the base. Keith decided now would be the perfect time to catch up on some work files he had been neglecting.

As he continued humming along with the Smiths, a small call ID popped up, vibrating at the corner of the screen and demanding to be picked up. Keith faltered, looking at the name, hovering. He thought it once over, and then a second time, and before he could decide to let it die he quickly clicked it, letting the facecall blow up on the screen to flash back a very annoyed looking Pidge, her lips pursed and her eyes glowing back at him like he had just said the most offensive thing.

“What, so it takes Lance coming up to space with you to finally convince you to pick up a call once and a while?” Pidge crossed her arms over her chest, glaring back at him. Keith popped the earbuds out of his ears as he shut off the tape, a little tense at the power the younger girl had in her dirty glare.

“I’m sorry I’ve been distant, but it’s not on purpose. I’ve just been busy with everything here.”

Pidge’s glare broke for a second, as if she was thrown off by Keith’s honestly, but she quickly recovered.

“I mean, seriously, Keith—what the hell?” Pidge's words hit like jabs. “You just

dropped off the map

. No word, no nothing. You ghosted all of us, but especially me. You were supposed to be there with me during all of this. All those stupid meetings we still had to go to to show face for Voltron on New Altea. You promised me you would show up to those, and you lied.”

Keith closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the chair. He knew she had every right to be mad, but hearing it said out loud made the guilt in his chest weigh heavier.

“I was supposed to be around,” Keith murmured, almost more to himself than to her. “I know. Things here just got in the way of that.”

Pidge scoffed on the other end. “Damn right you were. You’re the only one who knew how to laugh at things going wrong without losing your mind. I mean, Hunk and Lance?

Idiots

during mission briefings. You remember when Lance kept mispronouncing that alien ambassador’s name? ‘Ambassador Glorbnak’? It was

Ambassador Gloknahr

.”

In reality, as much as Keith thought he had been such a loner in space with everyone, Pidge was one of the few people that didn’t creep away from his awkwardness or his attitude. She egged it on. She always watched the way Lance and him went neck to neck, an evil smile on her face and wanting to place bets on who would have to be the one to call time outs. She would be the one who would let out a snort with him during diplomatic meetings when one of the aliens made a weird noise and stumbled over words to talk to Allura, trying to catch up with English. Lance and Hunk were always a lot more kinder about things like that, but Pidge was the tiny devil spawn on Keith’s shoulder that didn’t make him feel 100% like an evil maniac.

“Remember when we thought Moth Man was actually on that one planet Gandor but it happened to just be a really big version of a DoDo bird?” Keith tried a smile at her, seeing the way her anger was diffusing a bit at the memory.

“That was definitely the reason why Shiro made us have thorough lessons with Coran about the types of species on each planet we stopped on as punishment. Poor Hunk had nightmares for weeks from the way we were convinced we were gonna fight Mothman. You’re probably the only person in this galaxy who’d indulge me in my ‘What If Altea is Actually Still Out There’ rant.”

He chuckled, though the sound was heavy with regret. "That was good, huh?"

“Yeah, Keith. It was good. And you were supposed to stick around after everything. After Allura. But you just… took off. And you know how I feel about disappearing into space like that. A couple days, sure. A week, maybe that’s pushing it. But you left for months at at time with no contact to even let us know you are ok. Do you know how scary that is?” her voice shook a bit at the end, and Keith was hit with the fact that she had to live through the trauma before of her brother and dad getting taken away in the same manner, disappearing and leaving her to not know the next time she was gonna see them. Hell, the same thing happened with him and Shiro due to the same instance, and her anxiety all clicked into place for him.

“I’m sorry, Pidge,” Keith whispered. He meant it, every word, but he knew that wasn’t enough. Disappearing had hurt her. He hadn’t meant to suddenly cease to exist from her life, his own mind consuming everything that made him so blindsided to who he was hurting in the process. Keith didn’t do well with goodbyes, and avoiding things was easier—but that didn’t make it right. He genuinely didn’t think that his absence would cause this much hurt, only really still keeping contact with Shiro if anything.

There was silence on the other end for a beat, then Pidge sighed. “You’re lucky I like you.”

A small smile tugged at Keith’s lips. "Yeah, I know."

Pidge groaned, but there was a shift in her tone then—lighter, teasing. “You know what? I was gonna stay mad at you for a little longer, but… now I’m just

way

too curious about something.”

Keith braced himself, already regretting what was about to happen. “What?”

“Oh, come on. Lance.” Pidge’s voice practically dripped with amusement. “You

still

haven’t cracked, have you?”

Keith blinked, caught off guard. “What—cracked? What does that even mean?”

“Bet you don’t mind being around him like that. How much more of this you got left in you before you finally crack and let him know how you feel?”

Keith felt his face flush red, choking on some sudden spit he had in his throat as he watched Pidge erupt into an evil laugh. Sometimes Keith forgot just how smart Pidge was, and how quickly she was able to figure out Keith and his feelings for the third member of her Garrison trio. She was sly and sneaky with her teasing, never in front of Lance, and by the way things have gone, he was positive she never said anything to Lance.

“He’s back, you know.” Keith looked back at the screen. Pidge’s eyes flashed with something deeper behind them, her brows raising.

“What do you mean, he’s back? Did you send him off somewhere on a mission?”

“No, like, Lance is back to himself. He isn’t so, sad. Like, he has that spark again. To do things and help people. He’s annoying, and makes stupid jokes, and actually tries to be friends with Axca and Ezor and Zethrid, even though none of them get that him being nice to them is just him genuinely wanting to get to know them, and not some third secret motive. He’s smiling again.” Keith leaned back in his seat, watching the way Pidge’s face relaxed, leaning back in her own seat. Keith took in the surrounding aspects of her screen. She was in her pigtails, but they looked loose, like she wasn’t putting her hair back to be tightly pulled out of her face for the sake of work. She also had a bedframe behind her, with scattered pictures taped to the wall behind her. Keith could make out old family portraits, the family dog, some posters of the Galaxy Garrison, and a picture of the five of them recently at Shiro’s wedding.

“Well what do you know. Him wanting to impress you always stays a driving force no matter the age.” Pidge let out a soft chuckle, her eyes soft as she looked back at Keith. Her usually bitter demeanor, sharp and quick witted, was relaxed, and Keith could really see how much she loved so deeply too.

“This has nothing to do with me. Come on, do you know how ridiculous that is? Give him some credit.” Keith scoffed, and Pidge’s eyes shot back ot him.

“Of course it’s not all you, dimwit. I just mean, Lance needed someone to push him. To make him realize what he was really passionate about this entire time. It was always space. It was always adventure. Thats the entire reason he is who he is. He forgot about all of that on the farm, which is fair, we all had something tragic happen to us. But with you around, I don’t know what makes his gears start turning and his brain actually firing up, but you get him going, and that’s all any of us could really ask for. As annoying as it is.” She huffed, but flashed him a shy smile.

Keith bit back a small smile too, his fingers toying with the earbuds besides him. He hadn’t realized any of that.

“Anyway, has he made a fool of himself yet? He’s been telling us the crazy missions you guys are sent on but I’m sure he leaves out important details about how he definitely tripped over something and caused a scene.” Pidge rushed on, fixing her glasses and not wanting to focus on the moment they shared.

“No, he’s actually been a really great help. He helps people feel, good, yknow? Like, they feel safe with him around more than they ever did with me. Most planets, I have to work to gain their trust, show that its all fine, but with Lance, all he does is just smile at them. Give him a reassuring look and they are sold. Helps navigate people a lot better than I ever did.” Keith shrugged. Pidge gave him a look up, leaning back and pretending to admire her nails.

“You going to tell him that yourself or just gonna keep watching him like a dummy?”

Keith groaned, running a hand over his face. “There’s nothing to tell him, Pidge.”

“Please,” she snorted. “I cracked that case before you even realized it was a thing. You do realize you’re talking to the all time Murder Mystery game solver, and although there’s no death involved in this crime, its a classic case of you’re

so gone

for him that it hurts to watch.”

Keith opened his mouth to deny it—because what else could he do?—but the words stuck in his throat. Instead, his mind spiraled back to every time he’d stayed a little too close to Lance, to every glance that lingered a little too long, to the ache that had grown in his chest without him even noticing it.

“Thought so,” Pidge said smugly.

Keith groaned again, half in frustration, half in resignation. “Why do you have to be so annoying?”

“Because I love you, Keith. And because you’re an idiot who doesn’t know how to deal with his feelings.” She paused, then added with a sly grin in her voice, “Seriously, though—how have you

not

told him yet?”

Keith stared up at the ceiling, feeling the weight of everything he hadn't said pressing down on him. “It’s complicated.”

“It’s not that complicated,” Pidge countered. “You just suck at talking.”

Keith exhaled a breath, half-laughing despite himself. “Yeah. I really do.”

“Don’t worry too long, okay?” Pidge’s voice softened again, slipping into something more genuine. “You’ve held back long enough, and now that this is all over, now that you both have time, I don’t think its the worst idea to tell him.”

Keith swallowed the lump in his throat, refusing to look at the screen.

“But what if it ruins–”

“If you say if it ruins your guys friendship or whatever I am going to shoot myself into space myself to slap you. You guys have been through so much already, and the guys practically obsessed with you. Don’t fight me on this. No matter the outcome, I really doubt he’s gonna suddenly not want to be around you anymore.”

Keith sat in the room and let the electronics hum around him, basking in Pidge’s words. It was similar to what Shiro had told him before this all started. All the signs were hinting for him to be honest, but honestly, honesty was so far from his truth with Lance at the moment. His feelings were going to have to take the backburner, as it always did.

“You’re not taking any of my advice, are you?” Keith looked up at Pidge deadpanning at him, clearly over him.

“Made it this long?” Keith shrugged, a small smirk on his lips.

Pidge groaned, but there was no hate in her noise. Just exasperation and some fondness that Keith could practically touch.

The door to the room slid open with a soft whoosh, and Keith turned to see Krolia paused at the door, her eyes flicking up to see Pidge gawking back over the call.

“Oh, I see you need some mother son bonding. I’m gonna, you have fun with, ok talk to you later Keith.” Pidge stammered out, throwing on a little too big of a smile as her eyes blew wide like saucers seeing Krolia. Keith lifted a brow as she immediately pushed the end call button, but not before sticking her tongue out quickly at him before she faded into black. Keith leaned back in his seat to turn to face his mom, who was standing a little pleased in the doorway, her arms crossed and looking at him with a small smile.

“Are all your friends that scared around me like that, or is it strictly a human thing?”

“It doesn’t help that you’re over seven feet tall and have fangs.” Keith smiled back, swiveling his chair to turn around to face her. Krolia narrowed her eyes at him, stepping into the room.

“It doesn’t make any sense. Yours should have grown in by now.” She held up her hand to prod at her son’s mouth, but Keith defensively put his arms up to shield.

“Yah, except I’m half human. Maybe dad’s genetics were just stronger?”

“You do look a lot like him. If you had to have either of our genetics, I’m glad you got a lot of his.” Krolia popped a seat on the desk besides Keith, tilting her head to look at him with that intense gaze she gave him that Keith had to familiarize himself with as the ‘mother gaze’. Fond, warm, reminiscent. Keith folded his own arms over his chest, a tightness pulling in his chest. He didn’t have too many memories with his own father, being 6 years old when he died. All the memories surrounding him before that had well faded in the time he had spent alive without him compared to with him, and it should have terrified him a lot more. The forgetting, or just not knowing what it was like to have him be a prominent person in Keith’s life. Because the truth was he wasn’t. Not really. Shiro became that person of stability and guidance to Keith when he was young and in need of someone to fill that role that was left wide open. All of Keith’s memories of being young and reprimanded, of being young and reckless, of being young and needing someone, all pointed back to Shiro.

Krolia knew this. It was hard to not know how much Shiro meant to Keith. Keith willingly was ok with dying if it meant finding Shiro and making sure he was returned home safe, becuase without Shiro, Keith would be nothing that he was today. Shiro was Keith’s entire world, until he wasn’t. Keith’s very small, fractured, and delicate world widened the moment he joined Voltron, casting light on shadows that had been covering his expanse of what a family was, and who was important to him. Voltron provided that comfort, that endless love and friendship that Keith never thought he was able to experience, and gave him the opportunity to find the one other person who could love him so truly. It gave him his mother.

“Is everything ok? It’s pretty late, I would have thought you’d be on a ship back to Daibazaal right now.” Keith glanced up at his mother, who was still giving him that glazed over look before she blinked, bringing her back to the room.

“I was just in a talk with Kolivan actually.”

“Great, what’s the world shattering news about what I did now?”

“This surprisingly has nothing to do with you, although we still have to talk about what happened on Planet Nalthoras, with the

bandit

.” she dropped her voice, eyes widening at her slow pronunciation of the name. Keith hunched down in his seat, looking away.

“What were you thinking, doing something of that level during that mission? And I don’t even have to ask to know you didn’t tell Lance about it, did you?” His mother read him like a book. Keith huffed.

“It just sorta happened, he got in the way and when he saw–”

“That’s it right there. He saw you. Which means, he had a run in with the bandit and forever is going to have an opinion on him and what he does, so when you do tell him, he’s gonna know you kept that.”

“I….ergh.” Keith could only grumble out in frustration, throwing his hands over his face as he sunk lower in his chair. Krolia paused, regaining her posture to look at her son in the eye again.

“I know Lance is the one you want to worry about right now, but this is so close to getting way more dangerous than you realize. One of your trips, it’s not just gonna be him who figures this out. Kolivan will be furious that this entire thing has been happening right under his nose. Think about Axca. You are putting her in jeopardy too with this knowledge of undermining his authority.”

“Well, you know too.” Keith shot back, meeting her sharp gaze. Krolia didn’t falter, her yellow eyes practically glowing in the dimly lit room, no light other than the monitors behind them.

“I can cover up a lot of things, Keith, and have a well respected position back on Daibazaal as part of the Galra Coalition. What I will not have passing is whatever happens to you when Kolivan bans you from your position in the Blades for lying and deception, and you come to me asking for open positions there.”

“What makes you think I want any of these responsibilities?” Keith gritted through his teeth, but his omission made him flinch as he realized the truth of what he said finally coming out to his mom. He peeked through his bangs to Krolia still above him, glaring down.

“I’m sorry, I meant..”

“We went over this. If you don’t want to be a part of the Galatic Coaltion, or assist on rebuilding the Galra empire with me on Daibazaal, you can go back to earth at any point. You just need to exit it all correctly. Theres people out there who look up to you for leadership and guidance, Keith. You can’t just abandon it all because it gets tough.”

“That’s not what I’m saying at all. It’s not about how tough it is, I just.” Keith gritted his molars, hating how he always seemed to fail to say the right thing.

“Everyone had a drive before this. My friends all at the Garrision. They all wanted to be pilots, or center themselves around the having a future with space and be a part of the future of space exploration. The only reason why I joined the Garrison in the first place was because of Shiro, and then when I got kicked out and was lost, I got wrapped back up into space because of Shiro again. And then with Voltron, and ending it on the other side as part Galra, it all just seemed like I was placed from one thing to the other without really knowing what I am without being escorted from one position to the other.” Keith sighed out, his jaw tense and aching. Krolia waited for him to get out his words, his breath staggering a bit as he clawed to finish his tangent.

“I guess what I’m saying is, I’m still tyring ot figure out who I am and what exactly I stand for without someone telling me how I should do it and what role to play. I took on the bandit position because people needed help, and I know I wanted to help people. That’s always been the center of everything. I just don’t always know how and if I’m worth it to make the right decision every time. Guess I’m still trying to figure that one out.” Keith came to a halt, breathing out the spinning feeling he had in his head. It actually felt good to get that confession out, one of the many building up in the library stacking to the brim of everything Keith always wanted to say but struggled to find the words to. He dared a cautious look up at his mother, expecting some sort of heat or anger at his lame attempt of an explanation for his weird funk he’d been in, but she instead just looked down at him with understanding eyes.

“I never expected you to have everything figured out. No one does. We make up everything as we go, believing we have fit into this system that we are actively creating from scratch. I just want you to..” She let out a huff, seeming lost for words on her own end. The apple doesn’t far from the tree. She held out her hands, motioning something absent mindedly, trying to find the words.

“If there’s one thing I want from you after everything, it’s that you are happy. That you picked and went with a life decision because you felt in your heart that was your purpose, and something you stood behind whole heartedly. That’s what brought me to Earth, to staying with your father and protecting the Blue Lion. That’s what led me to leave you to make sure you stayed safe. That’s what kept me at the Blades for so long. And it’s what I see you learning about the different paths available to you right now. I have no doubt you’ll figure it out, with some well earned help.” She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, earning Keith’s own tension to uncoil and leave his body.

“Now I feel bad.” Krolia started, but Keith jumped in.

“No, you had no idea I was feeling like this. Your talk honestly helped me–”

“I came to find you to brief you about this new mission Kolivan needs you on.”

“New mission? After what went down on Nalthoras?”

“There’s a distress signal coming from a certain secort of the third sinct of the galaxy. This seems to be a new dictator the Blades haven’t dealt with yet, and actively is causing harm to a planet’s entire ecosystem of people. He already deployed some Blade operatives to go take a closer look with what we are dealing with, but Kolivan wants you on it. He doesn’t like whats going on there.”

Keith sucked in a breath, nodding. Alright then, time to do what he does best.

When Keith was brought into the meeting, he thought it was was going to be a quick talk over from Kolivan, one where he brought up what was at stake, the general diagnostics and facts they had, and telling Keith his usual spiel of how important it was that Keith did this with all his talents and training and everything Keith does best. He was hoping it was going to be quick like that, and then later sit in on a bigger meeting with more Blade members to list how the mission was going to go down.

Except, this was different.

Krolia brought Keith into the breifing room, with just Kolivan in the middle, his arms folded behind his back clasped tightly, his face pulled sharp and with a deep frown, looking over some transmissions that had apparently come in from the operatives he sent prior.

The moment the doors sealed them in, Kolivan held Keith with a heavy stare, and Keith knew how different this really was. Kolivan read out the sudden report from Blade operatives stationed near Cartheron IV, the sector of the galaxy sending out the distress signals from the planet. Vrelen’s forces have landed, and his troops are tearing through civilian sectors, razing homes and cultural landmarks. They aren't conquering the planet—they’re systematically erasing it. No one had seen this level of tyranny and destruction since Zarkon, and Keith tried to ignore the queasy feeling he had hearing this all. This isn’t just another hostile occupation—Vrelen is eliminating anyone who could challenge or expose his growing influence.

From a very diplomatic side, planet Cartheron was a neutral safe zone for many high-ranking diplomats and scientists across galaxies. Destroying it sends a clear message:

Neutrality offers no protection.

If Vrelen eliminates Cartheron’s pacifist government and spins it as their failure to defend their people, it could discourage other peaceful coalitions. Make people separate from the growing coalition that was all the Blades work and livelihood, and this can cause imbalances throughout the galaxy. Kolivan had reason to believe that Vrelen’s occupation is part of a larger plan—securing resources, artifacts, and alliances. He’s not just after this one planet—Cartheron IV is one piece in a complex web of future conquests. He didn’t seem like the monster to stop at just one planet, which is why this had to be shut down here and now. Kolivan told Keith that the Blades want to intervene, obviously, but it's delicate: if they act without concrete proof of Vrelen’s larger intent, they’ll be labeled aggressors. Diplomats will assume they’re escalating the conflict instead of protecting the innocent.

Keith had a strange epiphany that’s what they were doing with protecting the royals and elites on Planet Nalthoras, and the staggering feeling of guilt pulled at him as he continued listening. Keith’s objective, infiltrating Cartheron IV to gather evidence of Vrelen’s real intentions. His mission isn’t just to help evacuate civilians—it’s to uncover the full scope of Vrelen’s plan by hacking into communication lines, intercepting encrypted orders, and finding any link to future targets. What the overall plan was, why he was attacking and wiping out, what this was meaning for the galaxy as a whole with someone so invasive and destructive.

However, The Blades can’t go in full force with their troops. If Vrelen realizes who is interfering, it could lead to an all-out galactic conflict. Keith must coordinate evacuations quietly, creating distractions to keep Vrelen’s forces occupied while sneaking through their camps.

“This is where you are important to this entire mission. You are the only one for it that I deem fit. Not because you’re the best tactician, but because of who you are, someone who values both justice and mercy, someone who won’t sacrifice civilians even if it costs the mission.”

Keith felt like he was staring too hard at Kolivan, suprised and thrown off by the blunt honesty of the compliment. He knew Kolivan didn’t see it as one, but it was the sweetest thing Kolivan had said to him since joining, seeing his true calling and assets that he supplied the team. He took a glance at Krolia, who stayed arms crossed watching Keith take it all in. Her eyes danced back a question.

Are you up for something like this?

Keith grinded his molars, looking back at Kolivan and giving a curt nod.

Yah, he was. This was something he could do and get a thrill out of doing.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

10 years ago, the Galaxy Garrison, Earth:

Lance could barely contain himself. In fact, he wasn’t even trying to. He bounced from bed to bed in the small dorm room, his limbs a blur of movement as he hopped onto Hunk’s bed for the third time, narrowly missing Hunk’s foot with an excited leap. Hunk pulled his bags away from the edge of the bed, threatening to fall off as Lance bumped again against the bed, shaking the entire framing.

“Dude! Can you believe it? We’re here! We’re actually here!” Lance exclaimed, arms spread wide like the wings of a jet. “The GARRISON, Hunk! This is it! We’re gonna be pilots. Like, real ones!” His voice was loud and jittery with excitement, practically vibrating off the walls.

Hunk, seated cross-legged on his bed with his neatly folded uniform beside him, gave a nervous but fond smile. “Yeah, Lance. I mean—technically, it’s just

simulators

at first…” He fiddled with the corner of his blanket, twisting them up before laying it back flatly to be pristine again. “And, uh, we could still fail out if we—”

“Nope! Nope, nope, nope. No failing here!” Lance cut him off, leaping onto his own bed with a dramatic flop, arms and legs sprawled as he stared at the ceiling like he was already flying through space. He let his head fall off the side of his bed as he let his legs prop up against the wall, his socks hitting against the countless posters he had decorating it. Lance would have gone crazy if he kept the room plain and decor-less. Now, there was personality and drive, the colors bouncing off the walls with the same buzzing energy in Lance’s body. Depictions of fighter jets blasting through blue skies with clouds of smoke behind them, a large spaceship launching at the Garrison’s launchbay, postcards of Cuba his grandparents and uncles had sent, his hero, Takashi Shirogane, holding a thumbs up in a space suit to advertise their cadet program. Veronica had been a driving factor of why he wanted to join so bad to begin with, seeing her enroll and actually get in lit this fire in him to follow in her footsteps, as if seeing her success made it so much more attainable to him. Being 12 years old couldn’t have come sooner. It was all becoming real.
“We’ve got this. You know why?” He rolled over onto his stomach, propping himself on his elbows, his blue eyes shining with pure, undiluted excitement. “Because I’ve got

you

, and you’ve got

me.

”

Hunk let out a short, nervous laugh. “Yeah, but I’ve never even flown before. I mean, you know me—what if I hit the eject button instead of the engine start?

Lance sat up, beaming, and pointed dramatically at him like Hunk had just given him the best idea in the world. “That’s why you are focusing on all the dumb smarty stuff and I’m gonna be the best fighter pilot this place has ever seen! And you are gonna be

the

best engineer this place has ever seen, Hunk. You’re gonna keep me from messing up, and I’m gonna fly us straight to the top of the ranks. One day, we’re gonna be flying the real thing—actual ships, not just simulators. Maybe we get to go see the moon?”

He slid off the bed with a burst of energy, walking an imaginary cockpit line across the small room, making airplane noises with his mouth as he mimicked flicking switches. “You’ll be my co-pilot in every way that matters. You’ll run the engine checks, and I’ll do that thing—y’know,

that thing

—where I look cool in my flight suit and say something like...” He lowered his voice and gave an exaggerated smirk. “

‘All systems are go.’

”

Hunk tried to suppress a chuckle but couldn’t hold it in. “And then we crash and fail our first exam because we forgot the brakes?”

Lance gasped, scandalized. “

We will not!

” He clutched his chest as if Hunk’s words were a mortal wound, falling to his knees in the dramatic way he did when he performed for his family when his mother would tell him it was bedtime. Then, grinning, he pointed at Hunk with mock seriousness, scooching his knees along the floor to sit up right in front of Hunk’s bed. “That’s why you’re here, my dude. To keep us alive.”

Hunk shook his head, still smiling despite his nerves. “No pressure or anything.”

Lance popped up to his feet in one swift move, grabbed Hunk’s shoulders, and gave him a little shake. “

Zero

pressure. We’re gonna ace everything. You and me? We’re a team. The best team.”

“What if I throw up everywhere and that becomes my new thing? And I’ll never be trusted in a simulator again? You know I have motion sickness.”

“Yah, you may have the worst stomach ever, but I’ve never seen someone as brilliant as you before. I mean, you used to hotwire my older brother’s electric scooter just to prove you could do it. You’re unstoppable with madness!”

Hunk softened at Lance’s unshakeable enthusiasm. As anxious as he was—his stomach still doing nervous flips—it was hard not to feel at least a little reassured by Lance’s energy. “You really think we’ll be that good?”

“I

know

it.” Lance grinned ear to ear. “This place? It’s ours. We’ve got this, Hunk. First thing tomorrow morning, we’re going to hit the simulators so hard, they’re gonna ask us for flying lessons.”

Hunk rolled his eyes, though his cheeks hurt from smiling. “Okay, okay. You’re crazy.”

Lance gave him a wink. “Crazy awesome.”

They both collapsed into laughter—Lance on the floor, clutching his sides, and Hunk sinking back into his bed, the tension in his shoulders finally easing. For the first time since arriving at the Garrison, Hunk felt a little less scared about everything. He still wasn’t sure how they were going to make it through the program, but with Lance around, it was impossible not to believe—at least for a moment—that they would.

As the giggles subsided, Lance lay back on the floor, hands behind his head, gazing up at the ceiling again. “Tomorrow, Hunk. Tomorrow, we start the rest of our lives.”

Hunk gave a small smile, glancing down at his friend. “Yeah… I guess we do.”

And with that, the room settled into a warm, hopeful silence—two kids on the brink of something big, too young to realize just how far they would go.

Lance sat at the edge of his chair, fingers drumming against his knees as he stared at the row of simulators on the other side of the glass. His orange uniform felt a little too big on him, bagging at his legs and bunching up at his arms. Hunk fidgeted next to him, biting his thumbnail. On the monitors above, the virtual flight paths lit up in jagged lines, showing every crash, missed turn, and emergency eject that had happened so far. The room was buzzing with nervous energy—cadets whispering, shuffling their feet, and shooting uneasy glances toward the towering figure of Commander Iverson. Iverson’s voice sliced through the hum like a whip. “Focus, cadets! You think this is fun? You think flying is a

game

?” He marched along the row of quivering faces, his glare cold enough to freeze water. “Every move you make out there could cost lives.

Real

lives. And if you don’t take it seriously now, I promise you—your flight careers will be over before they even start.”

Lance leaned closer to Hunk, his voice barely above a whisper. “Yikes, this guy needs to chill.”

Hunk gave a tiny, anxious laugh. “Yeah, well… at least it’s not us yet.”

One by one, groups of cadets were called to take their place inside the simulators. The doors hissed shut behind them, and moments later, the monitors showed their attempts at navigating basic flight routes. Most of the kids crashed within minutes, alarms blaring as their ships clipped mountains, spun out in asteroid fields, or burned up in simulated atmospheres.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Lance muttered under his breath as another cadet slammed headfirst into an invisible barrier, ejecting mid-simulation. “How hard can it be to

land

?” His heart hammered with anticipation, itching for his shot to shock their scary instructor and be deemed the best cadet once and for all.

Hunk winced as Iverson barked at the unlucky group. “Next time, try aiming for the

runway

, not the stratosphere.”

There were a few who managed to scrape by, making shaky landings or clumsy loops—but none of them stood out until

he

showed up: James Griffin.

From the moment James’s name was called, there was a subtle shift in the room. He walked toward the simulator with effortless confidence, flashing a cocky grin as he climbed inside. When his monitor lit up, it was like watching someone born to fly. His virtual jet cut through the course with precision—every maneuver clean, every landing smooth. The other cadets gawked as he looped through obstacles like they weren’t even there. Iverson watched with a rare flicker of approval. As James’s simulation ended with a flawless landing, Iverson’s voice boomed across the room.

“Now

that

,” he said, pointing at the monitor, “is how it’s done. The rest of you need to catch up. If this keeps up, Griffin will be flying solo missions before the rest of you figure out how to taxi down a runway with parent controls still on.”

Lance felt a knot tighten in his stomach. He wasn’t used to being outshone—especially not in front of everyone. “Great,” he muttered, slumping back into his chair. “A prodigy already. Next thing we know we are getting left in the dust.”

Hunk shot him a worried glance. “Hey, you’ll get it, man. It’s just the first day.”

But the first day turned into a week.

Lance tried,

tried hard

—but no matter how determined he was, he couldn’t seem to get things quite right. His flight paths were messy, his landings bumpy. His ship always veered a little too far to the left or jittered when it should’ve been smooth. There were a few moments when he thought he had it—only to crash spectacularly at the last second, the simulation blaring its red

FAILURE

message in his face.

“Why do they make this look so easy?” Lance groaned one afternoon, head slumped against his textbooks of practical mechanics in a cockpit, reflecting on his earlier test that morning. The last thing he wanted to be doing was reading his life away.

Hunk patted him on the back sympathetically. “Well, you didn’t crash into the ocean

this

time. So… progress?”

“Barely.” Lance threw his head back with an exaggerated sigh. “I was

this

close. Like,

inches

from the landing pad!”

Still, despite the setbacks, Lance refused to give up. Every mistake, every wrong move—it just made him more determined. And then, one day, something clicked.

It wasn’t a perfect flight—but it was solid. His takeoff was smooth, and the ship obeyed his every command. For the first time, he felt

in sync

with the controls, his hands steady as he navigated through obstacles. As he approached the landing strip, the usual nerves bubbled in his chest—but this time, he didn’t let them win.

He landed.

A real, solid landing. No bounce, no skidding—just wheels touching ground like they were meant to. The simulator chimed with a

PASS

message, and Lance stared at it in disbelief before breaking into a grin so wide it made his cheeks hurt.

“I did it,” he whispered, stunned. Then louder: “

I did it!

”

When Lance exited, Hunk practically tackled him with a hug. “You nailed it, dude! That was awesome!”

Lance beamed, his confidence surging back. “I told you we had this. Now it’s just a matter of time before I’m out there, flying the real thing.”

Iverson had given him a short nod before yelling at the next student to climb in, and you would have thought Lance had been given the olympic gold medal with how much on cloud 9 he felt, finally happy to not be on the receiving end of Iverson’s lectures of failure.
From that moment on, the simulators didn’t seem so scary. Lance knew he still had a lot to learn—but now, he

believed

he could do it. And for the first time since arriving at the Garrison, he felt like maybe—just maybe—he had what it took to be a pilot after all.

Until Keith joined.

The first time Lance saw Keith, it was like a storm cloud rolling in. He was quiet, broody, and utterly unapproachable. The kind of person who, when the kind and really pretty female professor introduced him to the class with a smile, just looked with lidded eyes lazily across the room and not making a move to say his name. The kind who slunk low in his seat in the back of the room, not paying attention to the very important information about flying and safety procedures that could save them all one day when given the chance to use them. The kind of person who kept his head down, not making eye contact with anyone between classes, who disappeared at the end of the day into hiding and no one could figure out where.The kind of person who sat alone in the cafeteria, hood drawn over his head, stirring his food with a fork as if he wasn’t hungry but didn’t know what else to do. Girls from other cadet groups—ones that Lance thought were way out of his league—would try their luck, coming over to chat Keith up. Walk right up to where he was sat, giggle and compliment, ask where he got his sweater from, where he came from, if he always wanted to be a pilot. Try anything to get his attention on them and be the one to crack a sentence from the reclusive boy.

But Keith wouldn’t even

look

at them.

Lance watched in disbelief from across the room one day, Hunk beside him. “What the heck? Did you see that? He just

ignored

her!”

Hunk gave an awkward shrug, testing out his meal with a sniff before lowering it with a nauseous look on his face. “I mean… maybe he’s just not interested.”

“Not interested?” Lance threw his hands in the air dramatically towards the group of girls slouching away in defeat. “Dude, Jenny Ryder just talked to him. She’s like...

perfect

. My future wife! He didn’t even flinch. Who

does

that?”

It wasn’t just once, either. Time and time again, cadets would try to strike up conversations with Keith—girls asking him to study, guys wanting to swap stories—but it was always the same. A quick, bored glance. A shrug. A flat, disinterested

“Nah.”

And that was that. It was like Keith had no idea how to be part of the world around him, or worse—like he just didn’t care. Lance couldn’t wrap his head around it. The Garrison was a dream, wasn’t it?

Everything

about it was exciting—the ships, the simulators, the promise of becoming something great. How could someone look that… miserable?

“Maybe he’s just shy,” Hunk said one afternoon, chewing thoughtfully on a granola bar. “Maybe he wants friends, but he doesn’t know how to talk to people.”

“Shy?” Lance snorted. “He looks like he’d rather be anywhere else. Your version of shy is his rude ‘I hate it here and everyone sucks’.”

“Well, maybe that’s why he needs a friend,” Hunk said, his voice warm and patient as always. “It’d be cool to be the first person he’s nice to. Like winning the lottery!”

“You did not just compare becoming friends with the new kid to the lotto.”

“Friendship is just as important and beautiful as winning the lotto. Its more because its priceless!”

Lance groaned, smacking Hunk the big sap over the head with a pillow, but he mulled this over. It

would

be cool. Kind of like taming a wild animal. It wasn’t like he didn’t know how to charm people—heck, it was practically his specialty. It flew through every vein in his blood. And if anyone could get this broody new kid to open up, it’d be

Lance McClain

.

But then Lance saw Keith in the simulator, and everything changed as he no longer was this weird broody loner. He transformed into the untouchable that day.

Keith didn’t just fly—he

owned

the controls. It was like the ship responded to him before he even touched it, every maneuver sharp and smooth, every landing executed with a precision that most cadets couldn’t hope to achieve. He didn’t fumble with the throttle, didn’t second-guess his movements. Watching him was like watching a prodigy in action, except it wasn’t showy—it was effortless. As if Keith wasn’t even trying.

When Keith’s score popped up—top marks across the board—Lance sat frozen in disbelief, jaw dropped open for flies. The monitor showed what everyone in the room already knew: Keith Kogane had just dethroned James Griffin from the top spot. Lance blinked, stunned. He hadn’t even

thought

it was possible for someone to rank higher than James. And yet… here it was.

Keith

did it.

For a moment, Lance’s world tilted, all the frustration and confusion about Keith dissolving into something new.

Awe.

“This kid…” Lance muttered to himself, “This kid is

really

something.”

Hunk nudged him with a grin. “Told you. You guys should totally be friends now. You’re always saying how the best should stick together.”

And Lance agreed. If Keith could take down James—the one person who was stopping Lance from being the next Garrison prodigy—then maybe they really

should

be friends.

Maybe

this broody kid was someone worth knowing after all.

But things didn’t go quite how Lance imagined.

After his first-place finish, Keith had been swarmed by curious cadets eager to meet the new prodigy. Among them was James, doing his best to put on a friendly smile despite the obvious blow to his pride.

“Hey,” James said, offering his hand to Keith with a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Nice job in there. You know, the top pilots should stick together.”

Keith stared at James for a beat, then shrugged, brushing past him without so much as a word. James stood frozen, hand still outstretched, his face reddening with embarrassment as the cadets around him exchanged glances and suppressed giggles. Keith didn’t even realize what he’d done. But Lance saw the humiliation written all over James’s face—and in that moment, a seed of resentment took root.

“Oh, boy,” Hunk whispered, watching as James stormed off. “That’s not gonna end well.”

Lance watched Keith, still stunned by how easily he’d dethroned James—how effortlessly he seemed to operate in a world Lance had fought tooth and nail to belong in. Keith had done it without even trying, and he didn’t seem to care about the attention or the competition. It drove James wild, shoving past the groups of giggling cadets and being followed by his small posse of boys making whistling noises and poking fun at his rejection, fueling the fire even more.

It was then that Lance’s view of Keith shifted once again. Not only was this kid brilliant—he was

dangerous

in ways Lance hadn’t expected. And even though he still wanted to be Keith’s friend, there was a part of him that knew one thing for sure.

Being friends with THE Keith Kogane?

It was going to be

complicated

.

From the very moment Lance decided he

and

Keith Kogane were destined to be friends, he was determined to make it happen—

by any means necessary

. Unfortunately for Lance,

getting Keith’s attention

was easier said than done. Keith was like a wall. A quiet, brooding, unapproachable wall. He never laughed, didn’t join in group banter, and never even

looked

in Lance’s direction. It was infuriating. Every other cadet at the Garrison knew who Lance was. He was loud, he made jokes at his own expense, he threw shameless flirts to girls and made people laugh in class. He was practically a hit to everyone! How could Keith just…

not care

?

Lance started small. First, with casual greetings.

“Hey, man! What’s up?”

Keith barely glanced at him as he passed Lance in the hall, not looking up and walking with the same steady pace, like he had everywhere to go but no where to be.

Strike one.

Okay, so maybe Keith wasn’t the casual “hey” kind of guy. Fine. Lance could step it up.

Big gestures

. He'd always been great at those.

One time, during physical training in their gym, Lance tried tossing Keith a water bottle after they’d finished a workout—because

that

was smooth. Or, it was supposed to be. Instead, Keith turned at the last second, and the bottle smacked him in the shoulder. It hit the ground with a sad

thump

, water sloshing everywhere out the lid. Keith gave Lance a blank stare that could’ve curdled milk, then just turned and walked off, his shoulder stained wet with Lance’s lame attempt at friendship.

Strike two.

Lance felt his frustration bubbling. The more Keith ignored him, the harder Lance tried to stand out.

He’ll notice me eventually,

Lance told himself. He just had to be

more obvious

.

His next attempt involved being

loud

. Loud

and

obnoxious.

Lance laughed too hard in class when a kid answered a question wrong, his laugh rumbling through the class as other kids giggled softly and politely. (Keith didn’t react or even turn to his loud laugh) He made ridiculous jokes about their instructors and how one of them had a striking resemblance to Pee Wee Sherman, including doing a bad impression in the cafeteria, hoping Keith would chime in. (Keith didn’t.) Once, Lance “accidentally” knocked all of Keith’s books off a desk just so he could help pick them up. Keith didn’t even

thank him

. He just looked vaguely annoyed, picked up the last book himself, and left without a word.

Strike three, four,

and

five.

“Why don’t you just

talk

to him?” Hunk suggested one afternoon, watching Lance pace furiously around their dorm like a madman plotting world domination.

Lance spun on him, eyes wide. “

Talk to him?

That’s the stupidest suggestion I’ve ever heard! What do you think I’ve been

doing

, Hunk? Communicating with interpretive dance?”

“Well…” Hunk began slowly, watching his best friend descend into madness as he waved his arms around feverishly with every point.

“This is

war

, Hunk!” Lance groaned, throwing himself onto his bed dramatically. “He’s like—like one of those puzzles that’s all edge pieces! No corners! No picture! Nothing makes sense!”

Despite Lance’s increasingly wild efforts, Keith remained frustratingly distant. It drove Lance

insane

. But what really tipped things into overdrive was when Lance overheard James Griffin talking trash about Keith one night in the corridors before bedtime and mandatory lock down in their dorms. Lance was making his way back from the bathroom after his very intricate 12 step facial routine, thinking he was gonna be the last one in the hallways, until he paused before turning a corner, hearing the familiar snicker of James’ voice.

“Guy’s probably homeless, that’s what I heard anyway.” James was saying, loud enough that the surrounding cadets all snickered. “Scooped him straight from the shelter. Would explain why he’s always so weird. Probably just happy to have food for once.”

Lance bristled. His hands curled into fists at his sides. For all the annoyance Keith caused him, this felt…

wrong

. Way too personal.

“Yeah, he’s probably sleeping in the simulator pods,” someone else added with a chuckle. “Not like he ever leaves them.”

Lance took a sharp breath in, his stomach twisting. This was so wrong. So very wrong. But its not like Lance could just stop what they were saying. They were just being mean bullies gossiping. Its not like Keith could…..

Lance’s eyes drew to just down the corridor, past the turn he was gonna make and instead in the straightaway in front of him. He hadn’t even realized that Keith was standing there, his back against the corner, clearly catching every word. Lance saw it—how Keith’s hands clenched, how his jaw tightened, how the slightest flush of embarrassment darkened his cheeks. He didn’t react otherwise, though. He didn’t turn the corner or tell them off. He just… sat there, perfectly still. It was that stillness that bothered Lance more than anything. The sound of James and the bullies disappeared down the hall, echoing away, but the pain was still done.

Without thinking, Lance stormed over to Keith, eyes ablaze and puffing out his chest. Keith’s eyes snapped up, large and gleaming, and Lance was painfully aware how this was probably the first time Keith every fully looked at Lance. It made him falter.

“Hey,” he said awkwardly, clearing his throat. “Uh… Sorry about those guys. James is a jerk.”

Keith blinked at him, completely unimpressed. “I don’t care.”

“Yeah, well...” Lance shifted his weight from foot to foot. “Still, it sucks. And if it helps, I think James has been dropped on the head

at least

three times as a child.” He gave an exaggerated grin, hoping Keith would crack a smile,

something

.

Keith didn’t. He just brushed past Lance, heading for the door.

It stung more than Lance wanted to admit. “

Wow,

” he muttered under his breath. “Good talk.”

If Lance was annoyed with Keith before, that cold brush-off made it so much worse. It wasn’t just frustration anymore—it was personal. Lance

needed

to get Keith’s attention, one way or another. He didn’t even realize in what way anymore.

He just had to.

But then, things reached their breaking point during a flight test. It was a group routine, the kind that required precision, teamwork, and more than a little patience. This was a test that came a lot more easier to Lance, having been able to get a hold of it when first introduced, his confidence already firing him up. He had one of the higher scores out of their class since the start of the year, and he was determined to keep it at that. Lance had been practicing for weeks, determined to finally prove himself as perfection. His landings were smoother, his control sharper—he was ready.

And then Keith happened.

Keith flew like it was child’s play, every maneuver flawless, every formation perfect. He made it look

too easy

. And worse? He scored higher than Lance.

By a lot.

Lance had poured his heart and soul into that flight, but Keith had just…

waltzed in

and stolen his thunder without even trying. Lance’s jaw clenched as he watched the scores flash on the monitors. He’d worked

so hard

to perfect that routine, and Keith had blown right past him without a second thought. It was the final straw.

He sat in silence, seething, as cadets buzzed around the flight bay, congratulating Keith like he was some kind of legend.

And Keith? Keith stood there, looking like he couldn’t care less.

Lance stared at him, frustration boiling into something sharper—something that made his chest ache.

This kid is going to be the death of me.

Lance stormed into Veronica’s room, flinging the door open with all the subtlety of a fire alarm. "I can't

take

it, V! That guy—Keith! He’s—he’s the

worst!

" He threw himself onto her bed, limbs sprawled dramatically, his face buried in a pillow.

This was the upside of being at the Garrison with his older sister. She was able to be around for all of Lance’s dramatic meltdowns and pity parties when he didn’t wanna be judged or scare Hunk with the intricate performances of it all. Veronica had watched every single one growing up, so she was only right to suffer through them while at school. Just because she was older than him and in a differnt wing of the Garrison doesn’t mean she was off limits to deal with her younger brother’s theatrics.

Veronica glanced up from her book at her desk, already looking bored with this performance. “Keith again?”

Lance shot up, waving his hands wildly. "Yes! He won’t even

look

at me! Like I don’t even exist!" He hopped off the bed and started pacing the length of her room, ranting like a storm in full swing. He circled around the carpet in the middle, creating a deep indention, going over the past ones he certainly had left from past spirals. “He’s all broody and quiet, like he’s above it all. And those stupid scores of his! Every time I think I’ve finally got him—

BAM

—he pulls ahead again! He’s

infuriating

! Like, you would think the coolest kid in your class has a nicer, likeable attitude and better haircut.”

Veronica leaned back, barely suppressing a grin. "You're obsessed. To me it sounds like the start of a little cru–"

"

I’m not obsessed!

" Lance cried, spinning to face her, arms flailing dramatically. "I just—how can someone be that good at

everything

? It’s like he was born to be a pilot or something! And the worst part?

He doesn’t even try!

He just—

does it

! Like it’s no big deal! He ignores the compliments, doesn’t even smile when the girls approach him! He sits alone on purpose. You know how hard it is to choose to be a loner when you are the top of your class in every subject?"

Veronica tilted her head, the amusement in her eyes growing. "Have you tried... I don’t know, talking to him? Friendship?"

Lance gasped, as if she’d just suggested the most outlandish thing in the world. "

Friendship?!

Now you’re starting to sound like Hunk! That’s the

worst

idea ever!" He flopped back down onto her bed, splaying out dramatically. "What if I

fade into obscurity

? One day, people will forget all about Lance McClain, and they’ll just talk about ‘that prodigy Keith Kogane.’ I’ll be nothing but a

footnote

in his perfect little story! Worse, a CARGO PILOT!"

Veronica snorted, sitting up straighter. “You’re way too dramatic for your own good if you think you matter enough to him to be a footnote. You’ve clearly made your point clear that he doesn’t even know you exist.”

Lance groaned. “I’m not dramatic, I’m

doomed

.”

Veronica rolled her eyes and flipped a page in her book. "Look, instead of throwing a tantrum, why don’t you just try to keep up with him? Use him as, I don’t know… inspiration or something?"

Lance’s head shot up from the pillow, a sudden spark igniting in his brain. "

Inspiration…?

" His eyes widened, and in an instant, everything clicked. "That’s it! He’s not just annoying—he’s my

rival

! That’s what this is!"

Veronica blinked, confused. “Uh… what?”

Lance scrambled off the bed, pacing again, this time with a wild energy buzzing through him. “This makes

so much sense!

He’s my

rival

! That’s why I’ve been thinking about him so much—it’s because we’re

neck and neck

! We’re locked in this epic competition of wills, and I just didn’t realize it until now! His entire purpose is to push me to transform into the best pilot of all time. What is a hero without a backstory? A villain at the start that drives them into their legendary persona."

Veronica furrowed her brow. “That’s… not what I said.”

Lance ignored her, practically vibrating with excitement. “This changes

everything

! Keith might be good, but I’m

better

! I just need to work harder, push further, and leave him eating

space dust

! I’m gonna prove to him—and to

everyone

—that I’m the best pilot the Garrison’s ever seen!”

Veronica sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose as Lance spun in a circle, talking faster with every word.

“Keith Kogane? Ha! He doesn’t know what’s coming! I’ll outfly him, outscore him, and outshine him until he has no choice but to

respect

me! That stupid mullet wearing emo looking kid has no idea what’s about to hit him!” Lance’s grin stretched wide. “This is war now.

Rivalry

war.”

Veronica shook her head, half exasperated and half entertained. "You’re exhausting."

"I know," Lance declared proudly, hands on his hips. "But now I’ve got a plan. And Keith Kogane? He’s going

down.

"

Veronica smirked, closing her book. “Good luck with that, little bro.”

Lance shot her a finger gun. “

Watch

me.” And with that, he stormed out of the room, ready to tackle his newfound mission with every ounce of energy he had.

Or, he would have, if Keith’s hadn’t been kicked out of the Garrison the following week for a disciplinary issue.

Lance earned Keith’s spot as a fighter pilot.

So much for the weird kid with the mullet.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

“Wait, so go over everything one more time and explain why exactly it has to be a super small mission of your trained elites? I mean, I feel like I answered it right there, but, one more time to make sure I got this whole dictator thing?”

Keith huffed, rolling his shoulders and unsure how to look at Lance in the eyes again. He had a fast turnaround, after getting the whole debrief from Kolivan, and he was to head out later that day once the Blade operatives returned back to the base.

His first thought was to run back to his room and tell Lance about everything, what he had to do, and how he unfortunately had to be leaving Lance alone at the base without him, which is the main thing that pained Keith the most about this entire thing. He felt like he was abaondong him, leaving him on a distant, cold base where Lance wasn’t as chummy with everyone, alone to his own devices, while Keith disappeared like he usually did. Man, maybe Pidge was right. He was too easy at the whole disappearing and distant act that he didn’t even realize what he was getting himself into until it was too late.

“I gotta go to planet Cartheron and sorta just snoop around at what this dictator is doing. He’s differfnt than past random villains who spawned because they still believed in the Galra ways of Zarkon’s evil empire. He is purposefully wiping out and eradicating everything on the surface. It’s weird.” Keith felt his forehead aching from how deep his brows havebeen furrowed all day. Lance strummed his fingers on his leg from his spot sat on his small bed opposite of Keith, lost in thought.

“And Kolivan only wants a small number of you to do this level of, ninja sneak work?”

“Yah, I’ll be taking Axca with me, and possibly an outpost of Rolo and Nyma, since they are closer to that end of the galaxy currently and have the blending efforts of underground tunnels and a network that we need them to have access to.”

Lance stiffed at the comment, looking a little disgruntled as he shifted around, scratching at his face.

“You sure you don’t need an extra hand in this?” He laughed out awkwardly, not actual lightness in his tone.

“This is a little…out of your comfort zone I believe. I’ve done plenty of missions like this in the past, and we need to keep the team small.”

“Right, secret blade work and all that…” His voice sounded rejected, and it squeezed at Keith’s chest. He really didn’t have another answer that could make him feel better, because yah, the brutal honesty was this really was out of Lance’s understanding and skill set. He had no idea what was about to go down himself, and he wanted Lance far away from an evil dictator quite literarlly abolishing all aspects of a planets life.

“I’ll try to make it as quick as possible. Besides, I’m gonna have to come back to make sure to bring you back to Earth at the end of the month.” Keith forced himself to give Lance a small reassuring smile, but Lance still seemed restless, strumming along his leg as his knee bopped up and down against the bed.

“Yah, ok. Just, make sure you do come back?” He chanced a look over at Keith, and it took everything in Keith not to reach over and just grab him. Of course he would come back. He always did, in every part of their life.

“You seriously think something like a stupid dictator is going to stop me from returning your ass back to your mom? I rather die than have her dissapointed in me for not showing up on her doorstep with you in tow.” Keith lifted a brow, his lips twitching to smile. Lance rolled his eyes at him, the action flipping Keith’s stomach.

“You’re right. How could I forget you have the lifespan of a cockroach and never gets stomped out no matter how hard the universe tries?”

Kosmo made a light huff at Keith’s feet, lifting his head and cocking it up to look at Keith, the wolf’s ears pricking as if he was listening himself to the conversation. Keith smiled down to his loyal wolf, looking back at Lance.

“Take care of Kosmo for me while I’m gone?”

“Oh, Kosmo and I are gonna have so much personal one on one time that by the time you return, he’s gonna be asking ‘whose that mullet freak? The only owner for me is Lancey Lance!’’

Keith let himself groan loudly at that, but then Lance was shuffling around on his bed and pulled out something from his bag he kept there. Keith reacted fast enough as he tossed it over, Keith catching Lance’s recordtape.

“In case you need to focus on anything other than the silence of the stakes of the mission. Maybe help you lock in a different way?” Lance’s ears reddened, and Keith just blinked back, his entire body shuddering at the gesture, of the kindness, of how impossible Lance was. He just silently nodded back a thank you, since he knew his own words would fail him.

It felt tense, the way Lance followed him around the rest of the day like a lost puppy, or a drained protector, just keeping at his side until Keith’s last moments before leaving. Keith tried not to feel the tug of his chest when he saw Lance standing at the edges of the takeoff strip, heavy frown on his face and eyes sparkling back, watching Keith until the last second. Axca just finished boarding their small fighter jet, standing beneath it with her hand on the underbelly of it, throwing a look at Keith.

Keith sucked in his bottom lip, gnawing at it harder before nodding back, avoiding looking at Lance. Kolivan and Krolia helped them load in, watching and detailing speciifcs about their coordinates and what to do once they reached the planets solar system. Keith climbed into the front seat, clicking in as Axca popped down besides him. He watched Krolia give him a stern nod as he clicked for the canopy glass to come down and lock the two inside.

“You ready?” Axca murmured over the low hum of the engine starting up. Keith breathed steadily out his nose, gripping the controls in front of him.

“Let’s go show this dictator that Voltron didn’t win a year ago for nothing.”

He powered on the controls, the entire jet roaring to life, its engine noise blasting through the hangar as the two slapped on headgear to cancel out the noise. He monitored the controls, doublechecking everything was on track, and finally, gave on last look out the glass to Lance, who stood there waving his arms like he was watching a boat leave a dock. Keith did a two finger salute out to him before turning back to launch their fighter jet off. He gripped down on the controls and launched it forward, the jet electric and shooting to life, the noise of the sheer power and speed blocking off everything as he shot back in his seat. A smooth take off.

Neither of them had the time or hearing to notice that Kosmo had stubbornly took off towards the jet against Lance’s protests, did a huge bark as he lept, and teleported straight into the back of the cockpit as an honorary stowaway, ever so loyal to his master.

Keith and Acxa soon reached the planet, doing a circle once around in its gravitational system to check for any outluying spaceshifts also in orbit. Axca did a scan of the planet as Keith’s eyes dragged over the way it looked like something had come in with a giant spoon and started aggressively scooping at it. Swirl sof debris and heavy clouds of polluted waste covered the land below, blocking larger images for Keith to get an understanding of what the planet looked like. A pathway for the jet to follow appeared on the screen, and Keith pushed forward with his controls to follow it. They touched down their stealth jet on the outskirts of Cartheron’s capital under the cloak of night. The planet's once vibrant surface was now littered with debris and scorched vegetation, a silent testament to the brutal occupation by Vrelen’s forces. The two remained silent as they took in the destruction, outskirts of cities ablaze and large chunks of land seemingly just tossed up and dug into. The best way Kieth could describe it was letting Kosmo loose on a sandbox, leaving the ground below a nasty clawed up and turned over waste. Keith docked the ship behind the leftover rubble of what looked like a hill, with large gashes through it and deep holes at the base, seemingly dug up at. As the ship’s engines powered down, Acxa ran a quick systems scan, ensuring they hadn’t been detected, while Keith hopped out, boots crunching against the dusty ground. He scanned the surrounding area, until the sound of a small yelp brought his attention up as his space wolf appeared at his side, circling him and pleased with himself at tagging along. While Keith had wanted Kosmo to keep Lance company, a small part of him was glad to have his partner at his side, Axca rolling her eyes as Kosmo attempted to lick at her to get her agreement that it was a good idea he had came along too.

They kept their movements tight, slipping into the shadows as they approached the rendezvous—a cracked plaza hidden by the shell of a collapsed building. The air was thick with the smell of soot and burnt metal. Keith held up his scanner and comm device, scanning around and ready to hone into Kolivan to let him know they were ready for the meeting, when there was a shuffling. Keith and Axca were quick to bend, hands already whipping out their swords, when Rolo emerged first from behind a jagged wall, lowering his blaster with a smirk. “Late to the party, huh? Thought you’d leave me waiting forever, boss.”

Keith gave him a curt nod, barely acknowledging the jab. "You're just lucky we showed at all."

Acxa rolled her eyes, cutting between them. "What’s the situation report?"

Rolo motioned them toward a grate covered by rubble. “Tunnels are still intact. The underground network will get us close to the capital’s core. A few close calls with patrols, but nothing we couldn’t handle. We had good entail from partners in distance planets who gave us the in on the underground network of innocent civilians who are trying their best to stay alive after everything. The information your operatives got was just barely the icing on the cake of whats going on down here. You’re pretty ass got here just in time.”

Keith crouched beside the grate, running his hand over the rusted metal. "And the resistance?"

Rolo’s grin faded, any teasing to Keith to keep them light hearted dropping in an instant as he snapped back into the warrior Keith respected him initially as. "What’s left of them." He jerked his head toward the tunnel entrance. "C’mon boss, better if you meet them yourself."

They slipped into the underground tunnel, climbing down through jagged and broken ground as Rolo sealed the grate above them, locking them away from sight. The underground was a web of forgotten maintenance paths and sewage channels. The air was stale and cold, and the distant drip of water echoed eerily around them. They traveled in silence, the sounds of their feet shuffling against the broken stone and Kosmo’s soft padding at Keith’s side, sniffing the stale air, while Rolo led them with a glowing device, a mapped out route on it. After what felt like miles of winding through darkness, they emerged in a cramped underground hideout lit only by dim emergency lamps. Small tents pitched up as attempts for homes, burning piles of cloth and rubber lit up trash cans, and it reeked of dirty and decay.

The people huddled inside were a far cry from the confident resistance fighters Keith had expected. They were civilians—gaunt, dirty, and desperate. A handful of scientists, engineers, and former diplomats clustered around a flickering holographic display, pouring over maps and notes with exhaustion painted across their faces. The air felt heavy with fear and loss. Keith’s eyes glided over the faces all looking up to see the new bodies Rolo had brought in, and tjhe small wave of relief washed over him as he realized there were no kids. As if that made this all better.

A nervous man in tattered clothing rushed toward them. His skin was an luminescent color, with slitted eyes that were wide with panic, his fingers twitching with suppressed anxiety. “Rolo! Thank goodness you made it back safe. These are the help you were talking about?”

“The best out there.” Rolo broke into a gentle smile, hand on his hip as he looked back at Keith and Axca. The man narrowed his already small eyes, taking in the uniform they were wearing, pausing at the symbol on their chest.

“You... you’re with the Blades?” he asked, his voice shaking.

Keith gave a small nod, scanning the room. "We’re here to help. We got your distress signals and plan to make things right here."

The man’s shoulders sagged, a small look of relief flashing across his face.

“I’m Bingjo Krblag, representative of the planet Telnor. The Telnorian are good people, and we pride ourselves on research and education, which is why I along with many of my people have been stationed here for over a decaphobe. I love this planet dearly and its people, and its disheartening to see it all coming to an end like this.”

“We will do everything we can.” Axca nodded firmly.

Another group of citizens appeared, one of them helped with Nyma’s aide. They all looked drained, their eyes sunken in and cuts all over their arms and ragged clothes adorning holes and blast marks. An older scientist shuffled forward, her thinning white hair tucked behind her ears. She wore cracked glasses and clutched a data pad to her chest like a lifeline. Her clothes were streaked with dust and ash, and her hands trembled slightly as she spoke. “I’m Asto, a local of the planet. We’ve been monitoring transmissions—encrypted signals sent from Vrelen’s fleet.” She looked at Keith, her eyes pleading. "We know have a general idea of what hes attempting to plan."

Keith’s expression darkened, his jaw clenching up. “What is it?”

The scientist took a steadying breath as Nyma exchanged a look with Rolo, having spent the time with the group. “Vrelen’s forces have been stripping this planet of its cultural artifacts and scientific archives—everything of value. But it’s not just theft. He’ll make an example of Cartheron. We intercepted signals suggesting he’s preparing an orbital strike—something designed to wipe out the entire capital city, along with its people and their history..”

Axca stilled besides Keith as he gritted his teeth, his mind everywhere at once. What was the point of doing this? Why take the time to wipe out an entire planet? There had to be something he was looking for here.

“Another thing, might I add.” A smaller scientist spoke at her side, one that was being held up with Nyma’s support. Everyone turned to them, waiting for more tragic news.

“We have been working on a superpowered ray that, when used for good, monitors the intake of the weather and predict trends around the planet, since the weather here can range from different intensities. It has a way to scan the heat from the sun and use it as a solar power technology to supply clean energy to us while working. However, when Vrelen invaded and started wiping us all out from our labs, he got ahold of the machine, and we have belief that he can use it for a different purpose.”

“What, is he gonna predict what time of day has the best weather for an invasion?” Keith tried, knowing there was a worse answer. The smaller scientist looked at Asto, not wanting to answer, so Asto let out a sigh, fixing her glasses.

“The technology we developed, while meant for good, can easily cause harm when mastered and used correctly. The machine can channel the heat from the sun and become a superweapon, blasting it back down anywhere pointed. We have a fear that Vrelen will figure this out and use it back on us, ultimately melting us from the map.”

His hands balling into fists at his sides as he looked the scientist in the eye. "How long do we have?"

“Not long,” the small scientist whispered. “Hours, at most. Once the fleet is in position, there won’t be anything left."

The resistance members around them shifted uneasily, fear palpable in the cramped space. Keith exchanged a glance with Acxa, both of them silent but understanding what needed to be done.

“We’ll stop him,” Keith said, his voice low but resolute. "We’ll make sure Cartheron’s history survives."

Rolo folded his arms, a crooked grin creeping back onto his face. “So, what’s the plan, boss? We’re right behind you". Keith looked at Rolo and Nyma giving a steady nod, their eyes trained on his command.

Keith’s gaze sharpened. “We hit their supply lines, disrupt communications, and find a way to disable the fleet's possession of the machine. Make sure its powered down, and they don’t get a chance to use it. That stops the imminent destruction from happening.” He glanced back at the civilians. "And we get these people to safety."

Acxa activated her wrist pad, already pulling up schematics of the tunnels. “Then let’s get moving. We don’t have time to waste.”

Bingjo reached out, touching Keith’s arm briefly. "Thank you."

Keith gave a small nod, already turning toward the tunnel entrance. His mind was racing with possibilities—paths they could take, risks they’d have to face. He couldn’t let this planet become another casualty. Not after everything Voltron had done to save people from things like this happening. Not after the sacrifice Allura had made to stop things like this from happening.

Keith, Acxa, Rolo, and Nyma followed close behind the scientists, their steps echoing through the narrow underground tunnels. The scientists they met had extensive knowledge of the routes under the city, where Vrelen had apparently marked his territory and stationed with his army. They had wiped out most of the city, lives taken and buildings blasted down, but what they couldn’t understand was why he kept digging around the outskirts of the city. He had been going at it for days. They thought he would have stopped when he was retrieving articats that had been buried in their old ruins, taking ancient wealth and would leave their planet alone, but that didn’t seem to stop him. He just continued large bomb drops and blows to the outskirts, into mountains, and messing with the terrain. It terrified the civilians even more, beleiving that he knew they were all hiding underground.

That he was looking for them to finish them off once and for all.

The scientists wanted to bring them to the very center of the city, directly underground from where Vrelen would be. There, they could get the best reads to his systems and make sure that there was no command or entail that suggested he would be using their machine for evil. If used, it could tear through the ground more efficiently, melting them all if pointed at them. Everyone moved in pained silence, all lost in their own thoughts at the intensity of the situation. Axca clicked away at her device, sending over incoming information that they had gotten and reads of the underground tunnels for Kolivan and the Blades to take in and monitor.

The dim glow from Nyma’s wrist-light cast long, shifting shadows against the cracked walls, while the scientist Asto brought up the front with Bingjo, leading them clutched her data pad as though it might shatter from how tightly she held it.

Keith walked side-by-side with Rolo, the familiarity of old camaraderie creeping back in like a muscle memory. They moved in sync, silently calculating the next steps of where this mission would lead to.

“So," Rolo whispered with a smirk, his voice light despite the tension thick in the air. Keith held his breath, biting back a bark to be professional."Didn’t think I’d see you again so soon, boss. Hope I didn’t bruise you up too bad."

Keith rolled his eyes but allowed a small, reluctant grin to tug at his lips. "Could barley feel that punch. Thought you had a lot more anger in you to take out on me.”

Rolo chuckled, nudging Keith with his shoulder. “I was going easy on you.”

It felt... almost good to be here with Rolo and his team again, locked into a singular purpose with old allies. He’d forgotten how easily they used to fall into step together. It was a strange comfort—one he hadn’t allowed himself in too long. He was painfully reminded exactly why he entertained Rolo for so long until he finally gave in months ago, time after time after every mission they were paired on. It was easy, to forget with Rolo. His attention helped try to ease Keith away from the looming doom of his own failed relationships on Earth, and easing in to him to blow off some unwanted steam just seemed like the practical, annoying thing to do. It’s not like it ever meant anything, Rolo and him had made it very clear after their first ‘mutual exchange’. It was never going to actually matter, until Rolo stayed speaking the same way towards Keith when Lance was around the other day. Bitter. Like there was a hint of jealousy in it. Rolo knew about Keith’s unreturned feelings from Lance, at this point it was hard for anyone not to realize it. But Rolo had taken it and run with Keith, both opting that they were just guys using each others bodies like nature intended. And for a while, it was nice. Just a quick fuck every now and then when Keith was really down. They were adults after all and it didn’t hurt that Rolo was an attractive and fit guy. What Keith needed after all this time.

Until the last mission Keith had with Rolo a day before Keith came to visit Earth for Pidge. When he knew he was going to see Lance again. When the idea of him visiting with the ghost of Rolo on him burned him like a burning knife, and he became cold and pushed off Rolo’s routine of following him to his jet after the mission, expecting the same treatment he always got when they were saying goodbye, and Keith ignored the way he was calling and complaining about being blue balled, and Keith took off without their usual ‘treatment’ after working together.

Keith really had been a dick to everyone around him without realizing it.

Suddenly, the tunnel trembled violently beneath their feet. The walls groaned, and a deafening

crack

echoed above them as debris began to rain down. Everyone jumped, their eyes on the cieling above, all starting to crash down. Large chunks of rubble fell around them, crashing onto the ground and nearly missing Nyma. Axca slashed at a smaller piece, crumbling it in time as it dusted around her body, while the scientists all screamed and ducked, covering their heads.

"Move!" Keith shouted, instinct kicking in.

The ground jerked violently beneath them, and a huge chunk of the ceiling broke loose. It was headed straight towards the hunched over scientists, and with one swift whistle, he snapped Kosmo into command, barreling towards the scientist and leaping. He got there just in time, teleporting them out of harms way and reappearing further down the tunnel. Keith could barley let out a sigh of relief when another huge rumble shook the tunnel again, another large crack erupting over them and more chunks of ceiling tumbling down towards Rolo. Keith barely registered it before jumping into action, snatching Rolo by the waist and shoving the two of them hard against the wall, shielding him from the falling slab. The impact of the stone hit the floor with a resounding

thud

just inches from where Rolo had been standing. Dust exploded into the narrow space, choking the air.

Keith’s hand lingered against Rolo’s shoulder for a moment longer than necessary, heart hammering in his chest. The air between them shifted—thick with tension neither acknowledged. Rolo gave him a half-cocked grin, breathless.

"Guess I owe you one, boss."

Keith shook his head, brushing dust off his suite. “Yeah, you do.”

A few steps ahead, Asto let out a shaky breath, frantically scanning the data pad she clutched like a lifeline. Her face paled as lines of data shifted across the screen.

“No, no, no...” she whispered, her voice trembling. “This can’t be right—”

“What is it?” Acxa demanded, stepping closer.

The scientist’s eyes filled with terror. “A heat surge... it just blasted outside the city.” She swiped frantically through the data, almost on the verge of tears. “He knows. Vrelen knows about the energy source the weather machine is capable of. He’s using it.”

Keith's stomach twisted. “He’s drawing power from the sun?”

The scientist nodded frantically. "It was a small shot, not one at full power. He must have harnessed some of the heat from the sun right now and launched a blast off to the outside of the city. If Vrelen’s figured out how to access it to its full potential...”

“He can use it to obliterate everything,” Nyma finished grimly, her eyes wide. “And he hasn’t even given the blast command yet... which means he’s waiting for something.”

Rolo rubbed the back of his neck, tension radiating off him. "What the hell is he waiting for?"

Keith’s eyes narrowed as he processed the information. “He’s playing with them. Making us sweat with the knowledge he has the power in his hands right now.”

The tunnel trembled again, smaller this time, but enough to send shivers through the walls. Time was running out, and they all knew it. Keith turned to the scientists. "Can you get us closer to the machines? We need to stop him before he fires again."

She hesitated, but then gave a firm nod. “Follow me.”

Without another word, they moved deeper into the tunnels, their pace quickening with every step. Keith's heart pounded—not just from the danger they were in, but from the crushing guilt. Civilians were trapped below their own city, terrified and helpless, with their entire world dangling on the edge of Vrelen’s whims. And now, they were running out of time to stop it.

The team reached the city center, crouching beneath the cracked, rusted grate in the ceiling. Through the slats, they could see a looming chamber—shadows above and distorted under flickering lights. Keith tried to peer through the grate, but it had small slits and provided a lack of context of what was really happening up there. His muscles tightened and burned in its crouched position, and he grated his own teeth, preparing for action.

Keith’s jaw tightened. "We go now."

He shifted to leap up, but Rolo grabbed his arm, yanking him back down. "Are you

insane

, boss? You’ll get yourself killed."

Keith shot Rolo a sharp glare, practically vibrating with impatience. "And if we wait, he’ll finish pulling every ounce of power and wipe out the city."

"Keith," Acxa cut in, her voice calm but firm. "Rolo’s right. We need to get in without setting off every alarm in the place. The goal is to stop the energy transfer, not run into a death trap."

Tension crackled between them, the dim, stale air in the tunnel growing heavier with every second of hesitation.

“We can’t waste time debating this," Nyma hissed. "We either move, or we die standing here.”

“Destroying the machine is the only way to stop the blasts,” Asto whispered from behind them. Her voice wavered, carrying both guilt and resignation. “The machine draws energy indefinitely. If you shut it off, Vrelen can just restart it. But... if you destroy it—”

Her words trailed off as the full weight of what she was suggesting settled on everyone. There would be no salvaging the machine. Whatever genius that went into creating this machine and progress for its people would be lost in time, since all the blueprints for it were burnt and destroyed with its labs.

Keith's eyes darkened, his voice turning cold and authoritative. "Everyone’s in agreement, then. The mission is to destroy the machine." He glanced at each of them, daring anyone to disagree. No one did. With grim determination, the team started climbing through the grate, leaving the scientists below to wish them good luck, slipping out onto the surface and into the eerie, rubble-strewn remains of what had once been a citadel. The walls were cracked and broken, long-forgotten banners hanging in tatters from the ceilings. Dust motes drifted in the dim light, and the distant hum of the machine vibrated beneath their boots like a warning.

Nyma took the lead, moving quickly and silently through the decayed hallways, her steps careful and deliberate. She held up her tracking device that she had previously scanned a digital copy of the inside of the citadel, leading them down crumbled hallways, tracking where the energy source had exactly shot from. Keith’s eyes followed the cracks, the hanging banners ripped apart, and could sense the death of a life that was once here, filled with innocent and wide eyed people who just wanted to do good with no way of defending themsleves. Just wanted to learn. Sort of like the Olkari. The tension between them all grew thick—every echo of their footsteps, every shifting shadow a potential threat.

Keith's senses sharpened, hyper-aware of the sudden noise coming from down the hall. He felt his body pringle as he tightened his jaw, snapping his eyes up and looking at Axca, who reacted a second after him. They were the first to hone in on the noise, their senses trained and molded as their part Galra hearing kicked into overdrive. Keith and Axca’s reaction set off Rolo and Nyma, sensing something was wrong as the two flinched, but otherwise showed they heard nothing.

Then, voices.

They skidded to a halt just as a small group of guards rounded the corner, blocking the doorway to the room where Nyma was leading them, swearing that’s where the energy surge came from. They ducked behind a busted down column, hiding away from view.

"Shit," Rolo whispered, gripping his weapon tighter.

"Plan?" Nyma muttered, her fingers twitching at her side.

Keith didn’t hesitate. “Fast and quiet."

Acxa smirked, giving him her nasty smile that curled, a look that Keith knew all too well that meant business. "I like fast."

Keith and Axca both pulled their Blade masks over their faces, locking them in to become the stealthy, highly trained weapons they were, leaving Rolo and Nyma to blink back in awe for a second before they all jumped in to fight.

Before the guards even registered what was happening, Keith surged forward with a sharp, precise strike to the nearest one, knocking him into the wall with brutal efficiency. Kosmo lept onto the now passed out guard, bit into his arm, and began at a mad dash down the hall, trailing him behind like a rag doll. Rolo and Nyma followed his lead, moving in tandem with practiced ease—Rolo disarming one guard while Nyma ducked under a swing and sent another sprawling with a sweep of her leg. The fight was over in a blur—clean, efficient, but the tension lingered with each passing second. One guard groaned on the ground, trying to scramble for his gun.

Keith slammed a boot down on the man’s wrist and kicked the weapon away. "Not today," he muttered, ice in his voice. It skid across the floor just in front of Axca for her to scoop up and shoot at a final guard that was scurrying down the hall, possibly for backup.

With the guards neutralized, the door to the machine room was clear. Keith exchanged a brief glance with Acxa, their unspoken understanding hanging in the air.

"Let’s finish this," Keith growled, kicking the door open. The team burst after him into the machine room, panting and on edge. The air inside was sharp and electric, humming with unstable energy. An entire wall was broken down, revealing a large gap or exit, opening up to the land beyond—a desolate landscape scorched black from energy surges. The machine stood ominously in the center of the room, its dark metal frame pulsing with eerie, green light.

Something wasn’t right.

“No one’s here,” Rolo muttered, scanning the room with narrowed eyes. His grip on his weapon tightened. "Feels like a trap."

"Stay sharp," Keith ordered, his gaze flicking from shadow to shadow. Every instinct told him something was off. Too easy. Too empty. Kosmo stayed circling Keith’s legs, his body tensing up and starting to growl, looking at the shadows in the room. Nyma moved toward the hole in the wall, squinting into the landscape beyond. "It’s pointed out... straight at the land. It looks like that area has taken several shots, with it all charred. What the hell is it doing?"

"Survey it later," Acxa whispered, crouching by the machine, inspecting it for any sign of sabotage or tampering. "We need to—"

The sound of footsteps echoed from above them. Keith barely had time to react before guards surged from hidden alcoves along the walls, their armor gleaming in the dim light. They came fast—organized, ruthless—and the room erupted into chaos. Keith managed to dock that they had a metallic framework, almost robotic. Not alive.

“Ambush!” Rolo shouted, diving behind a console as the first blast flew past his head. They all reacted fast, Keith ducking and swinging at a pair of legs as he bounded up, just nearly missing a shot at his head. He dodged a couple more blasts from a gun, until he was finally nicked on his side with a blast, sending his body back and hitting against the wall. He reached behind him to snatch at his Blade at his waist, but two of the guards had reached him, throwing him over their shoulders as if he was a sack of potatoes. In an instant, Kosmo lept into the air, making the two of them disappear and reappare in front of the two guards, allowing Keith to land a sickening punch to the first guard and sending him backwards, knocking him into a second one. He scrambled to his feet, only to see more guards swarming his team. Nyma was fighting two at once, her blade flashing as she ducked and spun. She dropped to a squat as Rolo fired his weapon with expert precision over her, dropping one enemy before grappling with another. Acxa fought with brutal efficiency, striking hard and fast, but even she was getting overwhelmed. They were easily outnumbered, three different robot guards to each of them. Unfair 3:1 fights.

Keith gritted his teeth, adrenaline coursing through him. He lunged back into the fray, fists flying. A hard blow from a guard sent Keith flying back again, slamming him into a steel beam. Pain shot through his back, but he forced himself up just in time to see something that made his blood freeze.

Vrelen.

He stood across the room, next to the glowing machine, watching them with a disturbing calmness. His tall, thin figure looked almost regal under the dim light, his pale skin reflecting the sickly green hue of the machine’s core. His face was thin and long, sort of beak like, but it drooped downwards in a sort of protruding nose type way. His skin was a sickly white, looking like it shimmered as its scales moved when he breathed. His eyes lay high on his head, dark black, unable to pinpoint a clear iris. His expression—one of quiet amusement—was unnerving.

Keith froze, heart pounding, as Vrelen raised a hand, thin and bony.

“Stand down,” the dictator ordered, his voice smooth and unsettlingly polite.

In perfect unison, the guards stopped their assault, stepping back and lowering their weapons. Rolo, Nyma, and Acxa continued fighting for a second longer until they noticed the sudden shift. Rolo kicked at one of the guards, which just fell with a heavy clutter,showing they had all simply powered off, no longer a threat. Panting, they exchanged confused glances but remained ready for anything, weapons still drawn.

Vrelen’s gaze swept over the team, settling on Keith with a smug grin. “The Blades of Marmora,” he said softly, as if savoring the words. “I am... honored.”

Keith’s fists clenched at his sides, every fiber of him on edge. "What do you want?" he demanded through gritted teeth. “What’s the tactic here, destroying a peaceful planet. They work for research. They live off the simple world of science and technology. What would someone like you want with all their land?”

Vrelen chuckled, a sound too soft for someone responsible for the devastation outside. "Oh, not much," he said casually, resting a hand on the machine. "I truly meant no harm to such a simple species of everyone here. They were just unfortunate enough to get in the way of what I was trying to accomplish. They were just, collateral, with their homes and buildings everywhere. It makes the whole thing quite messy."

Keith's heart pounded as he searched Vrelen’s expression. This wasn’t just an ambush—it was a message. A game. And they were playing right into it.

Vrelen stepped away from the machine with a slow, deliberate movement. "I’ve been waiting for you to arrive, you know," he added, his tone light, almost conversational. "Curious to see if the Blades would intervene. And now here you are... it just adds to what I have come to believe for a while."

Keith's eyes narrowed. "What are you planning?"

Vrelen smiled, but there was no warmth in it—only malice. "You’ll see soon enough," he whispered. "The fun is only just beginning."

Keith’s mind raced, but he kept his expression cold, unreadable. They needed to act—now—before Vrelen could unleash whatever was coming next.

Keith glanced over at Axca, giving her a quick look that he knew she understood. They had to take down the machine. Now. Acxa gave him a barely perceptible nod, her grip tightening on her weapon.

But Vrelen caught the shift, his grin widening. "Ah, ah," he said mockingly, wagging a finger. "Let’s not be hasty. There’s no need for such... violence."

Keith paused, his hand tight around his Blade. Did he just?

“Read your mind. It’s a simple thing, really. Weak minds are the easiest to see into. Minds that hold a lot of anger. Guilt. The others of you, you got strong wills and a definite understanding of your emotions. But this one.” He raised a knobby finger at Keith, a huge smirk snaking across his face.

“You are more of a ticking time bomb with the things you feel. A pandora’s box, if you will. My people can feed off of weakened minds for our advantage. We are for the most part happy people, not believing in anger or heightened emotions of that sort. We were always raised a strong race, no space for weakness. We see anger as a downfall, a way in. Many of us used it to diffuse situations, figure out what was wrong with others and being a spokesperson for someones emotions when they couldn’t control. I say its the best way to stop someone from doing something impulsive. Guess the Blades let one weakling slip by in their hiring process.”

Keith charged at Vrelen, rage burning through him like wildfire. His movements were wild and furious, a storm of raw aggression—fists swinging, body twisting with the kind of force that came from years of instinctual fighting. Every hit carried the weight of something deeper: frustration, guilt, and the need to

end

this monster who had toyed with his team and innocent lives.

But Vrelen moved like smoke, slipping effortlessly around each punch and kick with a twisted grin spreading across his pale face. His sidesteps were elegant and taunting, just enough to dodge but not to disengage—keeping Keith close, savoring his fury. Keith growled, fists slamming forward. A right hook—Vrelen ducked. A roundhouse kick—Vrelen pivoted away like it was a dance.

The sound of his team shouting blurred into static.

"KEITH! Wait!" Axca’s voice. Rolo calling his name, desperation in his tone. But Keith couldn’t hear them—not over the drum of rage in his ears, not over the sick satisfaction on Vrelen's face. "Getting sloppy, Blade," Vrelen murmured, voice smooth and mocking as he blocked a jab with inhuman ease. He parried with a quick flick of his wrist, revealing a sleek rod hidden beneath his cloak. It hissed as it extended, shimmering with some kind of dark energy. With a vicious smile, Vrelen swung it hard—Keith barely twisted in time to dodge the brunt of the blow, but it grazed his ribs, sending a jolt of searing pain across his side. Keith stumbled but pressed forward, determined. His punches were coming harder, messier now, every move sharper with frustration. His breathing became ragged, each breath tasting like smoke. He

had

to take Vrelen down. He

had

to end this.

Vrelen danced just out of reach, his expression darkly amused. "You fight with such...

anger,

" he whispered. "Do you even know who you’re really trying to hurt?"

Keith swung again—a brutal cross aimed for Vrelen’s head—but the dictator sidestepped once more, laughing under his breath.

"You wear it on your sleeve. I can see it... the guilt, the fear, the

failure

." Vrelen's voice cut deep, as though peeling back layers Keith didn’t want anyone to see. "You think fighting me will make it go away? That’s not how this works."

"Shut up!" Keith snarled, hurling himself at Vrelen with reckless force.

Vrelen’s eyes gleamed. "No wonder you’re so easy to read."

Keith threw a desperate, wide punch—too slow. Vrelen dodged gracefully, slipping in close. The hidden rod lashed out again, striking Keith across the face, sending him staggering. His mask flew from his head, clattering behind him, leaving his face exposed.

And then, before Keith could recover, Vrelen was in front of him. Too close. His hand shot forward, cold fingers pressing against Keith’s forehead.

"No!" Keith tried to jerk back, but it was too late. The moment Vrelen’s hand touched his skin, a searing shock rippled through Keith’s mind. His body locked, freezing mid-motion as his vision exploded into white. The fight, the noise, the room—everything melted away. Suddenly, he was somewhere else.

The memory crashed over him, unbidden and unrelenting. He looked around and recogized the white walls, the sharp look of the uniforms. He was bacl at the Garrison, but at which point of his life? Suddenly, two people appeared, and Keith’s heart dropped as he realized exactly when this was. Lance and Allura walked down the hall, Lance holding her hand and dropping her off in a room, waving as the doors slid close. Her hands lingered on his arm before pulling back, letting the door shut between the two, and Lance looked lovesick. Keith’s stomach twisted, a tight knot forming as he saw the way Lance's eyes sparkled when he looked at her. His grin was wide, genuine in a way that Keith knew all too well. Lance looked at her like she was his whole world—like he’d finally found something worth holding on to. Keith felt something sharp twist inside his chest. It was anger at first—hot, bitter, and undeniable. But beneath it was something worse. Something that hurt far more: loss.

It was the night of Lance’s date with Allura, when he invited her to his house to have dinner and where he was going to confess his feelings to her. They had returned that night back to the Garrison to go to bed, and Keith had just come back from a dinner with Krolia and Shiro, finding Lance in the hallway where their rooms were. Lance had spotted Keith and he ran over with a delighted bounce. Lance’s voice carried softly through the corridor, words sharp enough to cut despite their gentleness. "Man, I don’t know what kinda magic your confidence talk gave, but it worked! Allura’s my girlfriend now. It’s official." His tone was light, filled with pride, but to Keith, it was a dagger straight to the heart. Keith’s hands tightened in his fist, the sharp pain from his nails digging grounding him against the ache spreading through his chest. He wanted to look away, but he couldn’t. It was like staring at a wound you couldn’t stop from bleeding. The hurt was sudden, overwhelming. The kind that made his throat close up and his chest ache with the weight of something he didn’t have words for.

Lance’s flirting over time with Allura had always been something Keith could ignore but this? It crawled under his skin, made him feel alive and angry all at once. Now Lance was someone he couldn’t have. And it was unbearable. Keith had never been good with emotions. He didn’t know how to

talk

about this—didn’t even know how to think about it. All he knew was that watching Lance and Allura together made him want to scream. Or fight. Or maybe just run. He clenched his jaw, forcing the memory away. But it clung to him, burning into his mind like a brand, the sight of Lance’s smile haunting him. He could still hear Lance’s voice, still see the way he touched Allura with so much care. This was the day Keith knew there was no going back, the real moment he lost Lance for good, any hope or glimmer of false daydreams shattered. Allura was number one, and Keith was way off the field, on a bench not even up to bat for a game he wasn’t in.

The white light faded, and Keith was slammed back into the present, gasping for air like he’d been drowning. His body trembled, heart racing as the memory echoed in his mind, leaving behind a gnawing ache. The memory pressed down on him, suffocating in its clarity. Lance’s smile. His laugh. The ache it left in Keith’s heart.

Vrelen’s touch burned like fire on his skin, drawing the memory to the surface and twisting it, as if reminding Keith of how much it mattered—and how much he feared losing it all over again.

"No... no..." Keith whispered, struggling against the white-hot wave, trying to fight his way back to reality. But his limbs were heavy, his thoughts scattered.

Vrelen leaned in closer, his voice a poisonous whisper in Keith’s ear. "You fight so hard to run from your feelings, Keith. But I know the truth. I see what you're hiding from. That anger. That self hatred. It’s strong. It’s powerful, enough to not be easily hidden and unreadable for me."

Keith staggered, knees buckling under the weight of the memory. His breath was shaky, ragged, and his hands dug into the ground, trying to steady himself. The ache in his chest felt unbearable, worse now that it had been dragged into the light. Through the haze, he could hear his team shouting, struggling against guards that had reactivated. But it felt distant, like a dream he couldn’t wake from.

And just as suddenly as it had started, Vrelen pulled his hand away, stepping back with a satisfied smile.

Keith crumpled to the ground, panting, the white light fading from his vision. His hands trembled as he pressed them to the cold floor, trying to steady himself.

"You’ll thank me someday," Vrelen said softly, as if offering a gift. "After all, the truth always sets us free. You find a way to stop holding resentment for that moment, I no longer have access to your mind or your anger."

Keith coughed, forcing his head up just enough to glare at him through the blur of pain and confusion. "I’ll... kill you," he rasped, voice low and raw.

Vrelen’s smile widened. "You can try."

Keith gritted his teeth, forcing himself to move, but his muscles screamed in protest. From the corner of his blurred vision, he saw Rolo and the others still locked in battle with the guards. He could hear Axca shouting his name, but it felt distant, like a faint echo in the storm raging inside him.

“Stop this. None of this makes sense with what you’re doing.” Keith stumbled but stayed upright, the ache in his chest sharper than ever. He could still see Lance's smile from the memory, lingering like a ghost. And it hurt. It hurt more than any fight ever could.

But Keith locked it away, as he always did. He had no other choice. Vrelen turned, placing a hand on the machine and keeping his eyes steady on Keith.

“Since when were plans ever making sense to those opposing it? Stay away and stay out of business that does not concern you, Blades. This is bigger than your entire organization.”

Keith let out a huff, leaning back with his weight to balance himself into a fighting stance, and Vrelen just smiled.

“Fine. I warned you.”

At that, Vrelen extended a hand, and suddenly the guards all turned and stormed towards Keith, leaving the others in a blink of an eye. But instead of going in for an attack as Keith braced himself, they shot upwards, the bottoms of their feet blasting out like little rockets and heading straight for the cieling, casuing a huge explosion and shaking the room. Large parts of the cieling began crumbling, sailing towards the floor as his team dodged and jumped out of the incoming ruins. None of this made sense. Why was he doing this? Use his own guards to bring down the roof?

“Like I said, I don’t have to make sense to people who are trying to stop my vision.” Vrelen sneered. Keith turned back to him, eyes blown wide and brows furrowed.

“What’s your angle? You just destroyed what little protection you had.”

“Did I? Or did my distraction cause enough time to help me out with something?” at that, a small glow circled around the machine, humming with energy in a circle. Keith took a step back, watching in disbelief as the circle glowed brighter and brighter, shifting the stones around it and lifting the piece of ground the machine sat on, slowly floating it out the large gaping hole in the wall.

Keith just turned to glare at Vrelen and went in for another launch, swinging out his blade and seering a deep cut in the dictator’s arm. Vrelen was not prepared for how impulsive Keith could react, despite feeding off his thoughts and anger. That was the upperhand with Keith. He acted before he could even think the thought. Vrelen took a step back, hissing from the pain, surprised he hadn’t caught Keith’s thoughts. Then the ceiling groaned—cracks spider-webbing across the stone above them, bits of rubble raining down. The entire structure was on the verge of collapse. Large blocks of stone came crashing down, blocking away Axca and Kosmo from Keith’s view, making his brain fire off warnings. Keith caught sight of Vrelen through the chaos, slipping on top of the ground the machine was beginning to float on, his smirk still smug as ever. Keith’s body moved instinctively, charging after him. But just as he lunged to tackle, one of the robotic guards—heavy and armored—was launched straight at him, slamming him against the wall. It’s feet bucking and sputtering out from the energy that had initially soared through the air to stick him against the wall.

Keith grunted in pain as the metal limbs pinned him to the cracked surface, the sharp edges of his armor biting into his skin. His vision blurred as he struggled against the crushing weight of the guard, desperate to break free.

Vrelen turned, the gleam of a blaster in his hand. His smile was slow and deliberate as he raised the weapon, aiming it directly at Keith.

“Such a shame," Vrelen said, voice dripping with mock pity. "All that fire… only to be snuffed out here. That’s what happens to anger."

Keith’s heart pounded. He thrashed under the guard’s weight, but it was too much—he couldn’t move fast enough. The blaster went off, and Keith shut his eyes to await the burning and searing sensation of a blast over him, when it never came.

Rolo was there.

"Keith!"

Without hesitation, Rolo threw himself in front of Keith just as the blaster fired. His arms reached out and locked around Keith’s head, his body hunched over, his height towering above Keith as he let out a scream. The shot hit Rolo straight in his back, and his body jerked with the impact.

"No!" Keith’s voice cracked with panic, watching in horror as Rolo staggered, clutching his wound. He tumbled backwards, and Keith struggled to push off the robot from his pinned position.

The ceiling groaned louder, another massive chunk breaking away and crashing down. Dust filled the air, choking out the light as the structure gave way piece by piece. Keith fought harder against the robotic guard pinning him, his heart pounding as he tried to get to Rolo. But before he could make another move, a second robot guard latched onto Rolo from behind. Metal clamps snapped around him, locking tight. The sound of its feet whirred with energy, and Keith knew that sound and what it was about to do. Keith let out a loud growl, and Rolo’s eyes looked up at Keith’s struggle, falling into a small smile.

“Guess this is me owing you one, huh boss?”

“Stop!” Keith shouted, panic ripping through him as the guard shot off with Rolo in its grasp, launching through the crumbling building toward the hole Vrelen had escaped through. The robot blasted off such such speed, shooting off after Vrelen. Keith twisted, adrenaline and terror surging through his veins. He tried to leap after them, desperate to grab hold and follow as he finally broke loose of the pinned down weight of the robot—but Axca was faster. Right as Keith halted over a large piece of rubble and was about to leap for a nosedive straight out the hole in the wall, she tackled him just in time, yanking him back as the ceiling came down in a deafening crash, sealing away the outside as the room darkened.

They both went tumbling to the ground hard, dust and debris choking his lungs. He let out a gasp, the air leaving his lungs with how hard Axca had taken him down, but he regained his target thought, his arms flailing to sit up and scramble after Rolo. He felt his muscles coil and his heartbeat clawing at his chest as he scrambled to sit up, but Axca put her full weight down and pinned Keith’s arms to the ground.

"That’s enough!" she shouted, her voice sharp and panicked. Keith’s eyes stilled at her voice,his blurry vision focusing behind her to the wall caved in, blocking the exit entirely. Axca threw herself over him again, shielding him from the falling debris, the ground rumbling beneath them.The dust settled, leaving behind nothing but rubble and silence.

Keith's breath hitched, his heart pounding in his chest as he stared at the collapsed exit, realization crashing over him like a tidal wave.

“But, they took...” he whispered, voice cracking.

He tried to get up again, but Axca gripped his arm, forcing him down. “Keith, stop! It’s over—we can’t stay here!” Her voice was urgent, her eyes wide with fear.

Keith thrashed under her grip, eyes wild with panic, feeling the back of his throat turn to a growl. "We have to—he’s—Rolo’s—”

“He’s gone! We need to stick to the mission right now.” Axca snapped, her grip tightening as she gave him a hard shake. “We’ll be buried alive if we don’t move!”

The weight of her words hit Keith like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, all he could do was stare at the wreckage. His mind spun with the reality of it—Rolo was gone, taken, and Vrelen had escaped with the machine turned weapon. What kind of strange magic and telekensis did he posess? What was his species again? His mind raged like an untamed storm, his muscles tense and his body twitching to jump into action, but he let out a growl he hadn’t realized he was holding as Axca pulled him to his feet.

Every instinct in Keith screamed at him to fight, to run after them, to do something. But Axca was right. The building was collapsing around them, and if they didn’t move now, they wouldn’t make it out at all. Keith clenched his teeth so tightly his jaw throbbed in pain, his entire body trembling with rage and helplessness. He forced himself to assess the room, the ache in his chest unbearable, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Pieces of dirt and stone echoed as it fell in pieces to the floor, the room eerily silent now that most of the damage had come down. Nyma climbed over a giant chunk, her eyes scanning the scene and landing on just Axca and Keith there. She looked questioning, depserate, like if she looked long enough, she could will her partner appear.

Axca grabbed his arm again, this time more gently, and nodded toward the way they’d come. “We need to go.”

With one final glance at the destruction behind them, Keith forced his legs to move, even though every step away felt like a knife to his gut. He gave a short whistle to Kosmo, finding him limping and whimpering, his fur a matted and dusty mess, but with an arm in his mouth. He limped over to Keith, kneeling at his masters legs as Keith reached down to scratch the damages. The room shook again, pressuring them to exit. He would find Rolo
.
He had to. But for now, survival was the only option.

The three of them disappeared into the shadows of the crumbling halls, leaving behind only dust, broken stone, and the echo of everything Keith couldn’t save. They found their way to the grate in the center of the citadel, Nyma pulling it open for them to climb down into the tunnels again. Keith gave one last, desperate look down the halls—the place where Rolo had been taken—and swallowed down the raw, bitter taste of failure.

“Come on,” Axca urged, pulling him along. For once in his life, he listened.

Its the terror of knowing what this world is about

Wathcing some good freinds screaming ‘let me out!’

But tomorrow gets me higher, higher highhh

Pressure on people, people on streets

Keith kept a heavy gaze on the people gathering around their trash fires, stretching, murmuring, checking in on wounds and discussing the events that had occurred on their planet earlier. The fires cast dastardly shadows around the caved in underground, twisting the civilian’s bodies into shapes on the walls, stretching and flickering around. Keith kept the familair clicking of his jaw, tensing it and grinding so hard until it started a low thrumming pain in his head, releasing it and waiting a couple minutes before he did the action over again. He sat away from the civilans, perched on a large rock to overlook the tents and the fires, tucked nicely away to not be bothered by anyone. Lance’s tape recorder stay clipped to Keith’s waist, the music failing to drown out the swirl of emotions he was feeling. The walk back was painly silent, Nyma holding back tears and hugging herself while Axca had sent over a message to Kolivan. She had secretly been recording the conversations that Vrelen had let slip, all of his words integral information to help try to crack down on his case further. While sending the messages and recordings over, she kept a steady eye on Keith, who had stayed silent, the guilt building in him.

They had returned to the camp to reassess what had happened and where to go from here, Kolivan ordering them to wait while they send in more operatives to assist, seeing this was a bigger issue than expected.

Keith hunched forward, elbows pressed into his knees, hands clenched so tightly the veins in his forearms throbbed beneath the skin. It had been a couple hours now, everyone regrouping and assessing. The camp buzzed around him—quiet murmurs from other scientsits discussing ways to evacuate their people, distant comms chatter filtering through—but he didn’t hear it. His mind was fractured, jagged pieces scraping together and making it impossible to breathe right. His pulse pounded in his skull like a heartbeat he wished he could shut off.

Rolo was gone. And Keith couldn’t stop it.

It was always like this.

Every time Keith let someone slip away, it was like the earth cracked beneath his feet, pulling him deeper into a pit of everything he hated about himself. His failures chased him—Shiro, lost to the void of memories that weren’t his own, Allura, drifting away like a candle snuffed in the dark before he could even try to think of something else to stop her decision. They’d slipped through his fingers, and now Rolo was just one more.

And Vrelen—that smug bastard—he’d known exactly how to pull Keith apart. The way he’d sidestepped every hit, danced through Keith’s rage like it was a game. The memory of it made his hands shake. Keith could still feel Vrelen’s touch on his forehead, as if he’d reached into his mind and ripped open the scar tissue there, reminding him how useless he was when it mattered. Lance’s voice echoed in his thoughts. Not real, but sharp enough to feel like it. Talking about Allura, that easy laugh in his throat when he called her his girlfriend.

Keith closed his eyes tight, his nails digging into his palms. Stop. Just stop.

There was always a voice—his own, mostly—screaming that if he had just moved faster, thought smarter, loved differently, maybe things wouldn’t have ended the way they did. If he hadn’t been so angry. If he hadn’t held back when he shouldn’t have. He should have done more. He was so sick of standing still while everything slipped through his grasp. It was becoming unbearable—the weight of his own failure, the exhaustion of knowing he kept losing the people around him, like some kind of cursed pattern. His dad. His mother. Shiro. Allura. Lance. Rolo. How many more names would he add to that list? How much longer before the people who stayed would stop trusting him altogether? Trying his best was not enough. How was he meant to lead the Blades one day when casualties seemed to follow his footsteps.

Cause loves such an old fashioned word

And love dares you to care for the people on the

Edge of the night and love dares you to change our way of caring about ourselves

This is our last dance, this is ourselves

Under pressure

Keith sucked in a breath, shutting his eyes as the deep voice played in his ears. Wasn’t that what this was? Losing again. Losing and losing, until there was nothing left of him but failure. The pressure of caring for those but failing. The pressure breaking.

Keith tilted his head back, jaw tight, chest heaving. What was the point of fighting this hard when every victory only carved out more places for the guilt to settle?

The sound of footsteps stirred him, but he didn’t move. He knew it was Axca before she even spoke, her presence quiet but steady. She sat beside him, not asking if she could, not waiting for him to say anything either.

For a moment, neither of them spoke, and the gentle noises of the cave bustling around them, low and fading.

“It’s not your fault.” Her voice was soft, barely more than a murmur, but it cut through the noise in his head. Keith clicked the tape off, shutting off the music. So much for having it be of good use to block everything out.

His throat tightened, and he closed his eyes again, as if shutting out the world would make him believe her. How could it not be? Vrelen had intended to shoot him, take him down, and the stupid idiot blocked that, putting himself in harms way.

Before he could respond, Axca’s wristband lit up, casting a dull glow over her face. She glanced at it and let out a slow breath. “New arrivals just landed. Reinforcements.”

Neither of them moved, both of their eyes trained down on Axca’s wristband glowing with a tracker of a ship docked somewhere on the planet.

“If its Ezor and Zethrid, I’m sending them straight back on that ship to bring back someone else.” Keith deadpanned, realizing how rough his voice sounded. Axca snorted, standing up to head out.

“I’ll second that command. I’ve honestly had enough of things not going my way and could use a win with this.”

Keith gave her a hint of a smirk before there was more shuffling, and the scientist Asto was in front of the two at the bottom of the rock, holding her keypad close to her chest. She fixed her glasses, looking bashful and a little nervous to be back in their presence again.

“Excuse me, I didn’t mean to interrupt. I just was requesting Keith to take a look at something I found earlier.” She toyed with her keypad, her face a sea of twisted emotions. Keith and Axca exchanged a questioning glance, a silent question of

this better be good.

“I’ll go with Nyma to retrieve our operatives. I’ll be back to hear whatever this is.” Axca flicked a piercing glance at Asto, who jumped a bit from the intensity, and Axca headed out. Keith turned back to Asto, who jumped again from Keith’s eye contact.

“Well, what do you got?” Keith frowned. Asto nodded, and beckoned him to follow her to one of the tents. They passed scientists milling around, civilians huddling with Kosmo as he happily let himfself be pet and fixed up from his blast injuries. He was basically getting the star treatment. Asto held back a flap for her tent, motioning him inside.

Inside the dimly lit tent, the scientist's hands trembled as she unfurled a projection map across the space. Her eyes darted nervously to Keith as if weighing the gravity of what she was about to reveal. “I need you to see this,” she whispered, ushering him closer.

Keith folded his arms, standing stiffly, still reeling from everything, the crushing weight in his chest making him sick. He didn’t want to be here, didn’t want to indulge whatever wild theory she had. But there was something about the intensity in her gaze that kept him rooted in place. The scientist adjusted a device strapped to her wrist, cycling through displays. “I’ve been tracking the area where Vrelen was blasting all that energy into. I thought, why there? Why was that where he had the machine pointed at, instead of his sporadic attempts all over the planet like he had been doing. I realized that there was a huge energy output from the machine’s blasts towards that area. I noticed something strange—at first, it was just residual energy embedded in the ground. But...”

She glanced over her shoulder, almost nervous, and lowered her voice. “I thought, maybe... if I scanned deeper, I could figure out what was beneath the surface. Figure out why Vrelen was so adamant about blasting that area. It was worth a shot, since he only really dug around and blasted at places a couple times before leaving to the next. So, I used a different scanner—one I built with my knowledge of ancient artifacts buried across this region.”

Keith’s brow furrowed. “Artifacts?”

She gave him a quick, tight nod and turned back to the display. “The grounds of this planet are littered with different substances that we use on this planet for the technology, when dug up correctly. We also have knowledge on how to build specific trackers to dig up exactly what substance we need to use. So, I cycled through scanning the area with different attempts to figure out what lay under that specific area. It’s not just old pottery or cultural remains—it’s

metal

. Something ancient but still radiating cosmic energy. When I blew up the scan to see more clearly…” She tapped the interface, and the image projected into the air—a skeletal, ghost-like structure of metal.

It was a an obvious scan outline of a Lion
.

The lines and contours of the frame were unmistakable, even in the crude wireframe scan. He could see the sloped armor plates, the signature clawed limbs—it looked like it had been buried deep beneath the surface for centuries, resting in some forgotten part of the ground, deep down. It was no where near the surface from the looks of it, but it almost seemed impossible to the way it had gotten buried so deep down, with no signs of a tunnel or caves.

Keith felt his knees weaken as if the ground under him was falling away. What was one of the Lions doing here? The sheer impossibility of it made his mind reel. Had it been hidden all along? Was it a coincidence, or had someone known? Was it even THEIR lion?

He swallowed hard, his throat dry. “Is that what I think it is?” he whispered, almost afraid of the answer.

The scientist hesitated, biting her lip, then shook her head. “I don’t know. But... it’s easier to track with

you

here.”

Keith’s stomach churned from that answer.

She tilted her head, studying him now, the realization dawning on her. “I didn’t know who you were before. I just saw you as one of the memorable Blades with that suite and all. But now that I do…” She leaned in slightly, voice hushed. “

Voltron

. You’re one of them.”

Keith froze.

His blood ran cold, and for a moment, he felt the air sucked out of his lungs. The shape in the scan wasn’t just metal. It was familiar—hauntingly familiar. He stepped closer, his hands curling into fists at his sides, his pulse pounding loud in his ears. Keith clenched his jaw, every muscle in his body coiled tight, his mind racing. His presence on the planet made the Lion easier to find in Asto’s scan. Somehow, being near it—his bond with Voltron—had drawn it out of hiding, like a beacon in the night, emanating energy that was trackable when using the correct knowledge and technology.

He stared at the scan again, his chest tightening. How many other things had Vrelen already found that Keith didn’t know about? Is that what Vrelen was after? Did he know that this lion was under that area of the earth, or was he still shooting around aimlessly, hoping he wound find the spot. And worse—what did this Lion mean, now suddenly real again? The five lions had shot off into the galaxy nearly a year after Allura passed, the lions tied with her energy and leaving them, a sealed up finish that they were no longer needed. They came alive with Allura, and operated only with pilots, so what was one doing here, now, and what did Vrelen expect to happen when he found it?

Whatever it was, Keith knew they didn’t have much time. If Vrelen got his hands on it before they did, there’d be no coming back. And the worst part? Deep down, Keith could feel it stirring, as if the Lion itself was calling out to him.

“Does Vrelen know?” Keith demanded, his voice a little too much bite in it. Asto jumped, looking at the scans and back to him.

“To the best of my knowledge, that is what he is doing here. The Lion seems to have gone into a hibernation under our planets surface, although I have no recollection of it coming to us in the first place. We have been here longer than Voltron started with you, and we would have been alerted if something of this size came to our system, let alone crash into it and buried itself. But there was never any signals, no signs of it digging down and burying. Its almost as if it spawned in thin air down there!”

Keith ran this all through his head. This was bad. Really really bad. None of this made sense. Voltron was supposed to be done, something in the past that didn’t need to be resurfaced. None of the pilots were even remotely the same pilots who had flown their lions over a year ago. Even if they did get to this lion first, he had no idea which one it would be, or where the other ones were. If the other ones even existed! He suddenly felt faint, his chest heaving a bit at the realization of this all.

“Does anyone else know about this? Any of the other scientists?” Keith snapped. Asto shook her head feverishly, blushing from his stare.

“Good, don’t tell anyone about this until we figure out what to do about this. For all we know, Vrelene has no idea where the lion is, and he is trying at everything to figure this out. This stays between us, understood?”

Asto nodded quickly again, her grip on her keypad tighter as she looked like she wanted to melt behind it. Kosmo then erupted into loud barks, although far from intimidating. Keith gave one final look at Asto before leaving the tent. He was gonna figure out what to do about this. He had to tell someone, but not let this earth shattering news break free to just anyone. This was Voltron they were talking about, something that everyone believed to have ended and disappeared with the heart and soul of the Galatic Coalition, the ever respected and forever missed princess of Altea. Keith grinded his molars harder, making his way through the campground to follow the sound of Kosmo’s barks. The thought of it gnawed at him, heavy and unbearable. He couldn’t tell anyone. Not yet. The weight of that knowledge curled tight around his chest, choking him. If word got out, it could unravel everything. Another Lion meant something dangerous—something too big to handle alone, but he had to. It was better that way. He’d tell Axca, maybe. She could handle this without losing it the way he was on the verge of. She would be sharper, more drilled into what was right and what was wrong with his decisions, help him draft a statement to Kolivan. Should he even know? What if he wanted the lion to be dug up by the Blades, stored back at the base in case they ever needed it. What was the right thing to do when all he could think about was–

“Lance?” Keith looked up, his eyes lazer focusing on the Cuban boy who stood affectionately patting Kosmo’s head, a huge grin on his face. Bright eyed, excited, looking thrilled over the moon to be underground in the depressing cave. Lance tore his look up from the wolf, his eyes sparkling impossibly brighter in the darkness around them, his smile eating up half his face. Keith froze, pulse spiking again, and his breath caught in his throat. He looked so Lance—all bright energy and easy confidence, like a storm of warmth blowing into the room. He didn’t seem tired or worn down, just… happy. As soon as their eyes met, Lance’s whole expression lit up, his mouth curling into that familiar grin, the one Keith used to see across the Atlas’s halls during rare moments of peace.

“Keith!” Lance’s voice was bright, practically bursting with joy. “Dude! You’re ok!”

Before Keith could move or react, Lance was charging across the room. His arms opened like he was about to throw himself into a hug—because of course, that’s what Lance did. He always dove in without hesitation, heart-first, like it was the easiest thing in the world.

But Keith jerked back instinctively, sidestepping. Panic hit him like a brick wall.

Lance stumbled to a halt, blinking at the sudden rejection. “Whoa, okay—what’s the deal?” He laughed awkwardly, trying to shake off the weird vibe. “Don’t tell me you became extra broody from this mission, Mullet.”

Keith’s heart raced, and confusion twisted into panic. What the

hell

was he doing here? He turned abrupt at Zethrid and Ezor besides Axca, because of COURSE they were sent here too.

“Who authorized Lance coming?” Keith demanded, sharper than intended. His voice came out tight, almost like an accusation. His mind scrambled—images of Vrelen, the Lion, the attack, the machine—Lance being here in the middle of all of this. He wasn’t supposed to be in the middle of this chaos. He glared daggers at Zethird and Ezor, who held up their hands in defense and mock guilt.

“Don’t point the blame on us! You know that’s out of our ability. It was Krolia’s call.” Zethrid huffed back, and Keith was so close to actually stabbing someone. He felt his jaw clench, squeezing his fists shut. Betrayal from his own mother.

“What.” was all he could cut out, his voice dangling on the edge of something a lot more dangerous.

“Dude, I asked if I could come. Kolivan said he needed to send in more help and I wanted to go.” Lance tilted his head, his smile faltering just slightly. He gave a soft laugh, though there was a flicker of hurt in his eyes. “Sue me for being worried about you.”

Keith clenched his jaw, heat rising in his chest, the pressure of everything pressing too close. He couldn’t even make eye contact with the sadness seeping out of Lance’s beautiful eyes, knowing it would be too much and his anger wouldn’t keep festering, so he ignored Lance and continued glaring back at Zethrid and Ezor.

“What, so you guys just agreed to this? Krolia doesn’t outrank Kolivan’s call, what did he say about this?”

“I’m right here.” This time Lance’s tone danced on annoyance.

And Lance shouldn’t be here.

“You shouldn’t have come. You have no understanding of what is going on, how dangerous this mission has become overnight,” Keith bit, forcing the words out even though it felt like ripping open a wound.

“Ooh, lovers quarrel.” Ezor muttered under her breath, and Keith pointed an accusatory finger at her.

“You shut up. I’m not done with the both of you.”

Lance’s brow furrowed, taken aback. “What the hell, Keith? I came because I wanted to help. I mean, if I knew you’d be such a—” He stopped himself, blowing out a breath and running a hand through his hair, visibly frustrated. “Look, I thought you’d be glad to see me.”

Keith’s fists clenched so hard his nails dug into his palms, the rising storm of emotions nearly unbearable. Lance was

here

, standing in front of him, throwing everything off-balance and in the middle of one of the most life changing discoveries happening in years. He was placed back in a battle he had no idea he was getting himself into. The lions were tied to Allura, and Allura was dead, along with the Lions when they left. This lion being here, Keith couldn’t even begin to have an explanation, let alone what it even meant for Voltron’s future. It was like a pressure valve ready to burst—the anger, frustration, guilt, and

everything else

he’d been swallowing down for months. Lance didn’t belong here in the middle of this nightmare. Not when the stakes were so high. Not when Keith couldn’t even keep his head straight.

“I told you not to come,” Keith said through gritted teeth, barely holding it together. His voice was sharp, raw, like a blade pressed too close to skin. “I need you to leave.” He snapped his eyes over to Ezor and Zethrid, who snapped back into attention the moment they got Keith’s anger again.

Lance's brow furrowed, the playful warmth from earlier gone, replaced by something sharper. “Yeah, you’ve made that pretty clear,” he snapped, crossing his arms over his chest. “But newsflash, Keith: I’m not going to sit around waiting for you to come back whenever you feel like it. This whole brooding hero act you got going on with the Blades, it gets old pretty fast. I’m not just sitting on the sidelines, waiting for you to play the hero while the rest of us twiddle our thumbs. Not anymore.”

“You think this is a game?” Keith shot back, his voice rising. His heart pounded against his ribcage, and the weight of all the buried emotions clawed at his insides. “You don’t get it, Lance. I’m trying to protect you here.”

Lance took another step forward, so close now Keith could feel the warmth radiating from him. The tension between them felt suffocating, pressing down harder with every breath. Keith’s pulse raced as Lance’s words cut deeper than any blade.

“Well I’m not asking for you to save me again!” Lance’s voice rose, disbelief tinged with anger.

Keith’s breath hitched, and he felt his composure slipping, unraveling thread by thread. Lance was staring at him with those same earnest, infuriatingly kind eyes, blinking quickly as his eyes glazed over, and it was too much—everything was too much. He paused midstep, his eyes blowing wide at what he just said, Keith twisting under that look. The buried hurt and guilt and love that had festered under the surface surged forward all at once, choking him.

Keith opened his mouth, but nothing came out. There were too many words stuck in his throat, emotions tangled up in knots he couldn’t unravel. His hands flexed uselessly at his sides, desperate to lash out or

pull Lance closer

—he didn’t even know anymore. The air between them felt electric, crackling with tension neither of them knew how to defuse. The space was shrinking, and Keith could feel himself teetering on the edge, dangerously close to saying or doing something he couldn’t take back. Lance’s breath was shallow, frustration and hurt flickering across his face, and Keith knew he was seconds away from shattering under the weight of it all.

Then, Axca’s voice cut through the storm like a knife.

“That’s enough.”

Both of them whipped around to see her glaring at the both of them, arms crossed, her expression flat and unreadable. But the sharpness in her tone left no room for argument.

“You two can have your little meltdown later,” she said coolly, her gaze flicking between them. “Right now, we need to figure out our next move. You want to help,

Lance

?” She raised an eyebrow. “Then shut up and focus, because we don’t have time for this.”

Keith’s hands dropped to his sides, and the tension snapped like a rubber band stretched too tight. Lance popped his mouth wide open but snapped it shut, the fight in him ebbing away, though his eyes still burned with something unresolved.

Keith swallowed hard, forcing himself to nod, even though his chest felt like it was caving in. The storm inside him hadn’t passed—it was still there, roaring and relentless—but for now, it would have to wait.

“Fine,” Keith muttered, turning away, shoulders stiff. “Let’s figure out what’s next.”

He had to lock everything back inside where it belonged. He couldn’t afford to feel anything right now. There was too much at stake.

Axca was right. There was no time for this—not now. Not yet.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

The entire cave shook for the second time that Lance had been downt there, leaving hte civilians to mutter and grumble out low shrieks as they clung to each other, while the echoing sounds of rocks and dust from the ceiling came crashing down onto the floor. Lance held onto one of the smaller scientist aliens of this planet as the shook occured, having to let it pass like en Earthquake. The blast rumbled, and the alien clung to Lance’s torso, just short enough that its head was around the size of Lance’s hips, before the shaking finally finished. Lance had been debriefed about what was going on, had seen the video footage that Axca had taken when Keith and his team were confronting the villain. Watching it from the Blades breifing room had been eerily terrifying, watching the weird limby looking alien named Vre…Varlen?? Vrelen??? or whatever name that psycho dictator was named basically reveal his evil plan for the most part. Wipe out the planet, but not on purpose to actually endanger its inhabitants, and how no one understood the real bigger plan laying under his evil plans. It was the same mumbo jumbo that most villains always had, with a bigger secret up their sleeve, and right now Lance wanted nothing to do with knowing this bigger plan, and everything to do with evacuating all the people on this planet who were stuck quivering in fear of everything coming down over them. Whwatever he wanted with the planet was obviously terrible and up to no good, but keeping everyone here was only going to harm everyone in hiding and wipe out the population.

Honestly, Lance still coundn’t believe he had convinced Kolivan and the rest of the Blades to send him in. He was part of the mission briefing with the majority of the Blade units, getting information as it was occurring from Axca, but when her audio and video footage commed over of the brutal argument Keith and the dictator, how he was looking at Keith like he was hungry enough to swallow him whole, and then watching as Keith rushed at him, fiery and mad like an unstable tornado, Lance’s entire body twisted. It took everything in him not to demand for more footage, because as soon as they began their fight, Axca’s documentation of it all became choppy and cutting in as out as she engaged in her own battles. It was then that Kolivan had decided they needed backup, and wanted to send in a couple more Blades to assess damages and start a relief mission to get the civilians out.

Lance had found the courgage in a mysterious place in his gut to demand to be placed in on the next shipment of Blades, standing up strongly to Kolivan. Krolia had been the one to give him permission to go, speaking over Kolivan. Lance assumed she had just as equal amount of power over the Blades as Kolivan when he didn’t argue or turn on Krolia for speaking first.

So when Lance had landed on this barren planet that looked thrown around and torn to shreds all over the surface with a couple shipments of Blade operatives, Lance’s entire body shivered and ached to be able to make sure Keith was ok. That nothing happened, and that he had someone he could rely on to go through this high stakes mission. Thats what Lance was always able to do with Keith in the past, so what was different? Sure, maybe a whole year and a half might have caused him to be a little rusty when it came to this kinda stuff, but he was still the same guy Keith could trust to pull through intense situations and stakes. Right? Or so Lance thought, until Keith had gone cold. Rigid. Walls up as they were years ago. Cutting him off and pulling the rug right from under his footing to tell him that he was not wanted. That Keith wanted him gone. The excitement he'd felt when he first arrived—when he’d seen Keith across the camp, alive and well—had dissolved into confusion, then bitterness. Keith had blown him off.

Completely

. Not just brushed him aside but retreated behind that same cold, guarded wall that Lance thought they’d torn down years ago. He couldn’t stop replaying the moment in his mind—Keith stepping back when Lance tried to hug him, the sharpness in his voice, the anger in his eyes. Lance’s heart twisted painfully, the insecurities creeping in, louder than before.

Why the hell did I even come here?

Lance had only felt so small to Keith a couple times in his life, and it was never a good feeling. It wasn’t something he liked to think about, especially if he liked the progress he had made with Keith since they started trusting each other and getting along. Keith being so cold and harsh to him brought back all those moments, as if a reminder to how far away the unattainable a nd unreachable Keith Kogane really was to Lance. Maybe Keith was right to shut him out. Maybe he was just a distraction, someone Keith didn’t need getting in his way anymore. Maybe Lance was never good enough—

not back then, not now

.

The thoughts weighed him down, a familiar ache spreading through his chest. And it felt

just like before

—the same rejection, the same useless sense of not being able to reach Keith, no matter how much he tried. That Lance was always going to be trapped in this cycle of chasing and chasing, reaching and just always missing.

“If you keep staring at him long enough, he won’t combust. Trust me, I’ve tried.” Lance blinked back into reality as his head snapped to Axca, her jaw set tight and her piercing yellow eyes watching Lance with the heavy intensity that always been him involuntarily shiver.

“What?” was the most insightful answer he could croak back. Axca lifted a brow and then her eyes flicked quickly over Lance’s shoulder, bringing his gaze to follow her sharp eyes. His focus cleared on a dark figure slicing around a hollowed wall, several long slashes and scrapes and indents along the smooth and curling rock.

“He’s being a big baby in the corner, yknow.” Lance muttered, narrowing his eyes at their erratically temperamental leader. Axca scoffed, and Lance’s chest lightened a bit from her admitted emotions.

“Things just got a little…complicated when we faced Vrelen. He was a lot more powerful than we expected, and him taking Rolo was definitely something Keith blames himself for. He’s on edge right now about how to go about this.” Axca’s sharp tone had a hint of softness to it, and Lance shifted his feet.

“I didn’t know what happened to Rolo. I must have missed that in the brief.”

“One thing about Keith is he is always one to make sure that everyone on the team returns back safe, regardless of the setback. That’s what set him apart to me when I learned he was Galra. The mission didn’t come first the way it did to so many others of our race. He made sure no one was ever left behind.” Axca’s eyes flicked back to Lance, and he tried not to jump.

“His mini ‘need to contemplate and brood’ session is over. Go get him so we can move to the next stage.”

“ME? Wh- I don’t wanna talk to him. He doesn’t even want me here. I say we let him burn out all his steam so he just collapses from exhaustion before I even step foot over there.” Lance felt his throat whine, but Axca just narrowed her eyes at him as her way to say

I’m not going to ask twice.

Lance made an annoyed groan as he turned on his heel to walk towards the clanging noise of metal against stone to show how much he was not going to enjoy this and a way to show his own defiance, but at the end of the day he was going to do exactly what Axca wanted. He was too scared to say no to be honest and see what happens.

The sound of violent slashing echoed through the cave walls, dragging Lance from his spiral. It was rhythmic but uneven, aggressive—raw fury striking stone. A sudden chill prickled his skin as he stood and cautiously made his way deeper into the cavern, following the harsh

clang

of Keith’s blade tearing through the air.

When Lance stepped far enough away from the center of the cave to the open and more dark area along the corners, he stopped dead. Keith stood there, drenched in sweat, body tight and hard through his suit, his expression twisted into something feral. His shoulders were taut with tension, his hands clenched around the hilt of his sword so tightly that his knuckles turned white. He moved like a storm—fluid and precise, but dangerous and unpredictable. Each slash against the walls was a burst of pure rage, the blade cleaving into the rock wall with unnerving force. Sparks flew with every impact, bits of stone crumbling under the relentless onslaught. His feet shifted in a blur, his movements rapid and flawless as he spun and lunged, attacking as though the wall was a living enemy. Lance had to squint to even make out the twist in Keith’s face—his mouth set in a hard line, brows furrowed, and eyes burning with something wild. Each strike felt like it held years of pent-up fury, sorrow, and helplessness, as if the weight of

everything

was pouring out in these moments. Lance’s mouth went dry as he carefully got closer, a little intimidated with how wild each slash was. The intensity was staggering—every movement, every attack, felt like it was fueled by a force that bordered on self-destruction. His breath came in short, sharp bursts, but he kept going. His body was a coiled spring, wound tight and desperate to release everything.

Lance watched, stunned, heart clenching at the sight. He had always known Keith was intense, but this was something else—this was pure

anger

. This was a Keith he hadn’t seen in years, someone locked away behind walls that Lance thought had finally crumbled.

There was something mesmerizing in the way Keith moved too, though—his attacks intricate, deadly. It wasn’t just brute strength; it was the precision of someone trained to fight without mercy. Every pivot, slash, and lunge was executed with terrifying skill. His sword sliced the air with a whisper-sharp hiss, moving too fast for Lance to follow sometimes, each strike cracking stone in perfect arcs. It was like watching a talented dancer who was a master at their craft, a magician crafting the most intricate spell, a whittler carving something so delicate and strong out of wood. If Lance wasn’t so terrified of Keith in that moment, he would have easily mistaken it for pretty hot—-er—crazy cool!

Lance swallowed thickly, heart pounding as he took a cautious step closer. Keith was too lost in his rage to notice him—his eyes wild, the sword an extension of his fury, slashing blindly at everything in front of him. Lance winced when a particularly violent strike sent a chunk of rock flying across the cavern, narrowly missing him. He stepped forward again, more cautiously this time.

“Hey mullet…”

No response. Keith spun sharply, the sword arcing through the air, and Lance

barely

ducked in time as the blade whistled past his ear—so close he could feel the wind cut against his skin and the light

whoosh

of the sword. His heart jumped to his throat, and he stumbled back, lifting his hands instinctively.

“Whoa, whoa!” Lance called out, trying to sound calm even though his pulse was racing. “It’s just me!”

Keith’s breathing hitched, the sword pausing mid-swing as if he finally registered Lance standing there, only a few feet away. His wild eyes locked onto Lance, glazed swirls of stormclouds widened, making sense of Lance as if waking up from a trance. His chest rose and fell in rapid breaths, sweat dripping down his face. For a second, neither of them moved.

The tension was palpable, buzzing between them like static electricity. Keith’s grip on his sword faltered slightly, but the anger still simmered beneath the surface. His jaw clenched, and he exhaled sharply through his nose, as if struggling to rein himself back in. Lance finally clocked that Keith had his headphones in as Keith moved to pull them out of his ears and let the cords dangle down around his body.

Lance gawked, pointing at Keith’s head. “

Are you—are you seriously wearing headphones right now?!

Dude, you

almost chopped me in half!

When I said to wear them, I meant in like your typical broody quiet ways, not in the

I’m swinging a dangerous weapon around blindly and cancelling out the other senses to warn me if someone is near me

.”

Keith’s eyes widened slightly, and for a brief moment, there was that familiar look of shame—like he’d gotten caught doing something stupid but couldn’t admit it. His grip on the sword tightened, and he unclipped the tape from his waistband and began angrily rolling up the headphones with a scowl. “It’s not— I didn’t mean to.”

“Well, good to know

accidentally decapitating me

wasn’t on purpose,” Lance muttered, rubbing his face. “Jesus, Keith.”

Keith exhaled through his nose, the tension still bubbling just beneath the surface. His hands gripped the hilt of his sword so tightly his knuckles were pale, like the anger hadn’t fully left him yet. But he was trying—Lance could tell. He knew that look, the tightness in Keith’s jaw, the way he rolled his shoulders like he was physically forcing himself to calm down.

Finally, Keith gave him a flat, but slightly softer, look. “What do you

want

, Lance?”

The question wasn’t exactly hostile, but it was that classic Keith brand of annoyance—low, gruff, and completely done with everyone’s nonsense. It was almost nostalgic, and Lance couldn’t decide whether to be annoyed with that blast from the past or relieved that something still felt

normal

between them.

“Axca wanted me to grab you,” Lance said, cracking his knuckles in his fists and shifting on his feet. “She’s ready to meet. Wants to go over the next part of the plan.”

Keith gave a short, tired nod, the edge of his anger starting to dull.

The tension between them hung awkwardly for a beat too long. Lance bit his cheek, fighting the urge to say more,

hating

how weird things felt again—like they were back at square one, back when Keith barely looked at him and every conversation was a battle. He hated the way it stung, like all the progress they’d made had unraveled.

After a moment, Keith ran a hand through his sweaty hair, brushing his bangs out of his eyes and finally meeting Lance’s face with something that almost resembled sincerity. “Look, I’m sorry I lashed out. I don’t agree with you being here, but you’re here now,” he said quietly, his voice more even. “That’s what matters. Let’s just… focus on the mission.”

Lance let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “Yeah. Mission. Right.”

The two stood there, still a little awkward, like trying to figure out what to do and how to exist in such high stakes again. Lance cleared this throat instead and just pointed at this tape.

“You should leave that, not bring that when we finish the mission.”

Keith blinked, looking down confused at the tape as if he hadn’t realized he was holding it. His confused, innocent face twisted something in Lance’s gut. When Keith didn’t have a murderous look in his eyes, he was surprisingly adorable. Lance made a point to point at it again, and that seemed to click in Keith at what he had been holding as he looked back at Lance, a soft red peppering his already adrenleine flushed face.

“I used it to, drown out everything else.” Keith’s voice was deep and rough, like he really was as exhausted and worn out as he should have been.

“What song got you so lost? I mean, you didn’t even realize I was here.” Lance scratched at his arm aimlessly, watching the way Keith’s dark brows furrowed and his lips pouted.

“I don’t know, I had the Smith’s on and then it all just kinda faded out mentally? Sorry, you can–”

“I don’t want it back, man. Just, be careful next time is what I’m trying to say. Maybe we switch out the tape when we get back to the Blades? After the mission?” Lance dropped his tone to be softer, his heart squeezing to at least try and claw back what he had with Keith. Anything to be normal and what he earned after all these years. This was a prize to Keith’s new and softer and understanding side that Lance refused to loose. Again.

Keith just blinked back at Lance, a twisted emotion darkening his face, and it drove Lance crazy. He just wanted to snap his fingers in Keith’s face, or push in on his cheeks to make him smile, or reach over and unclech his jaw for him. But he held back, strumming his fingers along his leg instead.

“I want more Smiths. And the David Bowie guy.”

Lance tried not to gawk at Keith’s admission, now blinking back like a dope at him. Keith shrugged, looking at the tape and then making eye contact with Lance again, and Lance felt on fire from it.

“Ok, we can arrange that. Although, we’d have to make a pitstop back at Earth first so I can just burn you your own disc.”

“You’d do that?” his question danced on a lot more belief than Lance would have wanted, and that almost pained Lance more than the idea of Keith swinging a weapon on him, so he just nodded.

“Dude, of course. That’s what friends are for, right?” Lance threw him his best grin, hoping this was all gonna be smoothed over and glossed like a tiny bump on your arm, but Keith’s eyes flickered again with something dark and stormy, gripping at the hilt of his sword as he shifted the grip in his hand. He just nodded, and Lance mentally kicked himself for possibly doing something wrong.

But of course, Lance couldn’t resist and he steam trained ahead, wanting to lighten both of their weird moods. He gave Keith a small, lopsided smirk. “Just try not to get too starry-eyed about me saving your life later, okay? I know it’s gonna be tempting, but keep it professional.”

Keith snorted—just barely—but the corner of his mouth twitched. “What makes you think I’m the one that’s gonna need saving?”

“Oh, that’s cute,” Lance shot back with mock indignation, the tension easing just a little between them. “All this pent up aggression and motivation? The passion’s there, I’ll hand it to you. But I

will

save your reckless butt, samurai. Just you wait.”

Keith’s jaw clicked and tightened, and for a second Lance thought he said something wrong, but then when he rolled his eyes, it was almost playful. “Whatever, Lance.”

And just like that, things shifted—just a little, but enough. The old rhythm of their back-and-forth, the tiny sparks of rivalry and annoyance, slipped back into place like a comfortable groove. It was familiar. It was them.

“Come on, MCR. If I don’t get you back over there Axca is gonna have my head on a skewer before you get the chance to.” Lance waited for Keith to approach before falling into step at his side. His jaw still clenched, and Lance physically fought back reaching out to grab at it to make him settle, assuming his leg strumming.

“Funny you think her first target wouldn’t be at me. She’s held back long enough having to deal with all my bullshit.” Keith sighed out, flicked at his sword as it slowly materialized back into its original short Blade shape. Lance let himself whistle at that, still giddy from all the cool Blade action he got to witness up close and personal.

“If you think she’s first in line for beating your ass up for all the shit you put us through, that’s where you’re wrong, babe, because I will fight anyone for that first place position.” Lance babbled on, barley realizing the pet name he just dropped. Lance’s stomach recoiled, hoping Keith hadn’t caught on as he chanced a glance over to him, but unfortunately, Keith had smirked back at him with this amused look in his eyes, almost like he was waiting for Lance to pull an I gotcha moment. So Lance just stammered on.

“I mean seriously, you should have seen the looks of everyone over at the Blade base when we lost data of you in that fight. Your mom looked like she was gonna steal a ship and crash it straight onto this planet herself. Oh, if Shiro knew the shit you got yourself involved with, you’d make his hair even greyer than it actually is. Actually, you definitely would make Hunk have a heart attack, and I think Pidge would definetly have some unkind words to say…”

“Ok, ok, enough already. I got a long line of angry people if I do something irrational is what you’re saying.” Keith groaned, but there was no real heat to it, almost a little endearing. Lance just threw an arm over Keith shoulder’s to sag a little lazily, pulling his body weight at Keith to support.

“Now you’re catching on. You got people who care for you, you big dummy. Just, be careful and think about this. Maybe let me help because I actually care?” Lance threw Keith an exhausted look, but he faltered when he noticed the way Keith’s brows furrowed at him, his purple eyes swirling in an unmistakable flash of fondness. Lance felt his body heat up as he painfully noticed how close he was in Keith’s space, but surprised at how Keith wasn’t pushing him away. Lance just gulped, realizing it was a struggle, and blamed it on Keith’s intensity.

They found the rest of the Blade operatives Lance had flown in with, a small group of at least 20, all dressed and suited, their Blade daggers strapped to them, milling around a tent that the scientists had cleared for Blade planning and usage. Axca was discussing something intensely with some short alien girl scientist that had a pair of cracked glasses and anxciosuly clutching to some digital pad when they neared the tent. Axca looked up at the two of them, giving them a quick one over that made Lance feel like he was being burned alive, before motioning for them to enter the tent. In the dimly lit command tent, the tension was palpable. Maps, schematics, and hastily scribbled notes littered the table at the center, and the low hum of distant explosions reverberated through the ground beneath their boots, the unmistakable blasting attempts from their supervillian of the hour. Lance dropped his arms like deadweight the moment they entered as Keith beelined towards the head of the table in the center of the tent, standing next to Axca and immediately engaging in a very intense looking conversation, the lull and murmur blending with the other operatives standing around and some scientists looking extra scared to be in theri presence. Lance found Ezor and Zethrid a little down the table, sliding in besides them, keeping an eye on Keith. How tense he looked. His jaw clicking. The same sort of restlessness he had on Planet Narthoras. Maybe this was just Keith’s natural demeanor now before intense missions?

“You have a staring problem.”

Lance lept in his skin as he spinned to look at a grinning Ezor, her cat like smile and eyes dancing back at him.

“You have an annoying poking in other people’s business problem.” Lance shot back. Ezor snorted, mimicking his defnesive expression and folding her own arms.

“I don’t gotta poke in business that’s practically free range.”

“Alright, we have a decision over all the information supplied to us by the civilians and scientists who have been a great help.” Axca began, her commanding voice beginning silence across the room.

“We have two options, but one very apparent one that will make of break the future of this planet.” Keith stood up next to her, his eyes piercing in that commanding and deep way that made Lance’s skin prickle. More Blades shuffled into position, leaning up against the table as they began to lock in, and as Lance leaned forward, Ezor prodded at his side.

“Trying to look at the view?” Her voice stayed low and teasing, and that was finally it for him.

“I’m standing over here now.” Lance groaned out, making a point to step away as she just snickered at him.

Axca stood with her arms crossed, her face calm but her words sharp. Keith leaned over the table, knuckles pressed into the surface, and Lance stood across from him finding a spot next to Nyma, fingers strumming abscentmindedly along his arm as his frustration and anticipation boiled over.

“This isn’t just about civilians," Axca began, her voice steady, "We have a narrow window to steal back Vrelen’s machine. If we lose that, we lose the only chance of understanding his energy weapon—this could doom this entire planet and its ability to maintain its shape and core if he keeps blasting at its surface.”

“A couple of the citizens here were able to heat track his signature on the opposite side of the hill where he was blasting. Theres an old abandoned base there that the scientists used to use as an outpost to store minerals. They found him there with the machine, and he’s waiting. The blasts haven’t occurred as frequent so our best bet is he’s charging it up for one final big hit to the planet. We saw the damage it can do when retaining some of the sun’s energy to make short and quick blasts. If he keeps doing that and letting the machine charge for longer periods, that can be detrimental to the planet and all its inhabitants. If we want to save everyone here to keep this planet as a place they can live, we need to destory the weapon from being used once and for all.” Keith clenched his fists on the tabletop, his eyes scanning the room at all the faces. It lingered for a second on Lance before he continued his scan.

Axca pointed to the map. "Option one: We push forward with the mission, infiltrate Vrelen’s base, and destroy it. Civilians might die if the bombs detonate before evacuations are complete... but it’s the only way to stop him from doing this to

more

planets."

Keith nodded, jaw tight. He stood rigid at the center, leaning over the battered table cluttered with maps and blueprints. His voice was tight, filled with urgency and frustration as he detailed the plan.

“We can’t waste time. We hit the base, take out the machine, and end this before Vrelen gets away with…whatever he is planning. We can double down with more of our Blade ships once this weapon is wiped.” He stabbed a finger into the map, where the enemy compound was circled in red. “If we don’t, this happens again. And again. We’ve already seen what his weapon can do. Understood?”

The room shuffled and murmured with avoidant agreement, and Lance wanted to scream at how no one was seeing this was also as dangerous as the first time they attempted. Vrelen knew what to expect from Keith and the Blades, and he had won the first time. What would be so different with this second attack, even if they did outnumber a lot more now? This felt too rushed.

Axca shifted, her arms crossed, cool but calculating. “There

is

another option,” she said evenly, pointing toward another part of the map marked for evacuation zones. “We pull back. Focus on saving the civilians. Evacuate the city before those bombs go off. We might lose the machine, but—”

“That’s not an option,” Keith snapped, cutting her off. “If we let him walk away with that machine, more people will die. We can’t keep playing catch-up while he burns through planets.”

“Rolo’s not dead.” Nyma muttered low enough under her breath just for Lance to hear.

The words landed heavily. Some of the Blades exchanged uneasy glances. One of them, a young woman with dark circles under her eyes and the same glowing yellow eyes, hesitated. “But... what if we

can’t

stop him? What if the civilians—”

Keith’s gaze cut to her, sharp and unyielding. “I will not be having any more casualties from him and what he’s planning to do. We can’t save everyone if we attempt to only evacuate. He threatens the stability of their very home, and if he takes it all out, they will have no planet to come back to. He can take this machine and continue to do awful things with, destory other planets if wanted. But if we stop him now, we save countless lives down the line.”

The knot in Lance’s chest tightened as he listened. The more Keith talked, the worse this plan started to feel. His eyes flicked to the other Blades, and he saw the same doubt mirrored in their faces. This wasn’t just about strategy—it was about how far Keith was willing to go.

Keith’s jaw clenched, frustration rolling off him in waves when there was a lack of support sound offs from the Blades. “We get in fast, take out the machine, and get out before that happens. That’s the only way. If we don’t,

everything

we’ve lost so far will be for nothing.”

Lance felt something twist in his gut at the cold finality in Keith’s voice. He couldn’t tell if it was the weight of the plan, or the way Keith seemed so willing to throw himself—and everyone else—into the fire without hesitation.

“This is the only way,” Keith repeated, his voice low and strained, almost like he was convincing himself as much as the others. Lance sensed the room shift, some grumble and low murmurs to listen to their leader, and before Lance realized what he was doing he already started.

His hands slammed onto the table, making the papers scatter and Nyma jump. “No. No way. Option two—we pull everyone out,

now

. We save the people we

can

save before this entire planet gets leveled.” His voice cracked slightly. "If we go in there guns blazing, we're just making it worse. One wrong move and he sets off the whole damn thing.”

Keith shot him a glare. ““You don’t get it. If Vrelen leaves with that tech—if we let him walk away—he’ll just go on to the next world. And the next one after that. I’m not harming lives in the process. I’m trying to stop anyone else from being sacrificed to whatever maniac plan he has.”

“And what about the people down there

right now

?” Lance shot back, incredulous. “The ones we can still save if we just—” He stopped himself, searching Keith’s expression. “You don’t care if this blows up in your face, do you? As long as the machine goes down, nothing else matters.”

Keith stiffened, a flicker of guilt flashing in his eyes before hardening into cold determination. “I care. But I’ve seen what happens when we don’t act fast enough. I’ve…this planet has already lost too much. Our team has been broken off. I’m not leading a command to do that again.”

Lance’s heart pounded painfully in his chest. “You think this is the answer? You think if you throw yourself at the problem hard enough, it’ll just fix everything? That’s not how it works, Keith.” The two locked eyes, and the air between them felt like it was about to combust. Lance's chest rose and fell quickly, the desperation in his voice cutting through the tension.

Keith's voice dropped, low and dangerous. “You don’t understand the cost of failure.”

“Oh, don’t I?” Lance snapped, his hands trembling slightly. “I’ve been there too! Watching people leave, losing everything, watching

you

disappear over and over again!” Lance felt his voice hitch as Keith froze, visibly rattled.

Axca then swooped in, forcefully slapping her hands on the tabletop to draw in everyones attention to someone who wasn’t throwing a fissy fight.

“What if we do it all at the same time? There’s enough of us to be split amongst our powers.” Her eyes pierced daggers at Lance, snapping his mouth shut, before trailing to glare at Keith. Keith blinked, snapping back to attention as he rolled his shoulders. He shut his eyes tightly, and Lance tried to ignore his jaw clenching and unclenching. Finally, he opened his eyes, and they revealed passionate stormclouds, brewing with intent.

“Here’s the new plan then. While the Blades assist in evacuating civilians through hidden tunnels beneath the city that the scientists have marked out for us here, I’ll take a team that will sneak into Vrelen’s base and destroy the machine before it can unleash more energy. The Blades will provide a distraction attack on the perimeter, drawing most of the guards away, so my team can infiltrate through a damaged section of the base. In, out, focus solely on destroying the machine and evacuating with the rest of the Blades. If we stop him in the process, that’s two birds with one stone.” The anger in his eyes flickered, replaced with something raw and uncertain. More determined and a little tired. His grip on the table loosened as if the fight had drained out of him all at once.

Axca cleared her throat, “We need to make a decision. Now. Are we all under agreement?”

The room murmured positively with Keith’s plan, and the leader stood up straighter at this, having a decision that somehow pleased everyone.

“Good, start heading out and rounding up everyone to get them to evacuate. No matter what happens, I want them far out of the tunnels and away on the ground, out of limits for any possible blasts that go off. Axca, Zethrid, and Ezor, we infiltrate. Zandorf and Lance, I wan you to lead the evacuation and take the civilians.” Keith’s eyes swept over Lance and another Blade operatives.

“I’m going in that too. I’m going to find Rolo and you can’t tell me no.” Nyma immediately jumped out from Lance’s side, squaring up at Keith and Axca. Keith just gave her a swift nod as the Blades all began shuffling, pushing around and beginning to operate their plan. The Blade Zandorf who Keith had addressed to lead the civilian evacuation alongside Lance was suddenly commanding and pulling at Lance’s side to get them out of the tent with the rest of the Blades, but Lance finally snapped back, shoving past the bustling Blades and marching right up into Keith’s face.

“I’m not leaving this planet without you.” He drew in all commanding inspiration, straightening up to match Keith’s height. Keith’s eyes narrowed back at Lance, heating, fiery, dancing on the edge of a danger that Lance shouldn’t be playing with. The tension in the tent between them reached its peak, and the silence after Lance’s last words was deafening. Keith stared at him, jaw tight, fists clenched at his sides. It was as if Lance’s words had hit him like a punch to the gut.

For a brief second, Keith’s anger wavered. His dark eyes flickered with something raw, almost hurt, before that familiar wall came crashing down. He shoved the emotions back, locking them behind a cold, distant expression.

Keith turned his back to Lance, voice low and sharp. “Fine. You want to tag along? Then you’d better keep up and listen to me this time. I mean it.”

Lance huffed, crossing his arms but relieved to have gotten through—at least a little. "I’ve been keeping up just fine with you and you never even realized. I’m not here to be babysat by you, you know.”

Keith shot him a sideways glance, his expression walled off again, like the years they had spent breaking down barriers between them had never even happened. The other Blades finished gathering their things, casting quick, grim nods toward Keith before exiting. As they headed out to round up the civilians, the tension between Keith and Lance lingered, thick and unresolved. Axca, Zethrid, Ezor, and Nyma prepared to leave, hoisting their weapons and clicking along to downloaded scans one of the scientist was importing into their wristbands.

Keith whistled out to somewhere in the camp with a distant and hardened gaze, and Lance’s stomach twisted at the fact he knew the whistle well enough to know he was summoning Kosmo from somewhere amongst the cave. “I’m just trying to protect you. You weren’t there to see how Vrelen attacks, the things he says to throw you off. He already found a way to take Rolo, I just–.”

Lance rolled his eyes, biting back a retort. “Yeah, yeah. I’m your damsel in distress that doesn’t know how to protect himself. Let’s just get this over with.”

Without another word, Keith turned exhaled sharply and made his way towards their small team, his posture stiff, every movement tense with purpose.

Lance watched him for a moment longer, heart heavy. The Keith standing before him now felt like a stranger—cold, driven, locked away behind walls he thought they’d torn down long ago.

But not this time,

Lance thought.

Not again.

He set his jaw and followed after Keith, determination hardening his resolve. Whatever Keith thought, whatever was going on in his head, Lance wasn’t going anywhere—not without him.

The dim tunnels stretched endlessly beneath the ruined city, the air thick with damp stone and the faint hum of distant machinery. Footfalls echoed dully off the walls as Keith and Kosmo, Lance, Axca, Ezor, Zethrid, and Nyma moved cautiously through the narrow underground paths toward the citadel. Their mission was clear this time: surprise attack, disable the machine, and leave Vrelen with no escape. But despite the professional veneer Keith tried to maintain, everyone could feel the tension radiating off him like a ticking timebomb. One that Lance was determined to poke and prod at in defiance.

Keith stalked ahead of the group, his movements stiff with focus, but also a barely contained edge, like a coil wound too tight. His dark eyes flicked from corner to corner, hyper-alert, every muscle in his body drawn and ready. They shuffled in silence, Nyma and Ezor clicking along scanning the map scans that they were given, Lance training his eyes to shoot at Keith’s back a couple steps ahead. They neared an end tunnel with a crate above before Keith and Axca turned back on the team.

“Okay, listen,” Keith started, his voice clipped and businesslike, “we can’t afford another mistake. This time, we hit the machine directly. No distractions, no splitting focus.”

“Rolo’s a mistake now?” Nyma quipped back, and Axca visibly sighed as Keith grit his teeth with an annoyed huff.

“That’s not what we mean. We can’t have accidents happenign to loose another one of our team members. The goal is to take it down before Vrelen activates any more surges. Minimal confrontation if possible.” Axca made direct eye contact with each of them.

Everyone nodded as Keith gripped at the crate and unscrewed. One by one they all climbed up and out, squatting as Lance took in the room. It was crumbling and a huge mess, just as expected, but he could tell the traces of what the room once used to be. Greatness and a heightened resemblance of technology and the future.

Ezor let out a soft whistle that Lance was seconds away from making as the new team took in the surroundings, and Keith snapped his head back to glare.

“Stay focused and on your toes. Vrelen has robotic soldiers likely patrolling the circumference. We should find somewhere to hide and wait for word that the Blades are causing a distraction away from us.”

Everyone nodded, shutting up and following as Keith led them through a door and through a deteriorating hall.

Lance, trailing close behind Keith, folded his arms with a sly smirk. “Wow, Keith. So intense. It’s almost like you’re trying to scare the mission into a crumble like that machine is.”

Keith shot him a glare over his shoulder. “What did I say about staying focused?”

“I

am

focused,” Lance shot back, grinning just to get under his skin. “Focused on how you’ve been a grumpy space wolf since I arrived.”

Keith’s jaw clenched, and he looked away, ignoring him. But Lance was undeterred. He wasn’t about to let Keith retreat into himself without a fight.

“So, tell me,” Lance continued, nudging Keith’s shoulder playfully as they walked, “how much longer are you gonna brood? All the way to Vrelen? Or do we get a break when you realize your own team isn’t out to ruin this for you?”

Keith exhaled sharply, as if holding back an outburst. “Lance, now is not the time—”

“Oh, come on. If you loosened up, maybe we’d all survive this mission without your spine snapping in half.”

Axca glanced between them, giving a quiet sigh of frustration. “Do you two

ever

stop?”

Keith ignored her, squaring his shoulders and continuing down the path, determined not to let Lance drag him into an argument. But Lance could see the cracks forming—Keith’s usual mask of composure slipping more and more by the second.

Behind them, Ezor groaned quietly to Zethrid, her voice a mix of exasperation and amusement. “I swear, they’re worse than kids on a long space trip.”

Zethrid chuckled under her breath. “I give them five minutes before Keith snaps.”

Keith whirled around, his glare sharp enough to cut through steel. “All of you, shut up. I mean it.”

But there was no real anger behind the words—just exhaustion. Lance saw it for what it was: Keith on the edge, barely holding himself together, refusing to admit that everything weighed on him more than it should.

Lance’s grin softened, though he couldn’t resist one last prod. “I’m

really

glad to see that year apart didn’t change you. You’re still the same hothead too focused on making sure everything goes right for his own good.”

Keith scoffed and turned away, but Lance could tell—

just

barely—that the tension had eased a fraction. He might have annoyed Keith into a corner, but that corner was still better than the cold distance Keith kept trying to put between them.

“Alright,” Axca cut in, rolling her eyes. “Keep it together—both of you. I’m getting word that most of the civilians have evacuated and are out of the tunnels. Zandorf is gonna start the line of bombs going off at the empty fields across the way and in line with Vrelen’s view. Hopefully he sends off most of his robots to investigate so they aren’t there when we get to him. ”

As of on cue, the echoing sounds of explosives begin sounding off in the distance. It didn’t shake the earth in the same way the energy blasts from the machine had, with not nearly the same level of genocidal damage that the machine had done to the earth. The team all looked at each other, letting the realization that the Blades were doing the distraction part of the plan, before they all began running down the hall to duck in another room. The sound of heavy footsteps and patrolling echoed through the crumbling halls, the ruins of the giant building shaking as the unmistakable sound of the robots retreating to follow up with where the Blades were gave the team hope to sneak out again.

They made their way back into the halls, Keith storming a little too fast and less sneaky for Lance’s liking. He made a face at Axca, motioning with flippant arms at the hothead a couple steps ahead for her to realize. Thankfully she caught on to Lance, sighing and stepping over, when Keith suddenly froze when he turned a corner.

“Run.” Keith shot out, and the team behind him all froze and looked at each other in confusion. Keith then glared back towards them, his voice now a throaty growl.

“I said run NOW.” He demanded, and right as he yelled several shots fired off, nearly hitting Keith’s body. The team all stumbled backwards as Keith came sprinting back towards them, dodging another shot as a huge heard of about 30 robots appeared from around the corner, all turning to open fire at the small team of 6 plus wolf.

“We need to make the next corner

now

or we’re toast!” Zethrid called over her shoulder. The herd of machines thundered after them, their mechanical legs thumping against stone. Sparks flew as blaster shots ricocheted off the walls. Nyma ran ahead, blasting robots with her pistol and ducking away as tripple the amount seemed to fire back.

Lance fired over his shoulder, taking out one of the leading robots, but the rest kept coming, relentless and swarming.

“Keep going and try to outrun them!” Keith yelled, pulling his blade free and slashing down a robot trying to flank them.

Nyma spun on her heel, gun in each hand, blasting two more machines. “They just keep coming!” she shouted. “There’s too many!”

The sound of clanging metal and pounding footsteps echoed down the hallways of the ruined citadel, growing louder with each passing second. Vrelen’s robots surged through the broken corridors like an unstoppable tide. Their glowing eyes locked onto Keith’s team, weapons primed.

The team skidded to a halt in the middle of the decaying hall, assessing their dwindling options with three different pathways broken between them. “

Split up!

” he barked, his voice sharp and demanding. “We’ll meet at Vrelen’s heat signature! Move!”

Axca darted left with Nyma as Zethrid and Ezor darted straight, vanishing down the corridors. Another blast shot past Lance’s face as the two followed its singe on the wall in front of them, making the two turn to blink wildly at each other from how close that hit was. Lance planted his legs and held up his blaster to aim at a couple robots nearing them, blasting their heads off right as they were close to cocking their blasters at Keith, when Keith yanked him by the arm to feverishly pull him with them.

Lance shot Keith an incredulous look as they sprinted together to the right, ducking down past more shots as the rumbling of the robots came closer, splitting off in uneven amounts to follow the split team. “You sure this splitting-up idea’s brilliant?”

Keith glared, not breaking stride. “Just run, Lance!”

Another shot zipped past Keith’s head, and he cursed under his breath. The hallway stretched endlessly in front of them, with no safe place in sight. Lance’s mind flew a million miles a minute, eyes darting over the crumbling cracks and the heavy stones littering the halls from broken ceilings. So much leftover debris, so much torn down holes in the wall and cracks up the—wait.

“Keith—

left

!” Lance shouted, grabbing Keith’s arm mid-run and yanking him into a narrow crack that snaked up the wall at another turn. Keith let out a chortled noise from the force as they flew through it, ducking into the wall and Lance slapping a hand over Keith’s mouth, his other hand tightly gripping Keith’s wrist to stablize himself. Kosmo crawled in further, disappearing into the unstable sustenance that held up the wall. Keith staggered, caught off guard, but didn’t resist as Lance hauled him into the shadows of a crumbled wall. They tumbled into the cramped space, the walls pressing in tight around them. Lance opted to just keep pulling as far as the space allowed, holding his breath as the nearing footsteps thudded and echoed outside the hole. They crouched low, pressed close—

too

close. The thudding footsteps of patrolling guards echoed faintly outside as they continued at a fast run, furthering themselves down the hall and failing to stop at the crack. Lance finally let out a sigh as he removed his hand slowly from Keith’s mouth, feeling the hot air of his breath shoot out as he steadied his breathing.

Keith was rigid, every muscle tense. Lance felt his heart pounding against his ribs, not just from the chase but from the sudden proximity to Keith. Their bodies were nearly touching, breaths mingling in the narrow gap between them. Lance’s hand, still hovering over Keith’s face, felt like it was burning.

Lance’s chest heaved as he caught his breath, his pulse racing for reasons far beyond the running. He could feel the tension radiating off Keith, could see the anger and frustration simmering beneath his surface. Keith looked like a cornered animal—wild, dangerous, and desperate to escape.

“I think they’re gone,” Lance whispered, the word barely audible. Keith’s jaw clenched, his dark eyes flicking toward Lance, stormy and unreadable. His breathing was harsh, shallow, and his hand twitched in Lance’s grasp like he was fighting the urge to pull away—and failing. Lance noticed the flicker of something vulnerable, raw, beneath Keith’s guarded exterior. But he knew better than to push, not when Keith was teetering on the edge of breaking. Instead, he just tightened his grip slightly—grounding, steadying, offering a wordless reminder that he was still here. Keith’s throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, struggling to contain the maelstrom of emotions swirling inside him. His jaw clenched and unclenched instead, the frustration and helplessness curling into every tense line of his body. The air between them felt suffocating. Lance’s breath hitched, but he forced himself to stay still. The closeness wasn’t intentional—just a product of circumstance—but now it was all he could think about. Every inch between them felt charged, like stepping too close to the edge of something dangerous.

“Hey,” Lance whispered, quieter this time. “You good?”

Keith’s gaze darkened, and for a second, Lance thought he might lash out, push him away. Jaw clenching. His jaw flexed again, that telltale sign that he was grinding his teeth—

hard.

Something inside Lance finally snapped, snatching his hand out to cup against Keith’s jaw, making him freeze again. Keith’s breath hitched, startled, his eyes wide and sharp in the low light.
His pulse roared in his ears, confusion and heat curling under his skin at his own actions.

“Stop it,” Lance whispered, his voice low, but his eyes were soft. “You’re gonna shatter your damn jaw, and then what? I’m not dragging your sulking butt out of here toothless. What kind of hero are you gonna look like when you save the day looking like a grandpa who sucked on a lemon?”

Keith stared at him, frozen, torn between the instinct to pull away and... something else. Something that made the tension between them shift, crackling and heavy with meaning neither of them could name. Lance’s hand lingered, the warmth of his touch an anchor to himself with a promised grasp on Keith.

“I’m not mad at you,” Keith finally muttered, voice tight but quieter than before. “I’m mad at myself.”

Lance blinked, his hand still resting on Keith’s jaw. He let his fingers twitch against Keith’s warm skin, feeling the sharp point where his jaw unclicked and faded into his neck. “What are you talking about?”

Keith exhaled sharply through his nose, like he was trying to get his thoughts in order but kept hitting walls. “I’m mad because... if something happens to you, it’s on me. And I can’t—” His voice cracked slightly, a rare tremor of emotion slipping through his usual stoicism. “I can’t let that happen, Lance.”

Lance’s heart stumbled in his chest at the way Keith said it—like the thought alone was too much, like it weighed more than anything else Keith was carrying.

“You think I can’t handle myself?” Lance tried to joke, though it came out softer, not quite as confident as he intended. “Don’t tell me you’ve lost faith in the Blue Paladin. You don’t think I can make a comeback?”

Keith gave a huff, a half-hearted attempt at a laugh that didn’t quite land. “You’ve always had this in you. You just had this fight on the backburner, but now that you’re back in it, its exhilarating to see.” Keith’s steady gaze met Lance’s and Lance almost slipped at how intensely captivating his eyes were. His body felt frigid, wanting to scream and run but at the same time wanting to stay this close, grow under Keith’s look.

“I trust you, Lance.” His voice was raw, barely above a whisper. “With my life.”

Lance blinked, stunned by the admission, the weight of it hanging between them.

“But...” Keith’s voice dropped lower, almost pained. “If it was you in Rolo’s place—if it was

you

... I don’t know what I’d do.”

The words hit Lance harder than any enemy fire ever could, cutting deep in ways he wasn’t prepared for. He felt the sting of them in his chest, in the places where old feelings he thought he’d buried stirred back to life. For a moment, they were suspended in that charged silence again—Keith, looking vulnerable and exposed in a way he rarely allowed himself, and Lance, standing too close, with too many emotions swirling in his chest to make sense of. Lance’s fingers twitched against Keith’s jaw, unsure whether to pull away or stay. Keith's eyes dropped to the ground, the intensity between them becoming too much. He exhaled sharply, as if forcing himself to break free from the moment. The sounds of the patrolling guards faded as they slipped further down the hall, but neither of them moved right away. For a few beats, they stayed where they were—Keith frozen in place, Lance waiting for the moment to pass.

Finally, Keith exhaled sharply, the tension still coiled in him but restrained. “We need to go,” he muttered, his voice rough.

Lance released Keith’s hand, letting it drop slowly. “Yeah. Right.”

Keith turned toward the passageway without another word, his expression cold and unreadable. But Lance lingered for a heartbeat longer, watching him with a mix of frustration and something else—something that felt too big to name just yet. And then, as quickly as the moment had come, it was gone. Keith was already moving again, blade in hand, storming ahead with renewed purpose. The sudden absence of warmth made Lance’s hand feel cold, empty. He curled his fingers into a loose fist, watching as Keith turned and started toward the opening.

Lance stood there for a second longer, his heart still racing, his thoughts tangled and wild. He sighed, trailing behind Keith as he always seemed to do.

Lance followed Keith as Kosmo padded along next to him, his ears flickering and honing in on any noises around the halls. Lance kept a steady eye out for anything, keeping his blaster cocked with him, but his eyes couldn’t stop drifting to Keith. His face, determined and mixed with countless emotions being held back. His shoulders, tight and weighed down by whatever he was feeling about this. His dark brows furrowed as his eyes looked down at his armband, clicking over to try to reconnect. Keith was everything that was right about a leader, even in the negative parts.

“We’ve got a good signal tracking him to a far end of the citadel’s building. We believe he’s there with the machine still.” Axca’s voice commed through, and Lance scurried up to peer over Keith’s shoulder. Keith didn’t step away or shield off from Lance, almost as if he was welcoming his presence.

“We managed to escape our herd of robots. Is everyone else good to meet up just before the room he’s in?” Keith’s voice was gravel.

“Give us like 5 minutes and I think we are good on our end.” Ezor commed over with it ending in a crackle.

“We have a route for a roundabout to get to the location. Give us five too.” Axca came over, and Lance could see Keith’s shoulder’s release some tension.

“Can’t wait for our annual meet up to take down the bad guy. Who wants to bet they will get there first?” Lance slapped a hand on Keith’s shoulder as he leaned in to comm through Keith’s arm, forgetting his own. Keith gave him a look as if saying ‘

really?’

, which just made Lance flash a bright smile back.

“Not all of us are Keith, Blue. That’s what you have him with you for.” Ezor commed over, but Keith quickly slapped a hand over his wrist with a low grumble.

“You know your team could really fix its spirits with a little friendly competition.” Lance shrugged as Keith continued on. Keith glanced back at him, but a small smirk danced on his previously pouted lips. Stop staring at his lips, Lance!

“Oh really, is that what Voltron was? Friendly competition to get through our missions?”

“I wont lie that is usually what helped finish really boring days. I mean, my prank war with Pidge was legendary. It helps team camaraderie.” Lance pushed on to stay in step with Keith. It was like his closeness was a manget that Lance couldn’t get enough of now that he got a taste. Keith scoffed, holding his wrist to take a look at the digital map again.

“You mean the prank war you lost?”

“Um, false. You weren’t even the judge. I so would have won if it was actually Pidge who walked into the room. Coran just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time!” Lance whined, thinking fondly on the memory of him running into the lounge and quickly sticking one of Hunk’s mystery soups over the door, making it so the next person who came running in after him would open it and cause it to fall. He was planning on the said person to be Pidge, since she was chasing him previously after he deadlegged the back of her knees and took off. It was all part of their grand prank war, and Lance stood back in anctipciation unaware Keith was in the room on the couch flipping through a an Altean hologram book, looking everything
but amused and saying this was a bad idea. It would have gone off amazing if the doors didn’t open to Coran walking in, the alien soup pouring down over his head instead. Safe to say the prank war was forced to end after that.

“I’ve never seen a grown guy get placed in timeout the way you did.” Keith snorted, and that light sound did something fluttery to Lance’s chest. Lance just grinned on.

“It was a risk I would have done over and over again, my man.”

Keith paused to give him another look, one that Lance swore was that of fondness as his lips pulled up in a small smile. Suddenly, the hair on the back of Kosmo stood up in ridges, the wolf’s claws digging into the ground as he began a low snarl right as they turned the corner and was immediately stopped dead in theri tracks by another 8 robots. Where do they keep coming from?!?

Both of them froze in place. Lance barely had time to react before energy blasts rained down.

A burst of energy fire erupted toward them, forcing them to dive behind a crumbled down vase, its potted materials scattered on the ground and just high enough for the two to duck behind. Lance hit the ground and rolled, landing beside Keith with a huff as Kosmo whimpered at Keith’s legs.

“You good?” Lance whispered, panting lightly.

Keith gave a sharp nod, his eyes glued to the advancing robots. His jaw clenched tight, a storm brewing just behind his dark gaze. Lance could almost

hear

the gears turning in Keith’s brain—already planning a dozen different strategies, each one more complicated than the last. Lance rolled his eyes.

Of course,

Keith was overcomplicating things again. Before Keith could suggest some over-the-top tactical move, Lance casually raised his blaster, aimed it over their small barrier of protection—and fired.

The shot hit dead center in the nearest robot’s glowing eye, sending it crashing to the ground with a metallic clang. Lance smirked, twirling his blaster like a gunslinger. “You were thinking too hard, man. Only getting older here.”

Keith shot him a sharp side-eye, annoyed but unable to hide the smallest twitch at the corner of his mouth.

“C’mon,” Lance said with a cocky grin. “We’ve

got

this.”

Before Keith could argue, Kosmo appeared at Keith’s side in an instant with a small huff. The bond between them was so effortless it made Lance pause, just for a second. Keith nodded, placing a strong hand on Kosmo’s head without hesitation, trusting Kosmo to follow his every step, the two working in perfect tandem. He brought his other hand to touch at his side, his Blade mask appearing and shielding his face away, before launching out from behind their vase and storming face first into the robots.

Kosmo growled low and lunged forward after his owner, blinking through space like a shadow slipping between cracks. Keith bolted right behind him, drawing his blade with a deadly elegance that made Lance's heart stutter. The way he moved—so precise, fluid, and fast—was mesmerizing, almost like a dance. For a moment, Lance sat there, watching. Keith and Kosmo were

something else

—an unstoppable pair, each one anticipating the other’s movements before they even happened. Keith would duck, Kosmo would appear beside him, fangs bared. Keith would swipe with his blade, and Kosmo would leap through space, ripping apart the disoriented robots. It was seamless, beautiful, and a little terrifying how in sync they were.

Lance shook himself out of the daze and leapt into the fray. “Show-offs,” he muttered under his breath, but a grin tugged at the corner of his mouth.

He fired a shot just as Kosmo disappeared again, and the robot Lance was aiming for exploded into sparks before it could turn. Keith shot him a quick glance, his head tilting in an unspoken surprise,

Not bad, sharpshooter.

Lance grinned back, giving him a smug look. Their rhythm built quickly, each movement playing off the other. Lance fired over Keith’s shoulder without hesitation, covering him while he ducked low to sweep an enemy’s legs out from under it. Keith rolled to his feet, blade flashing in the low light, and Kosmo blinked back beside him with a low growl, ready to attack again. At one point, Keith dashed forward to slice through a robot’s arm with a sharp, clean cut. Before the dismembered piece could hit the ground, Lance shot it mid-air, sending sparks flying. Keith gave Lance a fleeting look, Lance practically hearing Keith’s voice,

Really? Was that necessary?

Lance just winked. “It’s called flair, buddy. Learn it.”

Keith gave a soft huff—was it exasperation or amusement? Hard to tell. “Stay focused.”

“

I

am focused. Maybe you’re just distracted by how good I look right now.”

Keith shot him a glare, but Lance could tell it wasn’t malicious. Another blast came at them, both their backs to wherever the shot came from, but Kosmo lept in an instant, crashing into the two of them as Kosmo teleported them both out of harm’s way a few meters down the hall. Lance stumbled as they reappeared behind a crumbling pillar, landing almost chest-to-chest with Keith.

“Come here often?” was all Lance could spit out to keep himself from squirming. He heard a low scoff from under Keith’s mask as Keith was the first to step away, rolling his shoulders as he twirled his blade in his hand.

Hot

.

Which would be a thought most people have in this situation who are definitely not Lance!

There were three more robots in the hall, all a little confused with the sudden disappearance of their enemy.

“Bet we could take them down in under a minute?” Lance muttered under his breath, and Keith paused to look over.

“Try 30 seconds.” his voice was dropped low, and that was enough to churn Lance’s body into flames. Keith launched himself from cover, moving with that perfect, lethal precision that was so distinctly

him

. Lance followed right behind, fluid and graceful in his own way. Their movements fit together like clockwork—Keith striking fast and close with his blade while Lance picked off the body with sniper precision from a distance. They fought like they were built to do this—matching each other’s pace, playing off each other’s strengths, filling in the gaps before the other even needed to ask. It was the kind of synchronicity that felt effortless, born from years of knowing someone inside and out. Every glance, every movement was a language only the two of them understood. Every slash, every shot, every teleport felt like second nature between them. The banter, the trust, the subtle glances—it was so deeply

them

. Lance slid behind Keith just as he spun into a finishing move, both of them moving so fast the robots barely had time to react. When the last enemy fell, they stood side-by-side, chests heaving, the faint glow of destroyed circuits lighting the floor around them.

Keith clicked his mask to dematerialize, his face exposed again and still catching his breath. “That was... almost impressive,” he muttered.

Lance grinned, leaning casually on his blaster. “Don’t pretend you’re not impressed. We make a damn good team.”

Keith gave him a long look—half exasperated, half affectionate– the smallest, softest hint of a smile breaking through his usual stoicism. He paused for a second, his eyes trained intensely on Lance, flicking one of his eyes to the other, making Lance’s skin princkle.

“Yeah,” he muttered, turning toward the next corridor. Kosmo trotted between them, tail swishing happily as the two moved deeper into the citadel, their footsteps in sync once again.

The team gathered once again just outside the base of a spiral staircase leading to the tower’s peak. All of them had looked like they went through their own annoying fights and dangers, their attempts on fighting off the robots, being chased down corrdiros and halls, and finding a way back with the same drive and energy as initially was clearly wearing them out. There were some burn stains of what looked like blast hits that had just barley scraped past their suits, but for the most part everyone was alright and had managed to take down their robot herds or avoid them in general. Their breathing was heavy, muscles tense, weapons drawn. Kosmo stood silently beside Keith, alert and ready, his ears perked up as he scanned the surroundings with a low growl.

“This was the last place we heat tracked Vrelen’s body heat, but when I update it I don’t see him up there.” Zethrid scowled down at her screen. Lance definitely didn’t like the sound of that. What if he popped out at them like a jack in the box? Those were his least favorite childhood toy.

“We’ve got confirmation,” Nyma said, her scanner humming softly. She showed the others the screen. “The machine’s pulling in more heat energy than anything I’ve ever seen. It’s almost maxed out.”

Lance frowned, glancing at Keith. “How much longer before it fires again?”

Axca tilted her head, calculating. “Minutes. Maybe less. If it goes off, it’ll melt the entire upper layer of the planet's surface. Everyone still out there...” Her voice trailed off grimly.

“We’re blowing it,” Keith said without hesitation. “We plant the bombs around the room, set them off remotely, and destroy the machine for good.”

“What about Vrelen?” Ezor asked, spinning her blaster idly on her finger. “We haven’t tracked his heat signature anywhere near here.”

“I don’t see anything resembling Rolo either.” Nyma’s voice dropped, pouting up at Keith.

Keith’s jaw tightened. “He’s probably somewhere else. Doesn’t matter right now. We stick to the mission.”

Lance popped a hand on his hip as he strummed his fingers against his sharp hip bone, his brows knitting together. “And what happens if Vrelen has like some connection to the machine? If he fires it remotely, we’ll lose everything.”

Keith clenched his jaw. “That’s why we don’t give him the chance. We blow it

now

—end this before he gets another shot.”

Nyma checked her detonators she had stored in her side bag at her hip and gave a short nod. “I’ve got the charges ready. Just give the word.” The team all turned to Keith’s gaze, yet he didn’t squirm away or hide from it. He met all their eyes, pausing to look in each one. When he got to Lance’s, Lance met him back with the same determination Keith was radiating. It was addicting to be on the receiving end of his look.

“Alright,” Keith muttered, moving toward the stairs. “Let’s move.”

The narrow spiral staircase groaned under their weight as the team ascended. Each step made the structure shudder as dust and small chunks of stone crumbled underfoot. The walls were cracked and peeling, the metal supports warped from the heat surging through the building. It felt like the entire tower could collapse at any moment, making every movement a delicate balancing act. They climbed single file, Keith in the lead with Kosmo squeezing against his heels and the wall, followed by Lance, Ezor, Nyma, Zethird, and Axca taking up the end, alert and ready in case someone came up to follow.

“Is this thing

actually

going to hold?” Lance muttered under his breath, gripping the railing.

Ezor snorted. “Maybe. Probably not. Depends how much you ate for lunch.”

“Super reassuring,” Lance replied, sarcasm thick in his voice as he looked over his shoulder at her throwing an innocent smirk at him.

Keith climbed ahead of them, silent and determined, every step fast and purposeful. Kosmo stayed close to his heels, his glowing eyes reflecting the flickering energy pulses bleeding out of the machine above them. Lance could see the tension radiating off Keith—his shoulders tight, his steps harsher than usual. He was on a mission, blocking out everything else. As he stepped higher, a small crumble of rubble came shaking down and dusting on Keith’s shoulders, but he ignored it as if nothing had fallen, pushing on. Lance frowned, stepping over the dropped rubble at his feet and shuffling to keep in pace at their leader’s quick climb.

“Easy there, Samurai,” Lance called up from behind. “You’re acting like getting crushed by rubble isn’t on the table.”

Keith didn’t respond, just kept moving.

Lance exchanged an exasperated glance with Ezor, who smirked knowingly but said nothing. The whole thing was starting to feel eerily familiar—the way Keith locked everything inside and carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, as if that would stop things from crumbling apart.

“He’s one track minded right now. He get’s like this sometimes when he’s stressed.” Ezor whispered up to Lance. Lance let out a sigh, his eyes still trained on the tense shoulders above him.

“Just saying,” Lance added in a softer voice to mutter down for just her to hear, “saving the day doesn’t work if you get buried under the ruins.”

Keith slowed slightly, but he didn’t look back, lost millions of lightyears away in his own thoughts that Lance was far away from pulling him from.

Finally, they reached the top of the staircase. The entryway opened into a vast, crumbling chamber that looked just as decayed as the rest of the citadel. Large cracks spiderwebbed across the walls, and jagged chunks of stone lay scattered on the floor. The tower swayed subtly under the sheer weight of time and damage, making every step feel precarious. In the corner of the room, the machine loomed—hulking and alien in design, with spindly metal arms feeding into a glowing core. The energy it absorbed pulsed and hissed like a barely-contained inferno, the heat radiating from it making the air shimmer. Like it was not used to holding his amount of energy in it, whining to be released from its torture. A large gaping hole in the wall opened out to the sky and land below, and the machine’s primary weapon was pointed directly through it.

The hum of the machine grew louder, and Keith’s gaze locked onto it with laser focus. "This is it."

Axca approached the edge cautiously, inspecting the machine with her scanner. “This thing’s hot—like

seconds away from going off

hot.”

“Perfect,” Lance muttered. “Just what we needed.”

Keith ignored them as he pulled out one of the detonators, handing it off to Axca. “We need to place charges on every critical component—one on each power node. That’ll make sure it can’t reassemble or restart.”

“I’ve got two bombs prepped,” Nyma said, showing them the small, compact explosives. “We need to plant them fast.”

Ezor whistled, glancing at the shimmering core. “I’d bet Vrelen’s just waiting for this thing to pop. He probably loves an over-the-top light show.”

Lance adjusted his grip on his blaster, tension rolling through him. “I don’t like that we haven’t seen him. This feels too easy.”

Keith gave him a hard look. “Let’s just get this over with. Fast.”

Lance opened his mouth to respond, but Kosmo growled low, his hackles rising as if sensing something in the shadows beyond the room. Keith instinctively reached for his blade, tension snapping back into his body like a coil ready to spring.

“Plant the bombs,” Keith ordered sharply. “We finish this now.”

The team exchanged quick glances, then scattered across the room, setting the charges with practiced speed. Each second felt heavier, the hum of the machine growing louder, hotter—like it could burst at any moment. Lance found himself beside Keith again, their shoulders brushing as they knelt near the core to attach the final bomb. For a brief second, the noise and chaos around them faded, and Lance glanced sideways at Keith, noticing the hard set of his jaw, the intensity burning in his eyes.

“Hey,” Lance whispered, his voice low enough that only Keith could hear. “We’ve got this.”

Keith’s gaze flicked to him, unreadable for a heartbeat—but there was something in his eyes, something vulnerable, buried deep beneath all that anger and focus. He gave a small, almost imperceptible nod that made Lance’s heart squeeze.

They finished setting the last charge. Keith stood first, gripping his blade tight. “Move. Now.”

They scrambled to their feet, ready to detonate—and ready to finally end this.

“How long until it all goes off?” Axca threw a look at Nyma, who began tapping at her wristband.

“We have exactly 3 minutes before everything blows up. Once I set detonate, there’s no turning it off.” Nyma blinked over at Keith, who stood back turned to the group staring at the machine. He gripped the hilt of his blade once more before turning to look at them. In this light, he ressembled the heroes Lance used to read about in superhero magazines, standing with the light cascading around his figure from the outside, illuminating him in his dark Blade suit, his long tosseled hair whisping around him, eyes lit by fire and fury for everything. Lance tried to remind himself to breathe from the view.

“Detonate it. Let’s get out of here and–” as Keith commanded his order and Nyma absentmindedly clicked for the countdown to begin, his voice cut off as the chamber filled with the sudden, eerie hum of machinery activating. From the shadows near the broken wall, Vrelen stepped forward, his silver eyes glinting like twin blades in the dim light. A small squad of robotic sentries flanked him—sleek and menacing, their glowing visors locked onto the group.

“Leaving so soon?” Vrelen’s voice was smooth and mocking, oozing with amusement. “I was hoping we’d have more time to... reconnect.”

Lance’s jaw dropped, seeing him in person was a lot
more different than seeing the freak of nature over a static camera evidence that came in for the Blades. He was gangly and tall, something similar to a Voldemort way, but he had this long bending beak coming out of him, with long finger like talons. Lance took a step back, his hand flying to his blaster in anticipation. Kosmo growled low, his hackles rising as the room grew thick with danger.

Vrelen’s smile widened, and he tilted his head, his piercing gaze sweeping over the group like a predator circling prey. “I recognize you three from our last dance.” His voice curled with mock familiarity, his eyes piercing over to Keith, Nyma, and Axca, their stances growing more tense and their fury building. “It’s good to see you again.” His tone sharpened when his eyes locked onto Keith. “And you... Oh, I’ve been waiting for you. Still as tastefully angry as before.”

Keith’s lips pulled back in a snarl, his grip so tight on the blade Lance thought he was gonna shatter right through the hilt.

Vrelen’s voice lowered, sly and sinister. “You carry so much rage. It’s intoxicating.” He took a step forward, the sentries around him shifting into combat stance. “I can

feel

it... Every bit of anger, every regret you bury beneath that cold exterior. Your failure to save others. The loss you experience from those you love. Isn’t that a funny thing, the opposite of anger, which just consumes you wholly. Maybe that’s why you lack it, hmm?”

Keith twitched, his teeth grinding as fury churned beneath his skin. Vrelen’s grin deepened, sensing the cracks forming. “Ahh, there it is. You wear your anger like armor, but it’s a flimsy shield, isn’t it? So much guilt. So much rage.” He inhaled as if savoring the emotions. “Delicious.”

Keith’s breath hitched—Lance tensing to jump in as he could practically feel the exposed wound growing on Keith the more this villain talked, leaving him vulnerable, as though Vrelen was pulling every painful thought to the surface.

“What-what’s he doing?” Lance threw a worried look at Axca besides him, who just gritted her teeth.

“He did this last time with Keith, he has this weird pull with him, like he leeched onto him. I didn’t get a chance to figure it out last time, but he’s clearly feasting off something from just him.”

“Well let’s stop it then!” Zethrid stepped forward, fuming, but before she could do anything, Keith snapped. With a shout of fury, he launched himself at Vrelen, blade slashing through the air in wild, vicious arcs.

“Keith, wait—!” Lance yelled, but it was too late.

Vrelen dodged with smooth precision, his smile widening as he danced around Keith’s frenzied blows. “Yes, that’s it. Give me everything.”

The robotic sentries sprang to life, advancing on the group. Nyma, Axca, Ezor, and Zethrid immediately jumped into action, meeting the robots head-on to prevent them from tampering with the explosives. Lance shot at the head of one of them as he ducked in the next second when Zethrid yelled at him to drop. He ran on instinct, learning it from Keith himself, as a robot came flying over his head and smashing against the wall to his side. Woah. Lance shook out of it and turned to scan the room, watching as the girls all talented and meticulously kept the robots from nearing the walls with the bombs, blocking shots meant for them with a quick deflect of their own blades, Nyma shooting and dodging with her blaster, Kosmo leaping like the wild animal he was and tearing off arms of the robots to shake and throw against walls.

“Lance, with me!” Axca shouted as she kicked the nearest robot to the floor, its power sparkling out from its eyes, but Lance ignored her. His focus was locked on Keith—who had completely splintered from the rest of them, consumed by his desperate need to take Vrelen down.

Keith’s attacks came fast and brutal, every swing of his blade filled with rage. It was dangerously mimicking the way he attacked the cave wall in his fit of annoyed rage earlier, calculated and pulsing with being pushed over the brim, about to completely unravel. His movements were raw, more instinct than strategy, and Vrelen read them with ease, sidestepping and blocking each attack with graceful precision.

“You’re predictable,” Vrelen taunted, his smile never faltering. “This anger of yours... it makes you reckless.” He slashed at Keith with his own weapon, a glowing staff-like rod, forcing him back momentarily. “It’s going to get you killed.”

Keith growled low in his throat and charged again, his blade slamming against Vrelen’s staff with a shower of sparks. Vrelen made an attempt to reach his fingers out to grab at Keith’s masked face, but Keith leaned back in time, pushing against Vrelen and making him stumble back as the two separated, circling each other like beasts. Lance was starting to notice a pattern, one that made his stomach churn. Vrelen’s focus wasn’t scattered across the team or the fight—it was locked

entirely

on Keith. Every taunt, every mocking word, every calculated move was aimed straight at him, like the rest of them didn’t even exist. And Keith… Keith was unraveling right in front of him. His swings with the Blade were getting sloppier, more desperate, fueled by something far more dangerous than strategy: rage. Lance knew that look—Keith always fought like he had something to prove, but this was different.

“What’s his angle, like, why Keith?” Lance shouted to Axca, who just sideswept and disembodied another robot. She paused, glaring over at the two in their explosive fight.

“I-I don’t know. He only ever goes after how angry Keith is. I don’t know anything about his species, but he seems to prey and repeat on the fact Keith is angry.” This was the first time Axca looked desperate. Scared. Something she didn’t understand.

It was like Vrelen was pulling at something inside Keith, feeding on it, making him wild and reckless, just as Axca thought. Lance cursed under his breath, gripping his blaster tighter as a thought ran through his mind. “Dammit, Keith.”

Without hesitation, he sprinted forward to back him up.

Keith was too far gone to notice Lance at first, his focus razor-sharp on Vrelen—on ending him. His swings were brutal, fast, and unrelenting, every attack filled with the raw fury bubbling beneath the surface.

“Keith, you need to

calm down

!” Lance shouted, blasting one of the robots out of the way as he moved to cover Keith’s back. He ducked under one of Vrelen’s counters, firing off a shot that narrowly missed the enemy’s shoulder.

“I’ve got this, stay away!” Keith barked over the chaos, his strikes coming faster, more chaotic.

“No, you

don’t

! You’re going to get yourself killed!” Lance snapped back, blocking an incoming hit from a robot with a well-timed shot.

Vrelen danced effortlessly through Keith’s attacks, wearing that infuriating, predatory grin. He wasn’t just trying to win. He was

toying

with Keith.

“You’re slipping,” Vrelen crooned, smoothly ducking a wild swing. “So much anger... It's a wonder you haven't burned yourself out yet. But you always do, don’t you? You rage and rage, and in the end, you're left with nothing, like a wildfire, taking down everything around you in process."

Keith roared out a growl, like a real, hearty growl, lunging forward again—only for Vrelen to block his strike and slam him back with a burst of energy, sending him skidding across the floor. Lance was quick to fly across to retrieve Keith, dropping to his knees and grabbing at his shoulders to prop him up against the wall, his eyes tearing over Keith’s beaten up body. Keith groaned, and Lance immediately touched the side of his mask to de-materialize it, exposing his face. Vrelen straightened, and for the first time, his eyes shifted from Keith to Lance. He studied him for a moment, something gleaming behind his gaze. “Ah... You. I

knew

you seemed familiar.”

Keith struggled to push himself up, his breath ragged as he reached out an arm to shove Lance to his side. “Don’t you

dare

—”

Vrelen’s smile widened, and he turned toward Lance, advancing slowly like a predator cornering its prey. The sounds in the rest of the room echoed out in Lance’s ears as he gripped his blaster, pointing it at the incoming villain towering above the two. “You’re the one I’ve seen in his mind, a reason for his anger and pain.
Every wound you’ve carried for years, festering under that stoic mask. And at the heart of it all… him.” His gaze flicked to Lance, and his grin widened. “How

fascinating.

”

Lance froze, his heart thudding painfully in his chest. “What the hell are you talking about?” He kept his gun trained on Vrelen, his knuckles white around the grip.

“Oh, he’s thought about you often,” Vrelen said, voice dripping with malice. “In those moments when his rage runs deepest, there you are. A constant, burning memory. It’s quite... delicious.” He glanced over his shoulder at Keith, who had gone rigid. “You don’t just make him angry—you

are

his anger. What causes him to become like this.”

Lance’s stomach twisted. “You’re lying.”

Vrelen’s grin never faltered. “Am I?”

Keith lurched to his feet, his expression a mixture of fury and panic as he swung his blade wildly, creating space between the two of them. “Get away from him!”

But Vrelen ignored him, his attention fully on Lance. “So where do you fit into all this, I wonder? A rival? A friend? Or something more...” He tilted his head, savoring the tension in the room. “It’s curious, really. All this rage... and yet, such fear underneath it. Fear for

you.

”

Lance swallowed hard, trying to steady his breathing. He forced himself to stand tall, glaring down the barrel of his blaster. “I don’t care what kind of games you’re playing—I

will

shoot you.”

Vrelen chuckled softly, amused. “You won’t. Not yet. You’re too busy trying to understand what you mean to him.”

Keith’s voice cracked as he shouted, “Lance,

don’t listen to him!

”

But the words hit something deep in Lance, and he hated how much they stirred inside him. He could feel the weight of Keith’s gaze, the panic barely concealed behind his anger.

Vrelen leaned in slightly, his smile sharp. “How does it feel, knowing you’re the reason he’s unraveling? The reason why I have this ability to reach in and pull out the deepest core of his emotions. How I can reach him to begin with?”

Lance’s jaw tightened, his hands trembling slightly around the gun. “I said,

back off.

” His voice was low and dangerous, but inside, confusion churned.

For the briefest moment, Vrelen looked genuinely delighted, as if he had uncovered a delightful new secret as he looked between Lance’s wide and confused eyes and Keith’s angry narrowed ones, a storm about to destroy at wild. “Oh, this is going to be fun.”

With one swift hit, Vrelen’s rod swept at Keith’s extending blade, hitting him fast and off balance. Keith wavered, his footing slipped as Vrelen dove towards Lance, arms outstretched. Lance pulled down his trigger, hitting Vrelen in his side and shoulder, toppling him back with a grunt and hiss of pain as Lance scrambled to his feet again.

Keith was at Lance’s side in an instant, his blade humming, shoulders tense, ready for the next move.

"Stay behind me," Keith muttered without looking at Lance, his voice sharp but strained.

Lance shook his head, breathless. "Not a chance."

Vrelen's eyes glittered with amusement, even as he rolled his injured shoulder. “Look at you two. How precious." He shot forward, his rod buzzing to life in his hands. Keith and Lance moved as one, instincts kicking in without needing to think.

Lance fired in quick bursts, covering Keith as he closed the distance between them and Vrelen. Keith’s strikes were swift and relentless, his blade cutting through the air with practiced precision.

"Left!" Lance called.

Keith pivoted immediately, striking down a stray robot just as it lunged. They moved together effortlessly—like they were made to fight side by side. But Vrelen was always watching, always waiting.

“You think you’re in control," Vrelen purred, circling Keith with a predator’s patience. "But I know what you fear most. You’re afraid of failing again, aren’t you? Losing.”

Keith’s grip tightened on his bayard, his breath coming in short bursts. Vrelen’s eyes flicked toward Lance. "What will you do when he ends up just like your little friend I took earlier? What did he mention his name was to me? Rolo?”

The name hit Keith like a punch to the gut. His blade wavered in his hand as the memory surged—his breath caught and staggering a bit. And in that brief moment of hesitation, Vrelen struck. His hand shot out, fingers pressing against Keith’s forehead.

Keith’s entire body seized up, a scream ripping from his throat as white-hot pain flooded his mind. The room seemed to freeze around Lance as all he could focus on was the way Keith’s body went frigid, his face twisting up and failing to block or fight, his knees buckling under him as Vrelen stood above him, fingers pressed down on Keith’s exposed face, drawing out something that Lance couldn’t even fathom. The raw sound of Keith’s throaty scream, as if he was being broken down bit bit bit, bones crumbled and skin seared back. That was the only understanding Lance could have from the way Keith was screaming.

“Keith!” Axca’s voice muffled in with other shouts, distant somewhere in the room as Lance saw red, his heart lurching at the noise coming from Keith.

Without thinking, he

threw himself

at Vrelen, tackling him away from Keith.

"Get the

hell

away from him!" Lance roared, driving his shoulder into Vrelen with everything he had. They hit the ground hard, rolling in a tangle of limbs.

Vrelen snarled, recovering quickly, but Lance was already swinging his blaster, forcing him to dodge. He was swingling wildly as if it was his own sword, flinging the body of it dow across Vrelen’s face as he held up his arms to block it. "You don’t get to mess with him!" Lance snapped, his voice a mix of fury and fear.

Keith staggered to his feet, clutching his head, gasping for air as he tried to pull himself out of the mental onslaught Vrelen had unleashed. His whole body trembled, but the moment he caught sight of Lance throwing himself between him and danger sent a jolt through him—like an anchor in the storm raging in his mind.

"Lance..." Keith rasped, scrambling to his feet, but Lance wasn’t done with Vrelen. He drove down another blow, but Vrelen came flying in with his rod, wacking Lance in the face and knocking him off his body.

Vrelen smirked, wiping a trail of blood from his lip. "How touching."

Lance’s body ached, his cheek stinging from the hard hit. Keith was at his side, yanking him to his feet and grasping at his arms hard. His grip was strong and protective, keeping his hands wrapped on Lance’s arm. The adrenaline coursing through Lance made everything sharper—the feel of Keith’s warmth under his fingers, the roughness of his breathing, the strong and anchoring grab he had, like he was not planning to let go anytime soon.

Keith held out his blade again at Vrelen, his eyes on fire.

“You are letting him be engulfed by the anger you are plagued by yourself. How does that feel, knowing you are helping him cause his own destruction to one so similar to your own? What a shame. You let

him

come here. Now he’s following the same path as you… Ruined by anger. Consumed by it. Just like you” Vrelen grinned up at Keith, his eyes flicking to Lance.

Lance’s choked out a gasp, everything burning on him and so confused at the riddles he was speaking in. Keith’s grasp on him came tighter, and Lance felt the way his muscles tensed like he was about to lunge again, when Nyma let out a scream from the other side of the room.

“45 seconds!”

Lance blinked, realizing the main overview of what was going on around them, and everything came crashing back to reality.

“We need to go..” Lance breathed, tearing his eyes away from Vrelen to look at Keith, but Keith was lost. He was lazer focused on Vrelen, his eyes so distant and steely, his teeth barred with tiny fangs poking out. He was so strikingly terrifying. He was so…Galra.

Vrelen, ever the opportunist, flashed one final grin. “Looks like our time is up for the moment, but I have a feeling I will being seeing you soon,

Keith.

”

Lance’s spine pricked at the way Vrelen had addressed Keith, feeling defensive that anyone was saying his name in such a foul way. Keith also flinched, a small gasp leaving his lips at the realization his name was said. Then, with an effortless motion, Vrelen flung out his rod, sending out surprise shock waves that sent both Keith and Lance flying backward. They crashed into the crumbling stone, air knocked from their lungs as dust and debris filled the room. Keith hit the ground hard but scrambled up almost instantly. Lance groaned, his arms shaking as he pulled himself up to see Keith’s one track mind singled on Vrelen heading towards the machine. He was already on his feet, ready to charge, his blade glowing in his hand.

"Keith, no!" Lance shouted, panic edging his voice as he stumbled forward, his legs unsteady but determined.

But before Keith could take more than a step, a brilliant blue shimmer cut through the dust—Kosmo. The wolf leapt from seemingly nowhere, his glowing form streaking toward the two of them like lightning. In an instant, Kosmo tackled both Keith and Lance, his form wrapping around them in a swirling portal of light. The world twisted, and in a blink, they materialized at the base of the stairwell with the rest of the team. Lance blinked, looking around as the building continued to shudder with the weight and force of the fight that had occurred. It was all going to topple with or without the bombs.

"Get out! Move!" Axca shouted, her voice sharp and urgent as the building groaned ominously around them. Lance felt himself being pulled to his feet as Ezor’s arms were suddenly pulling at him to go, tugging him down as Zethrid was already fully booking it down the flight.

Keith stumbled forward, whipping his head around to see their new surroundings. “We have to go back! We can’t leave without figuring out where Rolo is. Vrelen’s still—”

"

Keith!

" Lance grabbed his arm, yanking him back hard enough to make Keith spin toward him. “We don’t have time!

We have to leave, now!

”

The rage fought for control in Keith’s chest, his fists clenching, but one look at Lance—his wide, determined eyes, his hand still gripping Keith’s arm—seemed to snap him back to reality.

Keith exhaled a shaky breath, forcing himself to nod. "

Fine.

But we’re not done."

"No one said we were," Lance muttered, pulling Keith along as they sprinted down the staircase.

"GO! GO!" Zethrid roared as the walls around them cracked and trembled, chunks of stone and metal falling like rain.

They barely made to the foot of the tower when the explosion hit. The detonation ripped through the room with a thunderous roar, the force shattering the upper levels of the tower. Fire and smoke billowed out from the crumbled walls, the heat searing even from a distance. The tower groaned, weakened by the blast, and began to collapse in on itself. The tops of the stairs crumbled first, with large blocks of the ceiling crumbling down and hitting them sharply on their shoulders. They ran shielding with their arms, ducking away and all just barley leaping out of the tower into the main part of the building as a large stone came crashing down, sealing off the exit. The team skidded to a halt outside the stairwell, watching as the entire structure caved in with a bone-rattling crash. Debris exploded outward, forcing them to shield their faces as stones and metal shards rained down around them. They all barley had a second before the entire building began shaking, as if everything was going to continue in its destruction.

"We can’t stay here. We need to head as far away from this place as possible. Keep moving!" Axca yelled, waving them forward. The ground beneath their feet shook violently, cracks spiderwebbing through the earth as more of the citadel collapsed into ruin. Kosmo barked, urging them forward, his glowing blue form leading the way through the falling rubble.

They all began a slow run, but Lance felt the lack of Keith’s presence and paused, gawking at him as he stayed glaring at the crumbled remains of what was a tower.

"Come on!" Lance called, his voice steady despite the chaos. Keith flinched, his eyes flashing back to Lance in ways he had never seen it. Jagged. Broken. Lost. Lance just reached out and grabbed his wrist, giving him a gentle tug to pull Keith out of wherever his mind was swirling in a storm. Keith thankfully obliged, and together they ran—side by side—through the crumbling remains of the citadel, Lance not daring to drop Keith’s wrist out of his grasp.

They found a way outside the citadel, thanks to Zethrid blasting another huge hole in a random wall against Axca’s wishes in case the entire structure was weak enough to topple down. They made an exit, Keith and Axca comming to more Blades, struggling to figure out if everyone had been evacuated and was far away from the land. Zethrid and Ezor collapsed, doubling over and gasping as Nyma just stared blankly at the ruins. The air outside the collapsing citadel was thick with smoke, and the ground beneath the team’s feet still trembled from aftershocks of the explosion. Keith scanned the horizon with Kosmo circling anxiously at his side, nudging his leg as if to keep him grounded. Keith reached down to abscentmindedly scratch at his ears, muttering low compliments of endearment to the wolf as its tail wagged. The fur was singed and smelt like smoke. Axca stood nearby, already on her comms, trying to establish contact with the other Blades. The sharp crackle of her device mixed with the distant rumble of falling debris. The entire time Lance stayed glued to Keith, his own mind racing with what the quiznak just occurred.

"Did they make it out? Are the civilians safe?" Keith asked, his voice sharp and urgent, though his breathing was still uneven.

"Trying to confirm," Axca muttered, frowning as static interrupted her transmission. "Blades, report! Where are you?"

Lance couldn’t pay any more attention to his surroundings, eyes unfocused and blurring as his breath struggled to calm. His mind spun like a storm:

What the hell just happened?

The fight with Vrelen played on repeat in his head—his chilling taunts, the terrifying way he honed in on Keith like a hunter, and worst of all, Keith’s scream. That sound echoed through Lance’s mind, ripping apart any sense of composure he had. What was any of that? How did he have such an affect on Keith, and what the hell did he do to make Keith sound like that? To make such a noise of distress and pain, to watch Keith drop unable to respond or retaliate, to see Keith’s eyes flash with such fear….

To hear the things Vrelen was saying about himself, how he caused Keith’s anger. How he was a reason for him to experience such anguish…

“-ance.”

He didn’t even realize how hard he was clenching Keith’s wrist until Keith shifted, gently prying his fingers loose. Lance blinked, jumping a bit as Kosmo bumped along his legs and brought him back, looking at Keith frowning at him. Lance looked down and realized that the entire time he had refused to let go of his hold on Keith, his hand was still locked tight around his wrist, fingers digging in with a firmness that wasn’t playful or casual—it was desperate.

"Lance," Keith said, tugging lightly. “You can let go now.”

Lance blinked, like a spell had broken. He looked at Keith, finally seeing him—disheveled, covered in dust and bruises, but alive. His heart ached with something complicated. Fear? Relief? Guilt? All of it, tangled and confusing.

"Yeah. Yeah, sorry," Lance mumbled, forcing himself to release Keith’s arm. But even without the physical connection, he stayed close—closer than usual. He pressed his shoulder lightly against Keith’s side, like an anchor keeping him grounded as Keith looked back at his team.

“I reconnected with some of the operatives. They got the civilains out a couple miles away from this area. The suggestion as given to them to evacuate their planet, but majority refused, opting to stay. Brandor and a couple operatives are coming with some of the scientists on their own shuttles to retrieve us.” Axca clicked off her pad, sagging her shoulders a bit in exhaustion. Keith crossed his arms over his chest, letting out a small huff from the back of his throat.

“Hey, I don’t see any heat signatures from the tower. You think he dipped again?” Nyma held up her scanner, looking anxiously over the rubble.

“Does he do that?” Ezor mumbled up, wincing as she touched a bruise on her arm.

“He did last time. That’s how he got away, but he took the machine last time. Do we know for certain the machine was destroyed?” Keith eyed Nyma, who just gave him a sour look back.

“My explosives have always done their damage. Theres no way anything survived that. Its in pieces for sure.”

“So, at least we got one thing accomplished. No more crazy super weapon for Vrelen to use on the planet?” Lance suggested. Nyma peered back up at the ruins, clicking to a different scanner and doing another quick diagnostics before turning
back to Keith.

“The scanner the scientists gave to track down the machine can’t detect its full form. Its in pieces.”

Lance felt Keith breathe out against him, like a knot was finally being massaged out a bit. He felt the way Keith leaned more of his weight into his shoulder. Lance remained stolid to be that support, in any way possible.

A distant rumble signaled the approach of vehicle on wheels, the kind used for scientific expeditions to hold sedemintary. The small shuttle emerged from the haze, exposing its exterior. It looked a little rusty and torn at the wheels and sides, like it had been made to canvas over the rocky planet and hold tons of nerdy findings and artifacts. They weren’t exactly made for combat or extraction, but they were a lifeline now.

"Shuttles are here!" Axca called, motioning to the team. "Everyone in. We’re regrouping at the rendezvous."

A couple relief sighs came out of the girls, and Keith wasted no time, ushering the team toward the shuttles. One of the scientists slid open the shuttle side door, motioning for them to all come quick. Keith climbed in first as Kosmo lept in to secure his own spot, helping pull Axca, Nyma, and Ezor and Zethrid into the shuttle, all the girls sporting different injuries, cuts, and limps. Lance followed close behind, pulling the door shut and sliding into the seat beside Keith. His knee bumped against Keith’s, but neither of them moved away, as if the simple pressure of each other’s existence was enough to ground the two of them from the horror they just lived. Kosmo had found the uncomfortable position under the seats, half his body under Keith and Lance’s seat with his other half poking out to be under Ezor and Nyma’s. The small interior of the shuttle was cramped, the ride bumpy across the desert land and the hum of the engine filled the silence as the girls all seemed lost in their own worlds, but Lance barely noticed. His mind was still buzzing, heart still thrumming too fast in his chest. Keith immediately pulling out his comms, every tap on the screen felt heavy with the weight of unfinished business. He glanced sideways at Keith, watching him send message after message with the same relentless intensity Keith always had. But it was different now. More frantic. More…

human.

Lance lazily read over the screen to see as he was starting a string of urgent messages to Kolivan. His jaw was tight, eyes sharp with focus. Keith’s walls were back up, the strict, stoic, commanding leader who had the world on his shoulders, yes—but they weren’t as impenetrable as before. Lance could still feel the cracks, see the weight of the fear Keith carried.

Lance’s fingers twitched, aching to reach out again. To say something. But what? How do you say,

I saw how scared you were. I heard you scream. And it scared the hell out of me too

and

I would do anything in the world to make sure that never happens to you ever again.

Instead, Lance just leaned closer, staying flush against Keith’s side, as if the proximity alone could convey what he didn’t know how to say. Keith didn’t pull away. If anything, he shifted slightly to make room, accepting the silent support without a word. Lance sat fidgeting in the cramped shuttle, his knee bouncing, fingers drumming restless rhythms against his leg. The hum of the engine didn’t help calm his nerves, and his mind wouldn’t stop spiraling back to everything: Vrelen, Keith’s scream, the way his heart had nearly stopped in that moment. He exhaled sharply through his nose, nervously tapping his knee as his mind continued swarming. The way Vrelen had threatened Rolo’s life and the way Keith practically exploded at that. Saying he was expecting to see Keith later. Did he know something about Keith’s life that he wasn’t letting out? Did he know a lot of things about the Blades, like where their base was? Was he going to target there next?

Lance stayed strumming his fingers against his knee almost as aggressive as Keith was typing away on his comm when Lance barley registered the lack of clicking. Without a word, Keith shifted in his seat. Lance heard the faint shuffle of movement before something dropped into his field of vision—a small, black hair tie.

Lance blinked, looking down at it as Keith held it in the palm of his hand. He was wordless, still as a statue, waiting. A silent command.

Take it.

Lance let his mouth drop open, looking at the small token before snapping his eyes back to Keith. His face was blank, his jaw set tight, but his eyes were always the secret map of his emotions. The key to the man. Keith's eyes, sharp and focused as always, weren’t just neutral—they were open, bare in a way Lance wasn’t prepared for. They were a swirl of emotions, unspoken but impossible to ignore: exhaustion, protectiveness, frustration, fear, care, doubt.

The shuttle's dim interior made the gray-violet hues of Keith’s eyes softer, warmer, and the intensity that usually made Lance feel challenged now felt... grounding. Like looking into a fire, fierce and alive but contained, flickering just for him. Lance swallowed, throat tight for reasons he didn’t fully understand. He nudged Lance again, a silent demand, and Lance gratefully took the hairtie, slipping it over his wrist and pulling and twisting it as Keith silently went back to work with his comm, no words exchanged yet a million emotions shared. His heart was racing, and he had no idea why as Lance’s gaze drifted to the dusty windshield to avoid looking at Keith, knowing his own blush was going to betray him. His thoughts spiraled, trying to make sense of everything—Vrelen’s fixation on Keith, the strange connection between them, the fight, the scream, all of it swirling in his mind. Lance could still feel the lingering warmth of Keith’s touch on his hand, and the image of those eyes—so achingly beautiful and complicated—was burned into his mind. He shifted in his seat, trying to shake off the weird, unfamiliar flutter in his chest. He gave it a little snap, hoping to snap himself out of it, but it didn’t work. He stole another glance at Keith—focused, determined, walls up once more, stressed pout on his lips. His hair was now falling over his eyes, a nest of sweaty and singed hair curling at his shoulders and heavily framing his face. Lance snapped his eyes back out the window.

He knew one thing for sure, and he was not going to leave Keith’s side ever again.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

The Blades had requested for their team to return back to base, having lost sight of where Vrelen went and assuming that the people of the planet were safe for now. With the machine destroyed, there was little risk of further destruction to the planet, and the scientists and civilians had urged Keith and his team to return back to their base, thanking them profusely for their protection and attempts to stop Vrelen. Keith had objected to leave, but Kolivan wanted them all back to reassess the mission, go over details, and bring back his warriors to regroup. Keith was stubborn, but after even Nyma agreed to leave, Keith finally gave in, despite the guilt clawing at his insides for Rolo, the way Vrelen was able to escape, and the gnawing feeling of knowing that below the surface, one of the Lions remained buried, undetected from the rest of the universe outside him and Vrelen himself. He hadn’t told anyone about the lion buried beneath the surface—not Lance, not the team. Not even Axca, and she deserved to know the whole story as much as anyone.

Keith stayed on the ride back with the Blades and his team, eyes fixed on the darkened windows, watching the blurred shadows of space speed by. Every part of him felt like it was knotted up inside, a whirlwind of guilt and dread churning low in his gut. His gaze drifted down to his hand, still tingling from when Lance had brushed against him earlier to take his hairtie when Keith had noticed the shaking anxiety bursting off of Lance. It was easy to feel Lance there, sitting close, his presence solid and warm in a way that Keith had come to rely on more than he’d admit. And yet, that same closeness filled him with a sharper, deeper pang of guilt. Lance was still sitting nearby, having stayed practically attached at his hip since leaving the entire disaster of the citadel. Tense, watching him with that look that said he wanted answers, reassurance. The same look that stirred something in Keith he wasn’t prepared to confront. He’d practically dragged Lance right into Vrelen’s sights, exposing him to Vrelen’s twisted mind games, his taunts, his vile threats. Lance could’ve gotten seriously hurt… or worse. The thought that Lance was still right there, even with everything on the line, was… selfishly comforting. But it couldn’t last, and he knew it.

The shuttle finally pulled to a stop at Blade headquarters. Several operatives helped unload the shuttle, assessing Keith’s team for damage and bustling around them. Axca, Ezor, Zethrid, and Nyma headed immediately to the infirming, and as Keith was mute disembarking with Lance still radiating in his presence, a message pinged from Kolivan requesting an immediate debriefing. Keith took a steadying breath.

Great, just what he needed.

“Man, this shower is gonna hit all the right spots.” Lance threw his arms behind his head to stretch, but his face caught the look Keith was giving at his message. Lance was always painfully aware of emotions, too attuned to social cues in ways Keith could never understand or catch up to.

“I’ll meet you later, I just gotta go in for a quick meeting with Kolivan. You know the drill.” Keith offered him a tight smile, but Lance’s face dropped immediately.

“Doesn’t he know everything already? You and Axca have been like nonstop texting the guy.” Lance attempted, but Keith refused to look him in the eyes. It hurt too much, and he knew if he looked at Lance for a second longer he was going to spill everything.

Lance’s expression was stubborn, concern and determination blending into something that looked almost hurt. “I’m coming with you,” he said, voice low, like he was ready to argue if Keith denied him.

Keith hesitated, forcing himself to swallow down the sharp pang in his chest. “Not this time, Lance. I’ll… be fast. Feed Kosmo for me?” It was barely a promise, the words feeling more hollow than he meant them to.

Lance looked like he wanted to protest, something conflicted in his gaze, but he nodded reluctantly. The look lingered, and for a split second, Keith could feel the weight of it, all that uncertainty, all the questions Lance probably had, but he’d never say. He never pushed Keith when it was something important. When he could tell it mattered. Lance held his gaze a moment longer before nodding, his expression finally settling into something strained and torn. As Keith turned away, he clenched his jaw, feeling the weight of every unspoken word dragging behind him like a shadow.

The debriefing room was cold, and for the first time Keith picked up on the eerily energy Lance had always complained about. Metallic, darkened, and a prickling feeling of ice in the air everywhere on the base. Keith felt his jaw clench as he began to grind his molars, but quickly flexed his jaw, flicking his tongue over the rough molars, Lance in his mind. Keith found Kolivan standing by large screens, assessing all the data he and Axca had sent in about everything. And worse, Krolia was there too, arms crossed and eyes narrowed at the information as well. They stood stoically, gazes sharp and assessing, both acutely aware of how fraught the mission had become. Kolivan’s gaze, especially, held an edge that made Keith brace himself, his heartbeat thundering in his ears. He was barely through the door before Kolivan demanded a report, his tone ice-cold yet simmering with restrained anger.

“Explain to me exactly what happened out there, Keith,” Kolivan began, each word measured, seething. “The risks taken in the way you were fighting were unthought and impulsive. I watched you in those comms feeds. That fight… it was reckless, angry. You were all but drowning in rage.” Kolivan’s stare bore into him, unrelenting. “The Blades had almost no intel, and yet you chose to barrel ahead. You could’ve risked all our lives—Axca, Nyma, the scientists. It was as if you had no sense of the consequences.”

“I acted quick to make sure there were no more casualties with Vrelen and his machine.” Keith retorted, but Kolivan held up a hand to cut him off, his glare burning at him.

“That leaves room for error. Sloppiness.diving in like that without having proper information about who he is and what he was doing allowed him to have the upper hand with you and your team. Twice. We don’t even know what he was trying to do with that planet and you just went in without a thought or skill to assessing the safety concerning the civilians. That is not what you were taught as a Blade.” Kolivan and Krolia exchanged a glance, Krolia’s expression pensive yet careful. She nodded, as if in silent agreement, but her eyes remained wary, a mother’s look of concern held just out of reach. Keith felt his breath grow shallow, his mind whirling with everything unsaid.

Keith’s hands clenched into fists as Kolivan’s voice continued, an endless tangent of everything he had messed up. His mind kept flicking back to the mission—the heat, the danger, Vrelen’s taunts about Lance and Rolo, his team forced to scramble to escape while he’d let himself become… something else. With each word, Kolivan’s criticisms sliced through him, hitting every raw, open wound.

Kolivan’s voice strained, though his gaze remained severe. “Perhaps it was a mistake to send you on this assignment in the first place. I should have prepared you better, taught you restraint. But it was… a failure on my part,” he added quietly, an admission almost foreign in its unexpected gentleness. “You’re too emotional. If you can’t handle that, I will have to pull you from this case entirely.”

Keith’s pulse pounded in his ears. A small flicker of something—an almost paternal care—flashed in Kolivan’s tone, and it hurt more than the criticisms. He felt his control cracking, his resolve buckling. He couldn’t lose this mission, not after everything they’d endured. And more than that—he couldn’t abandon Lance. The memory of Vrelen’s taunts about Lance, about Rolo, all of it twisted inside him, snapping something already fragile.

“That’s unfair,” Keith said, the words bursting out before he could stop them. “I can handle this, Kolivan. I know what’s at stake.”

“Keith.” Krolia’s voice sliced through him like a knife with butter, freezing up his muscles as his eyes tore to her. She was staring back at him with the same strength and stubbornness of Kolivan, but her face flickered back with genuine concern. “I told Kolivan to pull you completely. You have been too angry lately. Stressed by these missions and acting very impulsive. To continue to be like this can be a serious issue that can get you hurt.”

Keith gripped his hands into a fist, flexing and clenching again as he watched the way Krolia and Kolivan were looking at him. Fearful a bit.

Keith’s eyes burned with a quiet fury as he squared himself, barely holding back the urge to pace. “I need to go back out there,” he insisted, his voice hard-edged. “You don’t understand, Kolivan. Vrelen is beyond dangerous, and we’re wasting time while he’s gaining ground. We can’t just sit here and ‘reassess.’”

“Keith, I am well aware of how dangerous Vrelen is,” Krolia started, voice laced with frustration.

“We’ve seen it in every report, and I’ve seen it in your own desperation to go headfirst into his trap. We need to approach this carefully. You’ll need to give us time to dig deeper and properly assess the situation.” Kolivan’s jaw set, a glimmer of his own impatience cracking through.

Keith’s fists clenched at his sides, his frustration mounting. “You’re just stalling. If we wait, more people are going to get hurt. Vrelen’s already several steps ahead of us in this mindmelt he’s creating. He doesn’t have any machine, but him leaving could point to him getting somethin a lot more dangerous and returning. If we act now, we have a chance to stop him before—”

“Enough.” Kolivan’s voice, low and hard, silenced Keith. His gaze pierced through Keith, unwavering. “Your impatience is precisely why I cannot send you back just yet. You crack under stress, Keith. This isn’t about a one-man mission—it’s about calculated strategy. And you are far away from keeping things controlled.”

“I know about strategy. I know about being dilligent, and careful, and keeping it calm under stress.” Keith’s throat felt like it was closing, his ears ringing in anger. Kolivan narrowed his eyes at him, not buying it in the slightest.

“You are putting the risk of hundreds of people at risk for the opportunity to attack at a loose canon of a criminal. You don’t understand this is not for the greater good.”

“And we risk the lives of them all if we wait around and not do anything.”

“You are smart. One of my best warriors. But right now you’re being stupid and reckless. If you can’t see how you are acting, then you don’t know anything about the preservation it takes to be the hero you are attempting to play here. This isn’t a game, or a thoughtless fight to just win battles for the sake of fighting with a symbol like Voltron.”

And in that fragile moment, it broke. He couldn’t hold it back anymore, the truth cracking through his resolve like a shattering window breaking, the weight and pressure of keeping everything a secret finally crashing out.

“I know everything there is about preservation and fighting for the greater good, and have been doing it way longer than you even realize.” His voice was sharp, and he watched the way Krolia tensed at this comment, her eyes widening a bit as he pushed on. Keith clenched his fists so tightly his knuckles went white, feeling the words building up, pushing and crashing until he couldn’t hold them back. “You keep telling me to be patient, to stay controlled—don’t you think I’ve tried? But this entire time I’ve been keeping something huge from you, and you never even saw it.”

Kolivan’s brows knit together, a rare look of confusion flashing across his otherwise composed face. “Keith, what are you—”

“I’m saying I’ve been operating under your nose, the whole time,” Keith snapped, feeling his heart race with every word. “I went rogue. I followed leads you don’t know about, found things you couldn’t. Don’t lecture me about control or patience or the greater good, Kolivan—I’ve been holding this together by a thread, and you didn’t even notice!”

Krolia’s face went pale, and Kolivan’s usual composure faltered, his eyes narrowing with uncertainty. But Keith couldn’t stop now, the pent-up frustration, the endless secrets spilling out like a flood.

“You think I’m impulsive, reckless. Fine! But I was precise enough to hide it, wasn’t I? I was good enough to pull this off, and you had no idea. It was me. The masked bandit for Planet Narthoras.”

“What?” Kolivan’s voice wavered, but Keith couldn’t stop it now that it was out. Keith’s words came fast, gathering momentum like a storm as his voice edged with a rare desperation, every bottled-up feeling and frustration unraveling all at once. Months of secrecy, nights weighed down by guilt, the constant pressure of living two lives—it was all too much to keep inside any longer. “I didn’t choose this to undermine the Blades or go rogue. I chose it because people needed help,

needed

me, and I couldn’t ignore that. You think I’m supposed to just sit on my hands while people suffer?” His voice cracked, his frustration bleeding through despite his attempt to stay composed. “That’s not who I am, Kolivan. That’s not who I ever was. I can’t just… wait around, pretend like it’s all just numbers on a map, not lives being threatened. Being the bandit—it was the only way I could actually make a difference, to do something that mattered. And every single life I helped was a reminder of why this matters.”

Kolivan’s expression grew more unreadable with every word, his eyes narrowing to an almost cold blankness that made Keith bristle with unease. But he pushed on, his words quickening, rising with each wave of emotion he finally released, voice ragged as the dam broke. “Maybe you think I’m reckless, that I just dive in without thinking. But I do think it through! I thought it through every single time I put on that mask, every single time I went out there on my own. I did what had to be done because there was no one else willing to do it. I had to, Kolivan. I

had to

. You act like this is a flaw, that I’m incapable of planning, but this isn’t some trivial impulse. It’s who I am, and people are counting on me to be that person.”

When he finally stopped, silence echoed through the room, heavy and tense. Kolivan’s gaze held no signs of his thoughts, his words slicing through the quiet with a tone like chipped stone. “Who else knows?” he demanded, his voice sharp and severe, his eyes pinning Keith in place.

Keith’s breath hitched as the weight of Kolivan’s question settled over him, and he found himself glancing toward his mother unconsciously, knowing the depth of her own involvement. “Axca, Rolo and his team,” he said, his voice softer, suddenly uncertain, feeling the shift as his gaze met Krolia’s. Her face was as conflicted as he’d ever seen it, lined with worry and something he didn’t quite recognize. But Kolivan wasn’t looking at him anymore; his gaze was fixed on Krolia, probing and unyielding.

“You knew?” Kolivan’s voice held an edge of betrayed disbelief, a rare crack in his usual stoic front, and Krolia’s lips pressed into a firm line. She didn’t flinch, didn’t back down, but her voice softened as she nodded, her face pinched with a quiet regret.

“It was never supposed to get this far,” she admitted, the words coming out with a weight she couldn’t quite mask. “It was a backup, a last resort. But he was out there doing what he thought was right, and I trusted his process of keeping it stealthy and clean of tracing back to the Blades.” Her gaze flicked to Keith, pride and worry warring across her expression.

Finally, Keith could feel the pressure in his chest loosen just enough for him to breathe again, and in that moment of clarity, he could see Kolivan’s anger simmering beneath his impassive expression. Keith took that opening, his voice steady but fierce, as he met Kolivan’s icy stare with his own. “I did what was needed, Kolivan. Maybe I didn’t follow orders, maybe I didn’t wait on the sidelines for the ‘right moment,’ but people are alive because I acted when others wouldn’t. Those citizens on that planet, they are able to sleep without their planet shaking and being torn up. People on planet Narthoras are able to eat and feed their families because of the measures I took to make sure their palace was ransacked of their food supply. I act fast and aggressively. You’re treating this like it’s a flaw, like this part of me is some liability—but it’s exactly what kept thousands of people safe on that planet. I’m sorry I do things different because I may not be the most diplomatic and patient person, but I choose to help over how it will make the Blades look in a conference call.”

Kolivan’s face betrayed a tangle of emotions—disappointment, confusion, even a flicker of something softer, though it was gone as quickly as it appeared. His usual stone-faced composure was shaken, cracks showing in the icy control he’d so carefully built. Keith held his ground, shoulders squared and gaze unyielding, daring Kolivan to say that he’d made the wrong choice, defiance tempered by the unshakeable conviction that every action, every risk, had been worth it.

“I don’t agree with every diplomatic decsion either, Keith.”

Keith blinked, thrown off a bit as Kolivan closed his eyes, crossing his arms with a weight to him. His shoulders rose and fell with a deep, slow sigh, letting Keith catch the faintest glimmer of something more vulnerable than frustration.

“You think I don’t feel the weight of these choices? That I don’t question every mission, every decision that pulls us away from direct action?” His voice, though low, held a tired intensity, a raw honesty he rarely allowed. “There are days I hate the way things have to be done—the way diplomacy sometimes feels like a muzzle when I’d rather see justice delivered in a more… immediate way. But I’m Galra. We are Galra.”

His voice was heavy like tar, the room silent at the obvious fact, but there was so much more weight to that word, like a sting.

“We’re not afforded much leeway to operate outside the optics of peace and unity, not with the way the universe already views us. We’re meant to be a symbol—a reminder that redemption is possible, even for the Galra, and that requires a certain… restraint.The Blades have to represent something larger than ourselves—a future that doesn’t repeat the mistakes of the past. That’s why we tread carefully, not out of weakness but out of strength.”

Keith’s eyes narrowed, searching Kolivan’s face, barely understanding how he could stay so composed despite his own admissions. It took him a moment to realize how little he’d really considered Kolivan’s perspective, how frustrating it must be to have to juggle duty with such careful restraint, even when his own instincts wanted something more decisive. “So… you’re not mad at everything I just admitted to? Going behind your back and sneaking around?”

Kolivan’s expression softened even further, a rare crack in his steely facade as he offered a faint, almost weary smile. “Annoyed at you telling me this now, yes. A little betrayed neither of you said anything, definitely.” His eyes tore to Krolia, who just stayed sadnign solid and not a flicker of regret, certain in her choices. He looked back at Keith straight on, another deep sigh escaping him.

“No, Keith. I’m not mad.” He paused, letting the weight of his words settle, the pride in his tone so evident it nearly left Keith speechless. “If anything, I’m proud of you—of the person you are, the way you fight, the way you think beyond just yourself. But you’ve got to be careful,

really

think things through. You’re dealing with someone like Vrelen now, not a faceless threat. And that makes this different.”

Keith blinked, a strange, uncomfortable tightness in his chest he couldn’t explain. “Wait—you’re… proud?” He tried to say it with some semblance of casual disbelief, but the words nearly caught in his throat. Someone like Kolivan, saying that to someone like him. The idea tasted weird coming out of his own mouth, something so far away from anything he’d ever expereince before coming from an older man to him.

Kolivan nodded, unphased. “Yes. But you’ve got to focus, Keith. Think strategically. Vrelen is a predator who’s reading your emotions, using them to manipulate you. I don’t know how, or what power he has over just going after you from these video footage, but he is. He is dangerous to you and others, and this is something we need to think about slowly and carefully. We can’t afford any mistakes now. You’re crucial to this mission, but you need to understand what you’re up against and take it slow.”

Keith couldn’t stop the flush that crept up his face, feeling blindsided, caught completely off guard by Kolivan’s praise and then his sudden shift back into authority. Pride. Careful planning. Unity. Kolivan was… proud of him? Keith’s throat felt dry, his mind spinning as he tried to process what felt like the strangest, most unexpected compliment he’d received in a long time. He just… nodded, words lodged somewhere between his throat and his pride, unable to look directly at Kolivan.

“Next time you have plans to be a secret vigilante, you tell me.” Kolivan’s voice vibrated deep in Keith’s bones. He turned to look at Krolia, giving her a small frown with no real heat to it. “I thought we were a team here?”

“And that’s my son. I wasn’t ready to undermine him and never will.” Krolia let out a shrug like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Keith nearly shattered at that, and when he opened his mouth, his confession apparently hadn’t finished.

“One of Voltron’s lions is under the planet.”

This time the room was really silent, Kolivan and Krolia blinking back in shock, utterly blank faced. Keith hadn’t planned to say it, not like this. It just… slipped out, as he fumbled over his thoughts, the frustration and anger giving way to something he could no longer contain. “The lion,” he blurted, louder than he intended, his voice wavering just a bit. “There’s… there’s a Voltron lion beneath the surface of that planet.”

The defiance Keith had felt moments ago was now entirely absent, replaced by a stark shock at his own admittance that made his throat go dry. He scrambled to fill the silence, his words stumbling over each other, losing their edge as he grasped for clarity.

“It’s—that’s why we need to go back, why it’s critical. We have to act fast; this isn’t just any attempt to be impulsive, this is… it’s a lion. One of our lions. One of the scientists did a scan on the area he was attacking, and that was below the surface, so I believe Vrelen knows and wants to get it. And if Vrelen gets anywhere near it, if he gets control of it—” he swallowed, his words tumbling into a ramble, breaking down the details he knew: the energy readings, the scans, the seismic disturbances.

He stopped to catch his breath, his gaze flicking between Kolivan and Krolia. Their faces remained unreadable, their eyes locked on him with something between shock and disbelief. Kolivan, uncharacteristically slow to react, finally broke the silence.

“How is that… even possible?” he asked, his voice low, as if he were piecing the information together himself, like the words didn’t feel real.

Krolia’s expression shifted slightly, her brows drawing together as she looked at Keith. “A piece of Voltron beneath the surface?” Her tone was softer, a little disbelieving, as she searched his face for any sign of exaggeration. “Are you sure, Keith? You really believe it’s… there?”

“Yes,” Keith insisted, the urgency creeping back into his voice. “I’ve seen the scans, I’ve felt the energy it’s putting out. This thing is real, and it’s buried under that planet. We need to unearth it, retrieve it, and bring it here to headquarters. Somewhere secure, somewhere no one else can reach it.” His voice grew stronger, a new resolve replacing the awkwardness. “It’s crucial we keep this between us, keep this as small as possible. And I’m willing to lead the mission myself, with just a small team, just enough to get in, get the lion, and get out.”

“But, you told me the Lions disappeared a year ago, and aren’t they connected to…” Krolia’s voice cut off, her brows pulled heavy as the name failed to reach her. Keith let out a huff, his muscles tight.

“Yah, Allura’s lifeforce. Which is why we need to get to it first. Figure out what its even doing here, if it can even work. If it can be harnessed of its quintessence. Whatever we need to do we have to do it to make sure Vrelen doesn’t get it first.”

Kolivan and Krolia exchanged a long, silent look, the weight of the revelation pressing in on them. Krolia, ever the pragmatic, took a slow breath, shaking her head. “Keith, this doesn’t make any sense,” she said, her voice caught somewhere between worry and curiosity. “But if you’re certain… we’ll have to consider it.”

Kolivan’s face softened, his previous sternness melting into something more thoughtful. “Keith,” he said, voice rough with a hint of resignation, “this is a lot to ask, but… if you’re right, if there really is a lion down there, we can’t afford to ignore it. But you need to be absolutely sure, and we need to keep this discreet. Only the essential few.”

Keith’s jaw clenched, and he nodded, the relief washing over him as he finally let go of the secret he’d held so close, the crushing weight finally lifting.

“I’m positive.”

Krolia and Kolivan exhcanged a look, a silent agreement that they now had to move forward in being proactive.

“Alright then. I’m sending the two of you and a small team to go attempt to uncover the Lion. Bring it back here discreetly so we can monitor it for signs of energy, make sure its locked away and held down here in protection. No word is getting out about it.” Kolivan nodded, his voice hardened. Keith let out a sigh, but Krolia’s eyes flickered back at Keith with something knowing. Unspoken. But she stayed silent, taking the order.

“Is there a possibility for other Lions somewhere?”

Keith snapped his attention back to Kolivan, who also looked just as unsure as Keith was feeling about this, his facade of a stern leader cracked.

“I- wasn’t thinking that far into this.” Keith’s voice wavered. Kolivan just nodded, his own thoughts millions of miles away.

“Go, I want to collect the team and we head out in a few hours. Small.”

“Understood sir.” Keith nodded, and as Kolivan excused him with a curt nod to turn back to their data, Krolia walked him out.

“Does he know.” was all she murmured to him in a low voice while they both shuffled through the halls.

There it was.

He shook his head, his eyes fixed on the floor ahead, and for the first time in a long while, he didn’t have the energy to pretend. The battles, the secrets—everything had worn him down to something raw. He took a slow breath, willing his voice not to shake. "No, he doesn’t."

He could feel her waiting patiently, her presence a steadying force and her silence eating him up inside. She always knew too much about his feelings regarding Lance, as painful as it was it brought him the smallest ounce of comfort. That she didn’t have to work at him or wear him down to really know what he was feeling. The quantum abyss connected them like that.

“Shouldn’t he know.” It wasn’t phrased as a question, more of a gentle guidance, and Keith bit the inside of his cheek, his gaze ahead of him to avoid looking at her parenting look.

“I don’t know how he’ll take it. Allura and—everything that happened… It took him so long to heal from her. I’m scared if he knows there’s a lion down there, that it’ll—bring it all back. Undo everything. Maybe… maybe it’s better he doesn’t know.” He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to shake the gnawing guilt from his voice. “He’s finally okay. I don’t want this to break him all over again. He made so much progress after her death and dealing with the emotions again if he sees that Lion, I just don’t want him to freak out or think that with a Lion here, it means Allura somehow is here too.”

Krolia’s gaze softened, the hint of a smile crossing her lips. “Are you sure it’s his feelings you’re worried about?” The question cut to the heart of him, her words hanging in the air.

He went still, and she didn’t let up, pressing forward. "Keith, you know what he’s been through. But what if you’re the one who doesn’t want to face what you are going to feel letting Lance know this information? What if you’re afraid of what it might mean to let go of this control and let Lance in on this weight?”

Keith clenched his jaw, his initial impulse to argue with her vanishing before he could even summon the words. She wasn’t wrong. A part of him—maybe too big a part—had kept Lance at arm’s length, hiding from any hint of this painful history that had been sitting between them like a buried landmine. And now, knowing what they were about to face, he felt that landmine trembling underfoot, one step away from exploding.

“I’m just… I’m trying to keep him safe,” he muttered, but the conviction in his voice felt half-hearted, even to his own ears.

Krolia gave a slow, understanding nod, reaching out to place a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Then don’t lie to him. He has a right to know what is happening with this Lion. He’s still a Paladin of Voltron after all. I know how much you care about him and his wellbeing, but sometimes its ok to bring up grief. He’s stronger than you give him credit for, Keith.” She paused, letting her hand drop, giving him one last look that said all the things he wasn’t ready to hear. “Get some rest. I’ll gather the team, and we’ll leave soon.”

With that, she turned and walked away, her steps fading into the silence, leaving Keith standing alone in the corridor, every raw fear and unresolved feeling exposed like an open wound. He didn’t have the strength to argue, and as he watched her disappear down the hall, he felt the exhaustion settle in, heavy and immovable. For a long moment, he stayed there, unwilling to move, hoping that maybe, somehow, he could let go of the weight in his chest before they had to face whatever lay ahead.

Keith really didn’t give Lance credit for how fast he was always able to find him. No matter the circumstance, the setting, the state of Keith’s own mentality, Lance found him like a compass tracking down a Northern Star. Finding him like he was a paid assassin to do it. And he never had to, he just always did.

Keith had immediately bolted to his room after, glad to find it empty. A rushed scribbled note on his bed revealed Lance had tracked down the showers and wanted to know if there was a spa at the base, and according to the empty room, he was clearly still there. Keith was quick to grab what he needed and race out, unsure of how he was going to attempt to speak with Lance. Worried about the weight that the conversation could hold. He was stubborn to a fault, and decided to not listen to his mother’s caring advice and gentle nudge for him to tell Lance everything, because the way his mouth was moving today, he was scared just how much he would let slip to Lance. So instead he opted in hiding outside the base, perched on a large shipment container and staring blankly at the ships docked, his mind everywhere and nowhere at once, Lance,s music blasting to the highest volume in his ears to try to drown out his dread.

Half an hour must have passed by the time Keith heard padding from behind him an an annoyed, half strangled groan as Keith took off Lance’s headphones and looked back. Lance was standing below Keith with a playful pout, hands on his hips and cocking his head to the side as he glared down at him. He was changed into his jeans and a simple blue sweater, looking fresh and showered, his hair a little bit curly and his skin smelling like a flush of a spiced vanilla mixed with some sort of beachy smell. It was nice, and so painfully Lance.

“Where the hell did you go and why have you been hiding?” Lance demanded up at him, Kosmo brushing past his legs to leap on top of the shipment container to plop down at Keith’s side. Keith dropped his mouth open to answer but the words got caught in this throat, so he just shut his mouth again. Of course he couldn’t speak after all that babble he was previously doing.

Lance sighed, shaking his head as he hoisted himself up onto the container beside Keith. He settled in, letting his legs dangle over the edge. Keith kept his gaze fixed on the aircrafts, unable to meet Lance's eyes.

"I'm sorry," Keith muttered, his voice barely audible. "For how I've been acting lately. For disappearing and getting angry. I just..."

Lance's expression softened, his earlier annoyance melting away. "Hey, it's okay. I'm not mad, you know. I'm just worried about you, man. You've been so distant. Ever since you going on this whole Vrelen mission. He has you in a corner, dude." His voice tinged with concern, his eyes a lot more softer and flicking around Keith’s face, waiting for him.

Keith let out a sharp exhale, brushing more aggressively along Kosmo’s fur as his thoughts scrambled over Vrelen.

“I don’t get it either. I’ve been letting him get through to me with the things he says, and also guilt of not knowing what he’s doing with Rolo. He’s playing a game with cards that aren’t even the same as the Blades.” Keith dropped his eyes to watch Lance swinging his legs. Lance let out a low hum in understanding, the low sound of it vibrating through Keith’s skin.

“Guess it doesn’t make it easier that hes been targeting you either. I mean, guy could have cared less about throwing some insults at Axca or the other girls. Maybe he’s scared of women?”

Keith let out a soft snort as his stomach twisted in adoration at Lance’s lame attempt to make it light for him. It was just so Lance of him to try.

“Kolivan thinks he’s able to feed off of my anger somehow. Guess I should have been more thoughtful about that and realized before going in like that.”

“Yah, being emo doesn’t fix all your problems. Pidge would have figured that out after one encounter I bet.”

“I know, she would be pissed at me right now for not doing an initial scan to assess his species and what its capable of the first time.” Keith groaned, but his body felt lighter watching the way Lance’s shoulders shook with a small laugh.

“You really flopped on that end. Maybe now you’ll slow down a bit?”

Just as fast as Keith felt light, the dark returned at that comment, his eyes dropping back to Kosmo who had pressed his full weight onto Keith’s other side, his gentle energy calming down now that he was with his owner and not in immediate danger.

“Hey, woah, I just said slow down. Not stop everything and call it all a day. I meant it when I said we will figure this out and everything.” Lance cocked his head to the side and leaned in a little, making Keith’s body tense at the closeness and possible contact approaching.

"There's just... a lot on my mind right now."

"When isn't there?" Lance chuckled, nudging Keith's shoulder playfully. The contact stung his soul. "Your brain's always working overtime."

“Yah, I guess that’s my issue. Stopping Vrelen, finding Rolo, everything just feels a lot.” Keith muttered slowly, reaching to card his fingers through Kosmo’s hair.

An awkward silence fell between them. Lance fidgeted, letting his legs dangle and kick a bit at Keith’s side, his presence so much more stronger and all encompassing, his hips just a hair away from being fully flush to Keith’s. It was devastating how badly Keith wanted to just lean into Lance in that moment, tuck away and just let go. They stayed at a silence, but the more they sat there, the more antsy Lance was getting. He kept his eyes trained on Keith, and Keith could feel the heaviness in his gaze, the heat burning his skin more and more as if they were lazers trailing on his skin. He hated how much he knew Lance was itching at questions, barley able to contain his own silence and letting it out in the way he swung his legs, in the way his fingers strummed on his knee, the way he chewed on his bottom lip that Keith wanted to do unimaginable things to.

Get it together, jesus.

“What.” Keith finally deadpanned, turning to look at Lance in the eyes. Those brilliant blue orbs widened, and his own face flushed red in embarrassment as he cleared his throat and scratched at his arm, suddenly not able to look Keith in the eyes. Keith had no idea what he was working up to, but it was painfully obvious that he was working up to

something

.

“I- uh, you know, just been thinking about something that’s been on my mind a bit. Yknow, which like totally doesn’t have to be answered and I respect your privacy and I get you do your own thing and–”

“Lance.” Keith sighed, dropping a hand on Lance’s bouncing leg to steady his word vomit. Lance’s shaking stilled, his leg coming to a halt as he completely froze, his face getting redder.

“Right! So, uh, I was just thinking—actually, you know, not even thinking, more like, uh, noticing? Like, noticing things? Because I, you know,

I notice things

, not in like a creepy way, obviously, ha... ha.” He trailed off, laughing nervously as he rubbed the back of his neck. Keith could feel the tension in his own chest growing with every word.

“...Okay?” Keith replied slowly, his eyes narrowing in confusion.

“Right! Okay. So, um…” Lance paused, glancing up at him for a second before looking away just as quickly, his face starting to turn pink. “So, with Rolo and… you know. Him being captured by Vreleen which obviously, no good terrible bad! And… the way you acted about it and stuff…”

Keith’s confusion deepened, but his gut twisted at where this was headed. “The way I acted?”

Lance cleared his throat and took a deep breath, seemingly gathering up every last shred of nerve he had left. “Did you two—like, were you and Rolo a

thing

?”

Keith’s brain short-circuited for a second, and he felt heat rush to his face, but he tried to play it cool, maybe deny it and—

“Uh… I mean…” was all that came out. His face burned, and he could see Lance’s face go redder as well as his eyes blew to the size of saucers. Lance laughed awkwardly, waving his hands in front of him as if to take it all back.

“I’m sorry! Forget I asked! It was a dumb question—obviously none of my business, it’s just… I noticed you seemed, you know, stressed about him, which, duh, I mean, obviously we’d be stressed if someone was captured! I’d be stressed! Super stressed! But it was, like, a

different

kind of stressed? Like… emotional stressed? And after you said you were gay which I toattly support and is not weird and I didn’t know if Rolo rocked like that, which like again not my issue and–”

Keith bit his lip, his face still hot, any more sense of keeping secrets and things hidden drifting farther and farther away the more he looked at Lance’s eyes. “Yeah, uh…” He cleared his throat. “I mean… it happened in the past a bit. Not, like, a huge deal, though. Just… I guess we, uh, hooked up after working together. But it wasn’t serious.”

Lance blinked, eyes widening as he processed Keith’s answer. “Oh.

Oh.

Right. Hooked up. Right, yeah, that makes sense, totally… totally normal thing to do. Hooking up.” His words started to tumble over each other, his voice getting louder, more Lance-y by the second. “Like, it’s space! We’re all out here! Doing things! And you know, everyone’s, uh, lonely sometimes and—uh, I mean,

not that you’re lonely

, I just meant, like… it’s a thing that happens. Clearly. It happened, and that’s fine. Totally fine.”

Keith stared, both horrified and endeared at Lance’s unraveling. He could feel his own embarrassment intensifying, but he somehow couldn’t look away from Lance’s frantic expression. “Yeah,” he mumbled. “It just… it happened. And then it, you know, stopped happening.”

Keith winced at his own words, his body on fire.

Brilliant and articulate as always.

“Oh, cool, right, yeah, makes sense,” Lance replied, nodding way too fast, his words picking up speed again. “And, like,

obviously

it’s not my business, like at all, but you know, I mean, I just kinda picked up on things. Just thought I’d, uh, ask. I guess? To make sure… um, that you’re… okay?”

Keith felt a mix of relief and terror. Lance cared enough to notice, but also,

Lance noticed

. About him and Rolo. And now it was out in the open, and he had no idea where to go from here.

“I’m… fine. Just stressed about losing someone under my supervision and direction. We have no idea the full extent of Vrelen’s plans and what he is capable of doing with someone under his imprisonment, so…” Keith managed, forcing himself to meet Lance’s gaze, hoping he looked a lot calmer than he felt. But he could see the mix of emotions flickering across Lance’s face—concern, a little relief, and something else, almost like… disappointment? Or maybe he was reading too much into it. He had to.

Lance bit his lip, nodding a little slower. “Good. Good. I mean… of course you are. You’re Keith, you’re always fine. Tough guy and all.” He laughed, but it was a little softer, a little more genuine, like he was speaking to himself as much as Keith. “Just, you know… wanted to check.”

They both sat there, neither one quite sure how to break the silence. Keith found himself looking at Lance, really looking at him, noticing the way his gaze kept flicking away, how he was still shifting his weight, his usual bravado suddenly replaced by something shy and unsure. And, maybe, a little hopeful?

Keith swallowed. “Thanks, but we are going to help get him back. I would never leave someone behind.” he said, his voice barely a murmur.

Lance’s gaze shot up, meeting his eyes. His smile was small, but it was there, hesitant and almost… sweet. “You will. We will. I’m sure Rolo knows just how stubborn you can be when determined about something.” His smile grew, but the edges wavered a bit, sounding distant. Keith just nodded, gulping down the rock in his throat and feeling his skin burn even more.

“We aren’t dating.” Keith blantly stated, his own body screaming

STOP TALKING.

Lance just nodded, pursing his lips and avoiding eye contact. Keith could feel his heartbeat pounding awkwardly, feeling exposed but somehow… okay with it. Like one of his many secrets was finally able to be told to Lance, after everything. This, he was ok with surprisingly.

“Anyway that’s besides the point. I just wanted to mean that I trust you, man, and I wanna help with everything you’re going through right now. I saw the way Vrelen attacked you, the things he said, what he was making you feel. What he did to you. And like, you don’t have to try to lie about any of that and how much it hurt, so I won’t ask about that. I just want you to know I’m here, I guess, and want to help because I don’t know what to do anymore.” His smile broke again, and Keith nearly cried at the gentle kindness Lance was showering him in. Oh so forgiving and sweet and understanding and not pushing. It made Keith want to spit everything out even more, so he avoided his eyes and drifted his gaze down to Kosmo too. But the weight of having Lance anywhere near Vrelen shook him to his core, made his body ache and his throat feel tight and defensive. If Lance found out about the Lion, or that Keith had kept it hidden for this long, if he turned to anger, and Vrelen got a hold of him in the same way he captialized on Keith's own anger with hurtful memories resurged…..

No, Keith was going to keep Lance as far away from this all as possible. No matter the cost. It was just Lance looking at him, with that hopeful, earnest light in his eyes, and every reason Keith had felt fragile and foolish.

“I’m going to leave back to that planet in a few hours, survey things more and do some unfinsihed work with a couple Blades. When I return I want to bring you back to Earth.” Keith muttered out quickly, his voice a little gravely. Lance’s smile dropped, his eyes flicking over Keith’s face and down at Kosmo’s, who had twitched his ear aggressively and made a low whine. His mouth opening but no words coming out, as if he hadn’t quite heard him right. Or maybe, Keith thought, Lance was hoping he hadn’t heard him right. He saw the glimmer of hurt, the flicker of confusion, all cross Lance’s face in the span of a heartbeat, and it was like a punch to his gut.

“What?” Lance’s voice was small, barely above a whisper. “You—you’re taking me back to Earth?”

Keith forced himself to hold his gaze, even though every inch of him wanted to look away, to hide from the pain written in Lance’s eyes. “You’ve been gone for almost three weeks,” he said, his voice rough and strained. “Your mom’s probably worried sick. You promised her you’d check in after a month, remember?”

“Yeah, but—” Lance’s voice cracked, and he quickly cut himself off, his fingers flying to his wrist where Keith’s hairtie still was, pulling and twisting and taking a shaky breath. “But I don’t want to go back. I want to stay. I want to stay with

you

. I thought… I thought we were figuring this out together.”

Keith’s resolve wavered as he looked at Lance’s pleading eyes, at the way he sat there so stubborn, so determined, so

hurt

. He knew how much it hurt Lance to be asked to leave, how much it hurt him, too—but that was the problem. His feelings for Lance were overwhelming, a constant weight in his chest that made him desperate to keep Lance safe, to keep him away from everything that made this life so dangerous, so unforgiving. The last encounter with Vrelen had only made that clearer. He had barely gotten Lance out of there without being touched by him, possibly so close to reading his own anger and thoughts, tear up an unforgiving and painful memory in Lance that would cause the same turmoil and torture that he had to go through, and just the memory of it sent a surge of terror through him, thinking of what could have been.

“Lance…” Keith’s voice softened, and he forced himself to speak even though his throat felt like it was closing. “This isn’t up for debate.”

Lance’s face flushed, a mix of frustration and hurt flaring in his eyes. “I’m not going home, Keith. I didn’t come all this way to just… give up and go back to Earth because things got a little hard. I want to be here—with you. And you can’t stop me from that.” His voice shook, but his eyes were steady, blazing with that same determination Keith had always admired, always been drawn to.

Keith’s chest tightened, the weight of his own feelings pressing down like a vice. He clenched his jaw, unable to look at Lance, barely able to get the words out.

“You don’t understand,” he said, his voice low, barely more than a whisper. “I need you to be safe. You don’t… you don’t know what Vrelen did—what he brought out from my memories from anger, what he forced me to see and relive…” He trailed off, his gaze flicking away, overwhelmed by the guilt, the fear that was tangled up inside him. “I can’t keep putting you through that, Lance. I can’t keep… risking you.”

“That’s not your decision to make,” Lance shot back, his voice fierce. “You don’t get to decide that I’m too weak to handle this. I know what I signed up for. I know it’s dangerous. But I chose to be here, Keith. I

chose

staying at your side, idiot.”

The words cut through Keith’s defenses, his heart pounding painfully as Lance’s gaze bore into him. He felt raw, like Lance had peeled back every layer he’d been holding up, leaving him vulnerable, exposed, unable to hide how much he cared, how much this mattered.

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Keith said, his voice barely more than a whisper, his gaze dropping. “I’m afraid of how much I…. I can’t keep… I can’t lose you. I can’t lose anyone else. Especially not because of me.” His words got lost in his throat as he swallowed hard, his confession so close to just tumbling out.

Nope, not here. Not now. Not ever.

Lance’s expression softened, a flicker of understanding crossing his face, but it was filled with pain too—pain that Keith knew he was responsible for, and it made his chest ache even more. Lance took a shaky breath, his hands falling to his sides as he looked up at Keith with a sadness that made Keith want to look away but feel like he’d never stop hurting if he did.

“Tell me what he made you see.” He demanded. Keith froze, his mind clouding to the second time Vrelen had touched him during that last battle. He felt his adams apple bob as he took a shaky sigh, avoiding Lance’s gaze.

“I told you. He’s able to feast on anger and pull out painful fear in your memories. I don’t get it, but he does.”

“What did you see that’s making you want to send me away.” Lance was relentless, his hands dropping to Keith’s arm to grab at him. Keith tensed, but he didn’t want to pull away. Not when Lance was touching him and looking at him like a wounded animal.

Lance’s voice was soft as he asked once more, “What… what did Vrelen make you see?”

Keith tensed, his face tightening, his body stiffening as the memories clawed their way to the surface. He hadn’t thought about it in so long—had forced himself not to think about it. But now, sitting here, with Lance looking at him so intently, like he genuinely wanted to know, like he would understand, Keith felt his resolve crumble. He took a shaky breath, his throat thick, as he started to speak.

“It was… it was when Shiro disappeared. When the Garrison told me he was… that he was lost. And probably dead.”

Lance’s expression shifted, his eyes widening with a flicker of horror, but he stayed silent, letting Keith continue.

“It was right after the Kerberos mission went dark. I knew… I

knew

something was wrong. I kept waiting to hear that it was some malfunction, some delay, that the mission was fine and Shiro was fine and they were coming back, but then…”

The memory hit him like a wave, sudden and suffocating. He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms as he remembered the sterile, indifferent faces of the Garrison staff, the cold, unfeeling way they had delivered the news.

“I went to the control room, tried to get in to see the flight logs, the communications… anything. I was just a newly enrolled cadet, so they wouldn’t let me near the mission records. But I knew something was being hidden from me, something they didn’t want to tell me, and I couldn’t just… just sit there and do nothing. So I started sneaking around the offices, checking doors, looking for a way in…” He shuddered, his voice breaking as the memory grew sharper, every detail as clear as if it had happened yesterday. “Eventually, I found a window from the outside and threw a huge rock to break in. I managed to get in, got halfway to the flight records room… but then Iverson caught me.”

Keith’s jaw clenched as he remembered the look in Iverson’s eyes, the absolute finality of his expression, the way he looked down at Keith like he was some kid throwing a tantrum instead of someone who’d just lost the closest thing he had to family. The only family in Keith’s small crumbling world at the time. Of being alone once and for all again like he was told he was always going to be from the cruel people at the shelters.

“He told me—” Keith’s voice cracked, and he swallowed hard, forcing the words out. “He told me that everyone on Kerberos was likely dead, that Shiro was gone, and there was nothing I could do about it.” He felt the memory of that moment surge up again, the desperate fury that had torn through him, the feeling like his chest was splitting open. “I lost it. I called him a liar. I tried to get past him, to get to the flight logs myself, to see it with my own eyes. But… he stopped me. I mean, a whole man versus a 12 year old kid.”

Keith let out a bitter laugh, though there was no humor in it, only a raw, hollow pain that hadn’t faded, even after all this time. “I started screaming at him. Tried to fight him off. Tried to get to the files, to something that could prove that Shiro wasn’t just… just gone. But then some of the other Garrison workers came, and they… they grabbed me. Hauled me out of there, and threw me out like I was nothing. Just another angry kid making trouble. I kept demanding answers, kept shouting that they were wrong, that he couldn’t be dead…”

He trailed off, his voice dropping to a whisper as he remembered the cold, heavy finality of that moment, the way he’d stood outside the Garrison’s gates, his voice hoarse from screaming, his fists raw from where he’d punched the ground in frustration, blood soaking his knuckles into numbness with pain he only felt once before when his father had died. The cold sinking feeling of abandonment. Of pure loss.

“No one cared about how much it hurt, how much it felt like my whole world had just been ripped away.” He shook his head, trying to blink away the tears that had started to gather in his eyes. “And that’s… that’s what Vrelen made me relive. Every second of it. Every awful, lonely second of that pain relived and doubled down as if the emotions were fresh and unbandaged.”

Keith’s hands shook as he looked down, unable to meet Lance’s gaze, afraid to see pity, or worse, judgment. He didn’t know why he’d even told Lance, why he’d let himself be so vulnerable, so exposed. But now that the words were out, he felt raw, like an old wound had been ripped open and left to bleed.

The silence stretched, heavy and painful, until finally, he felt a warm hand on his shoulder. Keith looked up, his gaze meeting Lance’s, and he saw something there—something fierce, something determined, something that looked an awful lot like understanding.

“I’m sorry, Keith,” Lance whispered, his voice thick. “I… I never thought about what that must have been like. I mean, you were just a kid. I can’t even imagine how much that must have hurt.”

Keith’s chest tightened, the vulnerability almost too much, too overwhelming. But the way Lance looked at him, so gentle, so full of compassion—it was something Keith hadn’t felt in so long, hadn’t realized how much he needed.

“It was… it was the worst thing I’ve ever felt. Of being alone again. Of having someone you cared for ripped away with a half ass answer that it was death that did it. After the same thing happened to my father, and what I thought happened to my mother. It just–” Keith admitted, his voice barely more than a whisper as he clenched his jaw again. “And… I just… I don’t want to feel that again with another person if I can help it. I can’t. Not with… not with you. So please, just trust me on this when I say I don’t want him anywhere near you.”

Lance pondered for a moment, his eyes bearing through Keith’s very soul. Lance’s hand tightened on his shoulder, his gaze steady, unwavering, before letting out a heavy sigh.

“Is there anything else?”

Keith faltered, his eyes looking back at Lance’s forgiving and kind eyes. He shook his head no before answering back to stop himself from saying more.

“No.”

Kosmo whined at that, his ears flicking and turning his heavy head to look at Keith as if to give him a are you serious right now look. Lance’s eyes flicked down to Kosmo, looking at the way he had reacted, a small frown on his lips as he looked torn a bit before looking back at Keith, who kept his face set determined as if that could avoid Lance from asking more questions. Lance opened his mouth to speak more, but popped it closed again, looking at Kosmo and then back at Keith, a flurry of emotions hidden that Keith couldn't quite understand. Lance sighed again, biting on his bottom lip.

“Ok. I’ll leave for a bit. But when this is all over I want to come back to you.”

Keith sucked in a breath, his body clenching and his heart beating so fast in his chest he thought Lance would be able to hear it.

“Deal.” His throat tightened, but Lance then reached out to gingerly stroke at his jaw, and Keith nearly wilted right into the touch.

“Unclench.” Lance muttered, his voice lowly mixed with annoyance and endearment, and Keith forgot how to breathe for a second, just silently observing the way Lance was oh so gentle, so forgiving and caring and meaningful in the way he had listened and reluctantly understood. Yah, Keith would make sure Lance was far far away from ever being touched by Vrelen and his nasty ability to conjure up the feeling of loss and pain.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

A year and a half ago. Some weeks to spare.

The fact was simple. The Castle of Lions was gone, Allura had ressurected Shiro and put his quintessence into his body and he was back to normal, they had some new aliens and a new Altean with them when Keith came back with a whole new gang of characters, Lotor was stopped and they were heading back to Earth to retrieve the copy of the Castle’s scans Pidge had sent to her father. For a moment in time, they were not at a battle of war and betrayal, and they were allowed to go home after all this time.

All of this called for a space roadtrip, and Lance was over the moon about the ability to go home and see his family. They really were finally on their way back to Earth. The thought sent a thrill through him, something almost electric. He was going to see his family again. His family. He could hardly believe it. After all this time out here, he’d been starting to forget what it felt like—the smell of his house, the sound of his siblings squabbling in the kitchen, his mom’s voice calling out to him from down the hall. What would even be the first thing he would say to them?

Surprise mom, sorry for running away and getting caught up in an intergalactic alien war but now I’m back and I still got to leave again to finish the war?

Being a paladin had been his life for so long that the idea of going back was both comforting and strange. What would his family even think of him now? The things he’d seen, the battles they’d fought… would they even understand?

The anxiety and anticpaiton to be home was momentarily paused as the team had taken an emergency pitstop at a rando planet among the way, being able to stretch their legs, move around, and give the Lions a break and refill their energy before another long stretch of mindless flying towards their goal thousands of miles away in a different galaxy. Lance didn’t mind though. His eyes had hurt from the red glow of Red’s cockpit, exhausted and just happy to be up and breathing fresh air. The sky was a deep, surreal orange, stretching out in every direction and casting everything in this otherworldly glow. Lance couldn’t help but just stare, feeling oddly dazed by it. It was so different from any sunset he’d seen on Earth, but it still gave him a strange sense of peace, like he was staring into some vast dreamscape. Every cloud shimmered with streaks of pink and purple, glowing like embers against the sunset that filled the horizon.

Lance had popped himself up onto the Green Lion’s foot to watch Pidge, who was bent over her latest invention, grumbling and muttering all kinds of science terms under her breath, tapping furiously on her wrist console. She’d been trying, for what seemed like hours now, to get a decent signal to Earth. But nothing was coming through or going over.

Lance hummed to himself as he let his fingers thud in a rhythmic pattern on his knee, trying to shake off the nerves as he looked out over the alien landscape. His gaze drifted past Pidge to where the Black Lion stood, imposing and calm, with Keith leaning against her paw, his arms crossed and looking deep in conversation. He was talking with their new guest Krolia, his mother, which was still crazy for Lance to wrap his mind around. Keith had family here. A family that understood him, that shared his roots, his blood. Keith looked serious, his brow furrowed in that way that was so

him

, even as he listened closely to Krolia’s words. Nearby, Shiro was also leaning against the foot of the Black Lion, listening and nodding to something Keith was saying as he motioned to his mom, as the new giant blue wolf of a creature sat at their feet, its tail wagging along and its eyes trained on Keith like a hawk. Lance let his eyes drift over to the Blue Paladin, where Allura was perched with her feet crossed, her eyes wide and talking quickly with the other new Altean. She was just as pretty, not as much as Allura obviously, and her marks were blue like Corans, who was also sat with Allura and talking a mile a minute, his eyes trained just as intensely on their new Altean. Romelle, if Lance remembered correctly.

Lance chuckled to himself, shaking his head in disbelief. It was surreal. The change. The addition. How quickly things unfolded and left Lance to barley register these new additions.

Pidge let out a frustrated groan, slamming her tools down. “Ugh, this thing is useless. Broken beyond repair,” she muttered, flicking a piece of metal from her wrist.

Lance smirked, leaning back on the Green Lion’s foot. “Maybe it’s not the machine that’s broken. Maybe your brain just isn’t calculating correctly today.”

Pidge shot him a look, eyes narrowing behind her glasses. “Excuse me? My brain is

always

correct, thank you very much.” She adjusted her glasses, scoffing as if the idea of her making an error was absurd.

Lance chuckled, but his gaze drifted again, slipping back over to where Keith stood with Krolia, Shiro, and the wolf. The whole scene felt like a strange fever dream, something out of a sci-fi comic. Such stark contrasts to the majority humans on team Voltron, but also such a sight to see. Like, an actual 7 foot tall Galra woman. Who gave birth to Keith. And a whole ass blue wolf. Sue him for having his attention trained on that sight!

Pidge seemed to notice his distraction, and her expression shifted to one of sly curiosity. “You trust them?” she asked, her voice casual but her eyes sharp. “The new additions, I mean.”

Lance shrugged, leaning back a little further. “It’s… different. But I think it’s cool, you know? New allies, especially since Romelle’s presence has made Allura and Coran seem so much happier? Like, Coran actually has someone who doesn’t look at him in confusion when he mentions niche Altean history. And Keith’s mom showing up out of nowhere… and that wolf? Huge plus.”

Pidge tilted her head, smirking as she asked, “So you think it’s cool? Or… Keith’s cool?”

Lance blinked, looking back at her, confused. “Uh, what? I mean… sure, it’s all pretty cool, I guess?”

Pidge’s smirk widened, a gleam in her eyes. “So, you’re saying he looks all ‘cool’ and ‘grizzled’ now?” Lance’s cheeks went hot, his mouth popping open in shock and betray from the demon. “Pidge! I didn’t say that!”

“Oh, really?” she continued, enjoying his flustered reaction way too much. “Because it kinda sounded like you were giving Keith some

high

praise and compliments, coming from you of all people.”

Lance’s face was bright red now, and he shot her a glare. “Stop twisting my words! I didn’t call him anything! Don’t remember any of that.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Pidge said, shrugging with exaggerated innocence. “Sounds like used some choice words to point that out when he first came back.”

As Lance opened his mouth to protest, Hunk ambled over, carrying an armful of spare parts. His eyes were trainned on a couple parts as his face was a small frown, looking between whatever sciencey nerd stuff he was holding that Lance happily chose to ignore the significance of. He glanced between the two, noticing the amusement on Pidge’s face and Lance’s distressed look.

“Uh… what’s going on?” Hunk asked, dropping his parts with a thud.

“Hey, Hunk, we’re just having a debate.” Pidge’s voice was casual, but the mischievous look hadn’t left her face. “Do you think Keith looks different these days? I mean, you’ve noticed, right?”

Hunk looked at her, puzzled, and then over at Lance, who was still trying to regain his composure. He shrugged, scratching his head. “Uh… I mean, he’s got that whole ‘battle-hardened warrior’ vibe going on now, if that’s what you mean. Looks a little taller too. He’s got a good look going on now. Also, just lighter in general with the whole finding his mother thing. Why?”

Pidge let out a delighted laugh, nudging Lance with her elbow. “See? Even Hunk thinks so!”

Hunk blinked at the two of them, looking from Pidge’s shit eating grin to Lance’s reddened face.

“Ok, what are you trying to get at here?”

Pidge just shrugged, giving Hunk the biggest innocent smile as she flicked an evil look back at Lance. “So like, you would describe him different. Taller. Anything else?”

“I guess more ragged and manly-er? Like, if that’s a thing? Like, he’s been through it a bit. Didn’t he say he spent some time in like an abyss or something and aged?” Hunk scratched at his chin, and Lance just let out a groan.

Pidge’s smirk widened, a gleam in her eyes. “So, you’re saying he looks all ‘cool’ and ‘grizzled’ now?” She leaned in, her tone light but her grin devilish. “Adventuring in space, getting that rugged edge… right, Lance?”

Lance’s cheeks went hot as he turned down to glare at her.

“He looks stupid.” Lance’s wonderful words flew out, oh so smart and quick witted as Pidge just kept giving him this stupid awful look that meant trouble.

“Hey, we should leave soon. Still got a lot of mileage to cover.”

Lance and Hunk jumped, letting out surprised screams that echoed in the otherwise calm air as they both whipped their heads to see Keith suddenly there, his arms crossed lightly over his chest and a set jaw, the giant monstrosity of a space wolf sat at his heel.

“Someone needs to put a bell on you, jeez.” Lance grabbed at his chest to make a point of the scare and how silent Keith moved like a stealthy ninja.

Pidge snorted, clearly enjoying their reaction, and wasted no time leaning over to Keith, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Oh, hey, Keith! Lance was just saying he noticed something about you. Something important.”

Keith looked at her with wide, confused eyes, his head tilting slightly, like a curious kitten. His eyebrows knitted together as he glanced over at Lance, who was already shooting Pidge a look that could melt metal.

“Uh… did you?” Keith asked, clearly bewildered.

“Pidge is mentally crazy, that’s what,” Lance muttered, crossing his arms in defense. His face was burning, and his glare at Pidge only seemed to make her grin wider.

“Wait, so you don’t have anything to say?” Keith’s voice was soft, but there was a flicker of hurt in his eyes, and for a second Lance almost felt guilty. Almost.

“No, actually, I do have something to say!” he snapped, fighting off the traitorous heat creeping up his neck. “Your longer hair looks stupid, mullet.”

Keith’s expression flickered, and he looked genuinely taken aback, his mouth opening slightly as if he was trying to understand what he’d done wrong. The freaky space wolf gave a low whine beside him, his big, glowing eyes narrowing at Lance. The wolf’s ears flicked, and it was almost like he could sense Lance’s dishonesty.

“Aw, come on, Lance,” Pidge chimed in, voice full of mock innocence. “I thought you had way more thoughts on the subject. Didn’t you say Keith’s whole look was, like, way cooler now?”

Lance’s eyes went wide as he practically shrieked, “

Lies!

I never said any of that!” His face was red-hot, and he could feel the wolf’s gaze on him as it let out another soft whine. It was unnerving, as though the wolf was reading him, sensing his embarrassment like he could smell the truth.

It gave a huff and turned to Keith, his tail flicking as he made a soft, accusatory growl in Lance’s direction. Lance felt his temper flare, his skin prickling with heat. He clenched his fists, ignoring the pang of guilt and irritation that the wolf somehow knew he was lying.

“Can we just leave already?” Lance demanded, his voice a little louder than intended. He threw a quick, flustered glance at Keith, only to find him looking even more puzzled, his mouth a soft pout of confusion. The scene made Lance’s stomach twist in guilt and a little bit of endearment as his eyes drifted to the wolf, who was still watching him closely, and he had the unsettling feeling that the wolf could see right through him. It wasn’t fair, the way its big, knowing eyes made him feel caught in his own thoughts.

“Cool pet you have now, Keith. Does he have a name?” Hunk finally interjected, and Lance could have kissed the guy. Keith’s attention strayed from Lance, but he still looked as uncomfortable.

“No, I didn’t wanna name him something that wasn’t his.” Keith shrugged, and Lance couldn’t help but snort at that.

“What, you waiting for it to talk to you and introduce itself?”

Keith’s eyes turned back to Lance, and for a second there was a familiar look as he focused on Lance’s face. Like he was familairizng himself with what Lance looked like, how he sounded, and that he was in fact sitting right in front of him. Lance tried to shake that unmistakable feeling of feeling like a ghost in front of his own teammate. Lance anticipated a bickering bite at him, bracing for Keith’s quick mouth and retaliation, but none came out of him, and that almost shook Lance off the top of Green’s foot.

“Sounds stupid.” Pidge scoffed, but Hunk flew in again quick to save the day.

“That sounds like a good idea, Keith.” He threw Keith a huge smile, but this time the wolf turned to whine at Hunk, its ears flicking again the same way it had done at Lance. Lance narrowed his eyes, sitting up at the way ther wolf was now narrowed in on Hunk. He knew when Hunk was saying something to please someone else, the people pleaser he was. Lance was a chronic sufferer of that himself, and he noticed the way Hunk’s voice always came out a little sweeter when he was fibbing.

“I like it when Coran sings the Altean alphabet when its silent.” Lance stated blandly, and just as he thought the wolf whipped its head to look at Lance, that same whine returning.
Lance squinted, watching the wolf’s reactions more closely. An idea struck him, ridiculous but persistent, and he couldn’t resist testing it out.

“Oh, did you know?” Lance said in an exaggerated tone, drawing everyone’s attention. “I actually hate the ocean! Yup, totally can’t stand it.”

The wolf’s ears perked, and it let out a soft, impatient whine, his eyes narrowing as he looked right at Lance.

“My older sister makes the best Ropa Vieja, my mom isn’t even close.”

The wolf whinned again, but Pidge and Hunk kept gawking at him in confusion.

“I think Hunk is secretly a hateful and vengeful guy.”

A huge deep whine from the wolf now, beginning to pace around Keith’s legs as Hunk let out a chortled gasp.

Pidge frowned at him, adjusting her glasses. “Uh, Lance… are you okay?”

Hunk’s brow furrowed too. “Dude, are you… lying on purpose? Please say those are all lies, buddy.”

Lance grinned, excited now. “Maybe I am. Maybe I’m just figuring something out about our furry little friend here.”

Keith watched him with an unreadable expression, his eyes dark and distant, like his mind was a million lightyears away. There was something swirling there—hurt, or maybe just an emotion Lance couldn’t quite name. It was so closed off that it sent a pang through him. But before he could dwell on it, Pidge seemed to catch on to his experiment.

“Oh, I get it!” she said, a wicked smile forming. She looked right at the wolf and said, “Lance thinks Keith looks dumb and puny, and that he’s not grizzled at all.”

Lance gasped, his hands shooting up in horror. “

WHAT?!

I

never

said that!”

But the wolf turned to Pidge, his head tilting as he whined in disapproval, as if protesting her blatant lie. The wolf’s eyes darted between Pidge and Lance, and he began to pace in circles around Keith, his frustration mounting with every step.

Pidge was practically cackling, her face alight with amusement. “It’s all truth! Lance thinks Keith isn’t cool

at all!

”

Keith’s eyes went wide, his cheeks going pink as he looked away, visibly flustered. “Uh… wait, what?”

The wolf let out a wounded-sounding whine, coming to a stop and giving Pidge a piercing stare as if to say,

That’s just mean.

Lance had had enough. His face was burning, his frustration bubbling over. “Alright! That’s it! Everybody just pack up and let’s get going

now,

” he yelled, throwing his hands in the air.

Pidge burst into laughter, Hunk chuckling along despite his confusion, and the wolf tilted his head, looking at Lance with what could only be described as a smug satisfaction. As they all scrambled to get back on track, Lance muttered under his breath, still red-faced and flustered, all while feeling the wolf’s watchful eyes on him, as if the wolf knew exactly what he really did think about Keith’s new apparent change in look.

Which was that it sucked and was weird and Lance had deintely not noticed his new height and grown in muscles and more chiseled jaw! Nope. Never in a million years would he even get close to that jaw or Keith. Stupid Keith and his new look and new weird alien that somehow picked up on lies and weird whole vibe to begin with.

He just wanted to be home and fast and never leave it again or deal with whatever the heck was going on here.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Lance liked to think of himself as a pretty understanding guy. When he was in third grade and he stayed up all night to make his cardboard project on the solar system and was super intense on glueing, designing, and making a model of the planets and left it out on the living room table to sit overnight and came back the next morning to a backpack thrown mindlessly over it and thus ruining some of the creative project, Lance wanted to bitch and cry to his mom. But it turned out that his oldest brother had gotten home really late that night from his job that he was slaving away from and didn’t turn on the lights in the living room and just threw his backpack on the table and knocked out on the couch, Lance learned that situations were always key in understanding why something happened the way it did. What brings someone to do an action and carry it through. Lance may have been young, but it was his first signs that he was going to be a deeply empathetic person when he got older. That, and the fact that he grew up in an extremely crowded and loud family where someone was always doing something that made someone else unhappy.

So as Lance said goodbye to Keith for what felt like the millionth time later that day to watch him go on this super secret mission that he was not allowed to talk about, you know,

Blade stuff

, the feeling of an internal struggle to be a little pissed off still swirled in him. He thought he had proved himself worthy for Kolivan, and especially to Keith, who he wanted to keep up with. Wanted to show he was the support that he needed, and someone that Keith could seek out. It just seemed the more Lance wanted to stay, fought for his right to be there, the more Keith pulled away and shut down. Like the more Lance was getting deeper into more dangerous missions, the more Keith wanted Lance far, far away. And sure, to that extent Lance was empathic and understood the meaning behind that, but only when Keith actually opened up to him. Didn’t keep him in the dark. Keith hadn’t given any details, hadn’t shared where he was going or why, and it didn’t sit right. The last shared look between them had held something restrained, almost hesitant—maybe even a little guilty. Lance liked to think he had gotten a lot better at reading the dark haired man.

Yet here Lance was, left in the dark as Keith marched off with a small team, shrouded in a mission that somehow warranted a partial lockdown. Yah, that’s right. The moment Keith and his super secret stealth team departed, the entire base was on mandatory lockdown, the alerts going out that there were certain areas that the Blades were not allowed to walk. Several hallways were off limits, and the entire open area of the landing hangar was immediately closed off to the rest of the base. Security had tightened; doors that had once slid open with ease now held firm without the proper clearance. Guards lingered in hallways they normally breezed through, voices low and tense. It was all unsettling, making Lance’s mind spin in every direction trying to connect dots that didn’t yet exist. It was the secrecy of it all that gnawed at him—the fact that whatever was going on was important enough to lock down the base and shut him out. The base was always a sterile quiet, but this was a whirlwind of confusion and mixed feelings that washed over Lance as he was left to sit in Keith’s room like a loyal dog awaiting his owner. And Lance hated that.

Lance waited for several hours, hoping that it was another routine mission that would be over by the end of the day, but deep down he knew it was more than just another mission based off how everyone was acting. Each small interaction around him seemed suddenly loaded, purposeful, like everyone knew something he didn’t. His patience wore thinner with each passing hour, the weight of the unknown pressing heavier on his shoulders. The more he noticed the tense exchanges, the more he felt a chill crawl over him, settling deep in his gut.

He tried distracting himself, pacing the halls where it was allowed, running drills in one of the smaller training rooms, going through all the music he had brought and moping on his bunk, anything to shake the feeling. But every time he caught a glimpse of a passing Blade or heard a hushed conversation, that same tightness seized in his chest. This special mission was different, and Keith was hiding something monumental, something he hadn’t trusted Lance to handle—and that hurt more than he wanted to admit.

He told himself it wasn’t a big deal, that Keith was probably just being Keith, choosing to tackle the dangerous missions on his own and keep him in the dark to just keep him safe. Lance got that, as stupid and painfully annoying as it was. But even as he tried to brush it off, a nagging voice echoed in his mind:

You’re just not important enough to know.

And that silence, that weight of being shut out, settled into a dull ache, a space of empty worry that had nowhere to go.

After what felt like well over a day, a long, painful, excruciating day (hey, he was one for dramatics, and this was definitely super painful to just be a sitting duck and await), Lance plopped down again on his bunk with a huge sigh, throwing his legs out and making sure to be on Keith’s bed to be an annoyance and mess it up a bit in retaliation. The silence of the base grating on his nerves as the hours ticked by. He didn’t have anyone to talk to, even Kosmo of all things was allowed on this super secret stealth mission! He’d done every routine drill and re-organized his gear three times, but all that accomplished was a deeper irritation simmering under his skin.

Where the hell was Keith?

He ran a hand through his hair and down his face as he let out another long groan that would have had his mother snapping at him for his manners, agitated, glancing at the clock again. The longer he was left out of whatever was going on, the more his mind filled with grim possibilities, each one darker than the last. Keith hadn’t even checked in. No status updates, no “I’ll be back soon” message. Nothing. It was infuriating. Finally, Lance stormed out, deciding he’d at least pester someone for information. Out of all the Blades, someone had to be just as confused and wanting some answer just as he was!

Just as he rounded the corner to start his inquisition, he froze. Keith was standing there, quietly leaning against the wall near the entryway, wincing as he was slowly shuffling his feet along the hall with a hand on the wall to support his walk. His suit was torn in various places, debris dusted his shoulders, and cuts marred his face and hands. One particularly nasty gash over his eyebrow looked like it was still oozing. He looked like hell, like he’d been dragged through a battlefield.

“Keith!” Lance’s initial annoyance was shoved aside, replaced by a rush of worry as he took in the extent of the damage. “What the hell happened to you?”

Keith gave him a tired look, attempting a dismissive shrug. “Just… work.”

“

Work?

Seriously?” Lance’s gaze roamed over Keith’s injuries, his hands hovering near him, unsure where to start or if touching would hurt. “You look like you’ve been run over by a cruiser and dragged through a minefield by Kosmo. Twice. What are you even, why are you?” Lance gawked as he motioned to the hallway they were clearly in, blinking at Keith’s unamused pout.

“I wanted to come check in on you. We just got back.” Keith shrugged, but he winced at the motion and Lance wanted to slap him.

“You need to get to the infirmary.”

“I’m fine, Lance.” Keith’s voice was low, unusually soft, as he brushed past him, clearly wanting to avoid the conversation. His gaze skittered past Lance, not meeting his eyes, and Lance saw the exhaustion weighing on him in a way that went deeper than just physical strain.

“Oh, no, no,” Lance said, stepping directly in his path and crossing his arms to block Keith from making any escape. “You are not pulling that

‘fine’

act. I’m serious, Keith. You’re hurt.” His eyes trailed over Keith’s suit, catching more blast marks and scrapes than he’d originally noticed.

Damn it, he looks like he went through a meat grinder.

And yet, Keith wasn’t giving any indication he’d go willingly to get checked out. His skin was an ashen color, and his movements were stiffer than usual, as if each step was a battle.

Keith shifted uncomfortably, his gaze still fixed somewhere over Lance’s shoulder, looking like he’d bolt if given half a chance. “It’s nothing serious. Let’s get you packed up. I’m fine, just… tired.”

“Just tired?” Lance’s eyes narrowed, his hands dropping to his hips as he shot Keith an incredulous look. “Keith, you look like death warmed over. Are you even listening to yourself? You could have broken bones for all you know.” He moved closer, feeling his heart twist seeing the blood crusted near Keith’s ear, smudges of dirt and smoke staining his jaw. “Come on. Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

Keith gave a reluctant sigh, but he still looked reluctant to move. Lance hated how this entire time, Keith hadn’t looked him in the eye once. “I don’t need a babysitter, Lance. I said I’m fine.”

“Oh, don’t flatter yourself.” Lance tried for a light-hearted jab, but his voice wavered as he saw the depth of Keith’s exhaustion. His initial annoyance evaporated, replaced by a gnawing sense of dread. He’d never seen Keith look this drained, this worn down. This pale, like he had seen a ghost. “I’m just making sure you don’t keel over, dumbass. Now come on.”

He reached out, his fingers grazing Keith’s wrist, almost hesitant. But to his surprise, Keith didn’t pull away, though his body tensed at the touch. Keith’s face was blank, and he was still avoiding Lance’s gaze. But Lance could see it now—something was wrong. Not just physically. Something had rattled him, something he didn’t want to admit.

“Keith,” Lance murmured, softening his tone, his hand steadying itself on Keith’s wrist. “Whatever happened out there… look, you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. But you can’t just act like it’s nothing. I know you, dumbass.”

Keith’s shoulders dropped, a slight tremor running through him as he exhaled a shuddering breath. He looked like he was about to shatter in a second. “I don’t want to talk about it, Lance. I’m sorry. I can’t.”

Lance watched the way his mouth tightened, his jaw clenching hard enough that Lance almost worried he’d crack a tooth. Keith’s face was pale, and his eyes were distant, filled with something Lance didn’t recognize—something vulnerable and wounded. The sight made his chest ache.

“Okay,” Lance said softly, “we don’t have to talk about it. Just… let me help, yeah?”

Keith’s lips pressed into a thin line, and for a second, Lance thought he’d refuse. But then Keith’s shoulders sagged even more like his body was finally giving in to Lance, and he gave a tiny nod. That was all Lance needed. He kept a firm hold on Keith’s arm, guiding him gently, reassuringly.

They walked in silence, Keith still refusing to look at Lance and Lance just gently guiding them through the halls. Many pathways were still blocked off, and as they made their way to one of the infirmeries, another small group of Blade officials ran past in the other direction, all in uniforms that looked a lot more special-like than the usual casual gear the rest wore. Lance let his eyes follow them, but the small huffs and sharp inhales of pain Keith was letting out next to him brought Lance back to the present. What was important.

Lance found a table for Keith to sit on, and the more Keith made a point to not sit on it, the more Lance fussed and argued to just humor him for once and sit on the damn thing before he called Shiro. This shut Keith up fast, his brows furrowing and his pout sticking out to make him look like a sickly brooding cat. His mussed up hair didn’t help his case.

The sterile brightness of the infirmary lights washed over Keith’s cuts and bruises, casting shadows across his face that made his eyes look even darker, even more haunted. Lance swallowed, forcing down the rising mixture of worry and… something else he couldn’t quite name, something that felt heavy and tight in his chest. He wasn’t sure why seeing Keith like this made him so tense, why it made his hands want to clench and his stomach coil. Why he felt on the defense.

He watched as Keith sat on the examination table, pale and silent, like he was trying to disappear into the walls. Every glance Lance stole at him revealed something new—a graze on his cheek, the soot smudged around his collar, the torn glove on his left hand with blood peeking through the fabric. Lance’s jaw clenched as he reached for Keith’s hand, his own fingers gentle as he peeled off the gloves. Keith sat pliant, and for the first time in his life allowed someone to actually handle him, which gave a small flutter in Lance’s chest for being able to be the one to do it.

“Look at you,” he muttered, trying to keep the edge out of his voice. “You look like your competing for a contestant of Survivor.” He winced as he caught sight of a particularly nasty scrape across Keith’s knuckles. “How are you even still upright?”

Keith’s gaze flickered to the side, barely even acknowledging Lance’s attempt at humor, his eyes a little muted and a glazed over far away look. Lance’s stomach twisted. He wasn’t used to seeing Keith like this—so quiet, so closed-off, almost as if he were… ashamed. The idea felt wrong. Keith had nothing to be ashamed of, especially after whatever nightmare he’d clearly just crawled out of. Keith flexed out his hand, but winced again as the cuts on it left a deeper pain than he expected. Lance gingerly took Keith’s wrist in his hand, waiting for Keith to yank it back, but there was no fight. That somehow made this worse in Lance’s opinion.

“Hey, quit avoiding me,” Lance teased, forcing a lightness he didn’t feel. He tilted his head, his fingers gentle as he dabbed antiseptic onto Keith’s cuts. “Come on. Give me a scowl, a glare, something to remind me you’re still in there.”

Keith flinched slightly at the sting, his expression barely changing as he muttered, “I’m fine.”

Lance huffed, his patience wearing thin. “Yeah, well, fine doesn’t usually come with half a face of bruises.” He softened, though, leaning in a little closer, his hands working over Keith’s injuries with care. “What happened out there, mullet?”

Keith’s shoulders stiffened, his gaze still glued to some distant point past Lance. His jaw was tight, his posture tense, and for a moment, Lance thought he might actually shatter under the weight of whatever he was holding back.

“Nothing,” Keith said finally, voice so low it was barely above a whisper. “Just… got a little rougher than expected.”

“A little?” Lance’s tone came out sharper than he’d intended, and Keith’s silence only made it worse. Frustration bubbled up in him, mixed with a fierce protectiveness he hadn’t even realized he felt. He forced himself to calm down, the anger turning into something softer, more patient. “Keith, if you’re not gonna tell me, then at least let me help.”

He took a deep breath, his hands still resting on Keith’s as he carefully inspected each scrape and cut. Despite Keith’s cold demeanor, Lance stayed there, feeling oddly grounded by the mere touch. It wasn’t the usual snark or banter, but a moment of rare quiet, of something he’d never admit he wanted more of. His gaze lingered a bit too long on the lines of Keith’s face, the furrow of his brow, the gnawing of his dry lips, the faint faded scar that curled up the sharp edge of his jaw and ending right under his eye, even under the bruises.

“Come on, you’re killing me here,” Lance said softly, breaking the silence as he cleaned the last of Keith’s cuts. “Give me something. A bad joke, a ‘thanks for the help, Lance,’ even an insult would do.”

Keith’s mouth barely twitched, his expression faltering, his eyes shadowed and guarded as he finally looked at Lance. “I… don’t really know what to say honestly.”

“Try starting with how you’re feeling?” Lance prompted, his fingers brushing over Keith’s wrist for a second longer than he needed to. “And don’t give me that stoic warrior crap. Not right now. It’s me, ok?”

Keith swallowed, his gaze falling back to his lap, his expression twisted in something close to regret, his face growing paler by the second. “I… it was a quick trip back to the planet to scan and reassess the damages. Things got out of control, and I—” He hesitated, his voice breaking slightly. “I got reckless. Vrelen came back when we didn’t think he would be there. There was some close calls, but for the most part we got away and got Vrelen off our trail. He lost us in an asteroid belt. Guess this is what you’re seeing from the battle.”

Lance’s stomach did a somersault. “Keith…” His voice was softer, gentler than he’d intended, and he felt his chest tighten at the vulnerability flickering across Keith’s face. He couldn’t resist reaching up, letting his hand rest lightly on Keith’s shoulder. “Look, whatever happened, you’re here now. Alive. That’s what matters, okay?”

But Keith’s expression didn’t change. If anything, he looked even guiltier, his jaw clenched so hard Lance thought it might crack. Lance was fearing for a moment that Keith might actually throw up with how pale he was getting. There was a quiet agony in his eyes, something heavy and raw, and it made Lance’s heart pound harder, an ache of anger and protectiveness curling in his chest. He wanted to wipe that look off Keith’s face, to fix whatever was broken beneath it.

“You’re scaring me a little buddy,” Lance murmured, fingers still curled around Keith’s wrist, not even caring how tight his grip had gotten.

Keith finally looked up at him, something dark and haunted in his gaze, his face a mixture of exhaustion and self-reproach. He shook his head, his voice barely above a whisper. “It’s… complicated. And I don’t want to drag you into it.”

Lance’s chest squeezed, and his grip tightened unconsciously on Keith’s wrist. “I’m already in it, Keith. Whether you like it or not, I’m here, so stop trying to shoulder everything on your own.” He gave a half-hearted grin, trying to lighten the mood despite the tension still humming between them. “Believe it or not, I’m pretty good at sticking around.”

Keith made a soft sound that sounded so closes to a whine in his throat, something that an injured animal made when it was in pain. Or just hurt emotionally in general, and that noise sent shivers down Lance’s spine and the need to just draw Keith in as tight as possible. But he stayed placed firmly between Keith’s legs, his head a little lightheaded and his chest squeezing.

“When you drop me back home, I’m not gonna stop my mom from sageing you.”

Keith finally snapped his eyes at Lance, a huge emotion of confusion filtering across his face, finally something other than guilt and nausea. Lance just wiggled his brows at him, finally basking under Keith’s eyes.

“She believes in sageing people when there’s bad energy, you know, to chase out the good luck and everything? We used to think it was the most annoying thing ever and gave me and my siblings headaches, but then my twin Rachel got really into astrology at some point so then she was supporting my mom just to piss us all off, and now its just something sweet she does if any of us are feeling down. You and your jacked up missions need that.” He pointed an accusatory finger at Keith very lightly, narrowing his eyes and putting on a show.

For the first time that night, Keith’s lips twitched into something that might have been a smile, barely there but real. He didn’t pull his hand out of Keith’s grip or lean away, and that, Lance realized, was a kind of victory in itself.

“Whatever,” Keith scoffed, so softly that Lance almost missed it. He looked up at Lance, his expression softened, the mask he wore just a bit more transparent now, as if letting Lance see the vulnerability he was so intent on hiding. His eyes had a muted glow, the purple shades swirling back at Lance as he looked at him with the most gentle and searching look, like he was almost in shock that Lance was right there treating him. Lance’s gaze traced over Keith’s face, lingering longer than he dared admit, a gravity pulling him in as he took in every detail. Keith’s eyes were like storms—darker than he remembered, edged in violet, intense and so achingly fierce it made Lance’s chest feel too tight. He’d always known those eyes, sharp and calculating in battle, or furrowed in concentration, but he’d never seen them softened like this, raw and open. Keith’s lashes caught the light as he blinked, his bruised cheekbones sharpening the angles of his face in ways that were unfairly stunning, drawing Lance in like a beacon. It hit him then, subtle but undeniable, that maybe, just maybe, he was feeling something more.

And for a moment, Lance’s heart skipped a beat. That faint but unmistakable skip of his heart he’d only felt a handful of times before—moments of reckless attraction, of impulsive flutters that had caught him off guard. But this… this was deeper, more layered, more consuming. A whole shutter in his chest and a slight hiccup in the way he was breathing. It was only for a brief moment, something that happened a lot growing up and he was taken off his axis for a moment, like when he had his first kiss, or when he got into the Garrison after all his hard work, or when Allura had fallen straight into his arms when he first met her, or when Keith had shown up in his dark blade of marmora uniform for the first time in front of the Voltron team. That realization that his heart had stopped and shuttered for these specific moments crept a burning sensation in the back of Lance’s neck, but these moments flashed before him as he was able to recover weakly looking back at Keith again. It was just Keith, exhausted and bruised, and somehow more beautiful in this vulnerable moment than ever.

Lance finally felt the air clear in his head the moment Keith and him took off from the Blade base in a small ship loaded only with Lance’s suitcase and a happy Kosmo. Lance had asked to say goodbye to Krolia and Axca and the rest of Keith’s team out of respect, but when they were also so far away in the base and blocked off from anyone and everyone, Lance had to take the loss and suggest to leave a note for them at their doors? But then that idea felt like a ransom note and lance had to leave with his tail between his legs as Keith rolled his eyes at him that he was being dramatic and they were fine. But when Lance would ask more about what they were doing and if they were as badly bruised up as Keith had been, Keith went back to being closed off, guarded, pale.

It made Lance feel crazy, like taking a couple steps forward just to be pushed back again, wanting nothing more than to help that look Keith got in his eyes, like he was seeing a dead man walk or he was stomaching something that wanted to be released. So Lance kept the respected distance, still the clawing feeling that Keith didn’t trust him gnawing at him the same way Kosmo was going at it in the back of the ship with a heft piece of leg. Lance didn’t want to ask what leg it was of.

But now, sat copilot with Keith as Keith was bandaged up and looking a little lighter with every thousands of miles their ship was flying away from the planet, Lance saw the way he had untensed. Keith piloted the ship through the inky void of space, his hands moved effortlessly over the controls, each action smooth and sure. Lance sat beside him, eyes lingering on Keith without meaning to, taking in the tense line of his shoulders, the curve of his lips pressed in concentration, and the way his dark hair fell just above his brow and lay at a curl over his shoulders. There was something about him now—something relaxed and unspoken, as though he’d let the pressure and weight of what had just happened before start to seep away the longer they flew. Now that they were returning to Earth, some invisible force was finally lifted. For once, Keith seemed almost… calm. Almost approachable. Lance let his gaze wander, drinking in every detail he could. The curve of Keith’s mouth, the subtle way his brow would furrow just slightly when he hit a rough spot in the atmosphere, the calm, determined way he maneuvered them home. His heart did a strange, jittery stutter again, something he’d normally joke away but this time let linger, wondering at its source.

He tried to keep himself from staring, he really did. Lance wondered if he should say something about it, or if he should just sit there, bouncing his leg and strumming his fingers, and keep pretending he wasn’t watching Keith like some psychopath plotting his death. Not that he was, of course. That would be absurd.

Finally, Keith glanced over, catching Lance mid-stare, his mouth twitching in that almost-smile of his. “You’re staring,” he remarked, his tone somewhere between amused and perplexed. “I told you, those injuries are gonna heal. You don’t have to look so worried.”

Lance fumbled, quickly snapping out of his trance. “Psh, worried? Who said I was worried?” he shot back, crossing his arms defensively but unable to suppress the grin tugging at his lips. “I was just… I don’t know, wondering what I’m supposed to do once we’re back on Earth, I guess. You know, just... thinking.”

Keith nodded, turning his gaze back to the controls. “Yeah, I get it,” he replied, his voice softer. “But you were also only gone for three weeks. You can make normal life into whatever your life is, and you always find a way to have fun doing it. You always do.” His tone held an unexpected warmth, a subtle reassurance that he didn’t offer lightly.

Lance felt a rush of something he couldn’t quite name. Comfort, maybe, or… something else. He wasn’t sure why, but hearing Keith say that felt good. Better than it should’ve. Still, he shrugged it off, managing to keep his typical bravado intact. “Yeah, yeah, you say that, but I’m not exactly great at fitting into ‘normal life’ anymore. Clearly me asking to fly off to join the Blades couldn’t be a more telltale sign of my mid life crisis in my 20s. Besides, I’ll be bored out of my mind within a week. Maybe I should take up, like… shark-wrestling or something.”

Keith let out a snort, though the hint of a smile tugged at his lips. “Yeah, right. You’d probably break an arm the first day,” he shot back, the words laced with unexpected fondness.

Lance grinned, leaning back in his seat, hands folding behind his head. “Oh, ye of little faith! I’d be a shark-wrestling prodigy. Just give me a week with ‘em, and I’d be the talk of the ocean.” He paused, a playful glint in his eye as he turned back to Keith. “I could teach you a thing or two, you know. I did happen to woo over some alien mermaids a few years ago, almost had to be their prince of the sea. There’s an art in being adored and desired, my man.”

Keith’s face went visibly red, his usual coolness cracking for just a second. He opened his mouth as if to respond, but the words seemed to stick, and he quickly turned back to the controls, clearly flustered. Lance raised an eyebrow, wondering why Keith was suddenly so worked up. Was this about Rolo again? Was he thinking that Lance genuinely wanted to teach him lessons on how to be desired by other men? It was a stupid and lame attempt at a joke that came out of Lance’s mouth faster than he realized, nut something about the way Keith wouldn’t meet his gaze made Lance’s heart do that dumb, jittery thing again. Like he was internally screaming to keep getting a rise out of Keith.

Trying to brush off the weird flutter in his chest, Lance let out a dramatic sigh. “Y’know, it’s okay, Keith. Not everyone can handle the awesomeness that is Lance McClain,” he said, feigning hurt with an exaggerated pout. “Some people are just doomed to be in my dust of bravado and beauty.”

Keith rolled his eyes, but there was a soft chuckle there, barely audible. “Sure, keep telling yourself that,” he muttered, though there was a glint in his eye that Lance couldn’t quite place. Keith hesitated, looking like he wanted to say something else, but then he fell silent, his fingers tightening on the controls.

Lance only grinned wider, leaning in a little closer as he nudged Keith with his elbow. “What? You’re not gonna admit you’ll miss me?” he teased, half-joking but half-curious. The thought hadn’t really hit him until now—what it would be like to actually leave Keith behind, to go back to Earth and have Keith… somewhere else. Back in all of that wreckage that he had just seen him in for a second. Back dealing with that awful supervillian and refusing to get treated in an infirmary despite needing help. The idea left a strange ache in his chest he didn’t want to examine too closely.

“Fine,” Keith mumbled, his voice so low Lance barely caught it. There was a softness there Lance had never heard before, and it made his heart clench painfully, though he didn’t understand why. Keith quickly cleared his throat, covering the moment with a forced shrug. “I mean… it won’t be the same without someone to constantly annoy me about my teeth.”

Lance let out a bark of laughter, not catching the way Keith’s cheeks flushed deeper. “Oh, please. You’ll be begging me to come back after a day of silence. You’ll be so bored without me arguing with you about how to go about the missions or spar with in the training rooms. At least Ezor will miss making fun of me when I’m sitting around waiting for your annoying ass to come out of meetings and finally give me attention.”

Keith gave a small, barely-there smile, but he didn’t argue. For a while, they lapsed into a comfortable silence, the hum of the ship filling the space between them and the occasional yawn from the space wolf behind them. Lance stole another glance at him, feeling a pang he couldn’t quite explain, as if there was something he needed to say but didn’t know how to put into words. But it was fine—Keith knew him. Knew the kind of dumb stuff he’d say. Knew, too, that he’d always meant well, even if he didn’t know what he was doing half the time.

As they neared Earth, Lance finally looked away, his heart sinking as the realization hit him. He was going back. And Keith… wasn’t. For a moment, he thought about saying something—about letting Keith know that, in some strange way, this was harder than he’d thought. But before he could muster up the courage, Keith’s voice broke through the quiet.

“I’ll be fine, Lance,” he murmured, barely above a whisper and deep with gravel.

And for once, Lance didn’t have a comeback, didn’t have some joke to deflect with. He just nodded, forcing a smile, wondering why it suddenly hurt so much to not have Keith at his side once more.

Keith guided the ship down in a steady descent, and Lance watched with an ache twisting in his chest as the familiar sight of his family’s farm came into view below. The wide-open fields stretched endlessly, dotted with crops and fenced-off pastures, and the small farmhouse looked exactly as he remembered it—warm and welcoming, with the faint outline of the old red barn in the distance that Lance had made his second home every day collecting eggs and milking cows and checking in on the few goats. Everything looked the same, untouched by the time he’d spent away, and that steadiness brought him a strange, hollow comfort. The world had gone on, just as it always had, while he’d been out in space, fighting battles and surviving impossible missions. Nothing had changed. But that same feeling didn’t settle right with him; somehow, after everything, it felt almost wrong that everything here had stayed so familiar. Especially when everything inside him felt different. Because the truth, as much as he didn’t want to admit it, was that he didn’t want to leave Keith’s side. Not again. And he hadn’t realized just how badly until now, as the farm came into view and the weight of goodbye started to press down on him.

He cast a sideways glance at Keith, who was focused, brow furrowed as he brought the ship down with careful precision. Lance’s throat felt tight, his thoughts swirling in confusion and longing, a pull so strong it felt like gravity itself was trying to keep him at Keith’s side. He wanted to stay—wanted to linger in the space they’d carved out together, in the easy, comfortable banter, in the quiet moments that felt too important to name. The closer they got to landing, the harder it became to imagine just… walking away. To think that Keith would leave him here, that their paths might separate, maybe for good, hell, who knew what Keith was capable of doing once he was gone on another aggressive mission, made something inside him clench painfully. He could almost picture it—Keith lifting off, the ship carrying him back to the world he belonged to, and Lance left standing here, watching him disappear into the sky. The thought left him feeling untethered, like he was being left behind all over again, except this time it felt real, and final, in a way he wasn’t sure he could handle.

The ship settled onto the earth with a quiet hum, and Lance’s heart pounded as he took in the sight of his family’s land from the cockpit, the way the colors and smells he remembered flooded his senses. The fields full of Juniberry flowers swaying in the evening wind, tossling about and beginning to have a low glow to them as the sun began to dip. The abandoned bicycles thrown lazily around the front lawn, safe in this world of the Mcclain property and promised that it would be there tomorrow. It was all so achingly familiar, and yet nothing here seemed to understand that

he

was different now. Or maybe he hadn’t been; maybe all this time, the only thing that had truly changed was this strange, overwhelming desire to be close to Keith, to not have to say goodbye, to keep whatever had begun between them alive. Keith powered down the engines, glancing over at him, a question in his eyes as he waited, but he said nothing. Maybe he was thinking the same thing, Lance wondered. Maybe Keith felt it too, that pull between them, the weight of all the things left unsaid.

Lance swallowed, feeling his mouth go dry as he gestured toward the house, forcing himself to speak past the knot in his throat. “I, uh… You should at least go say hi to my mom,” he managed, voice rougher than he intended. “I mean, after everything, y’know, it’d be kinda rude not to.” He forced a laugh, the sound brittle and hollow. He didn’t know why he was stalling, why the idea of stepping outside, of putting space between himself and Keith, felt like it would tear him apart.

Keith’s gaze softened, a reluctant understanding in his eyes as he nodded, though there was a flicker of hesitation, as if he, too, wasn’t ready to let this moment end. “Yeah, that… that makes sense,” Keith muttered, the reluctance barely masked as he tore his gaze away, pretending to focus on the controls as if he needed a reason not to look at Lance. For a brief, painful second, Lance wondered if maybe—just maybe—Keith hated his own decision to leave Lance back home. To give him a reason take everything back and return back to the base together to finish this all.

They both climbed out in awkward silence, Lance strumming his fingers along his hip and Keith shutting off the ship. Lance let his eyes trace over Keith one more time, taking in the fact he was still in his Blade of Marmora suit. Dark, heavy, prepared to continue on with what there was to come. It was such a stark difference to the clothes Lance had opted to change into, his classic long sleeve shirt and light wash jeans, something to make the journey comfy. But that was the big difference. Lance was returning to simplicity. Keith was returning back to battle. Lance felt his chest tighten again as the two shuffled to the front door, Kosmo running around the fields to stretch out his legs happily.

When they got to the door Lance paused, his feet shifting in weight on the old and broken porch, the memory of him leaving to join Keith feeling like miles away. He paused just before knocking, his own thoughts a mental barrier.

“Is everything alright?” Keith’s gentle voice lulled Lance back, drawing his eyes back to look at the softened gaze Keith was giving back to him. Lance felt his gut twist and his heartbeat stammer again, and right as he dropped his mouth open to answer and possibly spill out all his anxieties about leaving Keith alone, the door whipped open with a loud creak from the hinges.

“I WAS RIGHT! LANCE’S IS BACK!” Lance’s little niece Sofia screamed up, her eyes blown huge and her toothy grin so wide to see her uncle. Lance threw on a huge smile as Sofia launched her body at him, forcing him back a couple steps as he heard shuffling and more voices coming from inside. In a split second, his entire family was there, a surge of chaotic energy rushing out to meet him. A wave of spices and something cooking hit him like a wave with the door opened and his siblings tumbled down the steps, voices overlapping in a wild jumble of excitement and disbelief as they shouted his name, reaching to touch his arms, his shoulders, as if to make sure he was really there. His niece and nephew were shoved aside, the poor kids and their lack of height and strength, no match for Lance’s older siblings shoving through. Louis threw an arm around his shoulders and gave him a hard knuckle into his hair while Rachel screeched about how she was going to kill him if he ever decided to do that again, and how she was this close to selling off his room for Airbnb and make money since he was gone. Marco just looked teary eyed while Veronica threw him an annoyed look, her arms crossed, but her face breaking into a thrilled smile just to see her brother. They laughed, some of them swatting at his arms and yelling that he didn’t even say goodbye, crowding around him and bombarding him with questions, everyone talking over each other, a cacophony of love that washed over him in waves. He could barely hear them all, could barely make out one voice from the next, but it didn’t matter. He felt it—all the warmth, the belonging, the home he’d missed so deeply. It was like every inch of space between them had melted away in an instant, leaving him right back where he was supposed to be, in the middle of the people who loved him. It was warm. It was chaotic. It was his family.

And then his mom appeared, pushing her way through the fray with that familiar determination that only she could have, her face bright with tears, her hands trembling slightly as she reached him. “Mijo,” she breathed, her voice thick with relief and love as she pulled him into a tight embrace. Lance felt himself melt into her arms, some of his anxieties easing under the warmth of her touch, her scent so deeply familiar it was as though he’d never left. She radiated such a strong heat and a scent of cut up garlic that had Lance’s stomach rumble, the sudden urge to feast on her food crashing over him. She held him close, whispering soft words of affection and petnames in Spanish, her hand cradling the back of his head as if he were a little boy again. Lance blinked back the sting in his own eyes, his heart aching in the best way, the knot in his chest loosening just a little. For the first time in so long, he felt steady.

But when she finally pulled back, her gaze drifted to Keith, who was standing a few steps away, awkwardly shifting his weight, his usual calm shaken by the intensity of Lance’s family reunion. She looked him over, eyebrows knitting in a motherly concern, and she tutted softly. “Dios mío, look at you,” she said, one hand on her hip, the other gesturing toward Keith as though he were a stray cat she’d taken in. “You look hungry. You boys don’t know how to take care of yourselves out there, do you?” She shook her head, casting Lance a knowing look. “He’s staying for dinner.”

Keith froze, hands awkwardly at his sides, and stammered, “I—I really should be getting back…”

Before he could finish, Lance pounced on the opportunity, his voice coming out a little too fast, too eager. “Oh, come on, Keith! You can’t just fly all this way and not stay for dinner. How rude would that be!” he pleaded, his voice dropping to a softer tone, almost a whisper, as he caught Keith’s gaze. Their eyes locked, and for a moment, everything else fell away—the noise, the chaos, the farm, even his family. It was just him and Keith, caught in the quiet, electric pull that always seemed to live between them. His eyes were cutting him open but healing him fine. The overwhelming nervousness that Keith was feeling being exposed to the raw chaos and noise of his family, the questioning of if he belonged in the first place, the silent flicker fear. It was all too much to look at, yet so magnetic and captivating, his purple iris causing the blazing sunset behind him to fade into black and white.

“Please?” Lance added, barely a breath, a final, aching plea. His heart hammered, hoping Keith could feel how much he wanted him here, to share this part of himself, to not let him slip away just yet.

Keith stared back, something tender and hesitant flickering in his eyes, his resolve wavering as he looked into Lance’s gaze, as though he could feel the same invisible thread tying them together. Yanking at them to not pull apart. After a long, breathless moment, he sighed, giving a small, almost imperceptible nod, a quiet surrender. “Yeah… I guess I could stay for a bit,” he murmured, the faintest smile tugging at the corner of his lips, his voice laced with reluctant warmth.

A thrill shot through Lance, and he barely had time to savor it before his siblings swarmed around him again, pulling him into hugs, chattering and laughing, as if trying to make up for all the time they’d lost in his absence. Lance was yanked forcefully inside as his twin was quick to grab at Keith, talking a mile a minute to reintroduce herself and confirm that he knew who she was and that she was in fact the better looking twin. Lance paused for a second to reach back and snatch at Rachel’s hair to leave Keith alone when his own mother came between the two twins, shoving through and ordering Rachel to set the table and getting the younger kids to clean up. Lance tried to pull away from his own arms being pulled in every which way to look back at Keith, but the more they entered the house, the more they bombarded him with a hundred questions at once, asking him about his adventures, about space, about the battles he’d fought and the things he’d seen. Lance tried to answer, tried to keep up, but he couldn’t help glancing over at Keith every chance he got, stealing looks in the small gaps between his siblings.

Keith lingered at the edge of the group, a little stiff, physically looking awkward, clearly unsure of what to do with himself. But every time Lance caught his eye, there was a soft, almost shy warmth there, as if he were a part of this scene even if he didn’t quite know how to step into it. Lance threw him an apologetic smile, despite not being the slightest bit sorry at all for keeping him, and Keith’s own lips twitched up a bit, his face flushing a bit. And each glance, each brush of eye contact, felt like its own secret message, something raw and real that neither of them had to put into words.

“Lance is in charge of getting the extra chairs from the closet.” Louis shouted in the chaos of the kitchen.

“What! I just got here and you’re already making me do physical labor?” Lance squaked, feeling his arms being dangled on by Sofia below him who refused to let go.

“I second that, you got to avoid your chores for weeks so its only fair.” Veronica slid past him, giving him a dirty look as he let out a groan.

“What kinda clothes do they make you wear and why is it glowing like my Halo videogame characters?” Sylvio shouted, and Lance was made painfully aware that Keith was standing frozen behind him, his arms crossed defensively over his chest and his face going more red as his family all turned to look at Keith’s clothes. Or rather, military made grade A stealthy ninja suit with padding and hard layers of protection on his suit. Everything not found on Earth or in a family kitchen.

“I, uh..” Keith stammered out, looking like a deer caught in headlights as quite literally all the attention was suddenly paused and on him. Lance laughed under his hand as his mother let out a gasp.

“Lance! You will help your guest change into something more comfortable. What kind of manners did you loose since leaving us?” His mother tutted at him, and Lance tried to ignore the way Veronica let out a stifled snort.

“I can show him to a change of clothes in my room!” Rachel threw her hand up, but Louis elbowed her and Veronica threw a look at her to shut up, and Lance immediately jumped in, grabbing at Keith’s wrist absentmindedly and pulling him away from the chaotic kitchen.

“I got it I got it. Now would be a good time to know you didn’t donate my extra clothes, Ma!” Lance shouted over his shoulder, ignoring the way Keith’s face was an embarrassing flush but followed along willingly.

“Wait, so does that mean

I

have to be in charge of getting the extra chairs?” Louis’ voice came out in a groan as Lance disappeared up the flight of stairs with Keith attached to him.

They snaked up the steps, passing by rows of family portraits, certificates, scribbled pictures with branded titles of what age each kid was when creating such masterpieces, awkward prom pictures and baby photos of Sofia and Sylvio, the pride of the house apparently since none of his own mother’s kids had their baby pics on the wall. It was always something they complained about lovingly, knowing their mother was just as proud to show off their baby pics when asked. The stairs creaked beneath their feet, and Lance felt the strangest blend of familiarity and surrealism as they reached the door to his childhood bedroom, a giant blue L lopsided and hung in front to signify who lived there for years. He pushed it open and gestured for Keith to step inside, watching him with a mix of curiosity and warmth as he took his first look around.

The room was just as he’d left it, a mix of old posters cluttering the walls, ranging from NASA shots of cool looking nebulas andf rockets blasting off, to music posters and old concert tickets taped to the walls of proof he attended shows with his sisters like the Wallows and Coin, faded sports trophies from past swimming competitions and soccer playoffs, and cluttered shelves filled with bits and pieces of his life before space, before everything had changed. His face immediately reddened when he saw the old Britney Spears poster that peaked out under the other variety of pictures tacked to the wall, exposing his old obsession with her and her music. His ceiling still had faded out star and moon glow in the dark stickers, a reminder of the world he wanted to be in one day, hoping every night before bed that he would join it. He let out a breath as he shut the door behind them, momentarily calming the chaos of the noise below them and turning to look at Keith. His eyes were blown wide, staring at all the Lance’s own world of chaos, his mouth slightly open and his eyes flicking everywhere like it was fighting to take everything in as fast as possible. Somehow, seeing Keith here in the middle of it, in this tiny, personal space he hadn’t shared with anyone in years, made his chest ache with a strange, quiet happiness. It felt weirdly right, even if he couldn’t quite put a finger on why.

He milked in watching as Keith glanced around, taking it all in with an expression somewhere between curiosity and hesitation. Lance could tell his family’s chaos had thrown him off. Lance knew what it looked like when someone was overstimulated; he looked a little overwhelmed and winded, his posture tense, but there was a softness in his eyes that Lance recognized as relief, too—a moment of peace in the midst of the noisy whirlwind that was the McClain household. Lance snorted, unable to resist making a little joke to ease the atmosphere and calm Keith’s mind. “You survive the McClain welcome party, or should I call in a rescue team?”

Keith gave a small, genuine smile, relaxing slightly as he took a seat on the edge of Lance’s bed, fingers brushing over the comforter that was also etched in star patterns as his eyes took in the many pictures hanging over his bed. “It’s fine,” he replied, almost sheepish. “I… actually kind of like it. They’re… a lot, but they all care so much about you. It’s nice.” His voice was quiet, tinged with something Lance couldn’t quite place, but it warmed him from the inside out.

Lance chuckled softly, covering the fluttering feeling in his chest by moving to his closet, muttering to himself as he dug around for something for Keith to wear. He wanted him to feel comfortable here, even though the idea of Keith being in his childhood room already filled him with an unexpected sense of closeness. Like it felt a little too right.

“It’s a whole circus, huh?” he mumbled, pulling out an old, well-worn blue hoodie and a pair of soft sweatpants. “My mom’s gonna try to fatten you up the minute she can. I’d be careful, or you’ll be going back with five extra pounds.”

He turned, holding up the clothes for Keith to see. “Here. Probably better than staying in that… battle-ready look,” he said, waving a hand toward Keith’s suit. Keith nodded, standing and taking the clothes from him with a small, grateful smile. “Thanks,” he murmured, his tone awkward but sincere.

“Uh, yeah, no problem,” Lance replied quickly, turning around to give Keith a little privacy as he changed. He kept his eyes fixed on the old posters above his desk, rambling without thinking, just trying to fill the silence and the heat he felt rising in his stomach to actually

turn around

. “So, this is where the magic happened—y’know, where I became the legend you now see before you.” He smirked, even though Keith couldn’t see his face, feeling a weird flutter as he imagined Keith taking in his room, surrounded by all these little pieces of his life. There was just something about knowing Keith was here, seeing him in his familiar space, that made him feel both intensely vulnerable and quietly, deeply happy. It was like sharing a piece of himself he’d never really expected to give.

Keith’s faint chuckle floated through the quiet, and Lance could practically hear the amused smile in his voice. “Oh, really? This is where you got your

interesting

personality?”

Lance shrugged, still not turning around and biting back a smile. “Hey, believe it or not, I had quite a reputation back in the day,” he shot back, leaning into his usual bravado, though it felt different now, warmer somehow, as if he was talking to someone who actually understood him. He continued babbling, his words spilling out, half-nervous, half-thrilled by the idea of Keith here, in his room, like some secret he’d been carrying close to his heart.

“Plus, you got a one up on Pidge. She’s gonna kill me when she finds out I let you in my room before her. The little sucker has been clawing to get a hold of my childhood pictures every time she visits, but I know she’s just gonna use them as blackmail.” He kept his gaze firmly on the wall, even as he heard the rustle of clothes and the quiet shuffle as Keith slipped into the hoodie and pants. His heart raced with something he didn’t quite understand, but he couldn’t help it.

“So you’re saying nothing is stopping me from snapping a quick pic of this one right here of you and Hunk in band tees with signs and hearts?” Keith’s low voice danced on a tease, and Lance’s face heat up as he swung around fast on his heel, realizing what picture Keith was looking at and immediately reacting too fast to really think about what he was doing.

“Hey! I’ll let you know 5 seconds of summer was one of Rachel’s favorite bands and got me and Hunk into it at an impressionable young age and we were dragged to that show from our parents! The sign we are holding in that is all my sister’s, we were definitely not thinking that!” Lance turned around too soon, too eager to jump in defense. But the words died on his tongue the second his gaze landed on him, replaced by a jolt of adrenaline that was sharper, deeper than anything he’d felt in battle.

Keith was standing there, halfway through tugging the hem of Lance’s hoodie down, his fingers resting on the fabric just above his stomach, and for a split second, Lance caught a glimpse of bare skin—smooth, pale, the apparent lines of pure chiseled muscle visible in the dim room light, the shadow of a happy trail leading down. His breath caught, eyes fixed helplessly on that small expanse, on the way Keith’s hand lingered there like he hadn’t quite adjusted to the feel of it yet. It was such a simple, normal thing, but to Lance, it felt like a shot straight to the chest, a sudden, unexpected wave of warmth spreading through him.

Oh my god. Oh my god.

Lance’s brain felt like it had short-circuited, sparks firing in every direction, scattering whatever coherent thought he might have had into a hundred frantic, hopeless pieces. Keith looked

beautiful

—so beautiful it was like a punch to the gut, like Lance couldn’t quite catch his breath because

how did he look like that and made him feel like this in THAT?

The sleeves were a little too long, nearly covering his hands, and the fabric stretched snug across his chest and shoulders, showing just how much he’d grown, how strong he’d become. How larger his chest was and how broad his shoulders were. The blue fabric clung to him in all the right places, too tight in a way that made Lance’s heart pound. The sweatpants, on the other hand, were a little loose at the hips, hanging low enough to reveal the sharp curve of his hipbones, and Lance’s eyes snagged on the details without meaning to, his gaze trailing over every line, every angle. Those loose sweatpants, hanging low, giving him a glimpse of the dip of Keith’s hips, that flash of bare skin he’d caught a moment ago like some kind of cruel, beautiful tease—oh god, it was

killing

him. His pulse raced, his cheeks blazing hot, his stomach twisting in knots, his entire body screaming with some helpless, ridiculous kind of longing. He wanted to touch him. He wanted to know what it would feel like to trace that small patch of skin, to pull him in closer, to feel the warmth of him, solid and real.

Oh my god?

Time seemed to slow down, his senses heightening, every detail etching itself into his mind: the messy fall of Keith’s dark hair, the way a few strands brushed against his cheekbones, framing his face in soft shadows; the faint flush that had crept into Keith’s cheeks, either from the warmth of the hoodie or from something else entirely; the hesitant way he was glancing around the room, like he was trying to understand this little piece of Lance’s world but wasn’t sure where he fit into it. But then he flashed Lance a brilliant and shy smile and Lance couldn’t tear his eyes away. It was like Keith had become gravity itself, something he couldn’t escape, something pulling him in, harder and faster the longer he looked.

And his eyes—

god

, Lance could drown in them, in that deep, endless blaze of electric fire that softened every time he looked up at him.

And it was that realization—the overwhelming, undeniable beauty of Keith in this moment, here, in his room, wearing his clothes—that made something in Lance’s mind shudder to a halt. He stood there, frozen, a blush spreading over his cheeks and down his neck, a mix of awe and panic swirling inside him. His heart was racing, a steady, insistent thud that seemed to echo through his whole body, and he couldn’t look away, couldn’t stop himself from drinking in every detail, no matter how much it made his stomach twist and his heart hammer.

Oh.

It was a raw, helpless thought, throbbing in his chest, his heart feeling like it was about to burst. This wasn’t just a fleeting feeling, wasn’t something he could shrug off or joke away. No, this was something deeper, more powerful, something that felt like it had wrapped itself around his very bones, sinking deeper every second he stood there, watching Keith like he was the only thing in the world. And at that point he was.

Every inch of him felt like it was on fire, every nerve buzzing with the sheer, unbearable

need

of it. The way Keith held himself, the hesitant, almost awkward way he moved in Lance’s clothes, like he didn’t realize how completely he fit into this little piece of Lance’s life, how perfectly right he looked here. Lance’s brain kept short circuting, throwing him back and forth between longing and panic, his heart a chaotic mess of want and wonder and fear that Keith might see everything written across his face, might see just how desperately, pathetically fucked Lance suddenly was.

“Is it offensive to say your sweater it too small?”

Lance blinked back, his mind processing Keith was speaking at him with a soft smirk.

“Uh-what.” was the most brilliant and amazing answer Lance could barley cough out. Keith’s brows furrowed slightly, but his casual teasing smirk stayed on his lips and

oh god stop STARING AT HIS LIPS.

Keith looked down at himself, tugging at the hem of Lance’s hoodie, his lips quirking up. “This is a little snug, don’t you think? Guess you’re a bit smaller than I remembered.” He tugged on the sleeves, testing the fit, clearly enjoying the way Lance’s brain seemed to have shut down at the sight.

Lance’s face went redder than he thought possible, his mouth opening and closing like a fish gasping for air.

Oh god, he’s noticed. He knows. He has to know.

He blurted out, “Y-Yeah, well, I—uh, sorry! You just—I mean, it’s not my fault you’ve… you’ve…” He extended his arms out to motion aimlessly at Keith without actually being able to say what he was thinking, the most embarrassing and lame attempt he’s ever made. He was utterly lost for words, his gaze flickering back to that too-tight fabric hugging Keith’s shoulders and chest in ways that were completely unfair.

Oh my god, get it together what is WRONG with you right now.

Keith raised an eyebrow, clearly amused, and Lance felt his heart trip over itself as he tried to redirect, to escape this entire situation. “Anyway!” he yelped, voice a little too high, gesturing wildly toward the door like he’d just remembered they were supposed to be somewhere else. “Uh—kitchen! Dinner! You know my mom’s probably waiting to drown you in food, so we should just… yeah, let’s… yeah.” He all but spun on his heel, but tripped over a bump in his carpet and immediately striding out of the room in what he hoped looked like confidence, even though his mind was a frantic mess of

oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.

Keith followed, thank god, sparing him further embarrassment as they made their way back downstairs, the sounds of clattering dishes and overlapping chatter growing louder. Lance practically threw himself into the whirlwind of his family’s dinner prep, clinging to the noise and chaos like a lifeline, desperate for anything to focus on that wasn’t Keith standing there, effortlessly beautiful in his hoodie, acting like everything was normal. But he couldn’t escape it entirely; every time he caught a glimpse of Keith, or heard his quiet, awkward laugh as his mom fussed over him or one of his siblings asked him a question, that wild, heart-thudding panic rose up all over again. He was

never

going to live this down.

The table filled up with every kind of food imaginable; a huge bowl of rice and beans, ropa vieja,
dried up plantains, and pitchers of water and cans of soda being passed over the table to grabbing hands. The smell alone brought the smallest bit of comfort and relaxation until he looked across the table to Keith settled in front of him and the panic and twist in his gut flooded back again. As everyone settled in, conversation flowed around them, his family chattering over each other in the way they always did—voices loud, laughter louder, dishes passed around with a familiarity that made Lance’s chest ache with warmth. His mother smacked at hands that made attempts to reach over and grab, Sylvio and Sofia yapped very loudly over their school projects and what embarrassing thing someone did on a school trip while Marco assured his wife Camilla that it was alright they were chewing with their mouth open because he liked they were so focused on theri storytelling. Rachel and Louis sat at Keith’s side, their arms propped on the table and oggling at Keith and asking him nonstop questions, what his life was like, where he came from, if Lance had been annoying to deal with in space, and if he had a girlfriend (this coming specifically from Rachel).

Keith, who was still a little stiff but trying to keep up, his responses soft, shy, but sincere, his usual roughness softened by some rare gentleness that made Lance’s heart do backflips. It wasn’t even just the way he looked—it was the way he seemed to be

fitting in,

despite his awkwardness, the way he was letting himself get swept up in the McClain family chaos, like he was becoming a part of it, even if only for tonight. Lance felt like he was drowning in it. His brain was a scrambled mess of

wtf

and

oh god,

his heart a riot of confused, crushing feelings that he didn’t know how to process.

He looks so good. He’s… he’s actually fitting in, he’s talking to them.

The sight of Keith listening intently to his little niece and nephew, laughing softly when one of his siblings made a dumb joke, or nodding shyly at his mom’s endless questions—it was like something he’d never let himself imagine, something he hadn’t known he wanted so desperately until he was watching it happen, right in front of him.

Just as he was in the middle of yet another not-so-subtle glance, Veronica nudged him in the ribs, leaning in with a knowing look. “You know, if you keep staring at him like that, everyone’s going to notice.”

Lance practically jumped out of his skin, heat flooding his face as he sputtered, “What? I—no! I’m not—I’m not staring, you’re imagining things, and I don’t know what you’re talking about!” His voice was too loud, drawing the attention of half the table. His mom shot him a curious look, and Louis and Rachel immediately started snickering, sensing a fresh opportunity to tease him as his face became flushed red but soon all turning back to their conversations and pressing questions to Keith.

“Not staring, huh?” Veronica whispered, arching an eyebrow, her expression gleefully smug. Lance wanted to melt into the floor, especially as he caught Keith glancing over with a confused, slightly concerned look, clearly wondering what all the fuss was about.

“I’m giving you three seconds to turn away from me and drop this before I steal your emergency chocolate jar from your room tonight.” Lance muttered under his breath, throwing daggers at Veronica who seemed like she was untouchable, her lips pulled high in the most shit eating smirk. Lance was stricken then with the nauseating realization of how similar Pidge and Veronica really were. Figures.

“Fine, go ahead. That’s not stopping me from seeing how much you have been blushing looking at him all night.” Veronica shrugged, sticking a bite in her mouth and watching the way her younger brother practically writhed in pain from that comment. He gave her a swift kick at her shins as her knees hit the tabletop under her in surprise.

“Lance, que pasa?” His mother looked over from having shoved more plantains on Keith’s plate, who looked a little too full for his liking.

Lance let out a strangled laugh, trying desperately to save face. “Just, you know, casual banter with Veronica as always! Missed it.” he mumbled, forcing a smile as he threw himself back into the conversation, trying to keep his attention

anywhere

but on the boy across from him, who was making his heart ache in ways he was starting to realize he couldn’t ignore.

His mother narrowed her eyes a bit at him, but Marco jumped in, holding out a fork at him to get his attention.

“You know, I’ve been seeing the voicememos left on the family phone and the same address keeps calling in.”

Lance gave a final swift kick to Veronica before looking over at his brother, now thankful to be confused.

“What do you mean? Is it not Pidge at the Garrison like usual?”

“No, I know the Garrison address like the back of my hand after always dropping you and V off there when you were younger. This one is on Elkmore Street?” Marco scratched at his chin, and it was now Keith’s head who snapped up to look over.

“That’s Shiro’s street.” His voice broke through, and the moment he did he regretted it as every face turned to look at him. He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms defensively with a shrug, glancing at Lance, which of course gave Lance another mini heart attack.

“What’s Shiro calling here for?” Keith asked, and Lance shoved a shutter down.

“I dunno, he sometimes calls to check in, other times he keeps bringing up the same question.” Lance avoided eye contact, picking at his food. He heard Veronica groan next to him, which made him throw her an annoyed look.

“He keeps asking me if I got through to you to work at the Garrison, dummy.” Veronica huffed, and Lance’s skin crawled in embarassment as he kept his glare down at his food.

“Like, as a professor?” Keith’s voice snapped Lance’s eyes back to him like a magnet, and Lance’s stomach turned at the way he looked genuinely confused and a little interested in that statement. There was a flicker of something in his gaze—surprise, maybe, but also something warmer, something almost like hope.

“Uh, yah, it’s just something Pidge and Shiro have been asking me to do for a while, I just didn’t feel like it was right before.” Lance shrugged, shying away from Keith’s piercing eyes.

“Well, what about now?”

Lance looked back at Keith, his jaw set and his eyes ablaze, not inching away from contact. He felt heat rising to his face, waving his hand dismissively. “Nah, nah. It’s… it’s nothing, just some idea Shiro had. I’m fine where I am, really,” he said, trying to brush it off and return his focus to his food. The idea of it made his stomach twist with a strange mix of excitement and dread, especially with Keith sitting right across from him, practically dissecting him with those intense eyes.

But Keith wasn’t going to let it go that easily. “Why wouldn’t you consider it?” he asked, leaning forward, his voice edged with curiosity and a hint of insistence. “You’re a good leader. You know space. You’re positive and uplifting and so good with people. It’s… it’s kind of what they need at the Garrison. You could help a lot of people, you know?” There was something in Keith’s tone that made Lance’s chest tighten, like he was pushing not just for the Garrison, but for Lance to think about what he wanted, really wanted. And that look—determined, maybe even hopeful—was enough to make Lance shift uncomfortably.

“Look, Keith, I don’t really know if… if that’s what I’m ready for, you know?” He could hear the hesitation in his own voice, hated the vulnerability of it, the way Keith’s gaze softened just a bit at his reluctance.

“Mijo,” his mother said gently, putting a hand on his arm, “you don’t have to know everything right now. You’ve been through so much, and there’s no rush. Just… think about it when you’re ready.”

But Veronica, never one to back down, raised an eyebrow, her voice laced with her usual sass. “He’s

been

ready, Mom. He’s been to space, fought in a war, saved the galaxy, ran off just now for three weeks to parade around the Blades… How much more ‘ready’ does he need to be?”

Lance’s irritation flared, and he shot her a warning look. “Yeah, thanks, Veronica, but you’re not exactly the one living my life to know what I’m ready to do,” he muttered, his jaw clenching as he tried to keep his tone light.

Keith, however, kept his gaze steady, his eyes flashing with that fierce determination Lance knew all too well. “I think she has a point, Lance. Maybe you’re just avoiding it. Maybe it’s time to actually think about what joining the Garrison can do for you, be a professor and all that.” There was an intensity in his voice, a sharpness that felt both challenging and… encouraging, in a way that had Lance’s heart thudding. But his frustration flared at the feeling that Keith was, in his own stubborn way, trying to push him somewhere other than at his side. On at some point coming back to space to join him.

“Is that what you think?” Lance shot back, his voice sharp, frustration simmering just below the surface. “You think it’s that easy, just… jump back into some nine-to-five at the Garrison, like I’m even somewhat good enough to teach a bunch of kids about space and shit? Like I didn’t…” His words faltered, that feeling he couldn’t quite name tightening in his chest, but he forced himself to finish. “Like I didn’t enjoy the last few weeks at all out there?”

Keith’s eyes held that same fire, and he leaned forward, his voice low but steady, determined. “No, that’s not what I think at all. I know you’ve changed, Lance. That’s exactly why you’d be good at this. You’re not just some random cadet who disappeared into something forgotten. You’re more than that. You have this energy and drive, and determination to help people. I’ve seen it in you. And maybe… maybe it’s time you saw it, too.”

The room had fallen quiet around them, the tension between them practically crackling, sharp as electricity. Lance felt his pulse pounding, a tight, twisting mix of resentment and something else—something that left his heart racing, his stomach churning. He felt like Keith was challenging him, holding up a mirror and forcing him to look at something he wasn’t ready to face. And part of him hated it. But another part—the part that had missed Keith’s fire, his relentless, stubborn belief in people, especially in him—felt… drawn to it, to him, in a way that made his frustration feel unbearably complicated.

But he could feel himself bristling against it, against the feeling that Keith was trying to push him away from something else, something he hadn’t even fully named yet. “So, what, you’re just… should I just drop everything, leave whatever I was doing with the Blades, just… go teach at the Garrison like that?” His voice was sharper than he intended, the tension between them too thick, too raw, and the look in Keith’s eyes—still stubborn, still determined—only made it harder to breathe.

Keith’s voice dropped to a near whisper, fierce and unyielding. “I’m saying you’re more than what you’re telling yourself you are. You don’t need to be at the Blades forever. You have a life here, your family, and a support system of people who really see you making a difference as a professor, and that’s coming from someone who hated the Garrison with my full chest. You can help change it for the better, Lance. And maybe…” His voice softened just a bit, almost hesitant. “Maybe it’s time you thought about that. About what you actually want.”

Lance’s heart hammered, that question hitting him like a punch, raw and unguarded. He knew, deep down, that Keith wasn’t trying to push him away—maybe he was just trying to bring him back, to remind him of everything he could have here. But the words caught in his throat, and he found himself clenching his fists, his pulse thrumming with that same, unnameable ache.

About what you actually want.

Lance had the terrifying thought flash across his head that what he wanted was staring back at him with a thrilling intensity of determination and fire. Like looking into the eye of a hurricane, a thrashing storm, an unyielding wave, an untamed wildfire. All that energy directed at Lance, and Lance didn’t understand what he did to deserve Keith’s intensity.

Suddenly, Sofia let out a screech of pure terror as she pointed outside the kitchen sliding door to the backyard. The family all bumped their plates and almost knocked cups to the floor as everyone whipped around to see the huge, towering blue cosmic wolf outside the glass door, staring back in with glowing yellow eyes and matted hair. Lance’s mind came to a calmness as he realized they had left Kosmo out in the fields this entire time, Keith getting up to race around the table as his family all let out surprised yelps and skidding their chairs to the side to get away from its eyes.

Keith clammered over and opened the sliding door, but Camilla let out a scream at this, yelling to close it while her kids kept screeching at the realization their favorite furry animal was outside. The family slowly realized that they all weren’t about to die a sudden death to malling, but Lance still felt heavy as Keith was concerned with calming Kosmo down outside and offering his plate of food to his pet.

They all came to a bustle of cleaning up the table, no one wanting to address Lance and the sensitive topic that had just occurred. Lance stayed at his mother’s side at the sink, helping her rinse off the plates and put leftovers in containers as Marco and Camilla anxiously watched their kids bombaring Keith with questions about the wolf outside on the patio. Lance tried not to look out the window at the way Keith was talking to the kids, petting Kosmo’s side and telling them how to pet him and what food he usually eats. The sight stirred something deep in Lance’s chest, something he could barely name but that felt

huge,

an ache that was at once sweet and painful. Lance just kept watching, his stomach churning and the vile taste of his biting comments at Keith eating at him. The stinging venom of how defensive he let himself be, of Keith’s blazing eyes looking actually hopeful.

“I don’t think it’s a bad idea, mi amor.” His mother’s soothing voice next to him brought him out of his stares at Keith.

Lance immediately felt his face flush, scrubbing harder at a plate to avoid the reality of answering.

“I know I don’t know how you were out there, but he does. And he looks the most determined to make it a point that you know how much you have changed and grown in the past year.” His mother softly continued, her voice drifting off wistfully like she was pondering his growth. Lance let out a deep sigh, shrugging.

“I don’t know, mama. I just…” Lance sturggled to figure out what he was even thinking, but his eyes kept drifting back to Keith in his backyard. His soft tosseled hair sticking out awkwardly from Lance’s hoodie, his kind eyes assuring Camilla that her kids were not going to be wolf snacks, his reassuring smile as the kids gawked in excitement. And his heart thudden in his chest all over again, his mind shouting at him to stay with Keith. The urge was overwhelming, like gravity itself pulling him forward, and he felt his heart pounding, his throat dry, his mind spinning with the ridiculous, reckless urge to close the gap, to do something, anything, to feel the comforting weight of Keith’s presence, his warmth, his heart, his everything. He’d always wanted to be

seen

—and Keith had been the one to see him. Believe in him.

His body screamed with the intensity of it, with a desperate, aching need he’d never felt before. It was more than just attraction, more than just friendship, more than anything he’d ever known. And it was so much more than he’d ever imagined it could be, so intense it was practically painful, filling him with a yearning so fierce he thought it might tear him apart.

“Time is a curious thing.” His mother mumbled out, snapping Lance back to her. He let out a confused hum from his throat, and she just glanced up at her son again with this knowing look.

Her face full of that quiet understanding she’d always had for him, an almost-knowing smile that said she saw right through him. She stood beside him, glancing between him and the window outside where Keith was, a soft sigh escaping her lips.

“You know, mijo,” she began, her voice low, steady, “sometimes I think things come back to us when we’re ready for them. When we’re finally strong enough to see what’s been there all along.” She paused, brushing a hand over his arm, her gaze warm and kind. “Like that boy over there.”

Lance felt his cheeks flush, a stammered protest starting on his lips, but she just gave him that gentle, knowing smile that stopped him in his tracks. “When you were little, you always went after things with your whole heart,” she continued, her voice soft. “You wanted the stars, Lance. And you went out there and found them. But now…” She nodded toward Keith, her eyes kind and steady. “That boy… he’s what brought your spark back. I can see it in the way you look at him, the way you light up when he’s around, the way he speaks about you when you aren’t there to hear it. He sees the galaxy in you, even if you’re still figuring it all out.”

Lance’s heart twisted painfully, a rush of emotions swelling in him all at once—hope, fear, a raw, unfiltered happiness he didn’t know how to express. His mom had always known him too well, had always seen the things he tried to bury deep, the things he was sometimes too scared to face himself. But hearing her say it so plainly made it feel… real, undeniable. Keith had been there all along, somehow woven into his life, like an invisible thread tying him to something he hadn’t even realized he was searching for. And now, looking at him, it felt like… like he could finally see it, like he’d been searching for

this,

for

him.

“Go apologize to him,” she murmured, squeezing his hand. “You don’t want to lose something like that, mijo. Life is too short to hold onto anger when you could be embracing the thrill of change.”

Her words settled over him, warm and heavy, and he found himself nodding before he even fully understood. Because she was right—she was always right. Keith was the one who had brought him back, who’d reminded him of all the things he’d loved and wanted and had nearly given up on. And he didn’t want to let that go. Not now. Not when he was so close to understanding what it all meant.

Taking a deep breath, Lance pecked his mother on the cheek before he slipped outside onto the patio, feeling the cool evening air wash over him. The sky was painted with purples and pinks, the soft fading light casting everything in that dreamy, warm glow. He watched as Marco called for the kids to start leaving. Sylvio and Sofia whined, but when Keith turned to them to speak lowly as he squatted to their level, they giggled in laughter and pinky promises before they ran back inside, laughing and shouting. Marco grappled them into the house as Camilla paused next to Lance, touching his shoulder lightly. She gave him this look, the motherly and parental

I really like him

that sent a flush of embarrassment over Lance again before their family disappeared inside. The quiet settled finally over the backyard, leaving Keith alone outside, lost in thought, looking out over the horizon and mindlessly stroking Kosmo. Keith looked so at peace, framed by the glow of the sky, like he belonged here as much as the fields and the open land did, like he was part of something timeless and beautiful.

Lance’s heart ached with that same, overpowering feeling, swelling in his chest, filling him with a longing that felt as old as time itself. It was terrifying and exhilarating all at once, and it was more than he knew what to do with. He wanted to go to Keith, to reach out and tell him everything he’d been too scared to admit, to say that Keith had somehow become his home, the thing that had been missing, waiting for him across the stars all along.

Its laughable how Lance had never realized before after all these countless years pushing and pulling and chasing and clashing and drawing to Keith. There’d been something tying them together from the beginning, an invisible string pulling them back together no matter how far they’d drifted apart. This pull he felt, this overwhelming, impossible feeling—it wasn’t new. It had been there since the start, since that first, chaotic meeting, since the days of rivalry and pushing each other, challenging each other, always coming back, like fate had nudged them together again and again. It was there the first time Lance laid eyes on Keith when they were 12 years old, his small face determined and stubborn, his eyes just as magnetic and captivating, his very presence overwhelming every thought Lance had at that age, obsessed unknowingly.

And now, standing here, watching Keith bathed in the last light of the sunset, Lance felt like he was seeing his heart laid bare, wide open, helplessly honest.

Taking a breath and shoving his hands in his pockets, he finally stepped forward, his footsteps soft as he approached Keith, his heart pounding in his chest.

“Keith,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, feeling the ache in his chest, the weight of his feelings finally surfacing, filling him with something so big it felt like it might shatter him. And Keith turned, meeting his gaze, eyes wide, a hint of softness Lance hadn’t seen before there in the fading light, like he’d been waiting, like he’d known all along. His heart skipped a beat, a hard jolt that sent him spiraling, because there was Keith, standing before him in quiet stillness, like some unbreakable force of nature, looking at Lance like he actually meant something. It was unbearable and beautiful and raw, and Lance felt himself falling faster with every second he looked at him, trapped in a desperate want he could barely name.

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re right.”

Both of them stammered out at the same time, both blinking back at each other as their words muddled into one sentence.

“You first.” Lance rushed, his heart hammering in his chest, but Keith just frowned slightly, his stupid huge eyes looking like a sad little puppy and making Lance want to scream and shake him. All he could do was keep his eyes fixed on Keith, helplessly, because

God

—Keith looked so heartbreakingly beautiful in the fading light that Lance felt his chest ache.

“No, I overstepped. I shouldn’t have done that.” Keith muttered, clicking his jaw.

“No no no, look. I’ve gone through this conversation before with my sister, with Pidge, hell even Shiro, and it never persuaded me in the past. I was too stubborn and torn about doing something so good, something that would make me have a drive again. But then I went to space with you again, and did a bunch of cool stuff and got some sort of drive back, and then tonight at dinner. Maybe, just maybe, you were right to suggest it. Me, working there.” Lance stammered out, his voice a little hoarse.

He watched the way Keith’s eyes flickered back at him, how somehow, he’d always believed Lance could do it. It wasn’t just Keith’s damn unwavering confidence in him that’d stoked the flame—no, it was the way he looked at him now, like Lance was someone worth every ounce of that belief, someone solid and capable. Lance couldn’t ignore the light catching in Keith’s hair, the soft curve of his cheek as he tilted his head, or the way his eyes glowed with sincerity. The sunset draped over Keith’s face made it almost painful to look at him, this beautiful figure who knew exactly who he was and somehow saw that same potential in Lance.

Keith’s words broke through his muddled thoughts, soft and steady, grounding him. “I’ve always thought the world of you, Lance,” he said, his voice laced with a kind of gentle honesty that Lance wasn’t sure he’d heard before. “You’re perfect for it. But I’d never push you into something you didn’t want, not ever. I’d… never do that.”

Lance’s heart stuttered, his breath catching, and he felt his grip on his own bravado slipping. Keith’s eyes were so gentle, so open in a way Lance rarely got to see, and it tore him apart. All he wanted to do was reach out, to feel the warmth of Keith’s hand, to close the small space between them. The air was thick with everything unsaid, every bit of yearning Lance was desperately trying to keep hidden, but God,

it hurt

. He felt like he was baring his soul just standing here, feeling Keith’s belief in him wash over him with an intensity that was almost too much to bear.

But he couldn’t say that. Couldn’t admit that Keith’s words were digging in, unearthing feelings he didn’t know how to handle, feelings he was scared of. So instead, he swallowed the lump in his throat, scrambling for some sense of control. He forced a shaky laugh, light and airy, trying to disguise the pounding of his heart, even as his eyes betrayed him and lingered just a moment too long on Keith’s lips, his fingers twitching with the urge to reach out.

“I guess I’m just, scared of what would happen if I actually went through with it. Like, that’s the next journey I’m doing. Not some side quest with the Blades. Like this is what I’ll be doing as my mark.” Lance stammered out more, and Keith cocked his head to the side more, quiet, listening, so intense.

“We all made our marks already, sure. But that doesn’t mean we have to suddenly stop continuing to find what our calling is. To find something you’re passionate about and genuinely want to do, knowing you are helping others and yourself in the process. That’s something you can’t just buy or discover randomly one day.” Keith’s eyes glazed over a bit, and Lance’s heartstring tugged at his small pout.

“What, don’t tell me the Blades don’t give that to you.” Lance huffed out a small laugh, but the way Keith’s pout didn’t leave told him a lot more than he wanted.

“Wait, aren’t you happy with them? Like, that’s your entire calling and everything with your mom and stuff?” Lance took a step closer, and Keith just gave a gentle shrug, clenching his jaw a bit.

“It’s good for what it is. I help people, and that’s what matters. Not everything is perfect, but I can’t complain. So that’s why I think you should really do this.” Keith’s words shocked the very system in Lance’s body, throwing him around in a brilliant swirl of violent emotion.

But as he met Keith’s gaze, full of quiet intensity, his defenses were slipping. And

God

, he was whipped. Whipped in a way that was new and terrifying and wonderful all at once. Keith had always been a steady, unwavering force in his life, pushing him to be better, seeing strength in him when Lance could barely see it in himself.

His voice came out shaky, too honest. “Do you…do you really think I’m fit to teach at the Garrison?” He cringed at himself, inwardly, for sounding so open, so vulnerable, and part of him wanted to pull back, to laugh it off and hide how much he cared about Keith’s answer.

Keith scoffed, but it was this warm, soft sound, light and achingly familiar, laced with just a hint of a smile. And Lance…

broke

. His whole body felt like it was unraveling at the edges, like every shred of composure he had was slipping away just from that one look, that one sound. How could Keith do this to him, so effortlessly? How could he make Lance feel so seen, so understood, without even trying?

“I do see this as something good for you, Lance.

You

are perfect for this.” The words were plain and blunt, like the most obvious thing in the world coming from Keith.

The words hit him like a blow to the chest, and he felt the ground shift beneath him, felt his heart stagger under the weight of it. Perfect. Keith thought he was perfect. It was like a revelation and an ache all at once, so intense that Lance felt dizzy with it, his pulse roaring in his ears. He wanted to laugh, to shout, to say something snarky in response, but he couldn’t even begin to summon a single word. All he could do was stare at Keith, barely holding himself together, his breath caught somewhere between awe and longing.

And Keith was still looking at him, all calm and unbothered, completely oblivious to the storm raging in Lance’s chest. It was

painful

, achingly, impossibly painful, and Lance felt like he was teetering on the edge of something he couldn’t come back from. Every fiber of his being wanted to reach out, to close the space between them, to let himself fall, utterly and completely, into whatever this was.

But he couldn’t. So he did what he always did, tried to play it off, tried to be

Lance

, the charming one, the guy who didn’t get so undone by a single look, a single word. But his voice cracked, his bravado crumbling, and all he could manage was a small, almost broken, “Ok, man.”

Keith’s eyes softened, his lips curving just slightly, and it felt like he was reaching right into Lance’s heart, drawing out all the feelings he’d tried so hard to bury. And Lance could only stand there, helpless and raw, his chest aching with something fierce and uncontainable. He wanted to say something, anything, to convey how much Keith’s words meant, how every inch of his being was tethered to him. But the words wouldn’t come, his voice caught somewhere in the ache that was blooming between them.

It hurt,

God

, it hurt, but it was the kind of pain that felt right, that felt like every moment had been leading up to this, this quiet, fragile tension between them. And he knew, somewhere deep down, that there was no going back from this, that he’d fallen so deeply he could never untangle himself.

So, he did the only thing he could do: he let his gaze rest on Keith, drinking in every detail, letting himself get lost in the quiet depths of Keith’s eyes, feeling himself fall, harder and faster than he ever thought possible. And that realization terrified him to his very core, how this invisible string stayed tieing him to Keith.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Keith should have left immediately after dinner. He had already thanked Mrs. Mcclain for hosting him and offered to help in any other way, but she had simply pulled out a random cake seh had make a couple days ago for her grandchildren and insisted that they at least have dessert. When Keith had awkwardly tried to say no, Lance just threw an arm around his shoulder and said it would be really rude to not leave with a sweet treat to wrap it all up, and Keith was only as strong as his heart could be around Lance, so he had agreed like the lovesick fool he was. And Lance, he was just glowing. Keith didn’t know what he had really said to make him seem so much more at ease and comfortable with the Garrison, but the life in him seemed to switch like a lightswitch after dinner. He had enthusiastically pulled Keith with him and a plate of cake for them to share into the living room, shooing off his siblings who had still tried to poke and preen at Keith like he was a majestic bird wanting to get more information about his species, but his mother had come to the rescue, sending Rachel and Louis upstairs to make sure all their college school work was done. They grumbled and complained, and Rachel had sent him some strange winks before Lance shoved at them to go away. Veronica had disappeared also, so Keith just assumed she no longer lived at the house and left just like Marco and his family. It was nice, watching them be a family. The chaos, the movement, the noise and constant moving parts. That’s what he liked about being here, with Lance. What he liked about Lance.

Keith sat on the couch with his legs out in front of him, the warmth of Lance’s family home wrapped around him like a blanket, and though the house had quieted, Lance hadn’t. He was leaned in close beside him criss crossed, a leftover slice of cake balanced on his knees as he animatedly waved his fork, a glimmer in his eyes that was as dazzling as it was distracting. The living room was dimly lit, orange hues and softened lamps illuminating the millions of pictures and decor aligning the walls, so similar to Lance’s own room in its own way, and the silence of the night outside made everything feel enclosed, like this was a world all their own.

Keith tried to listen to Lance’s story—something about the Garrison, about the classes he might teach someday and how he would love to see the look on Iverson’s face when he finally did—but he kept getting lost in everything else. In the way Lance’s eyes crinkled when he laughed, the way he talked with his whole body, how his gestures were big and wild, even here on the couch, almost knocking the plate off his knees every time he got especially excited. Keith could feel the warmth radiating off him, the heat that seemed to coil through the air between them, and he found himself leaning in with the indent in the couch at their weight, combining it as one. Lance was glowing. He looked so…

alive,

so entirely himself. The ache in Keith’s chest grew impossibly soft, like someone had wrapped his heart in silk and then squeezed, just enough to make him aware of every beat, every flutter.

Lance took a big bite of cake, talking around his fork with that unselfconscious enthusiasm Keith had always admired. “And I could tell them all these stories, you know? About space, about—about the time we totally

took out

that Galra fleet even though I thought you were just going to leave me in the middle of it—”

Keith let out a soft laugh, shaking his head, and he couldn’t help himself—he leaned his head back and let himself feel the touch of Lance’s other hand that was draped lazily above his own head, propping himself against the touch of it. Lance didn’t pull away, and he tried to ignore the surge of tenderness that rose up in him, the need to close that small space between them. But he couldn’t stop the smile that tugged at his lips, so soft it almost hurt. “You would be a

terrible

teacher if you told them half the stuff we actually did out there. You’d get fired in, like, a week.”

“Or,” Lance replied, grinning widely, his eyes dancing, “I’d be the

most popular

teacher in the Garrison’s history. They’d be lining up to hear about the time we crash-landed in that desert and almost got eaten by those weird sandworm things.”

Keith raised his eyebrows, but the fondness in his chest only grew. “So, you’re gonna teach survival tactics by traumatizing your students?” he teased, but his voice was softer than he intended, almost breathless.

He tried to keep his eyes from lingering too long, but it was impossible to look away. Every detail of Lance felt seared into his mind: the way his hair fell messily over his forehead, the faint freckles across his nose, the easy laughter that made the room feel brighter, warmer. It was like he was finally seeing Lance in his element—no bravado, no defenses, no attempting to be something he wasn’t. Just Lance, talking about his dreams he hadn’t realized were waiting for him with that wide-open heart that Keith had fallen for. He pictured it—listening as Lance shared all the small, ridiculous moments that Lance would undoubtedly navigate with a bunch of overenthusastic kids. He could imagine waiting for Lance to call, listening to him complain about students who didn’t get the importance of basic evasive maneuvers, hear him go on about the endless projects he’d want to do to “fix” the Garrison’s curriculum. And Keith would be right there with him, every step, because where else could he ever want to be?

Lance tilted his head, nudging him with his shoulder, his grin widening. “You know you’d be just as bad a troublemaker if asked about what you were like at the Garrison,” he said, his voice light but with that underlying fondness that made Keith’s heart ache. “One question about your time there and how long you lasted and you would influence them for the worst.”

“And that’s why you are gonna be the amazing professor shaping lives and I’ll be far away from that.” Keith’s chest tightened, a warmth pooling in him that was so intense it almost hurt. He meant for it to come off lightheatred, like a meaningless joke on the expense of how much he hated the Garrison, but Lance’s smile faltered a bit, his cracks coming through.

“Yah, but, then you would have one extra reason to visit. Me and Pidge working together is gonna be a crazy party every day, so its like killing two birds with one stone.” Lance leaned in closer, his eyes going back to a sparkling blue, and all Keith could do was glance down, feeling his cheeks flush, his hand fidgeting with his fork as he tried to find something—anything—to say that wouldn’t betray the feelings that were all but bursting out of him. He felt like he was drowning in it, in the warmth of this moment, in the soft, awkward tension that he was sure Lance didn’t even realize was there. Lance had this way of filling up a room, of filling up his mind, his heart, and every moment with him felt like a thousand small realizations, each one coming together like pieces of a puzzle. And Keith, sitting there, watching Lance laugh and ramble, was realizing how badly he wanted to reach out and take his hand, to hold onto him and never let go.

But he settled for something smaller, something he hoped Lance wouldn’t notice, wouldn’t read into too much. “I think…” Keith hesitated, his voice barely above a whisper. “I think this is what you were made to do. Teaching, I mean.” His voice wavered, but the honesty in it was unmistakable, and he swallowed, feeling his heart hammer in his chest. “The kids would be lucky to have you, your stories, and just you. You care a lot about everything, Lance.”

Lance looked at him, surprise flickering across his face, and for a moment, they just sat there, caught in each other’s gaze, the soft glow of the room casting shadows over their faces. Keith felt his breath hitch, the realization hitting him again, overwhelming and undeniable.

He hated himself for knowing that he loved him in that fierce, quiet way, in the way that made him want to stay by his side, to protect him, to laugh with him, to live beside him for as long as he could.

Loved him enough to know when to step away and keep him in a world that would be perfect for him and his safety, and that world was millions of miles away on Earth while he himself stayed far away.

“If you keep saying things like that I’m gonna think you actually like me.” Lance’s voice was soft, almost hesitant, and Keith looked up, his heart pounding.

“You’ve been better to be around as the years passed.” Keith shrugged nonchalantly, flicking his eyes back to Lance to tease but was thrown off as Lance’s eyes raked over him. Keith burned under the contact.

Lance just grinned a huge toothy grin at him, his face flushing a hint of pink, possibly from how warm the room was, and dove into babbling how the kids were gonna eat up stories about different aliens and magic. Keith was only half-listening as Lance rambled on, his voice lilting with excitement as he recounted every ridiculous story he’d tell his students—half of which, Keith was almost certain, were embellishments or outright lies. But it was hard to care about the details when Lance was

glowing

like that, practically vibrating with energy as he talked. Keith watched him with quiet admiration, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, feeling that all-too-familiar warmth spread through his chest. The more he rambled, the more his hand kept twitching from under Keith’s head, as if his own body couldn’t handle the speed and excitement in which he was speaking.

“…and yah sure, they are def gonna know a thing or two about the rest of the paladins but be excited that one of them is their teacher. I’ll make sure theres a unit about each one of you. Pidge can be there to teach about herself and her technology advancements and whatnot, and I can invite Shiro in as a special guest speaker since hes local. OOh, and when it comes to you and your stupid mullet, I’ll be like, ‘Look at this guy,’” Lance was saying with a grin, gesturing toward Keith as if addressing an imaginary classroom, “‘This guy right here?

Singlehandedly

took on three Galra battleships while the rest of us were losing our minds. How is that fair?’ The kids are gonna eat it up—they’ll think you’re a badass or something,” he teased, eyes sparkling with laughter.

Keith scoffed, but there was a flicker of something more behind his eyes—a sort of bashful pride he couldn’t quite hide. “Oh yeah?” he said, rolling his eyes but smiling. “I’m pretty sure you were the one taking out, like, ten sentries at once. If anyone’s gonna be their favorite, it’ll be you.”

“Yah, you’re right. Its so gonna be me. I was just attempting modesty but fuck that.” Lance shook his head, grinning slyly, and then, before Keith knew what was happening, his hands twisted around and were in his hair. Lance’s fingers slid through the strands, and Keith froze, feeling his heart stutter as Lance continued talking, completely oblivious. Lance’s hand moved gently, his fingers warm and careful, threading through Keith’s hair with an ease that felt both natural and intimate, the tips of his fingerbeds carding against his skull. Keith’s mind went completely blank, the steady cadence of Lance’s voice fading to background noise as he felt every single inch of that touch.

Lance kept rambling on, his hand moving through Keith’s hair, completely oblivious to the effect he was having. Keith’s breath caught, his heart racing as he tried to focus on anything but the way Lance’s fingertips felt brushing against his scalp, gentle and lingering. He was doing it so casually, like it was no big deal, like Keith wasn’t sitting there with every nerve in his body lit up, completely overwhelmed by the feeling of being this close to him. He tried to steady his breathing, to act like he was fine, but when Lance’s fingers hit a slight tangle and tugged ever so slightly, a small sound escaped his lips—a low, involuntary purr that he couldn’t hold back. Like, genuinely actually PURRED?!

He didn’t even know he could do that.

They both froze. Lance’s hand went still, his mouth slightly open as he stared at Keith, looking wide-eyed and—

god,

he looked so shockingly

bewildered,

so bright-eyed and stunned. His gaze softened, his fingers still gently tangled in Keith’s hair, and Keith felt himself melting under the weight of that look, of how

tender

Lance’s expression had turned, how much warmth and… mirth shone under his eyes.

The idiot was proud to have made him purr and was eating it up like a psychopath.

Keith felt his face heat up, his heart pounding so hard he was certain Lance could hear it. The silence was thick, charged, stretching between them like a thread that neither one wanted to break. Lance’s face was flushed, his eyes tracing over Keith’s features, lingering on his lips, and he looked so—

lost,

Keith realized with a jolt. He didn’t know if he’d ever seen anyone look at him like that before, with that kind of open, heart-rending adoration.

Lance’s lips twitched, his hand still in Keith’s hair, and a small, shy smile broke across his face, full of that same warmth, that same unmistakable feeling that Keith could only hope he was reading right. He was silent for once, staring at Keith like he was afraid to break their closeness. And Keith, for once, didn’t look away. He let himself be seen, let himself bask in that look, the one that felt like everything he’d ever wanted but had been too afraid to reach for.

“See, I knew you could purr,

kitty

.” Lance dropped his voice into a tease, and that shook Keith out of his daze, snapping his head up and away from Lance’s touch as he swiveled to bring his legs up and sit criss crossed in front of Lance.

“That- I didn’’t. That was not that!” Keith stammered, his entire face feeling red and words now failing as his voice cracked. But Lance just let out the loudest laugh, a full, hearty laugh that didn’t care if it was taking up space and making itself known. His eyes glinted with laughter, leaning in to tease more.

“You are never going to live that down, mullet. I’m about to go mad with power. Wait until Pidge and Hunk and Shiro kno–” Keith threw his arms at Lance, trying to make him shut up, but Lance just continued laughing, grabbing at Keith’s arms as he attempted to silence him, putting up his knees to deflect. But he didn’t account for Keith’s new weight and height as he lost balance and the two tumbled off the couch to the floor, hitting it with a hard thud.

Lance’s laughter rang out in the room, wild and carefree, and he clung to Keith, clutching at him as if Keith was the best joke he’d ever heard. Keith had him pinned, his hands on either side of Lance, and for a moment, everything else slipped away.

Lance was looking up at him, still giggling, his cheeks flushed, his hair a messy halo around his head, and Keith was

stuck.

His heart raced as he looked down at Lance, taking in the way he looked right then, laughing and carefree and… impossibly, unbelievably

Lance.

Keith could feel himself leaning closer, his entire body drawn to him, and he realized, with a pang so sharp it nearly hurt, that he wanted every part of him.

God,

he wanted to kiss him, wanted to close that tiny distance and see if Lance would still be laughing against his mouth. What he tased like.

But then, a voice rang out from the doorway.

“Lance!” Rachel called, sounding amused, with Veronica right next to her, smirking. “Mom wants you to go upstairs. She says to pack a bag so you can put Keith’s suit away in it.”

Keith practically scrambled off Lance like he was shocked, his face flaming, and he saw Lance’s cheeks go red too as he sat up, mumbling, “Geez, I know, I know. I was just about to—”

“Now. She doesn’t wanna be waiting to yell at you. Go.” Rachel demanded, throwing a look at Keith with a smirk as Lance grumbled and got up.

“I forgot how annoyingly bossy the two of you get.” Lance sneered at them as they just watched him climb the stairs with huge grins.

Keith sat up to get back on the couch, feeling really jumbled up but also able to breathe for the first time tonight when the sisters then turned their look on Keith, burning right through him with a look that made him feel in trouble.

Veronica crossed her arms, watching him with a knowing look. She tilted her head and raised an eyebrow, a grin tugging at the corner of her mouth as she looked Keith up and down. “So,” she began, clearly enjoying Keith’s obvious discomfort, “you two are quite comfortable on each other.”

Keith’s mouth opened and closed, but nothing came out. He was mortified at the though this sisters saw him as some animal who threw himself at their brother, his brain struggling to catch up as he stammered, “W-we’re not—I mean, it’s not like that, we’re just—”

“Oh, relax,” Veronica said, rolling her eyes. “It’s not like I caught you two having sex, so stop looking like I just walked in on that.” She shared a mischievous look with Rachel, who was watching Keith with a look that was

far too entertained

.

“What!” Keith’s voice cracked, but he couldn’t help the heat rising in his cheeks, feeling like he was an open book they were eagerly reading.

The two of them giggled under their hands, clearly enjoying this.

“No puedo creer que ninguno de los dos se haya dado cuenta todavía de que están tan enamorados. Es horrible.” Rachel sighed, looking longingly at Keith like she was about to lick him up. Keith got to his feet and cleared his throat, already trying to figure out the fastest way to disappear after Lance and be anywhere but this situation.

Two girls questioning him and one looking close to full on leaping at him?

Yah, no thanks.

“You gotta tell him one of these days.” Veronica sighed, narrowing her eyes. Keith wanted to die.

“I don’t–” he started, but Veronica held up a hand to stop.

“I mean, seriously. How many years has this been? You’ve known each other since you were 12. Even I remember how much Lance talked about you when he was a kid, but don’t tell him I told you that. Those were private meltdowns.” Veronica gave him a soft smile, breaking away from her intimidating factor. Keith let his shoulders sag, one thought happy thinking about the small Lance he could barley remember when they were cadets, the other crushed at the idea of someone thinking Lance would actually like him.

“I’m gay.” was the only thing Keith could say, his throat closing up. What the fuck was his brain doing? The sisters just blinked back at him in surprise, Rachel pouting slightly and Veronica snorting.

“No shit.” She laughed loud, the same rhythm as her younger brother. This made him heat up even more surprised he still had to make a point about this.

“Yah, and Lance isn’t, so…we are just friends.” Keith shrugged, annoyance tinging his voice. He was tired having to explain this.

“Are you actually ser–” Rachel choked out a squeal as Veronica elbowed her in the side, letting her cough at the abuse as the older sister just took a deep exhale that sounded like she was about to murder someone.

“Rachel, no en inglés.” Veronica side eyed, and Rachel let out the same long groan of frustration as she flashed Keith a look he couldn’t place.

“No hay manera en todo este tiempo de que Lance todavía no le haya contado a Keith sobre su amor por el pop femenino y su fascinación por los hombres realmente geniales. Si él no le dice a Keith que le gusta, lo haré yo.”

“Sinceramente, me sorprende lo estúpidos y ajenos que son ambos por no darse cuenta de que están perdidamente enamorados el uno del otro.” Veronica gave Keith another look, and that was it for him.

“Ok, enough with the Spanish! Lance used to do that to me all the time when he wanted to say something to get on my nerves without me understanding it and I’m not gonna have whatever this is continue.” He motioned to the two of them, but their amused smirks didn’t stop Keith from his growing frustration. Mcclains were really the death of him.

She gave him a wink, a smile tugging at her lips as she added, “Look, we are just a little over waiting you two dance around each other and are waiting for one of you to crack.”

“There’s nothing to crack.” Keith pinched his nose, doing his best not to attack two girls.

“Hey, my mom also packed a container of some extra food for your trip back so if you ever wondered if a blade suit carries smells of chicken, well, we are about to find out!” Lance came bouncing down with a duffle bag, swinging it around his arms with the heavy weight of the uniform, but paused when he saw how clearly disgruntled and embarrassed Keith looked standing before his sisters. It was a toss up honestly on who looked like they were gonna pounce on who first.

“What did you guys do now!” Lance squaked, flipping to turn on his sisters.

“We didn’t do anything! I was just thinking how cute he looks in blue.” Rachel hummed, and Lance swatted at her with his bag as Veronica sidestepped.

“I really should be going.” Keith’s voice cracked again, just wanting out of being around the sisters. Lance turned to face him, and Keith’s entire body shuddered with how sad he looked at his statement.

“¿Vas a dar un beso de despedida o qué?” Veronica muttered to her brother, and that was the end point for Lance as he shoved past the two of them to fling open the door, his entire face glowing red and his shoulders tense.

“KEITH WE ARE LEAVING NOW.” Lance’s voice was shrill, throwing a look of icy daggers at his sisters who kept giggling and sneering at the two of them. Keith didn’t have to be told twice as he quickly exited with Lance following suite.

“What were they saying?” Keith muttered, still flustered from his sisters. Lance groaned dramatically, throwing a look over his shoulder at the house.

“Nothing important. It wouldn’t matter to you anyway. Thank god you never picked up my spanish.”

“I tried.”

“No, you hated it when I spoke spanish.”

“Because I didn’t understand it.”

“Yah, well for once I’m glad you are just a white boy because NONE of that was for you.” Lance sighed again, but nudged his shoulder against Keith as they walked. Keith let out a whistle as Kosmo suddenly appeared, making Lance jump at Kosmo’s sudden presence.

“I’m never gonna get used to that..” He muttered, but his voice was all fond and zero bite.

The night was still and quiet as Keith and Lance walked side by side toward the area where Keith’s ship waited, glinting under the pale starlight. There was a stretch of silence between them, filled only by the faint crunch of dirt and land underfoot, the soft rustling of nearby trees, and the weight of words left unsaid. Their shoulders brushed as they walked, sending small shocks through Keith that he tried to ignore. He caught glances at Lance, who was gripping the strap of Keith’s bag as if it were a lifeline. Every step felt like it carried them closer to something inevitable, something they were both too afraid to name.

When they reached the ship, Lance stopped, biting his lip as he turned to face Keith, and for a long moment, they just stood there, staring at each other in the cool, soft night. Keith wanted to say something, anything that could break the tension, but the words wouldn’t come. How could he explain the heavy ache in his chest, the longing that felt like it would swallow him whole? Instead, he reached for his bag, his fingers brushing against Lance’s, and the touch was electric, pulling him in, grounding him in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Lance hesitated, his eyes searching Keith’s face as if memorizing every detail. “So… I guess this is goodbye for now,” he murmured, his voice softer than usual, as if he was afraid that speaking too loudly would shatter whatever strange, precious thing lay between them.

“Yeah,” Keith replied, his voice catching, barely above a whisper. He didn’t want to say goodbye, didn’t want to let go, but he forced himself to take a step back, trying to hide the way his heart was hammering.

But Lance moved forward instead, reaching out, pulling him into a hug so tight it stole the breath from his lungs.

Keith froze, his face pressed against Lance’s shoulder, feeling the warmth radiate through the thin fabric of Lance’s shirt. They were nearly flush together, every small shift and movement making their bodies press closer. Lance’s arms were wrapped around him, secure and strong, and for a moment, it felt like everything was right, like he could stay here forever. A strong hand was resting on the back of Keith’s neck, some fingers tangling to tighten its hold around his hair like it belonged there. Keith’s own hands came up, hesitantly resting on Lance’s back, his fingers curling into the fabric, clutching like he might slip away. They stood there, locked together, neither willing to let go, each heartbeat loud in the silence of the night. Keith wondered if Lance could feel his own heart banging wildly under his chest, could sense how bad Keith wanted to stay like this and melt even further. How much Keith felt like he could die from how much he loved and wanted Lance, even after all this time.

He could feel every breath Lance took, the steady rise and fall, the faint scent of him, so familiar now, and his own heart raced with something he couldn’t even say.

Lance held him like he was something precious, something fragile, and it sent a shiver through Keith. He knew he should pull away, but his own arms tightened, clutching onto Lance a little longer. He was sure Lance could feel the heat of his cheeks, the way his breath hitched when he shifted, pressing even closer. His mind was a mess, heart caught between wanting to close that tiny distance and the fear that maybe he was reading too much into all of it.

But he didn’t want to think. He just wanted

this

—this moment, with Lance warm and real in his arms. He heard Lance let out a deep sigh, making his skin prickle as he leaned back to look at Lance.

Lance’s face was so close that Keith could see every detail in the soft glow of the moonlight—the way his lashes cast delicate shadows on his cheeks, the faintest smile playing on his lips, the slight flush that crept across his cheekbones. His eyes were wide, the blue so rich and deep, and for a second, Keith couldn’t breathe, his gaze locked on Lance’s parted lips. The air between them was charged, thick with something electric and unspoken. It was as if the universe had quieted down to this one perfect moment, and all Keith could think about was how much he wanted to lean in, to close that tiny space, to let the tension that had been simmering between them for so long finally break.

Lance shifted, his fingers brushing the nape of Keith’s neck, sending a shiver down his spine. Keith’s breath hitched, his body melting into the touch, his senses utterly overwhelmed by the feeling of Lance’s hands, gentle yet firm, grounding him. He didn’t even realize he was leaning in, his face tilting closer, his lips just inches from Lance’s, until he felt Lance’s breath against his own—a shared, shallow rhythm that matched the rapid beat of his own heart. And then, in a voice so soft it was almost a whisper, Lance started to say something, the words caught in his throat, barely formed as his lips began to part.

“Keith, I need to tell you something.” Lance breathed out, his eyes flicking between Keith’s two eyes and down to his lips and back to his eyes again, which made Keith’s body burn.

But then, suddenly, softly, there it was—a faint glow, illuminating Lance’s cheekbones, marking his skin with a soft, blue light. His Altean marks, a remnant of everything they’d been through, of the legacy they both carried with them. The love he had carried and still holds strongly. The light sent a shock through Keith, a pang that reminded him of someone else. Allura. The memory hit him sharply, painfully, his heart twisting as her face flashed through his mind. He’d loved her, too, once, in a way that felt both beautiful and unfinished, a love marked by duty and loss, and here he was, feeling this same, overwhelming ache for Lance, Allura’s marks glowing faintly between them, a reminder of all that had been lost and everything that had changed. Of how she was still present and would never leave him.

That Lance was not Keith’s to have.

A deep, painful conflict twisted inside him, the guilt and confusion mixing with the intensity of his feelings for Lance. He loved her, he had, and seeing Lance marked with a part of her felt like a bittersweet reminder of all they’d lost. And yet, in this very moment, his entire being was pulled toward Lance, every inch of him aching with the need to be closer, to bridge the space between them. But he couldn’t let himself cross that line, not when the glow of Allura’s marks was there, a reminder of what they’d shared, of who had won the fight for love in Voltron. And here he was being selfish, playing around in a relationship that was not his to be in.

Keith swallowed hard, the yearning that filled him nearly unbearable as he forced himself to pull back, letting his hands slip away from Lance, retreating even though every part of him screamed not to. Lance looked up at him, surprised, his lips parted in confusion and a small noise in his throat, eyes searching Keith’s face with a question that Keith didn’t have the courage to answer. His arms still half-raised as if reluctant to let him go. But Keith couldn’t stay, couldn’t let himself drown in this feeling when the ghosts of everything that had brought them here loomed so close. He clenched his jaw, taking another step back toward his ship, steeling himself.

“Take care, sharpshooter. I’ll see you?” he managed, his voice barely steady.

Lance stood frozen for a second, blinking at him with those brilliant blue eyes, but then nodded, swallowing, the faintest glimmer of something—hurt?—flickering in his gaze.

“Yah, alright, Samurai. Don’t do anything stupid up there and get in more trouble.” He let out a small chuckle, but his face couldn’t hide the look of shock and betrayal he had.

“Me? Trouble? Sounds unlikely.” Keith forced a small smile, and his stomach twisted when he saw the way Lance’s shoulders sagged as he returned it.

He stood waving as Keith turned and climbed into his ship, closing the door between them. As he powered on, the last sight he caught was Lance standing there alone, bathed in the glow of the ship’s lights, watching him leave with a frown, the marks on his face dying to its normal color.

Keith gripped the controls of the fighter jet, the familiar hum of its engines reverberating in his bones as he angled the ship back to base, clicking his jaw and not caring about the man who would be lecturing him on that in the moment. Except he was caring. He was caring an awful lot. His mind wasn’t on the stars or the mission or even the readouts blipping across the dashboard—it was still replaying those last few moments with Lance, the way his friend had looked, how heartbreak seemed to shadow his eyes as they’d said goodbye. Lance had tried to be his usual upbeat self, cracking that familiar smile, but there’d been something else there. Something that lodged itself so deep in Keith’s chest he could still feel it twisting even now. Leaving Lance had been harder than he'd imagined; it wasn’t supposed to feel like he was leaving a part of himself behind, wasn’t supposed to make him ache.

And the way his cheeks had glowed, as if a reminder that Keith shouldn’t have been selfish enough to indulge him in that way. That he was teetering on something so dangerous like wildfire, and he was about to burn himself rotten the more he stayed around. The more he let himself be around Lance, harming him in the process too. The more he let his guilt fester about going against him and Allura, how he was pushing and pushing to stay in Lance’s orbit, when he should have been launched far away since the start.

“What am I gonna do, Kosmo?” Keith murmured, hearing the small whine from his animal partner in the cockpit behind him.

Before he could go deeper down that tangled road of thoughts, his comm crackled to life, and Krolia’s voice came through, tight and sharp. “Keith. Are you on your way back? I need you at base immediately.”

The urgency in her tone sent a jolt of adrenaline through him. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s Vrelen. We have intel he’s developing a new weapon—something powerful enough to destabilize whole planets. The situation is worse than we thought. Since we took the Lion, he’s escalated everything. It’s like he’s…losing control.” Her voice dropped to a barely concealed anger. “We can’t let him move forward with this. Too many lives are at stake with the possible planets he is targeting.”

Keith’s grip tightened on the controls, memories flickering to life with every word. He could still feel the bite of blaster fire and the pressure of cold sweat against his skin from earlier when they’d gone under the planet to retrieve the Lion. Did a huge swoop of the planets surface and any signs and detection of another life somewhere around, orbiting the planet several times before going in to excavate. It had been a small, important mission that was highly secretive and only known ot Kolivan, Krolia, and Keith’s team of trusted girls. They cleared the area and launched off several blasts over and over with the help of the scientist Keith had spoken to that alerted him about the position of the Lion. After confirming the exact area, they went to work full blast, digging up completely until they hit metal. That’s when Keith had thrown up seeing it, the realization of the reality sinking in. He could barely look at it, especially when he realized which Lion it was.

They were able to use magnetics to pull the Lion out and onto the ground, unsure of how exactly to turn it on. Krolia had hoped Keith could have some influence since he was Voltron after all, but the Lion had been powered off, looking seemingly dead and lifeless. After several attempts at connecting it magentically to be lifted in one of their ships, thats when the easyness of the mission switched dramatically.

Vrelen’s troops had come out of nowhere, forcing them into a desperate battle they hadn’t fully prepared for. He remembered every detail—the screech of metal as their shuttle scraped against rocks, the searing beams from Vrelen’s soldiers firing on their backs, the ground beneath them shaking with explosions as the attacks rained down on them, ruthless and from the sky. Their escape had been brutal, tearing through his mind like fresh scars even now. Awful wounds and scrapes as they fought to maintain the Lion on their ship, avoiding major blasts and essential disintegration form a large battleship in the sky that came out of nowhere. Keith had been quick to scan for the lifesources on there, finding there was one that resembled Rolo, and as he was about to contemplate to fire himself at the ship by himself, Axca had sensed his irrationality before he let it go to play, grabbing his shoulder sharply and piercing her nails into him to stop his train of thought. It was harsh enough to remind him what was important right now, but a promise of what was to come later.

The asteroid belt had been their salvation—a chaotic, deadly shield of spinning rocks and dust. He and his team had cut through it, their ship battered and barely holding together as Vrelen’s fleet tried to pin them down. But they’d made it. They’d lost Vrelen in that deadly maze of space rock and returned to base with the Lion intact. And yet, even that victory was sour now. Because while they had escaped, it had only fueled Vrelen’s obsession, driven him to madness and this new, unknown weapon.

He nodded to his mother that he would be there in a few doboshes, clicking out of the call to sit in the silence of his thoughts again. An awful thing to have.

He heard the sound of Kosmo moving around and repositioning himself in the back, and Keith cursed to himself how he wished he had stolen Lance’s music, even for a selfish couple songs to focus on. What a sucker he was for anything Lance gave him, truly pathetic.

Keith pushed on, his eyes set on the horizon for his path when another incoming call rang across his dashboard, shocking him a bit when he saw the name expecting it to be another Krolia urgent call. He hesitated, his stomach turning already at what it could possibly mean before finally hitting the call button.

“You’re telling me you came all the way back to Earth and you left without at least stopping by to say hi?”

“Word travels fast it seems.” Keith grumbled, watching Shiro’s disappointed face twist as his eyes gleamed back at Keith through the call.

“I’m allowed to be hurt my own brother didn’t come say hi, although it is interesting that it was only Lance that got some personal time even after being in space with him.” Shiro’s voice was leaking in a tease as he was carefully trained on Keith’s facial expression, but Keith just let out an exhausted sigh he hadn’t realized he was holding for him, sinking down in his seat a bit.

“It was really quick drop off. Things have gotten a little bit more, hectic, with the missions at the Blades and I saw it fit to drop Lance off at home for a bit. Also, you should be thanking me. He’s finally ready to be a professor.” Keith flicked his eyes from his controls to the screen where Shiro sat, a face of heroic confidence that never went away after all these years. He was in his reading glasses, with the soft yellow glow of a bedroom light illuminating the deepend shadows of his face that came from stress and time, revealing a softer, more homier Shiro that Keith had missed seeing. It looked good on him.

“You always did have a way with getting to him, whether it was stubborn annoyance or just outright pushing him.” Shiro gave a small smile, and Keith just scoffed, feeling his blush return.

“Speaking of which, I’m surprised Lance gave it up that I was there. Did he call to talk about the position?” Keith hurried on, wanting to hide his endearment even slightly thinking about Lance.

“Lance actually wasn’t the one who told me.”

“What? But, he was the only one who knew I was home?”

“He apparently told Hunk you were there, who told Pidge.” Shiro’s eyes shone back as he recalled the chain of communication.

“I didn’t peg you as one to gossip with her.” Keith’s voice softened, taking in the way Shiro’s entire face lit up as he let out a smooth chuckle.

“Don’t worry, your gossip partner is safely yours. Who am I to battle that position when it was always you two in a corner making fun of some alien leader for the way they dressed or when Coran did weird traditions with us. But I heard it from Matt, actually, who was in the room with her when Hunk called her to tell him about your time with Lance.”

“So it’s Matt's fault you're in everyone’s business?”

“Hey, I have a right to know.”

“What right?”

“One would call it parental rights, if we are looking on paper of who took care of 4 rambunctious teenagers in space.”

Keith let out a groan, but his chest felt warm as he watched the way Shiro laughed at his annoyance. They sat in each other’s company for a moment, Keith feeling the gentle and calming eyes of the man he had searched the galaxy over for, and would do it again in a heartbeat.

“But really, how has it been with Lance?” Shiro’s deep and gentle lull pulled Keith into an openness that he was never able to fight off. Even when he was a thrashing and angst 12 year old who believed the world was out to get him.

Never Shiro though.

“He actually was doing great with the Blades. It’s been amazing watching him get his confidence back, watch him in his element helping people. He had a second wind to his life,” Keith couldn’t help the blush creeping to his face as he remembered the determined blue eyes smiling back at him, but then the glowing Altean marks flashed before him and he pushed Lance back down, “But like I said, things got a little chaotic at the Blades and I had to drop him back home. But he agreed to try out the whole teaching thing at the Garrison, so.”

“At least one of you guys is following in my footsteps.” Shiro bit teasingly. Keith gave him a deadpan stare to say without needing to

as if you ever thought that was gonna be me?

Shiro laughed again, and the deep chuckle warmed Keith’s body like a weighted blanket. Maybe he really should have stopped by to visit Shiro, just one quick and reassuring hug would have settled in the swirling anxiety and secrets that have built over the last couple weeks. Over what has felt like a lifetime.

“Hey, I know that look. What body did you kill and worried about resurfacing now?” Shiro his furrowed brows just as fast as they appeared on his face, and Keith tightened his hold on the controls. His voice was like a reaffirming anchor, and Keith’s tension was slowly slipping.

Keith let out a tight chuckle, trying to keep it light. “Am I that obvious?”

“Only to me,” Shiro replied with a laugh. He waited, giving Keith the space he knew he needed to work his way through whatever was on his mind. "You want to tell me what’s up?”

Keith hesitated, eyes fixed on the stars outside his cockpit. “It’s... a lot of things.” He knew Shiro would be able to hear the tension lacing his words, the unspoken frustration and worry. But there was something else too, something he wasn’t sure how to say, especially to Shiro. The words got caught in his throat, forcing him to gnaw on his cheek.

Shiro’s voice broke through the quiet. “Keith, you can talk to me. Whatever it is.”

Keith’s eyes flicked to the controls, fingers drumming on the dash as he tried to keep his voice steady. “Shiro, just... hypothetically speaking,” he started, sounding anything but casual. “If someone, say, found something important—like, really important—related to... Voltron, would that be something the rest of you would... need to know about?”

On the other end, Shiro didn’t respond right away. Keith could almost picture the gears in his brain turning, pieces clicking into place slowly, like grasping at an unfinished puzzle. His head titled as he picked up on the unusual tone in Keith’s voice.

“Hypothetically speaking,” Shiro echoed slowly, drawing out the words.

“Right. Hypothetically.” Keith’s bit down harder on his inner cheek, betraying his nerves. “Like... something that maybe shouldn’t be out in the open. Something that... might be safer if no one knew about it. At least, for now.”

Shiro’s silence was pressing, an unspoken invitation to continue, but Keith just clenched his jaw, stubbornly clinging to his vague hints. Shiro’s voice finally broke through, measured, like he was trying to be patient. “Keith, if this ‘hypothetical’ thing were, say... Lion-level important, I’d say it’s definitely something we should all know about. Don’t you think?”

Keith’s mouth twitched, avoiding the direct question. “Right, but... I mean, sometimes it’s safer if not everyone knows, right? Like if there’s interest from people who shouldn’t be involved.” His tone tightened. “If it were... a Lion, for example, it could draw all the wrong kinds of attention.”

There was a sudden intake of breath on Shiro’s end, followed by a disbelieving pause. “Keith, are you—are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

Keith’s face burned, his heart pounding with the awkwardness of the admission. He couldn’t bring himself to meet Shiro’s realization head-on. “I’m just saying that it’s... I mean, something like that would be a big deal, right? And it’s probably better that we... well, keep it under wraps, for now.”

Shiro’s eyes must have been widening as he pieced it together. Keith could hear the controlled shock lacing his voice. “Are you saying you... you actually found a Lion? Under the surface?”

Keith managed a weak nod, though he knew Shiro couldn’t see him. “Yeah. Dead, as far as we could tell, I think. It was risky to even dig it out.”

Shiro was silent, processing, shutting his eyes and inhaling deeply as if to steady himself from Keith’s news. Keith clenched and unclenched, doing everything not to melt at Shiro’s utter shock and thoughts of this all.

Shiro let out a breath, his voice softening, filling with a mix of command and worry. “Keith, that’s huge. Who exactly knows about this, situation?”

“Just me, Kolivan, Krolia, and my team. We were quick on securing it at the base.”

“And Lance?”

“No…” Keith let his voice die, watching his words settle to Shiro as he leaned back, letting out another sigh of disbelief. He was handling it a lot better than Keith had anticipated, he’ll give him that.

“What are the Blades going to do with it?” Shiro’s voice was hallow. Like he couldn’t find the tone in his own voice.

“Before I say anything more, know that its safe and secure. We have it under control and away from anyone else and their knowledge of it.”

“Keith..” His voice danced on a bit of danger, like he was preparing for Keith to say something he wasn’t gonna like.

And he wasn’t.

“There may be a new villain overlord who somehow knows about it and attempted to wipe out a planet to try to unbury it before we got to it and now he has this new weapon and is oging around to other planets and I think he might believe that there’s other Lions around too.” The moment Keith rushed into the admission was the moment his real thoughts clicked into place.

There could be other Lions waiting to be found somewhere.

He had been so dumb to push that thought aside, to not sit and wonder if there were others waiting around to be just as recongizable by the villain who had tracked down this one.

And the Blades had no idea where to even catch up.

He must have had a nauseous looking face when Shiro’s voice snapped him back out of his spiral.

“That’s definitely a lot to process. Hypothetically…” His voice was that gentle conviction Keith had always trusted. He blinked back at him, watching Shiro process and waiting for scolding.

“Why haven’t you told us. This sounds dangerous, and a lot bigger than you would have anticipated.”

Keith bit his lip, feeling the weight of Shiro’s words anchor him. “I know. I just... I don’t want to drag you guys into this mess.”

Shiro’s answer was immediate, unwavering. “This is bigger than any of us. You found a Lion, Keith. And no matter what comes next, you’re not in it alone. That’s not what Voltron’s about. If this villian involved has the capability and need for the Lions, if this is going to get messy, then we’re here for you. Whatever happens. We are a team, Keith. That didn’t end the moment we stopped flying the Lions.”

Keith let out a shaky breath, the lump in his throat bobbing. He wanted to just melt down in that moment, just scream about how unfair it was that the Lions were back, that someone else knew about them and wanted to use them for something evil, that Vrelen was somehow manipulating his most painfully angry memories and using them against him every time, how he abducted Rolo, how he had almost gotten

Lance

, how this overbearing and crushing weight and stake of this all was so close to bursting him at the seams.

“I’m scared.”

The words finally came out heavy on his tongue, the battleships of his own life crashing into the waves like it was finally done, his body shaking as it released all this unspoken tension and anxiety and fear of making the right decisions and calling the wrong plan. How his muscles ached, how his bones were tired, how it felt like he was speeding a car hundreds of miles over the meter, steering off the road as the tires burst into flames to put the car’s hurtling dangerous speed to an end.

The life he had could make a good man bad, and he was surprised he was still standing after all of this.

“Keith…” Shiro’s voice was gentle, almost breaking as he looked at his brother through the call, at how completely tired and overwhelmed he had become from hiding this all in.

“I know it was wrong to not say anything sooner. I get that, trust me I’ve beaten myself up over this. It just feels too late to say anything to Lance now, and I don’t wanna tell the rest of you guys because of how dangerous Vrelen has been. None of you deserve to be brought back into this.” Keith felt his voice crack, his eyes burning at Shiro’s heartbroken face.

“I get that. But you also don’t have to make that decision on whether or not we are allowed to help you. This is going to affect all of us one way or another, and the weight you have been carrying clearly is breaking you. Please, let us help in the ways we can. That doesn’t necessarily mean we all rush to join the Blades and get into another intergalactic war, but we should start with the truth. With just telling them.”

Shiro’s voice was thick like molass, was the calming massage over a pulsing muscle stubborn to be controlled. It was forgiving when it needed, yet sharp and assertive in anticipation. It was what Keith needed to feel at ease for once.

“Ok. I’ll agree to that. But can you promise me that you won’t say anything until I learn more and handle some of this first? I want to keep you guys out of as much danger as possible.” Keith’s voice was hoarse. Shiro stared back at him, mulling this over like he was caught between doing the parenting leadership role or being a brother there for his brother’s confession.

“Don’t do anything stupid. If it’s getting way too dangerous, you tell the rest of us. I’m trusting you on this, ok?”

“Alright.” Keith nodded, clenching his jaw as he watched the way Shiro’s eyes flickered back to him with his own stressed out face, his jaw set tight and his lips pulled tight.

Shiro gave him one final look before exhaling through his nose, a small vein popping out a bit in his forehead.

“I thought I was going to be done with stressing out about you.”

“You still got a couple more years on you for that.” Keith exhaled a small laugh, relief filling his chest as Shiro gave him a look mixed with love and a bit of fury.

“I’ll be calling Krolia about this to make sure the both of you actually update me so I’m not sitting around getting even more grey hairs.”

“I’m hanging up now.”

“Hey, Keith?”

Keith paused over the hang up button, looking back as Shiro held a strained look.

“Out of everyone, I think Lance deserves to know first.”

Keith strided into the dimly lit Blade briefing room, his face set with determination as he meets the watchful eyes of Kolivan, Krolia, Axca, Ezor, Zethrid, and Nyma gathered around the holo-table, Kosmo trotting at an even pace to match the urgency felt in the room. The quiet rumbles could be cut through with a knife. They look tense, the gravity of the situation reflected in each expression as they all turn to his arrival.

“Look whose back from babysitting his boyfriend. And wearing his clothes!” Ezor whispered as Keith flew past her body to stand at command at the front of the table, where Kolivan and Krolia had their arms splayed on the table, eyes set ablaze at the holograms depicting different planets and an outline of a battleship in a couple galaxies over. Krolia flicked her eyes to Keith as he tensed at her side, giving him one quick look over as if to ask

are you ready for this all?

Keith returned the nod, setting his jaw firm as Kolivan cleared his throat.

Kolivan taps the hologram, and two planets zoom into view, glowing ominously on the grid—a grim reminder of what they were about to dive into. The silence is heavy as Kolivan begins.

“As we know Vrelen’s attack in us at the planet suggested that he did in fact know what he was looking for, which was one of the Lions. I don’t need the how right now, or even a bit of an explanation, but what matters is we have it in our hands under high protection and security.” His eyes scanned the faces in the room, all of them under the weight of knowing they were the few souls who knew of the existence of the Lion. Kolivan paused on Keith, his face grim and unwavering, before continuing.

“We have tracked signs back to his battleship that we put a tracker on before disappearing from battle, thankfully. Smart play on Axca’s end. What we have been able to see is his weak blasts at a couple random planets around the solar system, which has been a disturbance and attempts at wiping out the surfaces similarly to what he was doing on Planet Cartheron. I don’t know if hes throwing a pity party in retaliation, or if he has something bigger up his sleeve, but regardless, I don’t like it. He’s destroying lives with how he’s acting. Some of the scientists from Cartheron gave us more of their xray technology help to do wider scans at the frames of his ship from far away and we detected a weapon similiar to what he was attempting to steal in the first place, suggesting he made his own scans of the machine in attempts to replicate it and use it to blast other planets. It definitely does not have the same power, but it is still capable of destruction.”

“We could always deploy some of our Blades to monitor these targeted systems. Make sure that his ship doesn’t come near them. There is only one of him and may of our attack flighter ships, so we have more ground to carry at once.”

“That would spread us thin.” Keith muttered a little too loudly, his brain already flying. Krolia breathed out sharply, crossing her arms.

“It is a risk we would have to consider.”

“Or we have a different proposition.” Kolivan began, shifting his weight over the table.

Keith sucked in a breath, watching as Kolivan clicked for two specific planets to appear wider, revealing their terrain, and a scan and description of the people and cities there. There were much more population on these planets, more opportunity for one blast to wipe out thousands instead of just aimlessly shooting at rocks and ground.

“His erratic movements suggest he could launch the weapon at either of these worlds. Both planets are relatively populated and harbor vulnerable populations—easy targets for a ruthless display of power. If Vrelen strikes, entire ecosystems could be leveled, lives erased in seconds. From the way his ship has continued to circle these two planets, we can believe these are where he is planning to attack next.”

The room pulsed with urgency, each face shadowed in dread as they consider the risk. It was a solid plan, and something that would help reassure that Vrelen wouldn’t be able to launch his attacks on these two planets, but the more Keith listened, the more his heartbeat rang in his ears. The more he twitched, the more he tightened his grip on his arms to hold back from speaking. Stay in his command. This was the right way to do this. He felt Axca’s eyes trained on him as Kolivan continued explaining how unpredictable their villain was. Like she was waiting for the balloon to pop, and he couldn’t stop it from happening himself.

Keith’s jaw tightened until he finally couldn’t stop his mouth from flying open, his voice ringing out in a split as he let himself suggest his more radical approach.

“What if we just him in on straight forward and just surprise infiltrate?”

All eyes turned to look at him, and he felt the heat of their questioning stares and noticed the way Kolivan visibly shifted from someone else taking lead in the moment.

“What did you have in mind?” Krolia attempted, her voice cold but hinting a slight calmness to him, waiting for him to step into the role she always knew he would flourish in. And because of that, Keith straightened up taller and continued.

“Rather than spread thin and risk being outmanuevered or taken down one by one in our smaller ships, we should attempt to dismantle his new weapon at its core. I mean, we did it once the first time with just a couple of us.” Keith flashed a determined look at Axca and his girls, and their faces wavered with uncertainty.

“Yah, but we barely escaped that.” Zethrid muttered, and Ezor’s eyes blew huge to nod in agreement.

“But we weren’t as evenly prepared or well trained for the gravity of his capabilities and what to expect. Now we have more of us, more weapons. Preparation for the way he attacks.” Keith narrowed his eyes, placing a hand down on the table to steady himself.

The room’s atmosphere visibly shifted as the others listen intently, surprised by his boldness, but letting him continue.

“We could take Vrelen by surprise, slipping through his defenses with the stealth advantage of a small team. We can have backup of some of our ships in orbit if needed to come in and attack fire if the ship tries to leave orbit or attempt to fly closer to the targeted planets, using our fighters as a distraction while we are on the inside. I would lead a unit to get onboard Vrelen’s flagship, locate the weapon’s control system, disable or destroy it, and rescue Rolo if he’s still onboard.” At this, Nyma let out a small gasp, placing a hand over her chest. Keith locked eyes with her, unwavering as she looked like she was about to shatter at the mention of her abducted partner in crime. He didn’t allow there to be any more pause as he rushed to finish it before he could hear another objection.

“The plan isn’t without risks; Vrelen’s forces are strong, and getting caught would mean a vicious firefight in enemy territory. But I believe this is our best plan we got in putting this to an end once and for all.” Keith’s voice is resolute as he lays out the strategy, his determination clear. His body burned with this fire, and he knew he was not about to leave that ship without finding Rolo either. He dares a sharp glance back at Kolivan, waiting for an attack, for a dissmisal, for anything that would suggest the insanity and impulsiveness of his plan as he always did.

Instead, Kolivan nodded, weighing the potential costs and rewards of Keith’s suggestion.

“I will say, there are pro and cons to what this is suggesting here. There’s wisdom in hitting the enemy from within, but I’m cautions that even a small unit would face overwhelming odds inside the ship. Once you are inside, there is no way for our outside forces to help you more directly. Although he has one ship, we don’t know how many of those robots he has in there.”

“It’s our best chance at stopping Vrelen quickly before he can unleash more destruction.” Keith leveled Kolivan’s eye contact, clenching his jaw and setting his eyes strong. Kolivan just stared back, thinking, and Keith never felt more confident to push for something in his life.

Kolivan gave a gruff grunt, looking at the other leader next to him.

“Krolia, any say in the probability of this?”

Krolia placed a hand on her chin thoughtfully, a low hum coming deep from her throat as she flicked her eyes between the hologram and back at her son.

“If done correct, I think it’s possible to be done in a stealth, swift way, stopping him once and for all.” She met Keith’s eyes, her face still set like steel and eyes narrowed as the warrior she was, but Keith sensed the warmth of trust in her tone, clearly supportive of her son’s plan,

The girls exhcanged glances, the glint of fierce approval in their eyes before Axca cleared her throat, drawing the attention to her as she folded her arms with a slight frown, casting her eyes to the hologram.

“We need a practical understanding about this new weapon’s power. We saw what the origianl concept was able to do, what it was capable of. It destroyed through the base of a planet. If he pointed that at us, that could wipe us out clean. Who knows how much he’s done to replicate it. We need precise intel on its capabilities before any infiltration attempt.”

If it was anyone else, Keith would have been annoyed at the pause in his plan, but Axca was right.That’s why he needed her, leaned into her support on things like this. She was more thoughtful and tactive with his plans, picking at every part of it at the seams to make sure there were no cracks in it. Keith nodded at her.

“Then we deploy scouts to monitor the ship’s activity before moving in. Maybe use one of those big scanners to get some information about that weapon from afar, really track it down to see just whats on that ship.”

The team stood in silence, taking this all in, everyones thoughts a million miles in hour or just simple pausing to realize how dangerous this entire situation has become.

Kolivan, after a long, heavy pause, finally relented, letting out a deep sigh as he looked at the team in the room.

“I’ll agree to sending a small reconnaissance team ahead of Keith’s infiltration unit. Take a couple of the scientists and their equipment to be able to see what they can do for us since its their technology that Vrelen is drawing inspiration from. But this mission must be executed with utmost precision; any mistake could be disastrous.”

“I’ll go with them.” Nyma spoke up, getting the room’s attention. She flushed a bit, but gripped her hands at her sides. “I’ve spent the most time learning from the scientists and their technology. I adopted some of it into my own scanners and wristband. I also have a couple of Rolo’s old clothes in my bag, maybe it could be of use to track down his DNA or something for more proof of where exactly he is on the ship. We can take one of my speeders also to just seem as another ship passing by in the system so Vrelen doesn’t recognize anything Blade.”

“You’re not going in there unguarded.” Keith began, but Nyma held up a hand.

“I certainly won’t be bringing a huge ship with a logo on it. I want to keep this small.”

“We’ll go with you to have your back, keep it small.” Axca spoke up, her eyes glancing to Ezor and Zethrid who nodded in agreement.

“But–”

“What, you think a couple girls can’t handle themselves? How regressive.” Nyma snapped, and Ezor snorted loudly as Zethrid let out a slow whistle. Keith snapped his mouth shut, feeling himself burn a bit as Axca gave Keith a pointed look as if to taunt him

sit this one out, team leader.

“Besides, you’ll be needed here.” Krolia began, and all the girls shut up as Keith snapped his attention back to his mother, tilting his head a bit in question.

“Our biggest asset is now the Lion itself. We have it without anyone else in the galaxy knowing it, not even Vrelen. A discovery like this can be instrumental if we are able to use it. But first, we need to know its functionality.” Her eyes blazed back at Keith, and he almost faltered under the meaning of her look, biting hard on his cheek.

“It doesn’t even work. How are we going to be able to do anything with it?” Keith tried back to hold his voice steady, but Krolia narrowed her eyes, giving him a small shrug.

“You do have a history as a Paladin. Maybe there’s still some connection and theres a possibility for it to wake up?”

“But it can’t work without a lifeforce, and that was connected to–to Princess Allura.” Keith’s voice broke for a second, but he pushed through, clicking his jaw. Krolia’s eyes softened, but she remained strong in her voice.

“We just need you to focus right now in the meantime on assessing the Lion’s condition, and if it is even something operational to begin with. Make sure that there’s no part of it that can possibly be used against us if gotten in the wrong hands, like reusing a weapon’s parts. If anything, confirm it’s dead for good.”

Keith sucked in a comment, so just opted a tired nod.

“Before we break with so much at risk, I insist on a secondary plan, should we fail to stop Vrelen directly. We should have Blades set up defense shields on nearby planets to evacuate as many civilians as possible if they’re forced into a retreat. This is only in the case this plan does not go as expected.” Kolivan’s eyes met all of them, making them all shiver unconsciously. He leaned back, crossing his arms with a satisfied nod.

“Right, so we have an understanding of where to go?” Kolivan finished. The room buzzed with a new tension of the mission ahead, nodding in agreement and reaffirming their determined looks. Kolivan nodded and motioned for them to leave immediately.

Keith shifted his weight, clenching his jaw as he realized where he was about to go but refusing to take his hands off the table. Ezor paused as they were leaving the table, giving him a one over look.

“Stop brooding and get to it already. You used to be part of Voltron. Should’t it like, recognize your scent or something. Happy to have a nice reunion with you?”

Keith sighed, rolling his shoulders as he snapped his eyes to look at the girls. They all stood with a genuine questioning look, as if Ezor hadn’t just suggested the craziest thing and had no hint of a tease at Keith’s expense. There was a real flash of curiosity, and maybe even some hope.

“That’s not how the Lions work. I would have thought you of all people knew that?” He snapped.

“If you insinuating we became masters on understanding things about the lions just because of who we used to work for trying to steal them off you guys our time serving

him

, then you’re crazy.” Ezor snorted, giving a look at Zethrid.

“You’re right. He’s giving you a lot more credit than you deserved.” Axca’s lips snaked into a smile before giving a teasing look at Keith. Ezor spun on her heel to glare at Axca, throwing a finger up at her.

“And what about you, Miss.

I’m gonna save mr. floppy hair every chance I got and putting us all in more trouble

?” Ezor squealed as Axca let out a groan, storming ahead while the rest of the girls followed.

Keith clenched his jaw and began to exit when he felt the weight of his mother’s hand on his shoulder, pausing him for a moment. She stayed silent until Keith did the honors of meeting her eyes, the yellow a fierce color looking back at him, so different in contrast to the soft blue he was missing right now.

“You know I’m not expecting the Lion to respond, right?” Krolia mumbled in the softness Keith needed from her in the moment. Keith nodded slowly, his eyes dropping down to Kosmo circling the two, seemingly happy his family was completed together again.

“I’m not worried about the Lion not responding. That should be a given with the circumstance of its lifeform.” Keith muttered, flexing his jaw as he stayed looking at her. Her brows pursed together, waiting for him, open.

“I’m scared what it’s going to mean if it actually does respond.”

Keith stepped into the dimly lit, high-security section of the Blade headquarters, his footsteps echoing against the cold steel walls as Kosmo stayed loyal at his side following. He silently thanked the sweet wolf for not straying even a second, needing all the support he could get in this private moment. He had to go through several entry ways of highly protected and blocked off halls, getting through each level of security as they cleared him as being one of the few people actually allowed into the room. None of the guards even knew what they were meant to be protecting as emphasis to how highly secretive this entire operation had been. After the final clearance, with reluctantly entered the room as the door slid shut with a hiss behind him, deadlocking him inside. A faint hum buzzed through the silence, the low thrum of power suspended in dormancy. His eyes swept around the room before landing finally on the Lion that sat in the center of it all.

Even in its deactivated state, the Lion was still just as massive above a regular human as he had remembered, a monolithic figure curled into an almost sleeping stance. Its form was marked with years of battle-worn scuffs and scratches, silent reminders of the countless missions it had endured. But here, in the stillness, with no light behind its eyes, it looked almost as lifeless as the idea of Voltron, the essence of it shrunk and dimmed to an unsettling emptiness. Keith’s pulse quickened, and a chill crept up his spine as he regarded it, each breath thick with the weight of something dormant yet pulsing beneath the surface.

He forced himself to take another step closer, but his movements felt sluggish, weighed down by the tangle of memories and emotions that tangled within him. There it was—what he once thought of as invincible, what had roared and protected and bound them together—and now it seemed almost frail in its silence.

It was almost pathetic, the way that their Lion’s had stricken the fear and energy into the galaxy, hope that this robotic machine was enough to defeat years of unrest and disturbance. Now, it was a sleeping giant Lion, just a bunch of metal. Keith’s eyes tore across it, letting out a huge shaking sigh as he finally stood before at the head, towering yet hollow, looming.

The Red Lion.

The memories stormed back ten fold as he was hit with what it was like to fly in its cockpit, the thrill of merging with something larger than himself, a symbol of power and unity and loyalty. The way it had responded in an instant with the thought that didn’t even fully form in his brain, anticipating his own imupsliveness and flying just as fast in the direction he looked at. She was responsive, she was stubborn, she was quick and fiery, and oh so protective any instance Keith had expressed pain from a fight. She was always there, roaring in the back of his head, thrashing at his thoughts and responses, demanding and fierce in her presence. Accepting when he had moved to Black, and doubled down as the protector he had thanked Lance received when he was not there to be it.

But now, all he could see was a shadow of what it once represented, and the sight twisted something deep within him. It had been so long since he’d thought of it, truly thought of it, since he had allowed himself to feel the hollowness it left behind. He could barely breathe around the ache of it.

A part of him didn’t want to get any closer, the dreading reality settling in of the what if. What if… what if it responded? Actually turned on again and was able to carry on as if nothing had happened.

The thought clawed at him, leaving his mouth dry. The possibility felt like opening a wound he’d tried to stitch shut a thousand times, but it was tearing open now with raw, sharp edges. What would he even say if it did respond? Would he find himself stepping into that role again, as the Red Lion’s pilot? Would he be forced to find the rest of the Lions and hope that they would respond too after collecting the rest of their pilots? Would Voltron be something needed again, even after everyone had moved on in their lives and found peace adn comfort in their new roles? Would he be thrown with the responsibility and guilt of telling the Paladins that their lives were going to have to change again with this knowledge of the Lions? Or, worse, would he be confronted with every ghost of who he had been back then, who he’d lost and couldn’t get back? The memories of Allura, of how she’d fought beside them, of the loss that had marked every one of them… it all flooded over him. The unspoken grief, tangled with guilt and anger and so much damn fear, churned in him, making his legs feel heavy, as if to keep him rooted to the spot. If the Lions were able to come back, while Allura was dead, what would that mean for the rest of them? For their new life force, for the lack of needing Allura. Was she ever as importantly tied to them after all?

Would Lance even be able to stomach any of this with the implications of Allura really not being needed after all?

Keith clenched his fists, his fingers curling tightly as he fought the urge to step back. The Red Lion remained motionless, its silhouette unchanging, but it seemed to stare back at him, silent yet knowing. The quiet was deafening, and as Keith struggled to meet its empty gaze, a war raged within him. Could he bear to be bound to it again, knowing what it had once meant to him? The thought terrified him as much as it tempted him. And in that moment, as he stood before it, every muscle in his body tensed in turmoil, he realized just how deep the scars ran, wounds he’d tried for years to forget but that were now demanding to be faced.

Keith’s legs shook as he dropped down to sit at the foot of the closed mouth, his knees weak as he folded them beneath him, the cold metal chilling him even through his pants. Up close, the Lion seemed both impossibly grand and heartbreakingly hollow, the smooth, silent lines of its armor devoid of the energy he remembered, with torn up gashes of its paint chipped from its countless attempts at biting down and saving its pilot in its jaws. He stared at its face, at the long muzzle and quiet eyes, his chest tightening with the dread he couldn’t shake. A thousand things he wanted to say filled his mind, but when he opened his mouth, nothing came out.

His hand trembled as he reached up, barely grazing the metal, fingers tracing the familiar ridges of the Lion’s head. Memories flooded over him like waves, scenes of hurtling through space, the surge of power at his fingertips, the unspoken bond they’d shared. Every mission, every risk they took—it had felt like he was doing something that mattered. Now, here he was, pleading silently, hoping for any hint of that same connection, some response, anything to tell him he was where he was supposed to be. But maybe even louder, a plead not to respond at all. To stay broken and silent, locked away in the memory and history of what once was.

The silence pressed in, growing louder, stretching until it was all he could hear, the weight of it heavy enough to drown him. He clenched his teeth, a pit of something gnawing in his stomach, equal parts anger and sadness.

Please.

His voice was a rough whisper, his gaze fixed on the empty eyes before him. He wasn’t even sure what he was asking for, just a word, a sign, or honestly nothing at all.

The quiet was unrelenting, pressing in around him like a solid force, filling the space where his hope had started to waver. Seconds passed, then minutes. The memories kept pulling at him, but the absence of the Lion’s response only seemed to deepen the ache. Each silent second clawed at his insides, making the possibility that it would remain dormant all the more painfully hopeful. How could something that had once been so alive, so connected to him, now feel like nothing more than cold, unfeeling metal?

Thirty minutes passed, maybe more. He didn’t move, his hand resting on the armor, his head bowed. There was no spark, no heartbeat, no resonance. Just silence—heavy, indifferent, and endless. The reality settled in, colder and harder than he’d prepared for. The lack of connection, that nothingness where he’d once felt everything, almost terrified him more than anything else.

Keith dropped onto his back with a sigh, the metal floor hard beneath him as he let exhaustion press down on every bone. Kosmo let out a soft yelp, and he heard the sounds of his paws circling around his body in manic confusion for the way his owner was acting towards a piece of metal. Frustration wound through him, mingling with the emptiness that settled in his gut. As he let his eyes close, his shoulder dug into something bulky—his duffel bag. He’d forgotten he was even carrying it since Earth.

With a groan, he reached back to shift it and move at its contents. He should have changed into his suit immediately when he landed back at the base, but the comforting feeling of being in Lance’s clothes had overpowered any common sense he had.

Shocking.

He went to zip it open to mindlessly dig his hand in, but his hand brushed against something oddly familiar. Unzipping the bag fully, he reached in and pulled out a tape player, the one Lance had nagged him into keeping around, the one that he had given back to Lance when Lance was packing up, the one he knew for a fact Lance had gotten back, was now in his hands. The crazy idiot had stashed it back into his possession.

His heart stuttered at the sight. He turned it over in his hands, a bittersweet warmth blooming in his chest, equal parts yearning, fondness, and a pulse of something deeper—something aching in its intensity. Lance must have tucked it in there for him, knowing he'd need the comfort. Lance always knew.

He turned it again over in his hand, leaning his back against the Lion’s head as his eyes fell on the tape that was inserted. It was a new one that was’t previously in there, this time with some more scratched over writing. He popped it open to squint at it. It had its usual labels in rows of the songs and artists that Keith failed to recognize, but it was the title card that struck him. It was still clearly a tape that belonged to Veronica, titled

Veronica’s <333

but her name was crossed over, and in blue pen, small, cursive writing was scribbled hastily over it in a message.

Seemed fitting to change the vibes into something more promising, even for a hardened emo. Determined to make you the softie ik u r. Lance xxx

Keith raised an eyebrow, his mouth pulling into a small, helpless smile.

That dumbass

, always thinking a step ahead of him, maybe hoping this would remind him he wasn’t as alone as he felt. And in that moment it was like getting graced with Lance’s hug all over again, the warmth and love he felt for that boy swelling deep in his chest.

He thumbed the play button, slipping the earbuds in and resting back against the Lion’s unmoving head, letting the soft hiss of static fill his ears.

The first song began, the plucking and strumming of an instrument Keith couldn’t pick up on, and the rough gravelly voice of a pleading male voice. He stayed there, shutting his eyes and letting the thoughtful gift of music wash over his anxieties, the music turned to the highest and his legs pulled tight to his chest as his head rested on the cold lifeless metal of Red’s head.

And I don’t want the world to see me

‘Cause I don’t think that they’d understand

When everything’s made to be broken

I just want you to know who I am

As the song continued, something stirred, faint and foreign—a gentle hum deep in his mind, like the low growl of a long-dormant engine. It pulsed softly, almost rhythmic, a flicker of light like a match struck in darkness. There for a second, and gone in an instant, the quick electric shock flying behind his eyelids as one single thought roared to life. His eyes flew open, breath catching. The warmth was there, swirling white and hot in his head, in a way that felt achingly familiar, leaving his heart pounding against his ribcage.

Gasping, Keith yanked the earbuds out, his mind spinning as he sat up, his hands trembling.
Kosmo lept to attention, barking at Keith’s outburst and pawing at his feet, but Keith couldn’t even react to Kosmo’s insistent presence in that moment, his ears ringing. The empty silence returned, but the taste of that moment lingered—alive and startling, like it was waiting just out of reach, the realization of what Red had fleetingly left as a signal of what she wanted.

Lance.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

4 months ago: Shiro and Curtis’ Wedding

Lance had been over the moon to be placed with the responsibility of being MC for the well anticipated event of the year. Shiro had asked him months ago when they first got engaged, believing in a short engagement.

When you know what you want, you do it

, he had told Lance when Lance broke down crying happy tears at the call that Shiro was in fact planning a wedding. He insisted he was perfect to be the MC, and that he swore he was not going to be as emotional as he seemed now, to which Shiro told him he wouldn’t want Lance to shy away from feeling anything that day, warming Lance up with the judgement free comfort the man always provided.

Helping plan had been a whirlwind, and Lance would be lying if he said it didn’t help him get his mind off the dreading doom of his life on the farm and any ansty feelings he had about his life in the moment. It gave him something to look forward to. To celebrate. Something meant to
be happy and exceptional. And it was all going to center the easiest man in the world to celebrate.

Lance had stayed up late on calls with Hunk practicing what speech sounded best, which jokes should be written out and kept in on expense of their amazing leader, and which tie worked best with the suit he was going to wear. Hunk had been stressed because he had insisted to make the wedding cake for Shiro. Shiro had been thrilled and thankful to have something made by Hunk, but suggested that they could always order from somewhere else since he didn’t want to stress out Hunk on a day he should be simply celebrating, but Hunk had stubbornly insisted against Shiro’s kind wishes, saying it would be the highest honor in the world to have this responsibility.

And just like that, Hunk had also ended the call in blubbering tears and sniffles with how overwhelmingly happy he was for Shiro. There was never a doubt on why Lance and Hunk were such good friends.

The week before the wedding, everyone who was important to the planning had flown in. Hunk had called off of work and made homebase with Lance’s family, and Lance had been over the moon having so much one on one time with Hunk, having someone to be able to fill his lonesome thoughts and anxiety that seemed to seep from all corners of his body late at night. The Mcclain siblings also never complained about the amount of baked goods lying around every surface top in the house, Hunk manically trying out recipes and different frostings and buttercreams to make sure the cake was perfect.

Lance had heard that Keith had come towards the end of the week closer to the wedding and was staying with Shiro and Curtis, and it made Lance a little annoyed over how Keith was probably in their space, coming last minute, and being so mindless about the stakes that come with a wedding or how important it is to show up before in preparation, so Hunk had to listen to Lance aimlessly tangent and ramble about Keith while he simple nodded and finished up the decor on the wedding cake with a silent smile.

Lance felt like he was on overpower mode when the day of the actual wedding finally came. The wedding was set in a serene, secluded garden Shiro and Curtis had chosen for its quiet beauty, somewhere they could feel the peace they fought so hard for. It was nestled away from the city and in the calm serenity of the hills, the only sounds of distant birds and the soft breeze through the trees. While Lance had always wanted something showy and dramatic for his own wedding, the simply beauty of this felt perfect for Shiro. Despite the calm serenity of it, it still dazzled and sparkled for Shiro’s special day, the sun setting on the evening wrapping everyone under it with warm hues or orange and pinks, promising the future of peace for the couple. Soft string lights hung from the trees, casting a warm glow over rows of chairs arranged in an intimate semi-circle around an arbor covered in soft, white blooms. Only close friends and family were gathered: a handful of Garrison officials that Lance recognized as old professors to Iverson, old Atlas crew members and the MFE’s, the Voltron team, some of the Olkari and Shay’s family, Pidge’s and Lance’s entire families, Krolia and Kolivan, and even a few Alteans Shiro had befriended during his duties visiting Coran on New Altea.

Lance stood off to the side with the other paladins, feeling a surge of emotion wash over him as the ceremony began. He’s usually the jokester in the group, the one who lightens heavy moments, but right now he can’t help the lump forming in his throat as he stood next to Hunk, already feeling the waterworks beginning to pour down his face the moment the quartet of violins started. Shiro walked down the aisle first, looking confident and more at peace than Lance has ever seen him, and the sight is almost too much. Lance feels the sting of happy tears pricking at his eyes but wills them away, not wanting to get too emotional in front of everyone.

Then, when Curtis joined Shiro at the end of the aisle, and they clapsed hands, both so clearly in love and unbreakable after everything they’ve endured, Lance couldn’t help but let a few tears slip. He smiled, rubbing his eyes, pretending he’s only adjusting his boutonniere. Pidge nudged him gently at his other side, rolling her eyes with a smile, but it only made him laugh and sniffle more. This, he realized, is what they fought so hard for. Love and family.

As he pulled himself together, Lance’s eyes drifted across the happy couple and landed on Keith for the first time in months, standing poised at the altar as his best man role. Keith’s been reclusive, barely responding to messages, seemingly vanishing into space to handle whatever mysterious missions he’s been involved in. He was seemingly untouchable, slipping back to Earth for the briefest moments to check in with Shiro and stop by Lance on the farm, but other than that he was a huge gap in Lance’s world. Always on the move, always elusive. Always somewhere to be that felt more important than the life Lance lived. Lance took a moment to really look at him, sizing him up with quiet surprise.

Keith stood with a quiet confidence that seems even stronger now, his posture relaxed, his black hair falling slightly into his eyes in a way that makes him look softer, somehow. Despite what looked like his best efforts to take the large black mass on his head, it still fought back in its defiant ways. He’s dressed up, too, in a sharp, dark suit that’s simple but fitting.

Lance feels his cheeks flush, though he can’t quite place why. Keith looks happy, genuinely happy, his expression soft as he watches Shiro and Curtis exchange their vows. There’s something tender in the way he watches Shiro—a quiet respect and pride—and it strikes Lance deeply. His face is finally open, raw, like hes finally been able to breathe the first breath of uncontaminated air into his lungs for the first time in years. Like someone finally got the knot out of his back, letting his muscles relax. Lance could already see the way Keith’s eyes watered, the barriers breaking down this usual broody demeanor. He was happy and letting tears slip through his facade. He feels his heart skip, a strange warmth spreading through his chest. He’s aware of how ridiculous he must look, staring at Keith, so he quickly averts his gaze, sniffing at his own tears running wild down his face.

But just as he turns away, he catches Keith’s eyes flicking in his direction. Keith notices him, and there’s a quiet look of recognition, a subtle smile at the corners of his mouth, as if to say,

I see you too

. Lance’s cheeks deepen to a blush, his heart beating faster than he’d like to admit, and he can’t bring himself to look back again.

Then, when the ceremony concludes with the usual

you may now kiss the groom,

and Shiro and Curtis pulled into each other with a final huge kiss as an act of their love and the room erupted into cheers and a couple aliens missing the memo to NOT shoot up with gunshots, Lance felt his cheeks swarm with the gentle glow of warmth. Of swelling pride. Of a way to congratulate and reveal that she was still watching, still caring, still part of all their lives.

Lance could only touch his cheeks and smile, letting himself break down and cry into Hunk as Hunk hugged him back, equal parts just as snotty and wet as he was.

“I hate weddings.” Pidge grumbled, dropping down in the seat in between Hunk and Lance, who both gasped dramatically and spilled a bit of their drinks.

“Why on earth would you say something like that?” Lance gaped at her, but knew from the rosy look on her face that she was a bit drunk and hadn’t dropped the dopey smile on her face the entire night.

“Too many grown men crying. It’s unnerving. Whatever happened to holding all your feelings in like the toxic masculinity they used to preach about?” Pidge whined, and threw a look at Matt across the reception, who was agressivelty hugging Shiro and making a point to weep into his shoulder while Shiro awkwardly patted him.

“Some would say that showing emotion is very manly!” Hunk chidded in, holding a finger up with a huge smile as Lance nodded.

“When you get married to Shay, Hunk, I’m gonna cry so much that there will never be a drought ever again.” Lance pitched his voice in a baby talk, batting his eyes at Hunk and making sure to lean into Pidge’s space.

“You would do that for me? What makes me wanna cry right now!” Hunk mimicked the same baby voice, both the boys sensing Pidge’s discomfort as she let out a fake gag noise before the two of them poked her sides.

Then, Lance’s timer went off on his phone, alerting to get the party started as his role of MC at the reception. He had put on his usual playlist of feel good music, and had made sure that Shiro and Curtis danced into the reception with the song they wanted as their introduction; some old person song called Love Train by the O’Jays, but it was classy and perfect for the two of them. The last 30 minutes had been spent with everyone showing their love to the happy couple, approaching them and hugging and crying and sharing how happy this event was, while Lance, Hunk, and Pidge had ransacked the open bar and taken full optimization of it.

“Pardon me my wonderful people, but Mr. MC has to start this whole show.” Lance winked at the two of them as he marched over to the DJ booth, where he had everything hooked up for the night. He lowered the music and grabbed hold of the mic, hitting it a few times to draw the attention of the room.

He looked out over the warm faces of every which color, shape, size,

species

, eyes twinkling as he raised his glass.

“Alright, alright, everyone, settle in! I promise not to talk too long because, let’s be honest, you don’t want to hear me as much as you want to get to the dancefloor and unlimited drinks! Tabs on Shiro tonight!” He winks, prompting a chuckle from the crowd. “Now, first of all, can we just appreciate how amazing Shiro and Curtis look? I mean, come on! And they deserve every bit of happiness they have here today, though I’m still a little shocked Shiro found someone who could put up with him and his bossiness.”

The crowd laughs, and Lance pauses, letting the energy settle before he continues. He waited as people began crowding onto the dance floor, each holding their own champagne flutes and coming in to listen. He found Shiro and Curtis standing side by side, giving eachother soft smiles while looking at Lance perform. “Now, as the best man—I mean,

second-best

man,” he corrects with a dramatic side-eye at Keith, somehow pinning directly where he was in the crowd, standing with a shy smile on his face as his eyes were training on Lance, Hunk with an arm thrown around his shoulders and Pidge at his other side grinning, “I do have some duty to make fun of Keith here. Because let’s face it, Keith could never quite manage a smile unless he was, I don’t know, making some cryptic speech before dashing off into a fiery explosion. But look at him here tonight, smiling away! Really warms my heart. Or maybe he just has a secret fear of weddings.”

Keith rolled his eyes, but there’s a smile tugging at his lips as Lance goes on. “But seriously, all jokes aside,” Lance says, the humor softening as he looks over at Shiro. “We’ve all been through a lot together. There were days out there in space when I didn’t think any of us would make it home. But somehow, despite all the crazy battles, the endless missions, and the cosmic chaos, we’re here. And Shiro—you were the rock for us. I mean, without you, I’d probably still be out there, flirting with alien royalty or getting lost in some wormhole if you weren’t there to always smack some sense into me. And I mean, he literally used to smack me on the side of the head when I was about to do something stupid.” He laughs, then pauses, a bit choked up.

“But you, Shiro… you reminded us that even in the darkest places, there’s a light, and usually, that light is love. Love that’s messy, complicated, and sometimes just… unexpected.” Lance’s gaze drops for a moment, the memory of Allura flickering in his mind, and he takes a breath.

“And it’s moments like this, seeing you here with Curtis, surrounded by everyone you love, that remind us all of the beauty that can come from surviving even the hardest battles.”

The room was quieted, a soft energy settling over the crowd. Lance noticed the paladins smiling softly, Pidge wiping at her eyes, Hunk sniffling loudly and trying hard not to burst out a huge wail, and Keith watching him with a steady, almost proud look. Feeling the emotional weight, Lance clears his throat, eager to pick the energy back up.

“Alright! Enough of me getting all mushy,” he says with a laugh, waving a hand to lighten the mood. “Let’s make some noise for these two and get the music going! To Shiro and Curtis!” He cheers, raising his glass high, and the room follows, echoing a resounding, “To Shiro and Curtis!”

The music starts up, and Lance practically bounces off the stage to hit play. He climbed down and received nothing but huge wet hugs from Hunk and Pidge, claiming how he was made for sappy speeches, before Lance’s eyes trained on Keith, who was looking at him with a flushed breathless look. It looked good on him, to be so open right now and defenseless. Right when Lance was about to drag his friends to go dance, he had the crazy idea of what to do.
He jumped back on the stage and snatched the mic, clearing his throat and getting everyones attention again.

“Um, yah, hi, me again. Hope you all didn’t miss me too much. I know, I’m hard to let go of. So folks, now that I’ve given you all my A+ material that made you believe I was paid to play the role,, it’s time for me to turn the speech to the man of the hour and the one and only best man—who, for the record, is not me.” He gestures toward Keith, whose expression immediately turns to one of mild horror as he realizes he’s about to be pulled into the spotlight.

His friends erupted into embarrassing cheers and whoops, knowing they were part of riling Keith up, and Keith’s face sunk redder and redder until it became a white color, and Lance was sure for a second he was about to faint. He shook his head aggressively at Lance, but Lance just shook the mic at Keith, refusing to let go and get Keith on that stage.

“Get up here, big guy!” Lance cheered, and got some chants in the room to start as Keith looked more and more on the brink of passing out.

Keith shifted uncomfortably, shaking his head as if to say

no way

, but Shiro laughed from his seat and cheered him on. “Come on, Keith! You’ve got this! For me!”

Lance seized the opportunity, turning to Keith with a mock-pleading look. “Keith, don’t leave us hanging! You’re the

best man

, after all. I mean, how can we complete this wedding without hearing your heartfelt words?” He winked, and the crowd chuckles, sensing Keith’s obvious reluctance.

Keith gave Lance a look that says

you are so dead when we are alone from witnesses

, but Lance only grinned wider, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Alright, alright,” Lance sighed, softening. “If it makes you feel better, I’ll stay up here with you, okay? Just...say whatever comes to mind.”

Keith looked like he’d rather be facing a swarm of Galra fighters, but with a resigned sigh, he steps up to the mic, snatching the mic out of Lance’s hand with such stabbing force that Lance flinched at the definete scratch he got from Keith’s nails, but stayed happily at his side, throwing the crowd a huge smile of accomplishment as Keith stood still as a board next to him.

He glanced down at it like he’s expecting it to bite, and then mutters under his breath, “Uh, I’ve never done this before, so… yeah, this’ll be fun.” the mic echoed and blared through the room, making everyone jump and flinch at the noise and how different of a presence he had compared to Lance.

But, with most of the room familiar with Keith, the audience instead laughed, and Lance patted his shoulder encouragingly, giving it a small squeeze. Keith glanced over to Lance to meet his eyes, swirling back in all sorts of emotions, so Lance just mimicked taking a breath in and out, nudging for Keith to do the same. Keith took a deep breath, visibly steeling himself, and then, something shifted. His expression softened as he looked over at Shiro, and his voice, while a bit shaky, started to come out steady and sure.

“Shiro…” Keith began, looking down at his hands before glancing back up. “Shiro was the first person who really saw me. When I joined the Garrison, I didn’t… I didn’t know how to be a part of anything. I didn’t even know I wanted to be. But Shiro—he was different. He never looked at me like a problem to be solved, even though I definitely was one when I stole his hoverbike from him the day we met.” A few people chuckle, and Keith smiled a little, his shoulders relaxing. Lance refused to drop his hand from Keith’s shoulder.

“He looked out for me when no one else would, even when I made it hard.”

“Trust me, he’s telling the truth and was such a pain in my ass about me looking out for him!” Shiro heckled, but his voice was nothing but pure love and adoration in their shared memories as the room erupted into laugher. Lance grinned at the crowd, watching the way Keith’s words lit everyone up with softness at their relationship and pure sympathy for his situation, like they felt the gratitude Keith was trying to express. He was killing this.

“You weren’t that much easier to deal with yourself, old man. I wasn’t the one who got lost in space.” Keith shot back, a snarky tease as his face lit up, and the crowd all let out ooohs as Shiro held up his hands in mock defeat.

“But despite the millions of times I shut down and tried to keep you far away from me, the more you stayed defiant and stubborn, somehow seeing something in that ragged kid who didn’t even have a home to call his. You took me in on weekends, you took me to my first movie. You gave me a homecooked meal that I didn’t have to battle other kids to share with. You gave me someone I could trust, which was something I didn’t think I’d ever be able to do.” Keith’s words cracked a bit, and the energy in the room shifted at the raw intensity of Keith’s words. Lance held his breath, feeling his eyes sting a bit at the way Keith clenched his jaw in unspoken memories, only shared between the two brothers in the room looking at each other with glazed over eyes.

“And I don’t know if I ever thanked him enough for that, or for all the times he stuck by me even when I didn’t deserve it.” Keith pauses, his voice growing quieter. “He’s always been there for me. And for everyone he cares about. Shiro… you’ve been like a brother to me. More than that, really.” His voice wavers, and he swallows, gathering himself. “And seeing you here, happy like this, with Curtis—seeing you get the life you always wanted—it means everything to me. I don’t think any of us could ever thank you enough for what you’ve done, but… I’m glad you’re finally happy.”

A wave of emotion washes over the crowd, and there’s a collective stillness in the room. Lance, standing beside him, watches Keith in stunned silence, his wide eyes softening with a kind of awe as Keith continues.

“You taught me how to be strong, but more than that, you taught me it’s okay to be open and trusting sometimes too,” Keith finishes, his voice thick with emotion. “And I’ll never forget that.”

Keith stands there, looking utterly overwhelmed but somehow more at ease, his eyes shining with a rare vulnerability. Lance can’t help but feel his heart swell as he looks at Keith, as if seeing him for the first time, truly understanding the depth of Keith’s love and gratitude for Shiro. He turns to lock eyes with Curtis, his chest raising in falling as he lets out another breath.

“And Curtis, all those stories about me are 100% true. I don’t share really well, so take it as a compliment that I’m not doing background checks and holding your for private screenings to test what a good guy you will be to my brother. Because I got to see you are from how happy you’ve made him, and that’s enough for me.” He broke into a shy smile, and Curtis returned that with watery eyes.

There’s a beat of silence, and then the crowd erupts into applause, with Shiro visibly wiping his eyes as he walks over to pull Keith into a tight hug. Lance, still standing by the mic, blinks, caught between feeling proud, moved, and slightly bewildered at just how deeply Keith’s words have struck him. He swallows, glancing away from the brothers to give them a private moment as he feels his own throat tighten, realizing that Keith just might have the biggest heart of all of them.

The night has fully unraveled into pure, boisterous joy, the party pulsing with laughter and clinking glasses, drinks overflowing and spilling to the floor to be forgotten, not one thought of worry. The world was buzzing with electricity and laughter, with reunions and cheers and applause every couple minutes when Shiro and Curtis would be drifting to a new group around the room, welcomed with nothing but love and appreciation. Lance somehow was able to remeber when their first dance was, and Hunk had to help him as they stablized each other climbing onto the stage to cue up their song, Your Song by Elton John, which left Lance another sobbing mess as Hunk cradled him, neither of them able to look at the dance floor and overflowing with all the sensitive and sweet emotions of how beautiful the song and the moment was, followed by This Will Be (An Everlasting Love) by Natalie Cole (Lance’s personal favorite because it reminded him of the award winning and most perfect movie

The Parent Trap

).

As the evening deepened and the drinks kept coming, Lance found himself swept up in a warm, buzzing happiness that filled him up from the inside out. Friends he hadn’t seen in ages surround him, and he’s overjoyed to find everyone’s guard down, laughing together like they were still in the Garrison. Hunk is roaring with laughter over something only he finds funny, Pidge is wobbling and slurring her words, and Matt is trying to keep her upright, though he’s not much better off himself. There’s a spark of mischief in the air as old classmates and Voltron teammates try their hand at barely-coordinated dance moves. Lance grins at it all, his heart swelling as he watches the people he loves most being unapologetically themselves. Pidge was 100% going to get in trouble for getting this hammered, but none of them could care, their parents and respomsibilites a blurred slur somewhere miles away in a different dimension.

Then, amid the music and revelry, the excitement kicks up a notch as Shiro and Adam announce they’re going to toss the bouquet and garter together for everyone to try and catch. Lance snapped to attention, his entire face feeling flushed and dizzy as he shoved off of his attempt at tangoing with Matt to push to the front of the crowd before the rest of his friends could react. In an instant, everyone’s scrambling, clambering over chairs and dodging tables to get a good spot. Pidge and Hunk are already strategizing on the sidelines while the rest of the the younger family members, siblings, half the party crowd around, and even Coran push and prod around a circle, ready to dive in.

Lance is ready, hes trained his entire life for moments like these. Hey, big Cuban families have big Cuban weddings and are constantly pushing the next relative to get married and throw more big weddings to have more big families. Its a constant cycle of partying!

As Lance is mid-laugh getting a dirty jab on his side from Pidge below him, caught up in the wild cheers, when he glances over and catches Keith’s gaze from across the dance floor, leaning back against the stage, arms crossed and a warm smile on his face, eyes trained on Shiro as he’slaughing at something Curtis is whispering to him. Keith’s watching them, a quiet expression on his face that’s almost unreadable, but there’s a soft genuine love there too. Something in that look tugs at Lance, like an itch he can’t quite reach. His chest tightens slightly, a spark of restlessness firing off before he even realizes what he’s doing. Without another thought, he staggers across the floor toward Keith, grinning and lighthearted but unable to shake the strange thrill in his stomach.

“Alright, mullet,” he says with a lopsided smirk, reaching out to grab Keith’s arm, “you’ve been hanging back too long. You can’t just lurk in the corner looking all mysterious at Shiro’s own wedding!”

Keith raised an eyebrow, his usual stoic facade in place, but there’s a glimmer in his eye that Lance recognizes all too well.

“Lance, come on. I’m just… observing. I’m allowed to just watch.” Keith says with a shrug, though he makes no move to pull away from Lance’s grip.

“Observing? No, no, no,” Lance scoffs, rolling his eyes. “You’re here to have fun! You might not have noticed, but that involves actually participating.” He throws an arm around Keith’s shoulders, pulling him closer, much to Keith’s exasperation. Keith tensed up under Lance’s touch, feeling frigid, which made alarms go off in Lance’s already fuzzy head, and he couldn’t hide the hurt it made his own heart feel at Keith’s sudden shield.

Keith sighed, crossing his arms with a faint pout. “I don’t think anyone needs me participating in whatever you’re doing. Pretty sure they’ve got enough of that already,” he says, nodding towards the chaos that’s broken out among the numerous people all fighting to try and push everyone away from the center of the dance floor. Lance could have sworn he saw Veronica throw one of the MFE’s over her shoulder and barrel into a couple of the other pilots that all were trained under her as Rachel went to yank back at her older sister’s hair. Yah, the Mcclain’s were all serious about things like this, not just him.

“See, this is what I’m talking about!” Lance poked Keith in the side as he pulled him toward the center of the room, his grip tight on Keith’s reluctant wrist.
“You always act like you’re too cool for this stuff, but I know the truth. You’re just as much of a softie as the rest of us.” Lance beamed, his voice full of fondness, and though Keith tries to shrug him off, there’s a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“You don’t know anything,” Keith muttered, but his usual edge is missing. He’s looking away, trying to hold on to his stubborn facade, but Lance caught a faint blush coloring his cheeks, and Lance’s smile grew. Keith tugged against Lance’s pull, a halfhearted resistance, but eventually gave in, letting himself be dragged into the fray, still pouting but unable to hide the slight smile forming.

“Aw, that little pout,” Lance slurred a tease, laughing as he leaned in closer, his voice dropping conspiratorially. “Don’t think I didn’t see that. It’s kinda cute, y’know?”

Keith’s eyes flew wide, before he recovered with a quick eye roll in irritation, pushing at Lance’s chest in a feeble attempt to keep some space between them. “You’re drunk.”

“Yeah? Well, you’re adorable, so I guess we’re both a little out of character tonight,” Lance shot back, his grin widening. There’s a heat to his cheeks he can’t blame entirely on the alcohol, and he finds himself leaning a bit closer, invading Keith’s space with an unapologetic charm that’s a bit more genuine than his usual playful front.

Keith huffed, blowing hair out of his eyes, but there’s an unmistakable blush dusting his cheeks now. He nudged Lance back with a smirk, a little less reluctant, the warmth in his eyes giving away his own amusement. “You’re insufferable,” he says, though his voice is softer than usual, like he doesn’t actually mind it all that much.

“Oh, you love it,” Lance flicked his hand dissmissively, laughing as he shoved his shoulder against Keith’s in an exaggerated, clumsy way. His laughter is carefree, and he feels a kind of joy he hasn’t felt in ages. His arm drapes over Keith’s shoulders, and he can’t help but watch the small, soft smile that creeps onto Keith’s face. There’s something gentle about it, a genuine warmth that makes Lance’s heart do a weird little flip.

As Shiro and Curtis prepare to toss the bouquet, Lance’s attention drifts to Keith’s smile again, watching the way it lights up his entire face. He can’t believe he’s standing here, of all places, bickering and laughing with Keith in the middle of a wedding, barely able to think about anything other than how good it feels to be near him. Keith gives him a sidelong glance, blushing as he notices Lance’s gaze lingering a bit too long.

“What?” Keith asks, his voice half-skeptical, half-embarrassed.

Lance snaps out of it, shaking his head and grinning. “Nothing! Just… glad you’re here,” he says, the words coming out before he can second-guess them. He chuckles, patting Keith’s back as he continues, “Now, eyes up, mullet! That bouquet’s not gonna catch itself.”

Keith snorts, rolling his eyes but straightening up, his expression softening as he watches Lance’s excitement. For a moment, the chaotic sounds around them fade, and it’s just the two of them, standing shoulder to shoulder, smiles softening as they look at each other in the center of the room.

The toss happens, and the crowd goes wild, a chaotic pile-up of limbs and laughter as everyone dives for the bouquet and garter. Lance charges forward with full confidence, only to feel someone (Keith, obviously) tugging at his shirt, making him stumble. He was rushing with a lot more force than Keith had anticipated, sending both of them flying forward and crashing through shoulders and legs as they shot forward with surprising force.

"Hey! Sabotage!" Lance yells, laughing as they both end up sprawled on the floor. Somehow, in the scuffle, Lance felt the light hit of something bouncing off his shoulder, and just as quick as it appeared, his arms snapped to react and caught it before it could fall to the ground. He blinked wildly, finding himself holding the bouquet, victorious and slightly baffled, with Keith sitting beside him, looking both amused and exasperated.

“Lance is gonna get married next!” A shout Lance couldn’t make out from who echoed in the room, and soon everyone erupted into wild laughter and cheers, people rushing around to applaud and others groaning and whining at how it should have been them. Lance took a second before he erupted into the biggest laugh, one he hadn’t felt like he was able to have in months, his chest feeling light as he bounced to his feet and brandished the bouquet above his head in victory, as if it was a gold medal he had won. He caught Keith’s eyes below him, still sat in a shocked position on the floor, his eyes dancing up at Lance in amusement and something a little fond. Lance felt his skin crawl, catching that look on Keith. If he looked at him like that any longer….

No, that’s the alcohol speaking.

Suddenly, Hunk and Pidge threw themselves at Lance, Pidge punching his arm and Hunk giving his hair a nuggie before going to help Keith up.

“That’s not fair. You practically barrel rolled through half the competion.” Pidge groaned, lamely trying to snatch at the flowers, but Lance’s height overpowered her as he held it high from the short girl.

“Don’t be a sore loser, Pidge. You just have to come to accept that there are things in life you will never beat me at. From videogames to flower tosses.” Lance beamed, watching the way her face scrunched in annoyance, but then her eyes flickered with a dark thought as a small grin plastered across her face.

“You do know the saying of what happens next, right?”

Lance squinted down at her flushed face, not liking the look of pure evil she was giving him.

“What…” He deadpanned, and her eyes flicked over to where Hunk and Keith were laughing to each other over something.

“Just that the single person who catches the flower bouquet at a wedding is usually headed to marry the single best man.” She shrugged nonchalantly. Lance immediately flushed a dark red, feeling his palms sweat as he could only choke into a coughing fit of shock.

“That-What! Th-that’s never, in all my time attending weddings! You-tha…YOU MADE THAT UP!” Lance finally stuttered out, his voice rising in octave as she gleamed up at him through her glasses.

“What did Pidge make up now?” Lance swiveled on his heel to face Keith and Hunk now with them, Hunk with an arm around Keith’s shoulders with a dopey smile, and Keith, face flushed, hair tosseled, grinning at Lance with a soft look. Lance gulped, glaring at Pidge who was just silently enjoying his struggle.

“How everyone who didn’t get the flower toss has to do a loser shot and do a lame version of the chicken dance as punishment.” Lance shrugged, hoping he wasn’t as red as he felt.

“That’s definitely not a thing.” Hunk snorted.

“Exactly! But we should definitely all go do a shot anyway. For Shiro’s wedding!” Lance shouted, motioning for the bar. The three of them all looked at him with varying stages of confusion to straight out filth before all shrugging, following suit.

None of them were able to leave eachother’s sides the rest of the night, all a drunk mess for their families to find.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

When Lance finally showed up to his orientation training of being a professor at the Garrison, it was like stepping into a place he thought he’d closed the door on for good. Like seeing a ghost walking the hallways, except he was in fact the ghost. Washed up and showing up to a high school reunion when you were told not to show up.

Except no one was telling him to show up and he was immensely in his head for the last year when everyone had in fact been wanting him to show up.

He was honestly surprised at his turn around being able to start so soon. Guess having someone like Shiro on his side to call in as his referral must have bumped him high on the list in applicants. That, and the fact he was a memorable and highly regarded member of Voltron. He’d spent so much time away—

out there

—that walking these familiar halls, with their gleaming white walls and perfectly polished floors, felt almost eerie. Now he wasn’t some nervous cadet in orange scrubs staring wide eyed at the senior leaders or a cocky pilot itching to show off his skill in simulations. No, today he wore the gray uniform of an instructor, and it sat weirdly stiff on his shoulders. It wasn’t uncomfortable exactly, but he could feel the difference, the weight of it pressing down on him, reminding him with every step that he wasn’t here to sit in a class anymore. He was here to stand at the front of one.

The orientation was small—just him and a handful of other ex-pilots and returning cadets who were also training to teach. Lance felt awkward and out of place, the faces around him a mix of eager newcomers and worn-out veterans. He tried to look relaxed, a lazy smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, but inside, a swirl of self-doubt gnawed at him.

What am I doing here?

he kept asking himself, feeling the weight of all he’d seen and done pressing down on him. He didn’t feel ready, didn’t feel like he could stand up in front of a bunch of fresh-faced kids and be the role model they needed. But the Garrison thought he could. Keith believed he could.

Lance and the group made his way to the lecture hall following Professor Montgormy, a past professor Lance and Hunk had with what seemed ages ago. She was in charge of leading him through the days orientation, bringing him through all the rooms and sights of the Galaxy Garrison, making sure he stayed awake in informational meetings and required the digital pads to download his lesson plans. Yah, it was definitely weird to see her after all this time, and now be considered on her playing field. She stalked through the halls, not pausing as a group of junior cadets were lined along the wall in salute to let the senior officials past. Lance gulped, forcing himself to straighten up and nodding as he passed a few cadets who glanced at him curiously. It made him feel more on edge when some of them had a flash of recognition flash through them as one girl nudged her friend to whisper, eyes still trained on him.

It felt strange—like everyone was looking, assessing him, waiting for some big sign that he belonged here, that he was no longer that wise-cracking kid who always seemed on the verge of breaking the rules. He was

Professor McClain

now, and the title clung to him as uncomfortably as the uniform, an identity he was still trying to feel out.

As he walked, Lance passed by one of the simulation rooms he’d spent so many hours in as a cadet, and he caught a glimpse of himself in the glass. There he was, looking more mature but somehow… ghostlike, a shadow of the kid he used to be. He could remember the thrill of running down these halls, yanking at Hunk with adrenaline coursing through his veins, hungry to prove himself, certain he’d be the best pilot the Garrison had ever seen. Back then, he’d been laser-focused, maybe a little reckless, his mind filled with dreams of flying to the stars. And now? Now he’d

been

there, far beyond what he’d ever imagined. He’d seen other worlds, fought battles alongside allies who’d changed his life. He’d met Keith here, right in this very place, and the memories of their rivalry, their friendship, and everything that came after it felt almost as close as they did far away.

As they gathered in the auditorium, Lance’s gaze wandered over to where some of the current cadets were seated, chattering among themselves, dressed in the same cadet uniforms he’d once worn. It was unnerving, seeing them so bright-eyed and hopeful, so oblivious to what waited for them beyond these walls. He remembered what it was like, how he used to sit in those very seats, dreaming of the stars, itching to prove himself. Back then, he thought the Garrison was the whole world, the only path that mattered. And then Voltron had taken him to places far beyond his imagination, places the Garrison couldn’t even begin to understand.

Now he was back, but everything felt... smaller. The polished halls, the crisp lines of the uniforms, even the way people spoke about “the vastness of space” felt like it was missing something vital, something he’d found in the silence of space, fighting alongside his friends. Being here felt like trying to shove himself back into a box he’d outgrown. And yet, he was here. That part was undeniable, a reality he couldn’t just shrug off.

During orientation, an instructor was explaining the Garrison’s new curriculum, the updated simulators, the protocols for teaching young cadets—information Lance only half-listened to. His mind kept wandering, the white-noise hum of the instructor’s voice mingling with memories of interstellar battles and late-night talks with his team, all of them united by things that the Garrison could never understand. He remembered long nights spent laughing with Hunk and Pidge, their shared jokes and stories of home echoing in his ears, and here he was, somehow supposed to pass that knowledge on to strangers.As the orientation went on, Lance couldn’t stop himself from glancing around the room, his gaze snagging on faces he recognized: people who’d once been his superiors, mentors, some of them even the instructors who’d critiqued his flying back when he’d been a cadet. Seeing them seated next to him, treating him like an equal, was... disorienting. Especially Iverson. The man had never believed in him, always had that look, like Lance was one slip-up away from proving all his doubts right. And now, here they were, both with the same title, sitting in the same room, and it felt strange, like he was in some alternate reality where everything had flipped.

When they finally broke for a tour of the new instructor areas, Lance walked quietly, trailing behind, a bundle of mixed emotions churning inside him. He didn’t have the same blind faith in it he once did. He’d left as a boy, driven by dreams and ego, and he’d come back as something else, someone with scars and stories that didn’t fit into the clean-cut world of the Garrison. Hell, he never even finished the training program himself! How was he going to be capable of teaching and bringing a whole new world of bright cadets to graduation when he couldn’t even do it?

Not like he had been a dropout, unlike

some

people.

And then he thought about what Keith had said, finding something he was passionate about and genuinely want to do, to help others and himself in the process. That he was perfect for this. Maybe that was it. Maybe that was why he was here, despite how awkward and out of place he felt. He could help these new cadets understand what was really out there, give them the wisdom he’d earned the hard way. That thought settled something in him, though it didn’t erase the tension.

He could hear his family’s voices in his head, proud and supportive, his mom saying,

"embracing the thrill of change."

For a second, he let himself believe it, standing a little taller as he finished the tour

Lance somehow was able to get access the Holt Hangar, an objectively top secret and super hard to get into part of the Garrison that was run by the Holt family and requiring the highest access to get in. After he got a break from his orientation training, he wandered around the halls, trying to remember the layout and what this world was like before stumbling along Colleen Holt’s laboratory. He had never really checked it out in the past, too consumed with, well, whooing Allura and what not, so when he did see it, it was filled with varying stages of decaying plants and mulches and dirt samples, along with blossoming flowers of different planets and species he had forgotten even existed. Colleen, the terrifying botanist she was, had been just as scary in asking what he was doing in her lab, and Lance had scrambled to ask where he would find her daughter, fumbling over calling her Pidge, to Katie, to her daughter, to then correcting himself and trying to retry saying her name, but Colleen had just sighed and pointed the direction of the hangar. He thanked her profusely and flew out of there. Something about scary moms always got him, and it was crazy how much of a trend it was for his friends to have them.

Lance opted to facetime Pidge a billion times to bug her phone, knowing she left it on do not disturb, bug her with enough texts, and threatened that if she did not collect him to get into the hangar that he would never bring his moms cooking to her as lunch again.

That was enough for her to give him the clearance pass for the day.

“I don’t get why you don’t just give me clearance for, like, ever!” Lance sighed as the door slid open with heaviness, revealing just how secret this hangar was. Pidge glared up at him over her glasses, a hand on her hips and clearly ticked off at his insistence. She was dressed in her grey work jumpsuit and a stereotypical white lab coat hanging on her.

Nerd

. Her hair pulled back into high ponytails at the top of her head, which would have been adorable, but he knew better than to tease her. She

actually

bit him once when he made a joke about her being cute when she finally was able to grow out her hair long enough for the hairstyle.

Never again.

She had heavy duty gloves that looked like they could handle high voltage electric shocks (the only reason Lance even knew what that was is because she wore a lot of things like that when tinkering in the past), and was holding some box in her hand that had wires sticking out of it.

“Just because you’re my friend doesn’t give you unlimited access to highly sensitive things.” Pidge grumbled, swiveling fast on her heel and immediately rushing off into the hangar.

“Please, is my facecard not enough to get access? Or my wonderful and amazing resume of being, I don’t know, PART VOLTRON for three years?” Lance threw his arms over his head as he followed his small friend, but dropped them in shock as his eyes blew wide and his jaw popped open at the sight of the Holt Hangar of pure innovation.

Before him, sprawled across the entire hangar floor, was a world beyond anything he’d ever imagined. The space wasn’t just a hangar anymore—it was an ecosystem, a technological dreamscape come to life, each corner and shelf humming and glowing with innovations he’d never seen before. Robotic limbs extended from the walls, jointed and articulated in ways that seemed impossibly complex, their movements smooth and lifelike as they adjusted parts, recharged themselves, or delicately tended to nearby plants that thrived amidst the machinery.

The air felt alive, charged with something almost magical. Vines twisted around steel supports, winding up from the ground and across the walls, but these weren’t just any plants—they had veins of faintly pulsing light, like miniature rivers of electricity. He recognized Olkari tech, but it was more than that. He had recounted weakly how Pidge had somehow melded Olkari bioengineering with traditional robotics, the usual blah blah blah Lance tuned out when she really got talking, but actually seeing it was a whole other level. This kind of innovation was turning every corner of the hangar into a pulsing, breathing fusion of plant and machine. Translucent petals glowed softly as they emitted streams of data, each pulse of light flashing in tandem with screens, circuits, and control panels set into the walls.

In the center of the hangar, a towering structure seemed to stretch upwards like a tree, its “branches” actually massive, spiraling metal arms with adjustable grips and prongs. And as if that weren’t impressive enough, the branches didn’t simply reach up—they were actively reconfiguring, adjusting and twisting together in complex, interwoven braids of steel and light, adapting themselves to meet the needs of each project in the room, almost like a mainframe of data and tech that had access to every single piece of information, like a harddrive. Smaller robotic drones darted in and out of this technological canopy, retrieving tools, welding parts together, even pruning the bioengineered plants that coiled around the machinery as other scientists in similar labcoats and grey jumpsuits stood reading charts under the tree, taking equipment from the robotic drones, or watering the vines with….oil? Lance had to blink a couple times to comprehend everything.

Each step Lance took forward made the room feel more alive. The ground hummed beneath his boots, vibrations subtly changing frequency as he walked across areas where Olkari roots merged seamlessly with wires. Some parts of the floor itself seemed to respond to him, shifting underfoot to guide his path. Holoprojectors sprang to life as he passed, projecting schematics in midair, images hovering beside him as though personally guiding his way. A piece of something resembling a tiny mechanical forest sat on one of the tables, miniature trees of metal and glass that reflected light across the room in fractals, mimicking the photosynthesis process but in vivid streaks of blue and green. And all around him were devices beyond his comprehension: multi-limbed robotic arms with sensors that glowed with an intelligence he didn’t fully understand, exoskeletons with holographic control panels, and complex machinery that blended seamlessly with nature itself. It was as if Pidge had taken every ounce of brilliance she had and poured it into this one space, creating not just a lab, but a living, breathing entity.

He turned in circles, his jaw hanging open. The hum of energy was almost musical, layers of whirring and buzzing, of beeping and droning, all of it weaving together in a symphony of sound and light that was almost overwhelming. Lance could feel the thrum of it in his bones, like he was standing in the very heart of technological evolution itself. Every breath tasted faintly metallic, but somehow fresh, like air infused with a strange, electric life force. Pidge was a god damn genius. No, Pidge was a

god

.

And then his gaze caught on one particular machine—a robot nearly as tall as him, its chest emitting a steady glow from a core wrapped in living vines that seemed to pulsate in time with a heartbeat. It turned its head, almost too gracefully, and met his eyes with what felt like awareness. Lance found himself staring back, transfixed, watching as it reached out one gentle, metal hand to tend to a nearby plant that drooped slightly. The robot’s fingers brushed a leaf with a care he could only describe as tenderness, and he realized he was witnessing something close to sentience, or at least the closest imitation of it he’d ever seen. A chill ran down his spine as he whipped to gawk back at Pidge, who was looking at him with an almost shy expression, her eyes wide and a little eager.

As if she was actually nervous and anticipating what Lance had to say.

He just shook his head, his mouth dropping open and closed, motioning around him frantically as if that could describe his pride and shock and full out amazement from the sight in front of him. The more he began to fumble, the more Pidge’s face began to beam a bit, her nervousness dissipating just as fast as she watched Lance gawk and scramble.

Finally, he just let out the lamest attempt at a whistle, feeling his heart racing. “Pidge…” he managed, voice a little shaky. “What

is

all of this?”

Pidge grinned, adjusting her glasses and shrugging as if this whole wonderland was no big deal. “Just a little something I whipped up.”

“You made GENIUS YOU!” Lance couldn’t stop the swarm of joy and pride he had as he launched himself at her, sweeping her up in a huge hug and spinning, her small legs flying out.

“Lannnnnnnnnce, ugh! Enough!” She groaned, but Lance could barley hear her over his own laughter, finally dropping her as her face was blushing a slight pink from the attention.

“I knew you were the next Einstein, but man. This goes way beyond a stupid emc squared or whatever he did. This is more than the guy who invented light!”

“No one invented light, Lance. Edison proved you could harness electric light through filaments in–”

“Ah ah ah ah. I don’t wanna hear anything about any of those dumb IDIOTS who were lightyears away from doing something like this.” Lance brandished his arms out again, his eyes not sure where to even land. Pidge let out a small chuckle, giving in to Lance finally.

“Yah, it is pretty cool.” She shrugged, and Lance just laughed.

Cool was certaintly an understatement.

“Katie! A shipment of those parts you wanted finally came in.” the two of them turned to see Matt approaching, waving over to them. But Lance nearly choked seeing the small robot at Matt’s side. It was probably the size of his nephew and looked like a mini version of Pidge if she was a boy. Or when she pretended to be a boy? It had a small screwed up face and buck teeth, and a small nose with a pair of glasses sitting on it. It kept pace with Matt’s hurried demeanor, and Lance blinked at it and back at Pidge, confused if she had replicated herself as a robot.

“Oh, Lance! Katie mentioned how you were finally joining the Garrison as a professor. Glad to have you hear on the team.” Matt came to a stop in front of him, holding out his hand with a huge grin. He was in a matching grey jumpsuit, but the top half was rolled down and tied around his waist to reveal a white undershirt covered in oil stains and dirt smears and what looked eerily like a blast mark of smoke, and a pair of goggles dangling from his neck, one lens cracked. The robot came to a pause at Matt’s side as well, standing at attention and blinking and whirring to wait. Lance blinked at it as he took Matt’s hand, letting Matt shake enthusiastically as his eyes stayed trained on the robot.

“What–”

“Did it come with nose cone? Last time they told me it was gonna be in the delivery and the stupid jerks forgot to ship it.” Pidge interrupted Lance’s attempt to figure out what the heck was at Matt’s side. Matt shifted on his feet, avoiding eye contact with his younger sister.

“Well, they definitely packed the shock cords. I just opened one of the boxes.”

“They were addressed to me.”

“Yah, but the name had just Holt on it so I was able to sign for it, so technically they are mine right now.”

“You’re so annoying.”

“And you’re so impatient.”

“I’m gonna tell mom so she takes away your nintendo switch tonight.”

“I’m fully a legal adult and not scared of your tattle tales….But also don’t tell her.”

As Lance watched the siblings bicker with each other, Lance felt a weird tingle in his head, like a dizziness. A swirl of a low hum, sort of like the energy felt in the room, but a lot stronger than that. More energical, if that was a word. Less electric, more gnawing, clawing, a white and bright surge of energy that hit across Lance in the back of his head and seared through his frontal lobe as if it was attempting to shoot out. Lance felt his body shudder at the way it affected him whole heartedly as he took a couple steps back, feeling a little knocked out from it.

“Woah, are you ok?” Matt turned his attention from his sister to Lance, who just as fast felt that searing white heat in his head develop, vanish.

“Yah, just got a little dizzy. Must have forgotten to drink water with all that orientation stuff I was doing!” Lance forced a laugh, throwing a thumbs up at Matt. Pidge tilted her head as if inspecting him, before turning back to her brother.

“I’m just saying, when we play Mario Kart tonight and I beat you, I will be able to hold jurisdiction over what you are able to sign when things get delivered.” Pidge shrugged at her brother, who made a mock gasp down at her.

“You’re forgetting I’m literally the older brother here and had a clean streak of wins going.”

“Yah, when I was little. Neither of us played Mario for the years we were in space and got rusty and I KNOW for a fact you haven’t been practicing up. You, me, tonight. Settled like adults.”

Lance snorted at the two of them, some of the smartest if not THE smartest minds of their time and here they were, still bickering as if they were debating who got to stay up the latest on a weeknight.

“I bet neither of you could beat my older brother Louis in a mario game. The loser is unemployed and spends all his time playing video games locked up in his room, so that’s a loss you will have to be ok wit–AOOU!” Lance stumbled again, grabbing at the back of his head as he shut his eyes shut. The searing energy of white light came flickering back, soaring across the length of the back of his head and shooting to his forehead again. It came faster and left just as soon, but it was the same feeling. Strong, clawing, like it was trying to get his attention. He hadn’t felt something like that since…

“Ok, now you’re really freaking me out here. This better be a really bad joke. Ha ha.” Pidge attempted a shallow mock laugh, but her eyes were shinning in worry. Lance let out a shuddering breath, blinking at the familiar emotion it gave him. That would make zero sense if he thought what he thought it was. Because that was not something that could exist anymore. He was just experiencing second hand mechanical environmental burn from Pidge’s crazy hangar, or probably inhaled something he shouldn’t have.

“I’m fine, I swear. I just got a little dizzy for a second but its all good. The Garrison is trying to take me out already on day 1!” Lance threw them shallow grins, but the two both narrowed their eyes at him, not buying what he was saying.

“Ok then. There’s a vending machine in the hall outside the hangar. They have the best version of pretzels in there, trust me. I gotta run to help dad with something, but glad you’re here Lance.” Matt gave him a small smile before saluting, walking off with the robot. Pidge stayed inspecting him, her eyes flicking across his face as if she was putting together a puzzle. Lance gave her another big smile, waving her away.

“I said I’m fine. Jeez, you worry even more and you’re gonna blow a casket.” Lance offered another reassuring smile, but the feeling of what he just experienced stayed lingering in the back of his mind. Yah, there was no way that was real. He was just experiencing deja vu. Because if it was true, and there was actual hope that this could become what it used to…

If they were actually alive after all this time…

No.

So he shoved down whatever weird feeling of dizziness in the back of his head as Pidge led him out, demanding that he was not to bring anyone into the hangar and that it should remain as top secret lock down access as it was. Lance promised, returning back to the halls to find the instructor lounge, but his mind still burned a bit.

Nope. No way. Not in a million years.

Lance pushed through the doors of Veronica’s office at the end of the day, his eyes burning from the countless textbooks of instructions he was forced to read and his legs aching a little from the distance he had crossed a million times over the Garrison perimtiers. How did the professors do this every single day, and he hadn’t even gotten to seeing what his class would be like. Would they be the young junior cadets, eager and bright eyed and worshipping his every word, or would they be the older senior cadets, antsy and demanding and pushy for their own mark at the Garrison, seemingly know it alls and expecting the world?

“Who said you could storm my office like this?” Veronica snapped up from her desk, eyes narrowing at him as he sauntered in, whistling as he looked around.

“If you act the same way Pidge did when I got to see her hangar, I’m gonna be twice as offended as your own blood and favorite brother.”

“Who said you were my favorite?” Veronica snorted, leaning back in her chair. It was weird, seeing his oldest sister in this form of power and responsibility. It felt like ages ago that he had watched her earn her place as a cadet at the Garrsion, and then when he would bug her when she was a senior cadet and he was a junior one. She was in such a similar place he had been, but also miles ahead of him. She was intelligent, determined, and led with such a fire that Lance missed out half on from his time away, and that both included space and his year mourning at home. She outranked so many other officials and professors at the Garrsion as a leading senior officer, singelhadely running the new MFE program and data analytics for foreign galaxies and their communications with the Garrison.

She got to become this incredible leader and cool role model, but Lance would never tell her. Her ego was big enough.

“You happy now? Completed my first day at the Garrison and you’re still being all snappy with me.” Lance plopped down in the seat across from her, one she usually had for people who came to meet with her. Or MFE’s she had to reprimand.

“One, I am your commanding officer and you are exhibiting really poor behavior in front of me. Two, I’m your older sister and can be as snappy with you as I want. Call it initiation.” She gleamed over her glasses at him, and Lance relaxed a little at her tease, but caught the way her eyes drifted down to her phone.

“When do I get to teach the kids?”

“You just started. You’re not gonna be thrown in front of a classroom on your first day. Shouldn’t you have learned this? Why are you bugging me about this.”

“Oh, I’m sure you have such important stuff to do.”

“I do, in fact. Didn’t you read my plaque on the door to

my

office?” Veronica rolled her eyes, but a huge smile was still on her face, so Lance continued on his teasing. This felt natrual, working with his sister. Seeing Pidge on his breaks. Maybe this was where he was meant to be.

“You think you’ll need help in the MFE program? Ooh, or do you think they’ll place me as a flight simulator instructor? Oooh, or one of the test pilots to teach them how to take off the runways? That would be…hey, are you even listening to me or you still gotta finish up last minute emails?” Lance frowned, watching as Veronica’s eyes snapped back up from her phone. He expected her to scowl at him, lament on about how important and highly stressful her job was, how much she constantly had to do and had to balance two things at once, but her face just flushed red instead, almost like she was caught.

“I, uh, sorry. Test pilots. You had the worst scores when you were a kid so I doubt you will be in charge of that.” Veronica pushed on, clearing he throat, but Lance now narrowed his eyes at her.

“What was that?”

“Nothing. What?”

“No, if it was nothing you wouldn’t have gotten all weird.”

“I didn’t get weird. Just drop it.”

“I know what Mcclains look like when they are embarrassed. Call it a shared trait along with the raging ADHD through all of us. You’ve been strumming your fingers on your desk this entire time too.” Lance pointed at Veronica’s hand, which was in fact strumming on the top of her desk, mimicking the same action he himself did, even when he didn’t realize he was.

“I’m not embarrassed. There’s nothing that you’re trying to point out! You came into MY office, anyway.” Veronica’s face got redder, and Lance had her right where he wanted.

“You’re waiting for a text!” He shoved his finger over the desk at her, and she snapped her head back, her face flushing even redder. This made him laugh out another

HA

gotcha.

“No I’m not!” Veronica attempted, but Lance could see right through her. She was his best friend growing up, after all.

“Who is he? Is he another instructor somewhere at the Garrsion? Ooh, I bet he teaches like, physics or something. You always had a soft spot for nerds. He’s probably secretly really fit under his uniform. Do you have a thing for glasses? I forget.” he then gasped out loud, and she froze.

“Is it another senior official? Someone in your rank? Or worse, is it someone who outanks you? That would make this scandalous. No wonder you don’t want to talk about it…”

“Lance, you big idiot, it’s none of that.” Veronica grumbled, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Oh, its totally that. Which secret Galaxy Garrison guy are you smooching it up with? That would make so much sense of why you’ve been addicted to your phone in the last day I’ve seen yo—”

“Oh my god shut up I’m texting Axca!” Veronica snapped, throwing daggers with her eyes at him. Lance froze, now his face heating up.

“Oh! Oh my god you guys still keep up on being buddies? I am such a good friendship matchmaker.” Lance laughed, but her face stayed burning, her eyes still glaring back at him before she leaned back in her seat, exhaling out an exhausted sigh.

“I’m sure someone like her thinks its…friendship.” her eyes dropped to her phone, and Lance froze completely.

Wait

.

“What else would it be?” Lance spoke slowly, his own brain sparking at an attempt to put some pieces together. Veronica brought her gaze up to him, eyes heavy and lidded. She let out a sigh, shrugging her shoulders.

“Maybe, like, a texting situationship? Like, flirting?” Veronica spoke slowly.

Ok, what?

“But, Axca’s a girl.” Lance blinked back. At this, Veronica just stared wide eyed at him, her face still flushed but tinged with a bit of annoyance.

“If you need me to spell this out for you, I can’t imagine how long its gonna take for you to figure out what we all know already.” She snapped.

“Ok, rude. Stop talking in like morse code and get to the point already.” Lance’s voice tightened, annoyance flaring back at her. She groaned, lolling her head to one side of her shoulder to the other as if contemplating if she really wanted to speak.

“Me and Axca have been talking.”

“Ok?”

“Like, romantically talking. Flirting. Or, at least I think so.”

The two sat in silence, neither speaking as Veronica snapped her eyes back at her brother, her face twisted in annoyance and flushed red in embarrassment as he blinked back in shock at her.

“Oh my god you have a crush on her.” He breathed out. She groaned, throwing her hands over her face as Lance shot to his feet with a squeal.

“I’M A MATCHMAKER. YOU LIKE LIKE AXCA! Oh my god this is amazing. Oh my god, wait until I….” He paused, watching the turmoil flood over Veronica.

His sister liked girls.

Hm.

If Lance had a nickel for every person who had been gay the entire time who he was really close to but had no idea, he’d have two nickels. Which is two too many.

“Wait, so like, when did you. I mean…” Lance sunk back down in his chair, his excitement and overzealous energy forcing itself to calm as he watched the way older sister seemed so fragile. So nervous. So awkward. The opposite of anything Veronica ever was. Veronica met Lance’s gaze, her eyes locking with his as she took him in. Something flashed in recognition over her expression as she dropped her hands, scrunching her nose up.

“You really didn’t know?” Veronica snorted. Lance flushed, shrugging.

“It wasn’t something I ever really considered. I mean, I guess you never had a boyfriend but I wasn’t one to judge.” He laughed awkwardly, and the two siblings just looked at eachother in a new revelation.

“Yah, I guess you never were. I should have told you sooner, I don’t know why I didn’t, but I guess I never really had to because…” She shrugged, glancing away from him. Lance furrowed his brow, not quite understanding.

“You didn’t have to tell me anything you didn’t want to. I guess I’m still playing catch up on a lot of your guys lives I didn’t realize I didn’t have access to.” Lance shrugged, his mind drifting to Keith’s own confession, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Man, he had awful gaydar.

Speaking of which…

“Anyway, that’s what’s been distracting me.” Veronica’s voice snapped Lance out of thinking of a certain someone’s eyes and smile. He hummed out a question, caught off a little from his daydream, so she rolled her eyes and pointed at her phone.

“We’ve been texting, yknow. She’s weirdly funny, in an awkward, lacking socialization and human cues, Galran type of way.” Veronica shrugged, a fond smile on her face.

“I can think of someone like that.” Lance scoffed, his own mouth tugging up at a fond smile to match. Veronica’s eyes flickered with something else that Lance couldn’t catch, but she didn’t press and continued on.

“But that’s what’s weird. She’d tell me when she would be busy, how long she expected not to be able to communicate with me. But suddenly it just went radio silent on her end, and…I don’t know. I guess I scared her off? Or she just lost interest?” Her eyes dropped back to the phone, and Lance hated the weirdly familiar ache of fearing being too much. Of scaring someone off with his own emotions. Of messing a relationship up completely for the sake of something selfish.

“They get really busy up there at the Blades, trust me. They deal with random missions and explosive crazy moments all the time, so its definitely something she got caught up in.” Lance waved her concern away, but her lips still pouted a bit.

“Hey, you’re amazing. And from my time with Axca, she is just as awkward as she seems on text, but also very direct and straightforward. If she didn’t want to talk to you anymore, it would be in a whole memo detailing what went wrong. But she hasn’t. I think she really enjoys having you to talk to too.” Lance caught his sister’s eye, and her face flushed a bit at that, smiling a little at her phone.

The siblings sat in their own thoughts, Veronica thinking about Axca while Lance’s mind drifted to Keith. Out there again. Probably on something just as dangerous as Axca was doing in the moment. Not with him. At his side. Smiling. Oh god, the way he smiled tugged at Lance’s heartstrings so much that it made him feel like bubbling up and just letting out–

“Who knew after everything we would be so concerned about what a half Galra thought about us?”

Lance blinked, looking at his sister. Her brown eyes danced back at him, a knowing smile on her face, and Lance

burned.

He was so ready to crack, to let everything out and just spill and tell her the way his heart beat and studdered being even close to Keith. How his eyes haunted him and how he wanted to just dive in them and get pulled in the swirling galaxy that they consisted, how they were the most beautiful sight he had ever seen, and he had flown through cosmos and supernovas and whirpools of swirling stars in the sky. Nothing compared to Keith.

Nothing ever would.

And just as he was about to drop his mouth open and let the word vomit swarm out, a fast ripple of door knocks banged against Veronica’s door. The two siblings snapped their heads to it in confusion as Veronica cleared her throat and let out a commanding ‘come in’.

Pidge poked her head in, her eyes wide and looking a little white.

“Miss me already?” Lance threw her a wink, but her face stopped him in his tracks.

“Is everything alright? Something wrong with the hangar?” Veronica asked, but Pidge just shook her head, her eyes staring at Lance.

“Why haven’t you answered your phone?” Pidge demanded. Lance blinked, his throat feeling eerily dry.

“It’s in the bottom of my bag. I was busy wrapping up orientation and came straight to talk to Veronica and–”

Pidge just let out a tight sigh and began pacing the length of the office, looking so lost in thought and torn up.

“OK…now you’re the one who is scaring me. What’s all this?” Lance gestured to her antsy shuffling, and she just shook her head, mumbling nonsense to herself.

“Pidge…” Lance snapped his fingers, and she looked up, still looking pale.

“Keith wants us at the Blades headquarters.” She muttered. Lance felt his stomach drop. Did something happen? Was Keith in trouble? Did someone hurt him and he needed their help?

“What? Is he ok?” Lance dove for his bag, shuffling around to find his phone.

“It was really brief, just a quick message and it being all official. How he’s quote on quote ‘requesting a mandatory and quick visit to Blades Headquarters’. Like, what the fuck does that even mean?”

Lance fumbled for the message and landed on Keith’s literal email to all four of them, Shiro included. No details, no further information. Nothing. Just short and to the point, exactly the trained mindset Kieth always had.

“Did something happen?” Veronica’s face also darkened, her fingers toying around grabbing at her phone.

“This is weird, right? All this time, Keith never inviting us to the Blades base once. I mean, isn’t it like, super secretive and only accessibly if you join them like Lance did?”

“I go two for two on getting access to super secret places.” Lance winked at her, trying to lighten the feeling of him wanting to completely vomit. Pideg gripped at Lance’s seat, shaking her head in disbelief.

“I don’t get what this is.” She was someone who hated unanswered questions. Always an answer at the ready. Always fully understood something. But when it came to the Blades, to this world of Keith, this was an understanding that none of them would fully grasp unless they went.

“Keith literally dropped me back on Earth to make sure I wasn’t around for whatever they were doing next. Do we even know if this is Keith sending the message?” Lance asked, his chest feeling heavy. Pidge stared back at him with a pulled expression, also unsure of the answer. Then, their phones buzzed again with a response.

Shiro- I will be taking a ship on behalf of the Garrison to take it to the Blades. I expect the rest of you on Earth on it. Hunk, we will meet you there from where you are in space.

Lance and Pidge blinked at it, reading it over and over.

There went some of their questions. If Shiro was in on it, then it was definitely something way out of any of their understandings.

The silence in the cockpit was thick enough to cut through. Lance kept tapping his fingers against his knee, glancing from the cockpit door to Pidge, and then down to the silent, star-dotted expanse outside the ship. Shiro hadn’t given them any details—just a quick comment that Keith had requested them at the base, and that they needed to go immediately and respect his wishes. No further information, no hint of what could be waiting. Lance hadn’t even had a second thought to listen to Keith’s email when Veronica promised she would cover for him at dinner that night if he wasn’t back in time. He hadn’t even considered how long this would take, the extent of what this could mean as he was practically racing out of his sister’s office. She made him promise to come back safe, pulling him in a tight hug before punching him slightly, whispering that he needed to get back their Galra’s. Lance blushed, nodding and rushing away from his sister who always knew WAYYY too much about him without ever needing to be told. Lance had asked Pidge if she needed to tell her family, but Pidge insisted that the less they knew, the better. If her mother knew, she would be locked inside her room and not allowed anywhere near the Garrison for weeks to make sure she stayed on Earth. She made a cheeky comment about how the Holt family had trauma with its members disappearing off into space or something. Ha ha ha.

Shiro had in fact been waiting at a liftoff tarmac at the Garrision, and Lance and Pidge had not questioned how he got the authority and permission to take off with one of the Garrison ships, but neither of them wanted to question Shiro as they climbed in as Shiro grimly motioned to their seats. They snapped in as Shiro took off quickly, getting to passby the control center and get airborne quick. It was honestly really intimidating to see Shiro with such a command like this, knowing he had the highest ranking he could have achieved at the Garrison for his time and heroic endentures. He was respected, and so well acquitted to do quite literally anything in the eyes of everyone there. Lance had attempted to ask what was going on, but Shiro had insisted that they find out when they got there. The urgency in Shiro’s tone had been unsettling enough, but the lack of explanation made the quiet simmer with tension, each of them watching each other out of the corner of their eyes.

Pidge shifted beside Lance, the glare she shot his way almost daring him to break the silence. She was all but mouthing at him to ask Shiro what was going on, motioning her head at the seat in front of them and widening her eyes back at Lance as a silent command. Lance clenched his jaw, refusing to take the bait.

You ask,

he mouthed back, widening his eyes in an exaggerated expression. She gave him an unimpressed raise of her brow, folding her arms and staring him down, clearly convinced that Lance, as the one looking most distressed, should be the one asking the questions. After all, he was the one looking ready to break under the tension, vibrating and strumming at the anxiety and the constant cycle of

Keith Keith Keith Keith

firing off in his head.

A soft chuckle came from the front of the ship, and Shiro’s voice cut through their silent standoff. “You two are

terrible

at sneaking around,” he said, a faint smile in his tone. He didn’t look back at them, keeping his eyes on the controls, but his voice carried easily. “Whatever you’re muttering about back there, you’ll find out soon enough. We’re almost at the base.”

Lance opened his mouth, the questions finally spilling out as his voice betrayed a tremor he couldn’t hold back. “Is Keith—he’s… he’s okay, right?” The words came out hurried, tense. His heartbeat hammered loud enough to drown out even the low hum of the ship, and he hoped neither of them noticed his hands trembling slightly on his lap. He knew he probably looked ridiculous, but the worry gnawed at him, and Shiro’s evasiveness wasn’t helping.

The ship hummed with silence for a beat, and Shiro finally turned, glancing back at Lance with a knowing look, eyes softened with something close to understanding. “Keith’s okay, Lance,” he said gently, though he didn’t elaborate. He just looked at him for a moment longer, like he was piecing together something from Lance’s expression that Lance hadn’t even dared to discuss with

anyone

else other than Keith. If he even dared to discuss with

Keith

.

Pidge sighed loudly, breaking the stillness. “Fine, he’s okay, but

why

does he need us? This isn’t exactly the usual call for a team reunion. You don’t just summon us without a reason,” she pressed, arms crossed and gaze fierce as she turned her glare back at Shiro.

Shiro hesitated, jaw tightening as he looked back to the control panel. For a moment, it seemed he might say something, but he only shook his head. “Keith wanted to be the one to tell you,” he said, the reluctance clear in his voice. He sounded almost apologetic, like he understood the frustration brewing among them but couldn’t bring himself to ease it.

Lance sank back in his seat, fingers curling and uncurling as he tried to steady himself. Keith was okay, he told himself, repeating Shiro’s words like a mantra. But the question loomed larger now. If Keith was okay, what was this about? Why the secrecy, the tension? Why couldn’t Shiro just tell them?

He felt Pidge’s eyes on him, her gaze flicking between him and Shiro, clearly weighing the tension in Lance’s voice, in his face. She didn’t say anything, but her eyebrow quirked as she looked at him knowingly, her gaze a little too perceptive.

The descent to the Blade base was quiet, each of them lost in their own thoughts as the ship began its approach. Outside the window, the familiar stretch of barren cliffs and darkened rock formations unfolded beneath them, shrouded in a cool, misty haze of the planet the Base hid itself on. Lance’s stomach twisted with each passing second, an unease tightening inside him even though Shiro had assured him Keith was fine. He pressed his fingers against his knee harder, trying to keep himself together as the ship eased downward onto its landing pad.

The landing was smooth, and the silence stretched thick as the engines powered down. Shiro switched off the main controls, glancing back at them as he stood up.

“Alright. We’re here,” he said simply, but his face looked carefully neutral, giving nothing away. Lance and Pidge nodded, unclipping and following their stoic leader to the door. Pidge glanced at Lance, her expression guarded but curious as she stepped off the ramp first, as if checking that he was right there with her.

The Blade of Marmora base stretched out before them, a sprawling landscape of cold steel and muted light, shadows curling around sleek hallways and towering stone columns. Pidge’s eyes went wide, her usual cool demeanor melting into a look of wonder and intimidation all at once.

“Whoa…” she breathed, glancing at the arching metallic infrastructure of the base’s landing strip and Lance. He forgot for a moment that the only other person that had seen the Blade base other than Lance was Shiro, who stood with a hand on his hip and his lips drawn tight in a line. Lance recognized the exact expression on Pidge—the mixture of awe and uncertainty, the sharp edge of curiosity meeting the dizzying sense of being somewhere not meant for them. He’d felt it too, that first time Keith had brought him here.

“Feels like a lot, huh?” Lance murmured, a soft smile tugging at his lips as he watched her gawking. “The place looked like something straight out of a sci-fi horror movie.”

Pidge shot him a look, eyebrows raised. “Sci-fi horror? No, this is way more space fantasy. Look at all that tech! Are those… are those guards? With alien

weapons

?” She ducked back down like she hadn’t just been staring, fidgeting with her sleeves as she took in the intimidating presence of the Blade soldiers stationed near the landing pad, anticpating their arrival and ready to guide them to where they needed to be.

Lance chuckled, nudging her shoulder. “You’re such a nerd. First thing you notice is the weapons?”

“Hey, you’re the one who had his jaw on the floor when you saw my office,’” she quipped, folding her arms. But she glanced back out, unable to hide the spark of wonder in her eyes as she took in the massive entryway and its intricate network of corridors. Lance could see her mind working, like she was already mapping out the architecture and figuring out just how she could get into every restricted area.

Lance grinned, catching her staring. “You look like a deer in headlights, Pidge.”

“Shut up.” She shot him a glare, but her lips quirked in a reluctant smile. “It’s just… I knew the Blades were advanced, but this is next level. They’re like some covert fantasy-ninja alien command center,” she whispered, eyes darting around. “How’d you even get used to this place?”

He shrugged, trying to sound casual, though he remembered the exact feeling of nerves and awe she was wrestling with. “You just kinda… settle into it. The silence is weird, but you get used to it. Plus, the Blades aren’t exactly social butterflies.” He watched her drink in the surroundings, the way her expression flitted between wary and intrigued. It was such a classic Pidge look—equal parts nerves and determination, curiosity prickling at her edges like she was ready to tear into the base and solve every mystery in sight. He’d felt just the same, that longing to understand this world that was so close to their own but still lightyears away.

A Blade operative approached the three of them, looking demanding and intimidating. Lance and Pidge both took a step back as Shiro met him halfway.

“We’re here to answer a call from Keith? Do you know where we should go?” Shiro, the amazing god send he was, took the authority to speak for the rest of the, because god knows neither Lance nor Pidge felt ready to be able to speak to the operative. Lance especially felt a little like an outsider again, despite having spent nearly a month here.

The operative nodded and motioned for the three to follow. Shiro looked back at the two who were staring with wide eyes and gave a soft smile, nodding for them to follow. The two scrambled after, the deafening silence and steely cold of the halls overwhelming all the senses.

The lighthearted teasing Lance was attemping with Pidge to distract himself from what they were headed to faded as they moved deeper into the base. The silence here was heavy, like it carried secrets in every shadow, and the ominous hum of the distant machinery felt more intense. Pidge fell quiet, her steps slowing as she looked up at the towering, unfamiliar architecture and the faceless Blade guards watching their every move. She shot a sidelong glance at Lance, and he could see a flicker of vulnerability there, like she was feeling just how far from home they truly were. And she hadn’t been this far from home in over a year.

He nudged her arm, leaning close. “You’re gonna be fine, Pidge. They’re intimidating as heck, but, hey, you’ve got me here.”

She glanced up at him, the smallest hint of a smile breaking through her nerves. “Yeah, well… you better not leave me alone with them. If Keith tries any of his dramatic cloak-and-dagger routines, I’m out of here.”

“Oh, trust me, Keith loves a good cloak flip. Just wait,” Lance whispered back, his words earning a quiet snicker from her. He felt a swell of pride watching her curiosity win out over her anxiety. She was staring around with that gleam in her eyes again, sizing up every detail, her mind already ticking away at all the strange, futuristic tech in the base.

The Blade stopped in front of a door, his back facing as he guarded, like he wasn’t even allowed in. Shiro paused at the door, his brow furrowing as he looked the guard up and down before glancing back at them. “You two ready?”

Lance’s heart skipped, that worry creeping back in, and he met Pidge’s eyes, both of them on edge. But he squared his shoulders, took a breath, and nodded.

Shiro pushed open the door and the first thing Lance heard was Hunk’s loud sigh of relief.

“Oh thank GOD you guys actually came!” Hunk began barreling his way towards the three of them. Lance grinned, but was thrown into a huge hug as Hunk’s size was able to sweep up Shiro, Pidge, and Lance into a huge bear hug. Lance felt the knot in his chest loosen, his heart swelling at the sight of his friend, grounding him like Hunk always did.

“It’s great to see you, Hunk.” Shiro laughed, but his voice strained at how tight Hunk was gripping them all.

“Ugh! Missed you too!” Pidge gasped, pushing against Hunk, while Lance chuckled.

“Come on, buddy. I wanna be able to breathe so I could give you a hug back later!” Lance attempted, finally squirming out.

But his comfort dissolved when his eyes found Keith standing near the edge of the room. Lance’s breath hitched, every bit of nervous energy spiraling into something deeper, something weightier. He couldn’t help but stare, his entire body betraying him as he took in every detail of Keith’s face, every familiar shadow and angle. The messy hair, the intense gaze—even if Keith wasn’t meeting his eyes—it all struck him in a way that left him almost dizzy. Lance felt like he was falling, spiraling, his heart a hurricane of unsaid things and unacknowledged wants.

Hopelessly gone,

he thought, the words echoing in his mind. Every barrier he’d built up against it had shattered the moment he saw him again.

Keith looked… closed-off, though. Almost distant. His shoulders were tense, jaw clenched, gaze fixed somewhere on the floor as if he couldn’t bring himself to look at any of them. There was a dark shadow under his eyes, the unmistakable weight of something pressing down on him. Shiro moved first, his brow furrowing as he stepped closer to Keith. “Keith… have you slept?” he asked gently, the concern clear in his voice. “You look… exhausted.”

Keith shook his head, eyes briefly flicking up to meet Shiro’s before dropping away again, almost as if he were too tired to maintain the eye contact. Lance swallowed, trying to ignore the hammering of his heart as he threw on a lopsided grin, masking the worry clawing at his chest. “Jeez, mullet, did you pull an all-nighter? Even after all my nagging comments about how you gotta start taking better care of yourself? What’d I say, what are you gonna do without having me around.”

Keith’s lips twitched in the faintest hint of a smile, but it was gone before Lance could even be sure it was there. He looked at Lance, really looked, but there was something unreadable in his expression, something that made Lance’s heart seize and sputter. He wanted to reach out, to touch him, to feel the warmth of him and say something, anything that would make Keith let him in.

But Keith took a step back, crossing his arms and looking toward the table in the center of the room. “We should sit down,” he said, his voice tight and weary. The words seemed to hold something heavier than just an invitation to sit.

The shift was immediate; Lance felt the weight of it settle over them, his stomach tightening as he shared a worried glance with Pidge and Hunk. They exchanged silent questions, their eyes darting to each other, all of them suddenly scared of what they were about to hear. They all sat quickly, Shiro at Keith’s side and looking at him with expectant eyes, like he was ready to swoop in if Keith failed to talk.

Keith clenched at his jaw, not meeting any of their eyes, letting them all sit in awkward filled tension. His silence hung heavy in the air, the words trapped in his throat visible in every tense line of his body. He sat still with his arms crossed tightly, his gaze fixed on a spot on the tabletop, avoiding their eyes like he could hardly bear to face them. His usual defiance was missing, replaced by something brittle, something Lance had rarely seen—Keith looked truly uncertain, almost lost, and it made Lance’s chest ache with a fierce longing to just pull him close and hold him, to make everything better. Lance caught Hunk’s eye, who looked equally queasy, and they both shifted in their seats, their usual openess to jump in and talk falling silent. Lance could see how Keith’s jaw clenched and unclenched harder, each pause he took brimming with some painful, internal struggle.

“Alright, you got us all to leave our lives and fly all the way to arguably one of the most secret bases in the galaxy and you rather watch water boil? What’s really going on?” Pidge snapped impaciently.

“Pidge..” Shiro breathed out soft, but Keith sucked in a deep breath.

“No, you’re right. I’m sorry. Things have just gotten really chaotic the last couple days and I’ve been trying to figure out how to go about this.” Keith met her eyes, and she softened a bit, her bite calming down. But she still crossed her arms, keeping his gaze.

“You’re scaring me, dude. I dropped everything to come rushing over. There was this cake I was supposed to make to celebrate the ten year anniversary of this governor on a planet that’s been a leading charge for maintaining a peaceful transition of government and it was big that they wanted me to bake it. So, I kinda wanna know what I rainchecked for, please.” Hunk tried politely, but he still buzzed with worry.

“Keith,” Lance said softly, letting the warmth he felt for him coat his voice. “You know we’re here for you, right? Whatever this is, you can tell us. You’re not alone in this.”

Keith looked up, his eyes catching Lance’s, and for a fleeting second, his expression crumpled. There was raw hurt there, fear, as if he were holding up a crumbling wall inside himself. And Lance’s heart broke a little more, the love surging so intensely that he had to curl his hands into fists to keep from reaching out, from pulling Keith into his arms and promising to protect him from whatever darkness was clawing at him.

Keith’s jaw tightened, and he forced a shaky breath, seeming to gather himself. He looked away, back down at the floor, and when he finally spoke, his voice was barely a whisper. “It’s… the,” he said, struggling over each word. “They… I think they’re—” He stopped, his throat bobbing as he swallowed, the turmoil in his eyes twisting painfully. He let out an annoyed huff, glancing at Shiro.

Shiro stayed silent, giving him a silent look that the two shared before he growled from the back of his throat, clearly growing more stressed and annoyed the more he didn’t say.

Shiro’s face softened with understanding, and he reached out to place a steadying hand on Keith’s shoulder, offering his silent support. But even Shiro’s presence didn’t seem to ease the burden weighing on him, and after a moment, Keith broke from the touch, the tension thrumming through him like an electric current. He turned, his shoulders slumping as he finally sighed and motioned for them to follow.

“Come with me,” he said quietly, almost as if he were reluctant to ask them. Lance noticed the tremble in his voice, the way he seemed to shrink under the weight of whatever was tearing at him inside. And without hesitation, Lance followed, his heart pounding as he moved up to walk beside Keith, their shoulders nearly brushing. His hands itched with the urge to reach out, to offer him something, anything that would ease that haunted look in Keith’s eyes.

Keith’s face remained set, but there was a crack in his armor, a vulnerability that made Lance ache to his core. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to comfort him, to reach out and take away the pain that Keith carried alone. His fingers twitched with the urge to grab his hand, to show him that he didn’t have to shoulder this on his own.

The team walked in silence, their usual jokes and energy diminished with the gutwrenching intensity Keith carried with them through the halls. They wsalked past several levels of security, Keith giving each set of guards one steely look and gaining entry to the halls, no one questioning him. The more they walked, the more Lance’s fingers itched and curled into fists, so close to reaching out to just touch Keith. To reassure that he was there. To just have proof he was even with Keith again. They paused finally in front of one set of doors. Keith let out a deep sigh, his entire body tense, and rolled his shoulders before glancing at Lance.

“Look, what you’re gonna see. It’s—” He sighed, voice trembling and at a lost for words, so Lance finally was unable to win the fight of holding back from Keith. He reached out and grabbed his hand, his fingers trembling and his body heating up at the way Keith’s eyes snapped in shock to look at Lance. His thumb brushed soothing circles into his knuckles. It was a quiet touch, but it was all he had to offer, something to ground Keith in this awful moment.

God, his eyes.

“Hey, I told you we were here for you, right? So whatever happens, we are a team. Always was, always gonna be, ok?” Lance managed a weak smile, and Keith’s dark brows furrowed together so tightly that Lance wanted to reach out and smooth them over. Lance caught in the deep storm of Keith’s eyes. There was such a profound sadness there, as if he were already grieving for something unspeakable, and it tore through Lance’s chest, leaving him breathless. Lance’s hand tightened around Keith’s instinctively, and he could feel Keith’s pulse hammering beneath his skin, a shared, racing heartbeat between them. Keith’s lips parted, as if he were about to say something, but he only gave the faintest shake of his head, eyes glazed over, too overwhelmed to speak. He looked as if he were on the brink of breaking, holding back tears that he had no idea how to shed.

“I’m so sorry, Lance. I’m so so sorry.” Keith’s voice was raspy, shaky. Lance frowned, wanting to just hold Keith’s face, tell him it was ok, that there was nothing on this earth that could make him believe that Keith was at fault for whatever they were about to see. The way Keith looked at him, as if he were his last tether to something real and true, made Lance’s heart beat painfully fast. He could feel the ache of it rising in his throat, the unrelenting need to protect him, to make sure he never had to feel this way again.

But with a shuddering breath, Keith’s hand pulled away just enough to press the door control. There was a small, broken sound as he finally managed to force himself to look away from Lance, his gaze sinking to the floor.

The door slid open. The silence that fell over them was deafening, punctuated only by the sharp, collective gasps of shock and fear from behind them. Lance turned slowly, and the moment his gaze landed on the room beyond, he felt the world tilt, a sinking, nauseating feeling coiling in his stomach. His friends’ horrified murmurs filled his ears like a distant hum, but his vision was blurry, his mind struggling to process what he was seeing. He clung tighter to Keith’s hand, but it was no longer grounding—Keith’s hand burned in his hold, an unbearable heat that he suddenly wanted to escape from.

Every muscle in his body went taut as he registered the sight before him, the awful realization crashing over him like a wave. His stomach clenched, his chest tightening with a sickening, white-hot dread that swallowed him whole. He felt winded, as if the air had been knocked out of his lungs, and the world around him faded into a blinding swirl of confusion and horror. It was a gut punch he hadn’t been prepared for, an incomprehensible ache that left him breathless, shattered, his mind reeling as he tried to steady himself. And through it all, Keith’s hand was still there, tethering him to the brutal reality unfolding before him.

“Oh my god.” Hunk was the first to break the gasps and silence, his voice strained.

“Oh my god oh my god oh my god.” It continued out, muttering slow and rhythmic, as if he needed the comfort of repetition.

The room was filled with the unmistakable, haunting presence of the Red Lion. She stood there, powerful yet dormant, her metallic red frame reflecting the dim, sterile light of the base. The sight was so familiar, so achingly familiar, that it tore through Lance’s heart like a jagged blade. He could barely breathe. Every carefully built wall inside him came crashing down, every scar, every buried emotion rising like a tidal wave.

Lance’s knees nearly gave out. His vision wavered, spots swimming in his gaze as he fought to stay upright, but his chest felt hollow and his stomach was twisted in painful knots. He felt sick, as if every memory he’d tried to let go of had clawed its way back up to strangle him. His friends’ shocked gasps filled the air around him, but he couldn’t hear anything except the thundering of his own heartbeat. All he could see was fleeting images of

her

, the memories that came associated with the loss, and the Red Lion, standing there, bringing with her the ghost of everything they’d lost.

There was something almost cruel about how beautiful she looked. Despite touched by time, the Red Lion’s surface reflected the battles they’d fought together, the losses, the countless, sleepless nights Lance had spent mourning. All the painful memories he’d tried to bury, all the grief he thought he’d managed to push away, suddenly hit him full force, his heart twisting with a raw ache that he couldn’t contain.

It was suffocating. The memories crashed over him like waves, relentless and unforgiving. The the way he’d felt invincible as her pilot, the way she’d roared to life under his command… and then, the silence, the emptiness, the hollow ache that had taken root in his chest ever since they’d parted ways with the loss of the lifesource. He was dizzy, nauseated, feeling as if his heart were shattering all over again. This was his Lion—their Lions—and she was gone in its presence, so painfully out of reach.

A part of him wanted to run to Red, to reach out and touch her metal frame, to reassure himself that she was real. But another part of him, the part that remembered the loss, the emptiness that had swallowed him when the Lions had left, when

she

had left, kept him rooted in place, paralyzed by the fear of what it would mean to hope again. To relive it again.

He heard someone—Keith—calling his name, his voice soft and filled with concern. But Lance couldn’t bring himself to respond, couldn’t tear his gaze away from the Red Lion. His throat felt thick, words stuck somewhere between his heart and his mouth, and he couldn’t manage anything other than a weak, trembling breath. Everything hurt. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, his nails digging into his palms to keep himself from breaking down completely, but it did nothing to dull the crushing weight pressing down on him.

"Lance,” Keith murmured again, stepping closer, his voice a tentative lifeline through the storm of emotions raging in Lance’s mind. “Lance, are you—”

But Lance still couldn’t speak. He could only stare, mute and helpless, feeling his heart crack under the strain. He wanted to tell Keith everything, to scream about the pain, the grief, the year spent carrying this ache inside him. But his mouth wouldn’t move. He felt trapped, caught between wanting to move closer and needing to run far, far away from the heartache in front of him.

He sensed Keith shifting beside him, saw him reach out gently, his hand hovering near Lance’s shoulder, but not quite touching. Keith’s eyes were filled with an anguish that matched his own, his mouth set in a tight line, as if he, too, were reliving memories that haunted him.

And still, Lance couldn’t say a word.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Despite the swirl of emotions ranging from each Paladin in the room, Keith couldn’t take his eyes off Lance. How sickenly pale he looked, how his eyes were frozen on Red, how his entire body was tense and unmoving, how he couldn’t even seem to hear the calls Keith kept trying to at him.

“Ok, is someone gonna explain whats going on here?” Pidge’s sharp voice snapped through, which seemed to have made Lance break a bit as he gave a fast blink, snapping his head between the Lion and Keith.

“When did you find this.” Lance’s eyes trained heavily on Keith, and Keith wanted to shrink back at it, his mouth feeling like cotton.

“Look, I-” Keith started, but Lance just took a step towards Keith’s space, his eyes wild.

“When did you find Red?” His voice was dangerous, darker, a sharp heaviness that was a complete shock to what his rigid and awestruck face was momentarily. Keith took a steady breath, casting his gaze down to his feet. There was no way he was going to be able to look at Lance while he said this.

“The day you came with Ezor and Zethird to help with Vrelen.” Keith muttered. Lance froze, his jaw going tight as he looked like he was punched.

“Oh my god does this mean there’s more Lions out there? Are we going to have to pilot the Lions again? Does Red turn on? Does anyone know? Oh my god this is so messed up.” Hunk’s voice stammered out, and his breathing came out horse as strangled sounds came from him.

“You know from then? This entire time we were on that planet, when

I

was there, and you never said anything?” Lance snapped, bringing Keith’s attention up to him. His blue eyes swirled with red, his entire face bristle and edged with hurt and emotions Keith hadn’t seen on Lance before.

“I wasn’t even sure if there was a Lion! It was a theory one of the scientists had, and we didn’t even know until I went back to dig it up..” Keith’s voice faltered at the shaky laugh Lance let out as he took another step back, shaking his head a bit.

“So you knew that Vrelen was after the Lion, and knew that it was Red that you found, and the entire time this was known, I was still here and you kep that all hidden? What, like I was some hazard?” Lance bit.

“Can someone actually explain who the fuck Vrelen is and what that has to do with anything? Did you just say that guy KNEW about the Lion?” Pidge stepped in, her voice hauntingly deadly as well.

“I don’t think I can breathe. Are we gonna have to get involved in another intergalactic war? Are we in one now and we don’t realize it?” Hunk wheezed.

“Hunk, you need to breathe. Guys, let Keith explain himself.” Shiro placed a steady hand on Hunk’s shoulders as Hunk began flapping his hands at his face, looking like he was on the verge of passing out.

“You knew about this?” Pidge swerved her head at Shiro, causing him to square his shoulders and flick a look at Keith. Keith felt like he was just as well on the way of following the panic Hunk was feeling.

“Shiro found out everything today too. I told him to help get you guys here so I could talk to you guys about the Lion. He knows just as much as you all do.” Keith’s words flew to Shiro’s defense, but got caught in his throat when Pidge and Lance both swiveled to pinpoint their glares at Keith.

“Then start talking about what the fuck this even means.” Pidge gritted, but Lance just let out another fake laugh.

“I just don’t get it. Did you not trust me to know that we were rescuing one of our Lions the entire time? Or were you even going to tell any of us? Or did you just not trust me with this information?” Lance shoved a finger at Keith, and Keith shook his head, his body trembling from the exertion of holding himself back.

“No, everything got so complicated so fast. I promise I wanted to tell you–”

“Oh really? Then why didn’t you?”

“I didn’t know how. I didn’t know what this meant or what it was gonna do if you found out or–”

“What, were you scared I couldn’t handle the information? That I was too weak and fragile and would break down on the spot? That I was still nothing but the broken shell I was when Allura died?” Lance’s voice grew with each word, the tension snapping and his voice pitching at the mention of the princess. Keith took a step back, his breath hitched as the words fell heavy on the room.

“I feel lightheaded.” Hunk mumbled out, before immediately crashing backwards onto his back and ultimately passing out.

“Hunk!” Shiro and Pidge both turned to their larger friend, scrambling to grab at him, but Lance’s eyes still stay trained on Keith like he was searing through him. Keith was always familiar with the blue of his eyes, the deep colors of it so similar to the ocean and the rain Lance loved so dearly, always twinkling bright in mischevief or joy.

This blue was a new striking color, flickering back at him with a gleam of disdain. Distrust. Hurt. Anger. Electric blues firing off like a crackling strike of lightning, brewing in a storm of swirling pain.

And Keith was the one to cause this.

“Keith, is there anywhere we can go and rest for a bit and regroup? Maybe talk and have questions actually answered.” Shiro got Hunk into a sitting position, his jaw set and looking at each of their faces.

“What? Keith just brought us into this room and threw Red into our faces and now you want us to go sit down, hold hands, and TALK?” Pidge threw her hands out in exasperation, her face flushed with her own swarm of emotions.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying. We all need to take a step back and sit with what we are feeling. All of us.” Shiro’s eyes landed on Lance, who looked seconds away from either slapping Keith’s head from off his shoulders or exploding himself into space. The room all seemingly took a couple deep breaths from each person, slowing down the momentu of the tension building, and Keith sent a silent thank you he hoped Shiro was able to receive telepathically.

“And water. I think I need water. And, oh my god its face is literally right there. Are there more? Don’t tell me yellow is somewhere in another hangar. I don’t think I can handle something like that right now.” Hunk gushed out, his head snapping between looking at Red and to Keith, his own usually soft and understanding eyes swirling in colors of fear and uneasiness.

Keith nodded, motioning to the doors they had all just entered. Shiro helped Hunk out first, catching Keith’s eye and giving him a silent nod of reassurance, followed by Pidge, who had her arms crossed tightly over her chest and refusing to make eye contact, before finally, Lance trailed several feet behind slowly.

He stalked past Keith with the coldest shoulder, his eyes focused straight ahead, refusing to even acknowledge Keith’s presence or even pausing to look at Red, filing out just as fast. The lack of warmth that usually radiated out of Lance froze up Keith’s body, his muscles coiling at the lack of energy he usually was overwhelmed with.

This was a lot harder than he had wanted it to be.

The air back in the briefing room was suffocating. For all their shared battles and moments of unshakeable unity, the paladins had never felt further apart. They sat scattered around the table, chairs askew, arms crossed, eyes downcast or glaring daggers. The usual banter and chemistry were nowhere to be found. Instead, there was silence, thick and unbearable.

Keith sat at the edge of the table, his knuckles white as he gripped its edge. The weight of every unspoken word was crushing. His eyes flicked up, searching for someone, anyone, who would meet his gaze other than Shiro, who sat with his back straight and hands folded on the tabletop, silently waiting and being the weight Keith needed. If not, he would have dashed away and simply opted to hide out in his room and wished for this all to be a violent awful dream. Hunk sat biting his lip, his eyes glazed and looking only down at his lap, like he didn’t know what to say after calming down a bit and regaining the color back in his face. But Pidge was leaning forward, her elbows on the table, her sharp glare cutting into him like a blade. Lance sat farther back, his arms crossed tightly, his jaw clenched, eyes stubbornly trained on the wall instead of Keith.

“So?” Pidge’s voice was ice, the kind that left no room for excuses. “Start talking. What else are you keeping from us?”

Keith winced, her words landing with the precision of a sniper shot. He exhaled shakily, his voice low and raw when he finally spoke. “I—I know I should’ve told you sooner.” His gaze darted around the room, looking for a lifeline that wasn’t there. “I didn’t... I didn’t know how to say it. I thought I was protecting everyone by keeping it quiet, but—”

“That’s your excuse?” Lance’s sharp voice laughed, mocking and indignant. “You thought not telling us about

another Lion

—and Vrelen—was

protecting us

?”

Keith flinched, shoulders curling in slightly as if he could shield himself from the scorn in his tone. A tone that was never usually felt from Lance of all people.

“It wasn’t like that,” he said, his voice cracking. “I didn’t know what to do! I’ve been... lost. For weeks. It’s been...” He clenched his fists, his words faltering under the weight of his emotions.

Pidge wasn’t letting up. “Do you even understand what any of this means? What kind of danger you’ve put all of us in with the fact that you basically stole a LION? And who the HELL is this Vrelen guy you guys keep saying and why did he know about the Lion before any of us did?”

“I

know

! I know, okay?” Keith snapped, his voice breaking as he looked up, his eyes glassy with unshed tears. “Do you think I haven’t been torturing myself over this every second? I didn’t want to drag all of you into this when I didn’t even know what it meant. I know just as much about why this Lion even exists as much as you all do right now. And then Vrelen—he’s this villain who the Blades have been dealing with recently, and he’s been wiping out an entire planet because he;s been trying to excavate something at its surface. Until I found out it was a Lion he was after, so we took it first. He’s stronger, smarter, more dangerous than we realized, and for some reason knew that there was a—” His voice cracked, and he couldn’t finish the sentence.

Across the room, Hunk shifted uncomfortably, his usual optimism tempered by the tension in the room. Shiro sat, watching silently with an expression that was both understanding and firm, his gaze torn flicking between Keith and the others, his lips pressed into a tight line.

But Lance. Lance hadn’t moved, hadn’t looked at him once. His silence was louder than anything, more painful than Pidge’s sharp questions or the weight of his own guilt. Keith’s chest twisted painfully as his gaze lingered on Lance’s rigid frame.

“I’ve made mistakes,” Keith said, his voice softer now, the weight of his guilt pressing down on every word. “I’ve screwed up. I should’ve come to you, all of you. But I didn’t know how. I didn’t want to... to somehow bring you guys all back into a war that none of you had agreed to be a part of again. To be brought back into something violent and dangerous. I thought if I could make some sense out of this first, to be able to find an answer and do this so no one knew and we didn’t have to deal with something so drastic. And now... now it feels like I already have.”

Lance’s hands tightened around his crossed arms, his knuckles turning white, but he still didn’t look up. The silence that followed was deafening, the kind that left Keith feeling exposed and raw.

Pidge leaned back in her chair, her expression still cold but tinged with something less sharp—something almost like doubt. “You can’t keep shutting us out, Keith. Not anymore. If we’re supposed to be a team, you have to

trust

us.”

Keith nodded numbly, his head dropping as he stared at the table in front of him, his voice barely above a whisper. “I do trust you. I always have. I’m just... I’m sorry. For everything.”

The apology hung in the air, unanswered. All Keith could hear was the thundering of his own heart, the ache in his chest as he risked another glance toward Lance. Lance still didn’t look at him, and it felt like the final blow.

“So, is anyone else concerned that this villain guy was after the Lion in the first place? Like, was there a signal or something? Some sign that said

hey look and dig here for a new Lion?

Like, are we ignoring that major factor?” Hunk finally spoke up, the heads in the room all turning to him.

“That’s where this all is really concerning. No one knows how he got this information to track down the Lion, or if there are any other Lions out there. All we know is that Vrelen had the information of Red’s whereabouts, and was close to getting his hands on it for some other reason we can only picture to be harmful.” Keith let out a sigh, rubbing at his temple. Hunk shifted again in his seat.

“So, what now?” Pidge’s voice dropped to a cold give in, like she was no longer able to throw any more anger at Keith, now just tired and unwell.

“A small team of us on the Blades have been keeping these matters private. We didn’t want people who didn’t need to know have this information, since we don’t even understand what having a Lion around again means anyway. Axca and a team went to go stake out Vrelen’s ship. We believe he is going to target two more planets. Again, we don’t know if there are Lions there, but they are targets.” Keith answered Hunk’s dropped jaw before he could ask the question, snapping his mouth shut.

“There’s also a weapon he has on this ship. We want to be able to sneak on with a small team I’ll lead, take out the weapon for good, and stop Vrelen from doing any more damage.” Keith clenched his jaw, not feeling guilty in the slightest for leaving out exactly what he wanted to do to Vrelen. How he wanted to question him and lock him up for good, force answers out of him. End the suffering he was capable of comitting onto others.

The Paladins sat in silence again, each holding different emotions and thoughts. Keith tried to meet Lance’s eyes again, but the Blue Paladin kept his hardened gaze trained away from Keith, burning a hole into the wall.

“So, what does that mean for us?” Hunk squeaked out again. Keith sucked in a breath and glanced at Shiro, who just nodded to take over for once.

“We have all the information, as unfortunate as it is. I believe that the Blades have the right mindset on keeping the knowledge to a minimum, and stopping whatever this villain is trying to do. Keith, I trust that the Blades know what they are doing as well as you, but you need to tell us where our support will best be, if we decide to offer help at all.” His heavy gaze met Pidge’s eyes, who cast her eyes down to the table top and leaned back, simmering down at Shiro’s steady words.

“I know how dangerous this is all sounding, and trust me, it is dangerous. Vrelen is capable of things that I have never seen before. He’s strong, and unpredictable, and has powers that can reach in you and bring out old and forgotten memories of pain.” Keith forced his words to be commanding, direct, as simple as possible.

They would all be insane to actually stay, and he could not ask any of them to uproot their lives and help. Especially since none of them have been in actual combat or let alone held up a weapon in over a year, other than Lance. He shifted uncomfortably under the weight of their stares, his throat tight as he forced the words out.

“I can take you all home,” he said, his voice steady but tinged with something almost pleading. “You don’t have to stay. You’ve already done enough—more than enough. This fight, this... this isn’t your responsibility anymore. I just needed you to know what we’re up against, know about the discovery of the Red Lion. I didn’t want to keep you in the dark.” He hesitated, looking at each of them, but his gaze lingered longest on Lance. “I don’t want any of you to get hurt.”

The silence that followed was unbearable. And then Lance scoffed.

The sound was sharp and dismissive, cutting through the room like a blade. Keith’s chest tightened, his breath hitching. The sound of his voice sent a jolt through Keith—relief, dread, and something else entirely tangled together in a chaotic storm inside him.

Lance leaned forward, his arms still crossed, his expression unimpressed. “Are you serious right now?” he said, his tone dripping with disdain. “You think you can just... dump this huge news on us and pack us all off home like we’re baggage and handle this all by yourself? What, you’re gonna play the lone wolf hero again and expect us to just nod and wave you off?”

Keith swallowed hard, his stomach twisting. “I’m trying to keep you safe,” he said quietly, his voice trembling just enough to betray the raw emotion underneath.

Lance rolled his eyes, shaking his head with a bitter laugh. “Yeah, well, you’re crazy if you think I’m going anywhere. You think I’d just... listen to you and let me leave again? That I’d let you deal with this alone? After everything I went through with Vrelen too?” His voice softened, but his eyes burned with an intensity that made Keith’s throat dry. “I’m here to finish this, Keith. Whether you like it or not.”

Keith’s jaw tightened, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. Part of him wanted to snap back, to tell Lance he didn’t understand, but the rest of him—the larger, quieter part—was caught in the storm in Lance’s eyes. He couldn’t look away, couldn’t breathe properly, his chest tight with a thousand unsaid things.

Pidge sighed, breaking the moment. “Well, I guess that settles it,” she said, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms. “Might as well stick around and help. Someone has to make sure you actually come back and stay alive.”

Hunk shifted uncomfortably, his hands twisting in his lap as he glanced between them all. “This feels... really unprepared and really,

really

stupid,” he said, his voice tinged with unease. “Like, we’re talking

next-level

bad ideas here. But...” His eyes flicked to Keith, and the tension in his shoulders melted slightly. “I mean, I’m not gonna let you do it alone either. You’re a pain, but you’re... you’re

our

pain.” He offered a weak smile, then sighed. “Guess I’m in too.”

Shiro leaned forward, his face calm but determined. “We’re a team. We’ve always been a team. You’re not doing this alone, Keith. Not anymore.”

Keith blinked rapidly, his vision blurring slightly as the weight of their words hit him. Despite the anger and the tension, despite everything he’d done wrong, they were still here. They were still with him. His chest felt too tight, his throat burning as he struggled to find the words to respond.

“You...” His voice cracked, and he quickly cleared his throat, looking away as he fought to compose himself. “Thank you. All of you. Again, you should still go home and–”

“Will you shut up and give us our mission briefing already?” Pidge groaned, but her eyes glinted back at him over her glasses, as if to welcome this new curveball of a world she was faced with.

He couldn’t meet their eyes, afraid that if he did, the overwhelming emotion clawing at his chest might finally break free. But the tension in the room had shifted, ever so slightly. It wasn’t perfect, and their anger was still palpable, but they were with him. And that was enough. For now, it was enough.

Keith had brought the team to meet up with his Blade team once the girls had returned from their efforts to track and scan the ship. Safe to say it was weird and complete mindmelt to have two of Keith’s worlds all meshed together standing on one room, for once on the same side after everything. The stark contrast of the dark Blade suits and the casual outfits the Paladins were wearing solidified how different these lives were, and how Keith somehow found himself in the middle of both of them, fighting for a seat in both worlds.

The Blades had all sized up the Voltron team in a not so subtle surprise look, almost like they couldn’t believe the people they were seeing in the room they claimed as theirs. Ezor and Zethrid especially looked thrown off, getting looks from Pidge and Hunk as they huddled with Lance, whispering low and eyes trained in half shock half intimidation.

Axca was fast to be at Keith’s side, looking everyone in the room and just humming a low surprised noise, as if she was betting on who was gonna snap first. Keith was hoping it was not going to be Pidge.

Thankfully, everything smoothed over the moment Krolia and Kolivan entered the room, forcing everything to a calm silence as everyone snapped to attention at the sheer energy the two leaders carried when they approached. Everyone scrambled for a seat, watching as Kolivan nodded for Axca to stand and speak. She gave a small nod and blinked up a hologram, the projection of a scanned outline of what was Vrelen’s ship appearing and spinning slowly to be seen from every angle. The holo-display of Vrelen’s massive battleship glowing ominously in the center, lighting up his friends faces. The scans they’d managed to pull were sparse but crucial. She tapped the screen, cycling through images of corridors, power grids, and key structural points. Hunk and Pidge’s eyes were the size of saucers, their mouths dropped wide from the technology and the instinctual need to touch and learn more. Keith tried to hide back a fond smile at their reactions for the first time. Axca’s voice was calm but sharp, cutting through the tension in the room.

“As we thought, Vrelen’s ship is headed towards the two planets he had his eye on. We got in pretty close, being able to scan the ship with some borrowed technology that the scientists were kind enough to lend us. Here we have the full scan, completed with entry points, and a full read of the interior of the ship, including halls, rooms, and the bridge, where we picked up signals of the most movement and filled with a lifeform that matches that of Vrelen.” Axca pinched at the hologram, opting it to zoom in on a digital layout of the ship’s bridge, where in fact there was a glowing entity of a lifeform.

“The hull has been reinforced with an alloy we haven’t seen before. It’s resistant to most standard blade weaponry, so getting ourselves in will be a small issue, but nonetheless, manageable as long as we override with our cloacking system.”

Pidge leaned forward, her eyes gleaming with interest as she interrupted. “Wait, what kind of cloaking? Is it electro-photonic displacement or molecular refracting? And the heat exhaust from those scans—is it using a rerouted plasma buffer, or is it tapping into—"

Hunk nudged her gently, cutting her off with a whispered, “Not the time, Pidge.” She shot him a quick glare but leaned back, muttering under her breath about the wasted opportunity for a technical deep dive.

Axca’s lips twitched in what might have been mild amusement, but she pressed on, cycling to another scan. “More importantly, we detected life forms onboard. The ship is crawling with soldiers, scattered around the halls. We have a similar lifeform signal from the bridge of the ship where we believe Vrelen has been stationed mainly, with another scan depicting the machine he has. But we also picked up a single heat signature matching Rolo’s thermal profile.”

Keith jerked upright in his seat, his posture snapping to attention, almost disbelieving. The reaction was instant, visceral, his hands gripping the edge of the table as if steadying himself against the weight of the revelation.

Lance’s gaze flicked to Keith, as if he was catching the way his shoulders tensed, the way his jaw clenched. He watched him for a moment, his blue eyes focusing on Keith. Lance’s face betrayed nothing, his expression carefully neutral, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—something strained, something painful—before he masked it again.

Kolivan stepped forward, his tone unyielding and commanding. “This confirms what we suspected—Vrelen’s plans are escalating. With Rolo still present on the ship, it’s for leverage or information. Either scenario puts us at a disadvantage. We must act quickly. The thermal signature also suggests he’s stationed deeper in the ship, near what we believe is the weapon’s core. This will be a high-risk infiltration.”

He glanced at Shiro and the paladins, his expression hard. “Our team knows the critical stance and objective that is putting them at risk here. We need precision. No room for error. I am made to believe Keith has spoken to you all and filled in why this is a dangerous and imminent
mission that needs to be finished fast and clean?”

Lance, Hunk, and Pidge all nodded at the intensity of Kolivan’s disposition, and Shiro was quick to clear his throat.

“We understand what is at risk here. We are the Paladins of Voltron, with or without its existence. We agreed to help Keith and the Blades with finishing up this end of the mission, wherever you need us best.”

Kolivan held Shiro’s gaze, like two Lions of a jungle seizing each other’s strengths and acknowledging the weight of their own leadership and power, before looking at Keith, who kept his jaw clenched in the same unwavering belief that his friends could provide assistance.

“I wil not put this mission in jeopardy if you are all unfit for infiltration. I will have you monitoring the infiltration team and the status of the movement of the ship, along with where each of the bodies on the ship lay and provide overview.”

“I’m helping on the ship.”

Kolivan and the rest of the heads in the room all snapped to the back of the table, where Lance sat with his defiant arms still crossed, but his face paled a bit at the realization of what his attention meant.

“Um, respectfully, sir. I was on the last mission with Vrelen and saw what he was capable of, and I still know how to fight and what he is like up close. I can provide help in close up battle, sir. Kolivan, um. Respectfully.” Lance’s voice wavered, his ears tinging a bit of pink, but he didn’t hunch back in his seat.

“I can help best with the data coverage from here, if I can have access to your tech and scans.” Hunk chimmed in, eyes tearing over the hologram, right as Pidge nodded agressively.

“You need better data and scans right? Get me in there and I’ll be able to monitor the stealth team from a safe and protected spot on the ship with better 3D renderings. This is great and all, but I can do more.” Pidge motioned to the hologram, but threw an apologetic smile at Axca, who narrowed her eyes at the comment.

“I can also help provide assistance back on the base alongside you and Krolia. We all have our strengths and I believe we are all able to execute them alongside your team at the Blades.” Shiro’s voice was strong, assertive, backed with the trust in his Paladins.

Keith felt himself swallowing back the pride and amazement he had in watching the way his team had lit up and jumped in for their best efforts in assisting. Even his Blade team all sat back and stared in silent awe, as if they couldn’t understand someone else so willing to be a part of this dangerous world that they were all trainned so stealthily in. Whiled the tighthenss in his chest was screaming to get them out of here, another light flutter in his heart begged to ignore the alarms and be proud of them. To trust them.

Kolivan let out a sharp breath through his nose, meeting Shiro’s eyes.

“I’ll allow this, as long as you all listen to my team. We are more trained and understand this a lot more than the rest of you. Our command trumps here.”

Shiro nodded, his face solemn but resolute. “Understood.”

Krolia, seated beside Axca, folded her arms and leaned slightly forward, meeting Keith’s eyes. “And the Lion? Has there been any progress with it?”

Keith stiffened, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard. “No,” he said quickly, too quickly. His voice was clipped, final, as if daring anyone to press the issue further. “Nothing yet.”

Krolia’s sharp gaze lingered on him for a moment, but she didn’t push, simply nodding and looking back to the holo-display.

“Keith and Axca, I take it the two of you will be in charge of the infiltration team and taking the command from inside.” Kolivan directed his attention at the two of them. Keith nodded, his eyes steady and meeting Kolivan.

Kolivan seemed content with this, looking around the room. It was filled with the new clashed team, muddled with the faces of past Voltron users and current Blade assassins. People sat with each other who used to be trained to fight one another for their own purposes, now all sat together at the same table, on the same team, fighting for the the common future.

The plan was to follow; Keith and Axca led a small Blade team attempt to breach Vrelen’s defenses and get onboard his battleship. This team would consist of Lance, Pidge, Ezor, and Nyma, having choosing the stealthiest of the warriors to get in and out. The main purpose was not to complete destory the entire ship from inside, or else they would have gathered more of their brute force of bodies such as Zethrid, Hunk, and even Krolia to get in with them. This was about speed, about disclosure, about slipping in unseen and not alerting off any alarms or signals, which was Pidge’s main job once in. She would hack their systems and make sure that any security they had would only be fed into her own system, blocking out any cameras that could pick them up on their journey inside. They were to find the bridge where Vrelen was, and with the mass of their team in strength and numbers, go for the attack and take out the weapon once and for all, hopefully pinning down Vrelen and getting him under the Blades supervision. Once they had the main bridge, Krolia would come in with some of her attack ships, patroled by Kolivan, Shiro, and Hunk from the overseeing side, and take over the ship. From the information that Pidge would be sending back from hijacking the telecoms of the ship, it should give Hunk enough time to find a way to completely override the system from the safety of the Blades base.

The plan was planned out for no error. In the case there was, they were to retreat immediately, where Kolivan would be ready to go in with several other Blade initiatives amd get to the targeted planets first and evacuate.

So they were all in agreement, surprisingly.

Keith and Axca had showed the Paladins a closet full of Blade suits for them to wear, including weapons needed and anything else they sougth comfort in while Shiro and Hunk stayed in the briefing room with Kolivan and Krolia, where they were getting outlined detail of the more speciifcs information and technology and how to communicate with the infiltration team. Pidge gawked at the uniforms, taking in the design and rambling on about how weird this was that she was finally gonna look like Keith and not just pretend to be him by lowering her voice into a moody angsty tone, and while Keith tried to be in a better mood, he couldn’t stop watching Lance. Waiting for the bigger bite. Waiting for the moment Lance was gonna look at him and tell him that he was untrustworthy and how he was a terrible person. How he betrayed any sort of friendship they ever had, rip away any sort of happiness Keith could have ever sought in Lance, and stay far away from him. Lance stayed quiet for the most of it, making small jokes with Pidge as they gathered their gear and stayed at her side for the most part, his eyes still not meeting Keith.

Getting stabbed would have felt better than this.

The infiltration team said their goodbyes to the team staying at headquarters. Hunk had swept Pidge and Lance into a huge tight hug, blubbering how they better not get hurt and if anything happens he was gonna storm the ship himself. The trio shared lighthearteed laughter, and Keith’s chest felt the raw ache of their friendship. Of the simplicity and everlasting love they all shared, and how he felt like he was screwing this all up like he always did. It was the easiest thing in the world to do that. He felt Shiro’s hand on his shoulder, snapping his attention up to the older man, who was looking back at him with gentle eyes. Those same reassuring eyes that always seemed to be patient and understanding with him, even when the world felt against him.

“You going to be ok?” Shiro asked. Keith rolled his eyes, but a small smile couldn’t help spread.

“I can’t believe you’re the one asking if I’m ok when I brought you all back to this. You should be at home watching Jeapordy with your husband or whatever old and domestic thing you do these days.”

“I’m about to be 30, not 80. Have some respect here. I know how to have fun. It’s not like I stay up late knitting sweaters. That’s more of a Curtis thing to do.” Shiro punched Keith lightly in the arm, earning a huff of a snort out of Keith.

If anything he was always going to have Shiro.

“You too. Please be careful.” Suddenly, Hunk was at both their sides, his eyes a little wet and teary. Keith blinked, his mouth feeling dry at his presence and the whirlwind of thoughts he had about being treated the same way he had treated the Garrision Trio. Shiro gave the two boys a small smile as he stepped back, allowing Hunk to fully enter Keith’s space and wrap his large arms around him. Keith let out a stifled groan, feeling his body being caged and smashed, but the aggressive warmth and care Hunk was pouring into him hotwired his brain for a moment. Hunk still loved him, despite it all. That small token of care and love kept the darkness that was swirling around in Keith’s gut from spreading, only for a moment.

Once Hunk had dropped him and given him a half smile, Krolia was next, looking at him with such heavy intent.

“If you hug me the same way Hunk
just did I’ll think Hell froze over.” Keith muttered at her, sensing her protective look, but she just threw him a narrowed look, grabbing his arm and yanking his body stiffly against hers into a short hug.

“Don’t be stupid out there.” She murmured, her voice low and heavy, making his bones feel the vibration. Keith froze in her embrace, feeling too overwhelmed and flooded with all the emotions he wasn’t expecting in this moment. It felt nice, to allow yourself to be cared for. To know you will be missed.

It felt weird, but nice. Maybe he liked that.

He opted just to nod his head against Krolia’s chestplate, his words failing. She stepped back quickly and seized him up, her yellow eyes tearing across his face before giving him a sharp nod.

“Believe in your team Keith.” she started, so Keith just let out a small sigh from the back of his throat.

“I know, I know they will do–”

“Don’t just order them and go for an attack. Trust that they have your back and want to be there for you. Know that its ok to step back and let go of the reigns for a second. Let them surprise you.” She cut him off sharply, her eyes ice. Keith breathed hard, keeping her eye contact. She dropped her voice slightly, her eyes flicking quickly over to Pidge and Lance following Ezor, Nyma, and Axca out the door.

“Let

him

surprise you. I know he can.”

The team made their way to the hangar for take off, boarding a ship that Axca had prepped with a momentarily masking blanket, a technique that Pidge had happily gakwed was something similar she used in the coding for her own masking on the Green Lion. Zethrid was to fly the ship close enough for all of them to eject and brak their way through one of the venting into the ship, and take off to hover in the vicinity behind some astroid clusters, out of monitoring and close enough to come back and get them if needed to evacuate.

Keith came to a pause at the corridor that led to the hangar, finding Lance pausing and watching the ship being loaded and Pidge preening and poking around. He came later after finding Kosmo, debating whether or not to take the needy wolf, who had insisted himself that he would be accompanying his master, but eventually, Keith had decided that Kosmo must stay. If anything happened to the wolf, Keith would kill everyone aborad that ship and then himself, so he had found a way for Kosmo to stay with Krolia.

As he slowed feet away from Lance, he held a breath he didn’t want to exhale. Lance, who was facing the ship, his eyes glazed over and seemingly lost in his own thoughts. Lance’s whose face was pulled tight and his fingers strumming wildly against his arm, always in motion and captivating the wild thoughts that were running rampant. Lance, who had looked at him like he had done the unspeakable in betraying his trust.

Lance, who Keith loved to the point of going mad, who definitely hated him back in return.

The tension was palpable as Keith and Lance stood in the dimly lit corridor just outside the hangar. The rest of the team was finishing last-minute preparations, but the silence between the two was anything but calm. Keith shifted awkwardly, his eyes darting toward Lance, his presence heavy, almost suffocating.

“You’re hovering,” Lance snapped, his voice low but sharp, cutting through the quiet like a blade.

Keith blinked, taken aback. “I’m not—”

“You

are,

” Lance interrupted back, spinning on his heel to face him fully. His movements were frantic and exagerrated, his energy sparking with a heat that Keith could feel, could almost taste, wild with frustration as he threw his arms out. “You’re always

right there,

just—hovering! Breathing down my neck like I’m going to break or something.”

Keith’s brows furrowed, his jaw clenching to control his own annoyance bubbling inside. “I’m just trying to—”

“

What,

Keith? Keep an eye on me? Protect me?” Lance scoffed, his voice rising. “You didn’t seem to care much about that when you were off gallivanting with your big Blade secrets and going on secret stealth missions while I was here the entire time.”

Keith flinched, guilt flashing across his face, his shoulders stiffening as he absorbed the blow. “That’s not fair.”

“Fair?” Lance barked a humorless laugh, pacing a few steps away, his face on the ship.

He paused, his fingers strumming more wildly against his crossed arms before spinning back around to face him, ticking with anger, his eyes blazing with something raw, something Keith couldn’t look away from even if he wanted to. “You didn’t

tell us,

Keith!” His voice cracked slightly, and Keith’s heart squeezed at the sound. “You didn’t

tell me!

You think that’s fair?”

Keith’s mouth opened, but no words came out at first. His chest tightened painfully as he looked at Lance, at the storm brewing in his expression, the raw hurt in his voice.

“I didn’t know how,” Keith admitted, his voice low, almost pleading.

“You didn’t

try!

” Lance shot back, his hands flying up in frustration. “Do you even understand what it’s like, Keith? Being the one you leave in the dark? Watching you walk around like—like you’re carrying the weight of the universe alone? How many times I sit and watch as you…” His voice trailed off, or maybe it got lost in his throat as Lance let out a heavy breath through his nose, blinking fast.

Keith’s throat tightened, guilt clawing at his chest. “I didn’t mean—”

Lance’s laugh this time was sharper, almost bitter. “You

never

mean to, do you? But you do it anyway.”

“I didn’t mean for it to happen like this,” Keith said finally, his voice soft, breaking. “I’m sorry, Lance. I didn’t—I didn’t want to hurt you.”

Lance froze, his shoulders taut, his eyes wildly looking back at Keith like he was a shape he didn’t recognize, before coming to a halt again and holding his gaze. Then, he groaned, throwing his head back dramatically. “

Don’t do that.

”

Keith blinked. “Do what?”

“That!” Lance waved a hand vaguely in Keith’s direction, his movements frantic and flopping. “Don’t do that thing you do where you

look

at me like that! And I’m supposed to be mad and you look—just—

don’t!

”

Lance faltered, his chest heaving as he stared at Keith, something unreadable flashing across his face. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides as if he were trying to physically hold himself back.

Keith’s confusion deepened as he felt his lips frown, at a complete loss. “Like what?”

“Like

that!

” Lance all but yelled, motioning wildly at Keith’s face. His voice cracked slightly, betraying just how much he was holding back. “Like you’re some kicked puppy with that–ugh! It’s

not fair,

Keith! You—you screwed me up, make me wanna scream and yell at you because before this I was actually gonna…I felt like… But then this happens and I just, and then you look at me like that, and I—”

Keith’s breath caught. “You what?”

“I

can’t even stay mad at you!

” Lance’s voice broke, his hand flying up to point accusingly at Keith’s chest, trembling slightly. His face twisted with frustration, but beneath it was something raw, something almost pleading. “I’m supposed to be mad at you, Keith! You lied to me—to

all of us!

But then you go and—you look at me like that, and I just. Like—like you think I’m going to forgive you just because…”

“Because what?” Keith pressed, his voice barely above a whisper, his heart pounding so loudly he thought Lance might hear it.

“

Because it’s you!

” Lance blurted, his hands flying up before they fell back down, trembling at his sides. “Because it’s always

you,

and—and I hate that about myself, Keith. I hate that no matter what you do, no matter what I try to rethink or fix or something, it all comes back to the same thought of you and. I just—”

He cut himself off, his eyes widening as if he realized he’d said too much. His lips pressed into a thin line, his jaw tightening as he turned away abruptly, his breathing ragged.

Keith stood there, frozen, his mind racing to make sense of Lance’s words, of the way his voice had cracked, of the way his body was trembling like he was holding something back.

“Lance—” Keith started, his voice low and uncertain, but Lance didn’t let him finish.

“Just—don’t,” Lance said, his voice shaky but firm as he held up a hand to stop him. “Let’s just get this mission over with, okay? And then we don’t have to worry about each other again.”

Keith watched as Lance stormed off, his steps heavy with frustration and something else Keith couldn’t quite name. His chest felt tight, his emotions a tangled mess as he stared after Lance, trying to piece together what had just happened, his heart pounding. The confusion, the guilt, the unbearable weight of Lance’s words—it all swirled in his chest, leaving him rooted in place, his throat thick with unspoken words. Whatever just happened, it left Keith feeling more lost than ever.

The hum of the ship’s engines was a low, constant vibration beneath their feet as the infiltration team sat tensely in the cockpit. The small craft drifted through the vastness of space, its masking cloak engaged the moment they were in a reading vicinity of Vrelen’s ship, rendering it nearly invisible against the stars. Keith stood at the helm, his gaze fixed on the growing outline of Vrelen’s battleship ahead, its ominous silhouette cutting through the darkness like a jagged blade.

Axca, seated near Zethrid, glanced toward him, her sharp eyes narrowing slightly as she assessed his posture. He could feel her gaze on him even as he kept his attention forward, his hands tight on the controls. “You good?” she asked quietly, her voice low enough not to carry to the others.

Keith didn’t look at her, his voice clipped as he replied, “Fine.”

It wasn’t true, of course, and he knew that she knew this fact as well, having a special trained sixth sense on Keith, as she and his own mother seemingly share, but he couldn’t afford to falter now. He couldn’t have Axca concerned and hovering over him too. God, is this what Lance felt with him?

Behind him, the cockpit was suffused with a heavy tension, the kind that made the air feel thick and hard to breathe. Pidge was hunched over her equipment, triple-checking the scanner she’d rigged to detect security systems on the battleship. Ezor and Nyma sat on opposite sides, murmuring to each other in hushed tones as they prepped their gear. Lance was leaned back in his seat, arms crossed, his mask clipped at his side. He wasn’t saying anything, but Keith could feel the weight of his presence—could feel Lance’s eyes on him, sharp and focused, unwavering its look on Keith’s back. Keith wondered if Lance even realized his attention was trained on him, feeling warm from it.

Keith turned his attention back to the approaching ship, his jaw tightening. “We’re closing in,” he said, his voice steady, though his pulse was thrumming harder than he cared to admit. “Zethrid, keep us in position and prepare to hold. Axca, double-check the external comms—if Vrelen’s ship picks up a blip, even for a second, this whole thing’s over.”

Axca gave him a curt nod, her hands already moving over the controls.

“Shiro, Kolivan, do you have us?” Keith asked over comms.

Shiro’s voice came through, calm and steady, grounding Keith in a way few things could. “We’ve got you. You’re coming in clean. Just stay on plan, and we’ll be here to guide you back.”

Kolivan’s gruff tone followed. “Maintain focus. Vrelen’s forces are unpredictable. There’s no room for error.”

Keith exhaled slowly, his gaze flickering to the cockpit. “Nyma, you’re on the plasma cutter. Once we’re above the vent, you’ll cut us an entry point. Everyone else, be ready to drop the second we’re through.”

The team nodded, the air growing even more charged as they moved to their positions. Keith turned back toward the controls, catching Lance’s gaze out of the corner of his eye. Lance wasn’t trying to hide it—his blue eyes were locked on Keith, unreadable but piercing, like he was searching for something Keith wasn’t ready to give.

Keith’s throat tightened, but he shoved the feeling down, forcing his focus to the task at hand. He couldn’t afford distractions—not now.

As they reached the battleship and descending in a slow hover above Vrelen’s ship, Zethrid brought their craft to a halt, holding it steady as it hovered just above the vent system. The masking cloak flickered slightly, stabilizing as Axca monitored it.

“Nyma, you’re up,” Keith commanded, his voice firm.

Nyma smirked, grabbing the plasma cutter and sliding her mask over her face. “Got it, boss.” She moved toward the hatch, the rest of the team following.

Keith clicked his own mask into place, his voice sharp as he continued. “Stay tight, stay quiet. We get in, we disable whatever Vrelen’s working on, and we’re out. We stay strong as a team.”

The faintest snort came from Lance’s direction, but he didn’t say anything. Keith didn’t look at him, didn’t dare, as the hatch opened with a hiss, exposing them to the cold vacuum of space.

One by one, they descended, the tether lines keeping them connected to the ship as they moved toward the vent. Keith went last, his body coiled with tension as his boots hit the metal surface of Vrelen’s battleship. His heart pounded in his chest, but he forced himself to focus, to push forward.

This was it. No room for second-guessing. No room for failure.

The plasma cutter hissed and sparked as Nyma sliced through the thick metal of the vent covering. The team hovered silently in the void of space, tethered to their ship as their masks fed them oxygen. Keith felt the vibrations of the tool through the soles of his boots as he braced himself against the battleship’s hull. His breathing was steady but deliberate, a forced rhythm to keep the rising tension from seizing his chest.

The vent cover clanged softly as it detached, and Nyma caught it deftly, angling it aside to prevent it from floating off. She glanced back at Keith, giving a thumbs-up. Keith nodded sharply, then motioned for the team to move.

One by one, they slipped inside, descending carefully into the narrow shaft. The muted clinking of boots on metal echoed faintly, the sound swallowed by the oppressive quiet of the vent. Keith went last again, lowering himself into the shadows, his body taut as he dropped silently to the floor below.

They landed in a cavernous hallway, dimly lit and eerily sterile. The walls were smooth and metallic, reflecting faint streaks of cold, artificial light. Every sound they made seemed to echo back at them tenfold, and Keith’s senses prickled as he scanned the area.

“Pidge,” Keith said quietly, his voice barely audible through the comms.

Pidge was already crouched, her fingers flying over her portable monitor system. Wires dangled from her pack, hooking into the ship’s systems through a makeshift panel she’d clamped onto the wall. The glow of her screen lit up her focused face as she muttered calculations under her breath.

“Give me a second… Okay, I’m in. I’ve got access to the ship’s basic systems—cameras, patrol patterns, heat signatures.” Her voice was calm but clipped, professional, as she adjusted her equipment. “This place is huge. Patrols are moving in teams of two, standard formations. We’ve got a window, but it’s tight.”

“Anything nearby?” Keith asked, his voice low but commanding.

“Not yet,” Pidge said, her fingers still flying. “The next patrol is three corridors over. If we move now, we can avoid them.”

“She’s good.” Nyma smirked, hand on her hip and looking down at Pidge. Pidge gave a huff as if to say

duh

, while Lance just beamed at her.

Keith glanced at Axca, who nodded, already gripping her weapon. “Let’s move,” he ordered, his voice steady.

The team fell into formation, Axca leading with Keith right behind her. Ezor and Nyma followed, with Pidge in the back, her eyes glued to her monitor. Keith could feel Lance behind him—close enough that he could sense the weight of his presence, the faint sound of his breathing through the comms. It was grounding and distracting all at once. Lance hadn’t said a word since they’d entered the ship, and Keith wasn’t sure if the silence was reassuring or unnerving.

The hallway stretched endlessly ahead, each step echoing faintly despite their best efforts to stay silent. The temperature inside the ship was cold, unnaturally so, and Keith felt the chill even through his suit. The air itself felt heavy, oppressive, like the weight of the battleship was bearing down on them.

“Left at the next junction,” Pidge whispered, her voice sharp and clear through the comms.

Keith motioned, and Axca adjusted course. They moved like shadows, their steps soft and measured, every corner a potential threat. The tension was palpable, the kind that made Keith’s skin crawl and his instincts sharpen to a razor’s edge. The ship felt too quiet, its vastness swallowing every sound they made. Keith’s mind churned with possibilities—ambushes, hidden traps, alarms—but he forced himself to focus on Pidge’s voice, her updates cutting through the oppressive silence.

“Clear,” Pidge said as they turned another corner. “Keep going straight. There’s a security node up ahead we can bypass if we—wait.”

Keith froze, his heart lurching. The entire team stopped, every muscle coiled.

“What?” Keith hissed over his shoulder, his hand already on his blade. Axca went to mimic his quick move, ever his mirror.

Pidge’s fingers danced over her monitor. “...False alarm,” she said, exhaling. “Just a blip in the thermal readings. Probably interference. Keep moving.”

He heard Ezor let out a small groan of annoyance as Keith forced himself to relax, but his nerves were taut, his instincts screaming at him to stay on guard. He motioned for the team to continue, his eyes scanning every shadow, every corner.

The tension was suffocating, every second stretching into an eternity as they moved deeper into the ship. The hallway seemed to grow narrower, the walls pressing closer, the air colder. Keith’s thoughts spiraled, his mind flickering between the mission, the Lion, and Lance.

Lance.

He could still feel him at his back, his presence solid and constant. Despite their arguing, despite the utter look of betrayal and anger and annoyance and something else Keith couldn’t quite place, Lance stayed glue to Keith’s back, as if nothing had changed and they were still in Voltron, relying on his right hand mand to be ever present and at attention if needed. To be the one Keith sought out first if things went wrong. Keith wanted to turn around, to make sure Lance was okay, to say something to him, but he couldn’t afford the distraction.

“Keith,” Pidge said softly, breaking his thoughts. “Next left. Then you’ll have to hold while I disable the next security node.”

“Got it,” Keith replied, his voice steady despite the chaos in his mind.

As they moved, Keith caught a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye. He stiffened, his hand gripping his blade tightly. But when he turned, there was nothing—just the cold, empty hallway stretching endlessly ahead.

The ship felt alive, like it was watching them, waiting for them to slip up. The tension was unbearable, and Keith couldn’t shake the feeling that something was about to happen. Something big.

The moment Pidge hacked into the next security system, a loud, sharp

whirrr-clank

echoed through the corridor. Keith’s stomach sank as a row of panels along the walls slid open, revealing gleaming, humanoid robots with sharp-edged designs and glowing red visors.

“Oh, no,” Pidge muttered, her fingers scrambling over her monitor. “They’re combat bots! I—I’ve got their communications monitored, but this—this wasn’t on the scans!”

“They must’ve been on a separate circuit!” Axca growled, her weapon already raised.

“They’re going to alert Vrelen if we don’t take them out

now

!” Nyma shouted, bracing herself.

“

Then take them out!

” Ezor snapped, her usual sarcasm stripped to raw intensity. She lunged forward, unleashing a series of blasts at the advancing robots.

Keith’s instincts kicked in immediately, his blade igniting in a burst of blue as he surged forward. The air filled with the sound of plasma fire and the metallic clang of weapons colliding.

The corridor erupted into chaos. Robots fired energy rounds that streaked dangerously close, forcing the team to scatter. Pidge ducked behind a wall and dropped down, her hands flying over her monitor and hunched away as blasts nearly sniped at her. The team all surged forward, blocking theri braniac from getting attacked and moving quickly and with intent. Keith moved with precision, dodging blasts and slashing through one of the bots in a single, fluid motion. Sparks flew, the pieces clattering to the floor as he moved on to the next target.

“Keith! Behind you!” Lance’s voice cut through the noise, sharp and urgent.

Keith didn’t think—he dropped instantly, his body hitting the floor as a plasma blast scorched past where his head had been. A second later, Lance’s own shot rang out, striking the robot squarely in its core and sending it crumpling to the ground.

Keith turned to look at Lance, his chest heaving. Lance’s rifle was still raised, his lips curling in the faintest hint of a smirk, a glimmer of pride in his eyes. It was fleeting, but it struck Keith like a lightning bolt.

He didn’t have time to process it. A flash of movement to his left snapped him back into the fray. Keith surged forward, slashing through another robot with brutal efficiency.

The fight felt endless, each second dragging on as more bots poured into the corridor. Keith’s focus narrowed to survival and protecting his team. But his heart stopped when he heard Lance cry out—a sharp, pained sound that sent adrenaline crashing through him.

Keith’s eyes snapped to Lance just in time to see a robot swing its arm, slamming into Lance’s side and sending him stumbling.

“

Lance!

” Keith shouted, his voice raw.

The world blurred as Keith moved. He was on the robot in an instant, his blade slicing through its arm with a savage ferocity. He didn’t stop. He swung again and again, his movements almost feral as he tore the machine apart. Sparks and shards of metal flew in every direction, the sound of Keith’s blade ringing loud and sharp.

“Keith!” Lance’s voice broke through the haze, sharp and firm.

Keith froze, his chest heaving, his blade still raised. The remnants of the robot lay in a twisted heap at his feet. Slowly, he turned to Lance, his breaths ragged.

“I’m fine,” Lance said, his voice more gentle now, but still carrying that exasperated edge only Lance could pull off. He was clutching his side but standing tall, his gaze locked on Keith. “Calm down, man. No blood, see?” He made a show of removing his hand to show his side, wincing at the movement but still revealing he was in fact ok.

Keith blinked, his hands trembling as he powered down his blade. He felt the weight of his reaction sink in, the realization of how quickly—how

violently

—he had moved to protect Lance. His breath hitched as he took in Lance’s face, the faint flush of exertion, the determination in his eyes, and—just barely visible—the flicker of something softer beneath.

Lance gave him a crooked, reassuring grin, though his posture was still tight with pain. “Thanks for the save. But seriously, you don’t need to go full Galra-wild every time I get hit.”

Keith’s chest ached, a painful mix of relief and something deeper. “I… I didn’t mean to—”

“Relax,” Lance interrupted, his tone lighter, though his gaze lingered on Keith a moment too long. “I said I’m fine. Just focus on breaking other robots that don’t get a hit on me too.”

The tension between them was almost unbearable, a crackling, unspoken thing that lingered as the rest of the team regrouped. Axca and Ezor took up positions to secure the area, while Pidge frantically worked to regain control of the systems.

“We should be getting closed to the bridge.” Axca rolled her shoulders, giving a look of Keith that meant

we are ending this.

Keith gave her a silent nod, flexing his hand out at the tight grip he had with his sword.

“We should keep heading in the direction, hopefully none of those robots sent off alerts to Vrelen. Pidge?” Keith turned to look at the smallest of them all, who was frowning at her monitor, not listening. Keith cleared his throat again, glancing at Lance, who was peering over her shoulder, his eyes tracing but ultimately shrugging up at Keith, lost.

“Pidge.” Keith took a step to her, louder and more stern, and this snapped Pidge’s attention back up, looking sheepish.

She glanced down at her monitor, her brows furrowing in concentration. “Sorry, just,” she said, holding up a hand to pause the group. “There’s another thermal signature down the opposite hall.”

Keith froze, his heart jumping to his throat. “What?” he asked, stepping closer to peer over her opposite shoulder.

“It’s faint,” Pidge continued, adjusting her display. “But definitely humanoid. It doesn’t match any of Vrelen’s troops—it’s isolated.”

Nyma’s voice rose, sharp and trembling with emotion. “Rolo?”

Keith’s breath caught, his mind racing. He knew it had to be. “It’s him,” he said firmly, the certainty in his tone leaving no room for argument. “I’m going.”

“Absolutely not!” Axca barked, spinning to face him. Her eyes narrowed with a mix of frustration and concern. “That is not the mission. We’re here to stop Vrelen, not chase ghosts!”

Keith’s jaw clenched, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “He’s not a ghost,” he snapped, his voice low and filled with an edge that made even Axca pause. “We’re close. I can’t leave him here.”

“Keith,” Lance’s voice cut in, irritated and sharp. “Are you serious right now? Splitting up isn’t just reckless—it’s suicidal. You know how crazy Vrelen is!”

“I’m not asking anyone to come with me,” Keith shot back, his voice tight with controlled anger. “I’ll handle it.”

“And get yourself killed?” Axca said, her voice rising. “Think, Keith. Vrelen’s the priority. If we don’t stop him, none of this will matter.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Keith snapped, his frustration boiling over. “But I’m not leaving him behind! Not when we’re this close! He saved my life, and I owe him that much to get him out of this mess.”

“I get that, trust me. You out of everyone taught me about going back for someone. But right now, I need you to think about the stakes here.” Axca growled, stepping toward him. Her trained eyes wavered on Keith’s own stare, a bit of emotion slipping through at their own memories together, flooding back to her hardened surface. Of the times Keith had in fact gone back for Axca when she was nothing more than his trained assassin after him and loyal to the enemy. “Control yourself before you jeopardize everything.”

Keith’s body tensed, his emotions a storm threatening to break free. His voice dropped, cold and resolute. “I’m going. With or without your permission.”

The room fell silent for a heartbeat, the weight of his words hanging heavy in the air, the two leaders of the mission squared up in a staring contest, waiting to see which one was about to falter first at each othr’s blazing fire.

Lance let out a sharp breath, his expression twisting in frustration. “You’re impossible,” he muttered, stepping forward and grabbing Keith’s arm. His grip was firm, his eyes blazing with anger and something else Keith couldn’t place. “Fine. But I’m coming with you.”

“What?” Keith blinked, caught off guard.

“If you’re going to do something stupid, at least let me make sure you don’t get yourself killed in the process,” Lance said, his voice biting. But his hand didn’t let go of Keith’s arm, the heat of his touch burning through the fabric.

“I can’t just let you—” Keith began, but Lance cut him off with a glare.

“Don’t argue with me. In and out, fast. Just like you’ve been saying all day. Got it?” Lance snapped.

“Go, I trust you two to get in faster while we maintain security out here.” Nyma’s voice was gentle, wavering a bit in anticipation. Keith breathed out through his nose, catching Axca’s fiery eyes as she glared down at the floor.

Pidge sighed heavily, her fingers flying over her monitor. “Fine, fine,” she muttered. “I’ll monitor you two from here. Rendezvous at this location in fifteen minutes. No more.”

Axca groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. “This is insane.” She turned to Ezor. “We clear the next hallways ahead. If they’re not back in time, we proceed to Vrelen without them.”

Ezor shrugged, her tone breezy but tinged with exasperation. “Fine by me, but don’t come crying if you get into deep trouble.”

Keith’s jaw tightened as he adjusted his grip on his blade, his emotions churning. He felt Lance’s gaze on him, burning and unrelenting, but he refused to meet it. Instead, he pushed forward, his focus narrowing to the faint thermal signal down the opposite hall.

Lance stayed close on his heels, his presence both grounding and suffocating. The silence between them was thick with unspoken tension, but Keith didn’t dare break it.

They moved quickly, the cold and metallic walls of the ship pressing in around them. Keith’s heart thundered in his chest, not just from the mission’s stakes but from the heat of Lance’s glare boring into the back of his neck.

He pushed the emotions down, focusing instead on the faint glimmer of hope that this could lead to Rolo.

They ran in silence, hurried, quick, and both boiling with their own unspoken bitter words with each other. Kieth’s brain felt like it was on overdrive, the poision in his gut wrenching and seemingly twisting evem harder with Lance’s weird on and off cold shoulder, unable to read where they were exactly with each other.

The two came to a stpp at the end of the corridor, the sealed door loomed ahead, thick and unyielding. Keith muttered a sharp curse under his breath, pressing a hand against the wall as if willing it to open by sheer force of will.

“Pidge,” he barked into his comm, his voice strained, “we’re at the door. It’s locked down tight. How much longer?”

Pidge’s voice crackled back, distracted and irritable. “Give me a second, would you? This system is layered with redundancies, and I’m trying to keep us from tripping an alarm in the process. Just…hold tight.”

Keith paced, his boots echoing against the cold metal floor. His fingers twitched at his sides, and every sharp turn of his heel radiated tension. They were so close he could tase it, the adrenaline and drive to finally end this part of Vrelen’s unfair reign almost at its end. Lance leaned casually against the opposite wall, arms crossed, watching Keith’s every move with an expression caught somewhere between exasperation and reluctant curiosity.

“You know,” Lance finally broke the silence, his voice low and moody, “you pacing like a caged animal isn’t exactly helping.”

Keith stopped mid-step, his back stiffening.

“What am I supposed to do?” he snapped, though his voice lacked its usual bite. “Just stand here and think about Pidge’s coding and will it to go faster?”

Lance rolled his eyes, pushing off the wall and standing upright. “It’s called patience. Not that you’d know anything about that.”

Keith glared at him, but the sharp retort died in his throat. Instead, he let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair. “If something’s happened to him…” he muttered, more to himself than Lance. “If he’s…”

Lance tilted his head, his annoyance softening slightly. “Don’t start with that self-blame crap,” he said, waving a hand dismissively. “That’s such a ‘Keith’ thing to do.”

Keith stopped pacing, his shoulders dropping as he turned to face Lance. “This isn’t just some random guilt trip,” he said, his voice quieter now, heavier. “Vrelen was aiming at me. Rolo…he jumped in front of the shot. Took the hit for me. Now he’s in there after going through who knows what.”

Lance blinked, the tension in his posture shifting as he processed the weight of Keith’s words. His face tightened, though his expression was unreadable, his usual sharp tongue absent. “I didn’t know he did that,” Lance said softly, more a soft statement to himself.

Keith nodded, his jaw tight, his eyes locked on the sealed door as though it held all the answers. “He shouldn’t have had to. I should’ve been faster, smarter. I owe him—”

The sound of a quiet click interrupted him, and the door hissed as it slid open.

Pidge’s voice came through the comm again, triumphant but tired. “You’re clear. Move fast.”

Keith didn’t waste a second. He darted inside, his blade already drawn, scanning the room with quick, sharp movements. Lance followed close behind, uncharacteristically silent as he took in the scene.

The room was empty all except a body right in front of them, the cold, dark atmosphere seemingly seeping of any life. Rolo was slumped against the far wall, his body battered and bruised, his wrists shackled to the wall. His head tilted up as they entered, and he managed a weak, crooked grin.

“Took you long enough,” he rasped, his voice strained but still managing a note of humor.

Keith’s stomach twisted, the relief hitting him like a physical force. He was by Rolo’s side in an instant, his blade slicing cleanly through the chains.

“Hey,” he said, his voice rough, his throat tightening at the sight of the bruises and cuts and dark shades peppering Rolo’s skin. “We are getting you out of here.”

Rolo leaned heavily against Keith as he was pulled to his feet, his weight a dead giveaway to how much he’d been through. “Didn’t think you’d actually show,” Rolo muttered, the words tinged with exhaustion but also genuine surprise.

“Of course I showed,” Keith said, almost angrily, as though the idea of anything else was absurd.

Lance hovered just a few steps behind, his usual quips absent, his face unusually still as he watched the scene unfold. His gaze flicked between Rolo’s battered form and Keith’s tense expression, something unreadable swirling in his eyes as it caught and rested on Rolo’s arm draped over Keith’s shoulders for support.

Rolo chuckled weakly, wincing immediately after. “Ever the unsung hero, boss.”

Keith didn’t respond, his focus entirely on steadying Rolo and getting him out of the room. But Lance’s silence, his watchful gaze, pressed against Keith’s back like a brand, heavy and impossible to ignore.

“Lance, take his other arm and help here.” Keith shot over, and Lance seemed to be caugh toff as he blinked back into the moment, nodding a quick acknowledgement and helping Rolo drape his other arm over his shoulders.

The two managed to help half drag Rolo out into the hall, where there was a distant sound of some gunshots and foosteps against the flooring.

“We got Rolo. Pidge, any updates on the route back? Is it clear?” Keith commed over, and waitied for a second before the crackle of Pidge’s sharp voice came over.

“You’re all clear. A couple rogue sentries came by but they were dealt with. Just come back fast so we can regroup and I can shut off the security doors from your section so we aren’t flanked from the back.”

Keith and Lance moved quickly, Rolo’s arm slung over Keith’s shoulder, his weight dragging them both down as they pushed back toward the regroup point. Lance had fallen into an eerily silence, one that was void of his past anger towards Keith, making it feel different as Rolo muttered under his breath winces and Keith let out huffs. Lance’s mood was oddly quiet, his lips pressed into a tight line that Keith couldn’t help but notice.

The second they reached the rendezvous, the group waiting all looked up. Nyma was the firs tto react, her eyes blowing wide as she rushed forward, her face a mix of relief and distress as she grabbed Rolo’s free hand. “Rolo!” she gasped, her voice trembling.

Rolo managed a weak chuckle, his usual cocky grin dulled by exhaustion. “Don’t get all emotional on me, Nyma. I’m fine. Just a scratch or ten.”

She gave him a light punch on his arm before throwing her arms around his shoulders, giving him a hug that everyone felt the weight of. Rolo let out a rough groan, making Nyma fly back, her eyes huge looking at Keith as he lowered Rolo to the floor to prop him against the wall. His body had dried blood and cuts at his sides, definetly from past interrogation assaults and torture. He didn’t want to think about the physical pain Vrelen could have done if his mental pain was already unbearable.

Keith frowned, his sharp eyes scanning Rolo’s bruises and cuts with clinical intensity.

“Doesn’t look fine,” he muttered, crouching to inspect a gash on Rolo’s leg. “We need to clean this up now. Lance, you—”

“I know, I know,” Lance snapped, his voice impatient but not unkind. He was already rummaging through the med kit strapped to his side, his movements brisk. “See, grabbing medical kits sometimes can come in handy when facing off an evil warlord—”

“Not the time, Lance,” Keith cut him off, his tone clipped. But the heat behind Lance’s words hung in the air between them, unspoken tension simmering as Lance worked, pulling out some bandages and beginning to wrap it around Rolo’s arm. He pulled out a swab of disinfectant, holding it out for Keith to take without meeting his eyes, blue icicles cast down to Rolo before the two both dove in on cleaning and mending.

Keith felt Lance’s gaze flick to him every few seconds, heavy and pointed. He ignored it, focusing on cleaning Rolo’s wound with an intensity that felt disproportionate even to himself. But the weight of Lance’s eyes—it burned, pulled his focus in the worst way, set his teeth on edge with something he couldn’t name.

“Keith, eyes up,” Axca’s sharp voice cut through the moment. Her hand was on her weapon, her body taut with readiness. “We don’t have time for this. Move. Now.”

Before anyone could respond, a loud, guttural cackling noise echoed down the corridor, metallic and unearthly. The walls vibrated faintly with its intensity.

“What the quiznak was that?” Lance hissed, his head snapping toward the sound.

“I’m not picking up any heat signatures,” Pidge’s voice cracked as she glanced nervously at Axca, who was already brandishing her sword in the front of the group. “Whatever it is, it’s not organic.”

Keith rose to his feet, blade already in hand, every muscle coiled with tension. “Stay with him,” he barked at Lance, motioning to Rolo.

“Oh, great, because I didn’t already

plan

on that,” Lance muttered, rolling his eyes but shifting into a protective stance near Rolo.

Keith lowered his stance, stepping slowly down the hall towards the noise, Axca flanking him with Ezor and Nyma right behind, all of them ready. The hallway ahead was dark save for the faint flicker of sparking lights from damaged panels. Then, from the shadows, the thing emerged.

A towering, mechanical beast stood there, its sleek, angular body bristling with weapons and flanked by a dozen sentry bots. Its head swiveled toward them, glowing red eyes locking on Keith with a predatory focus. He felt his breath catch in his throat and felt at a complete loss looking at the creature, resembling something so different from the regular sentrys they have been wiping out.

“What the hell is that thing?” Axca breathed out, reacting first.

“Wait, that kinda looks like some of the designs the scientists had in some of their saved data panels from planet Cartheron.” Nyma muttered, taking a step back. Axca peeled her head to sideglance at her, her face whitening.

“What?”

“Move!” Keith roared, darting forward just as a blast surged toward him and the girls.

His blade cut through the air, deflecting the attack with a sharp burst of sparks. He gasped out a breath as the fire sparked at his feet from the hit, the simmering sear of the noise dying around him as he turned back to the robotic beast ahead. It roared and clicked, moving cogs around its mian frame body, its legs sticking out with pieces of metal Keith recognizes as parts the scientist had in some of their tents. It did look familiar as something that would come out on Cartheron after all.

“That’s beyond anything I’ve ever seen before!” Pidge gawked, her eyes widening right as Keith took a step in front of her and slashing his sword at another fire, the heat singing off the blade.

“Wait, so that thing is from the planet?” Ezor squealed, jumping to sidestep another fiery blast that was shot out of the robotic creature’s mouth. Its jaws snapped open, revealing teeth that whirred and spun, almost like a drill.

“I spent a lot of time trying to learn their tech! It looks very similar in structure to past designs of things they have built, sort of like the machine Vrelen took from them.” Nyma shouted over a blast aimed at her head.

“I don’t care where its from, I just want it dead!” Keith steeled his gaze on it as a couple sentrys started blasting from behind it, half blocked from the sheer size of it. The girls all ducked, dodging and slashing with their own guns and swords. Some of the sentrys shot and barley hit the hunched over heads of Lance and Rolo, still on the ground. Lance was covering Rolo slightly, but the lack of shields they both had were throwing warning sides around Keith’s vision. Stupid Blade uniform and its lack of shields.He grabbed hold of Pidge from her collar and lept aggressively, pulling her with a yelp as he made his way to the two hunched on the floor. He shoved both Lance and Rolo hard to the side, sending them sprawling behind a corner and safely out of blasting zones before throwing Pidge with them. Rolo and Pidge both landed with rough groans and mutters, readjusting their sudden fling through the air, while Lance just popped up fast and turned to gape at Keith, his face flushed.

“Keith, what the hell?!” Lance shouted, scrambling to help Rolo up while glaring at Keith with barely restrained irritation.

“Keep fixing him!” Keith snapped, his voice sharp as a blade. His stance was low and aggressive, already preparing for the next attack.

“Oh,

so easy!

I’ll just fix him up while you go play hero—”

“Lance!” Keith barked, his tone so commanding that Lance fell silent. He snapped his mouth shut, his eyes widening and cheeks flushing a slight shade of pink, pausing to glare back at Keith. Keith was not about to waste any more energy in arguing, and right when he was ready to take another annoyed yell from Lance, Lance let out an exaggerated groan, turning silently to continue bandaging up Rolo, muttering something under his breath that Keith couldn’t catch.

The beast let out another eerie, mechanical whirr before charging, its sentries firing relentlessly. Keith darted into the fray, his blade slicing through two bots in a fluid motion. His focus was razor-sharp, but through it all, he could feel Lance’s presence, hear his frustrated muttering as he worked on stabilizing Rolo.

It grounded him and distracted him in equal measure, a volatile mix of duty and blind aggression.

He ran back out there, slashing at a couple shots at its direct as he watched two sentrys break loose from around the robot creature and come running at them, which were no match for Axca as she threw her sword through the air and took down one in the chest before leaping to kick at the other, the two robots dropping. As she went to go snatch up her dagger, the robot beast crackled as its jaw snapped open, the inside of its throat lighting up as it looked like it was about to recharge and shoot off a blast.

Keith’s legs burned as he tore ripped out a gun from a fallen robot that Nyma had just shot down and immedelty shot towards the creatures face, shaky and barely missing its jaw. His shot hit it with a clang, forcing the robot to snap its jaws back and let out another robotic noise that sounded like it was resetting.

“It looks like similar shots that the machine is able to do, just a lot smaller!” Nyma was at Keith’s side, shooting a shot that bounced off the metal gear that seemed to armor the body.

“That means if we get shot, its gonna burn the hell out of us.” Ezor gasped, shooting her shot at another sentry that slinked around the creatures body.

“Then don’t get shot!” Keith grinded his molars. Ezor scoffed.

“Well, duh, boss. How do we stop that thing though if all our shots are practically bouncing off its body?”

“I don’t know, it just as a familiar build to a lot of the other inventions and materials Cartheron used.” Nyma shrugged.

“What, so you spent all that time looking at their stuff and didn’t learn how to actually take down their weapons?” Ezor’s voice was shrill.

“When I was looking at their blueprints they weren’t using their technology as super weapons meant to destory and kill! At the time I was looking at it it looked like it was a farming tool on the land. That’s why its teeth look like drills.” Nyma pointed, her face reddening a bit in anger at Ezor, and Keith just slashed his sword in front of all three of them to deflect another couple shots at them.

“We need a new tactic then. Shooting isn’t going to do anything. Maybe we can get around it and loose it in the halls? It looks big and bulky, like its not moving fast.” Keith huffed, grinding his molars more to keep himself from shouting at the two girls.

Just then, he saw movement out of the corner of his eye as Pidge came running out of hiding, barreling towards the three of them and dodging more shots.

“I have an idea! Can you guys get me close? I need to figure out what makes it tick and maybe, I don’t know,

kill it!

” Pidge yelled, dodging right as a gunshot flew right past her face. Keith yanked her behind him, gripping at her shoulder and glaring at her.

“What are you doing? You don’t have a weapon on you and I told you to stay–”

“For the love of god, you really are as annoying as Lance warned me. Can you just trust someone for once? You used to anyways.” Pidge set her jaw firm, her hazel eyes blazing back up at Keith and meeting his glare. Her voice was sharp and biting. Despite her height, her presence was commanding and intense. Keith felt his chest tighten at her blow, her words ringing in his ears.

That, or the shots being fired around him.

Keith didn’t hesitate, already positioning himself in front of her as she moved in, her fingers flying over her tablet. His blade hummed through the air, deflecting a barrage of blasts from the sentry bots flanking the mechanical creature. They continued shooting, but were being taken down one by one from shots coming from Nyma and Ezor, while Axca deflected shots coming from sentrys on the other side of the creatures body. He could hear more shots coming from behind as he saw Lance’s own gun poking from around his corner, sniping just above Axca’s shoulder to keep her safe. Everyone was in full force, full attack, high awareness. The creature began clicking and whirring, its jaw snapping open as its teeth began spinning on its razor axis, the inside of its throat lighting up as it pointed its head to train on Keith and Pidge, preparing another blast.

“You’ve got about ten seconds before we’re toast, Pidge,” he warned, his tone clipped but steady.

“Don’t rush me,” Pidge shot back, her voice fiery. Her eyes were locked on the screens floating in front of her. “This isn’t exactly plug-and-play. This tech is ancient, advanced, and weird as hell—ugh, who even

designed

this interface? It’s like they wanted it to be infuriating!”

“Not the time to question its creator,” Keith grunted, his blade slashing through another blast aimed at their heads, thanking for the moment that she was such a tiny target that could duck successfully behind Keith’s own towering body.

Pidge huffed. “Oh,

so helpful,

Keith. Thanks for the insightful critique. Maybe try not letting us get blown to bits while I’m over here trying to outthink a robot dragon or whatever this thing is.”

Keith didn’t respond, too focused on cutting down the relentless attacks as they inched closer to the towering beast. Pidge muttered rapid-fire science under her breath, her tone a mix of concentration and irritation. “Thermal sensors… Oh, that’s cute, it’s got an adaptive firewall, and a core base of a heated powersource. Interesting. That’s not going to save you, buddy.”

The creature turned, its glowing red eyes locking onto them. Keith froze as its mechanical legs striked down hard onto the floor, grounding itself, the telltale glow of a charging blast illuminating the space in a sinister red hue. It was about to shoot at them in seconds.

“Keith, get down!” He heard Axca’s voice, but his eyes were trained onto the ball of fire erupting out of the robotic jaw.

“Drop!” he yelled, throwing his arm back to grab her. But instead of pulling her away, he staggered, his instincts taking over as he threw his body on top of hers, knocking them both to the ground. The heat of the blast swelled, pressing against his back like a wave about to crash—

Only, it didn’t.

Keith lifted his head, stunned, and saw a translucent, shimmering dome green surrounding them. The fiery blast melted harmlessly around the barrier, leaving streaks of molten red that fizzled out into smoke as it came crashing to the ground, the metal searing from the heat and energy of the blast, smoke sizzling up.

“Did you seriously think I’d come into this without some of my own tech?” Pidge’s voice cut through his shock, dry and undeniably smug. Keith glanced down at her to see her smirking up at him, her glasses reflecting the faint green hue of the shield she had deployed, an arm in front of her to mimic a shield that was very much materailzed in front of the two of them, protecting them from the blast.

“What…?” Keith started, his brain scrambling to catch up.

Pidge reached up, tapping the side of her tablet with a flourish. “Shield tech. I’ve been working on it for months. I wanted something to be able to withstand a blast of the highest temperatures and push to see just how far it can go by testing it with jet fuel blasts. It’s not perfect, but it’s pretty good in a pinch, huh? Honestly, you should be impressed.”

Keith blinked, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly as a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “Okay. I’m impressed.”

“Damn right you are,” Pidge quipped, sitting up and adjusting her glasses as if the fiery inferno hadn’t just been licking at their shield. “Now, do me a favor and keep that oversized tin can busy for another sixty seconds while I finish getting something ready.”

Keith pushed himself to his feet, the warmth of her confidence—her unshakable determination—lingering in his chest. He tightened his grip on his blade and nodded, throwing down a smirk at her. “You’ve got sixty seconds. Don’t waste them.”

Pidge grinned. “Keith, I don’t waste anything.”

And with that, she returned to her screens, muttering under her breath about

subpar alien coding

and

teaching them a thing or two about modern encryption

. Keith stood his ground in front of her, a shield of his own in flesh and steel, their usual rhythm falling into place even amidst the chaos. They would have to get through his fighting body before anything touched the girl mumbling nonsense behind him.

Several more shots rung out from the last of the sentrys dropping down as the girls took them down with the help of Lance’s specially eye trained shots from his distance, all working in tandem. The creature let out another earpiercing rattle from the core, something so metallic and sharp that it hurt to hear, as its feet clanged down onto the ground again, centering itself as it began humming and lighting up again, preparing for another blast.

“Pidge, you got any more of those shields on you?” Keith muttered.

“Not unless you can wait another 4 minutes for it to recharge its full protection.” Pidge glanced up, her eyes narrowing on the jaws clicking open again.

“Drop back, we have nothing to shield!” Axca yelled from behind them. Keith nodded, turning to look at Pidge, who was inputting something that looked similar to the periodic table. It was like she was mixing up a chemical compound herself, plugging in different codes as she brought out another box from her side.

“Pidge..” Keith started, but the loud sound of the beast stopped him in his tracks.

“You trust me, right?” Pidge snapped her eyes to Keith, causing him to falter. Pidge was the smartest person he knew, by a longshot. She always got them out of sticky situations last minute in Voltron, being able to crack any code and solve any calculation. Her brain was like an endless pusling computer, alive and running millions of miles an hour ahead of anyone else. It would be crazy not to trust her. He nodded, his gut wrenched a little as she gave him a small smile back up.

Then, she sprinted from behind Keith’s protection, landing face first right in front of the creature, her entire face lighting up from the fire blast that was growing inside the throat of the creature. Before Keith could scream her name, she flung her arm out, throwing what resemble tiny little chestnuts straight into the mouth of the creature. The creature roared out a noise as its teeth continued whirring right as the chestnuts disappeared down its throat. The creature shut its mouth closed as the fire began licking out its mouth, when suddenly, a huge blast of a mechanical vine shot out of its throat, stabbing through like a sword. One by one, more mechanical looking veines blasted out of the creatures throat and body, snaking around the creature and protruding out and squeezing, metal against metal, machine against machine. Keith could only watch in shock as the creature roared and tried to snap at the vines, but the vines were stronger as it continued englulfing the body with such strange and alive force, before the creature landed down with a loud clang, the vines shriveling up and coming to its own timely death, if a robot vine could even die.

“Holy crap.” Ezor was the first to break the silence. Pidge turned back to look at Keith, her face flushed and breathing hard, but broke out into a huge grin.

“Impressed?” She cocked her head, and Keith could only let out a breathless laugh.

“Pidge you never fail to be a mad genius!” Lance came tearing out from behind the wall, running to scoop Pidge up. She shouldered Lance as he attempted to hug her, shoving at him and groaning.

“Ok, ok, you can call me a genius or whatever! But enough with the hugging.” Pidge tried to have a cool demeanor, but she couldn’t hide a fond smile at Lance.

“We still have it, don’t we?” Lance held up a knuckle for Pidge, who just rolled her eyes at him and pounded it.

“Lance is right. That was some incredible crazy scientist shit you just did. I don’t know why I would even expect less.” Keith folded his arms, feeling a swell of pride in his chest. Pidge punched him in the arm, making him wince a bit from her secret strength she had hiding.

“Don’t you get mushy on me too, Keith. I used to think you were cool.” She gave him a small smile, her eyes dancing back at him. This felt right. This felt normal. Just like old times between the two. Keith wouldn’t have it any other way. He caught Lance’s eyes on him as well, giving him a lookl that Keith couldn’t quite place, his lips pulled tight and his eyes softened.

“We should keep moving. Vrelen has to know we are here if he sent whatever that was after us.” Axca nodded over the fallen robot bodies for them to continue.

The team continued on, Nyma now only needed to help Rolo, who had insisted on being more help and not a deadweight for the team. The group made their way around the bodies and through the hall, Pidge blinking through her monitor and pointing where it was safe to go. Keith felt lost in thought as he mindlessly followed behind Axca, his grip tightening on the hild of his sword. If Vrelen was able to replicate the machine, of course he was able to replicate different inventions that the scientists had on the planet. Turning good things into something evil for his own personal gain, hiw own technological advancements. The scientists were brilliant and had their own way of creation for good, but with the wrong mentality and drive, their tech could easily be switched into weapons for evil, as clearly being expereinced by the rest of them. What else did he have that they didn’t know, and what else was there to be expected once they actually find the room Vrelen is in. What trap were they about to head into?

“Jaw.”

Keith snapped his eyes up to Lance at his side, who was giving him an exasperated look. He still had a face that meant he was pissed off at Keith, but his eyes gave way to more of a softness. Keith furrowed his brows, thrown off for a second by the china blue, a starry night looking back at him.

Lance let out a sigh, reaching out a finger and poking Keith’s jaw. His skin burned at the contact, taking a sharp breath. He let his jaw relax, flexing it when he didn’t realize how tight he had been clenching, relaxing the moment Lance was back in his presence again. It felt broken, like he was teetering back and forth on this battlefront with Lance, like he wasn’t exactly sure where he was standing anymore, especially after their blow up back at the base. Yet here Lance was, still painfully annoyed with his jaw, eyes searing onto him in a careful and thoughtful focus that Keith felt like he didn’t deserve.

“You had some good shots back there.” Keith muttered, watching as Lance flinched. His eyes looked away quickly, taking in the walls they passed.

“Some? God, you’re full of compliments to make a guy swoon.”

Keith popped him mouth open to retract and redo, but Lance turned back to give him a gentle smile, his cheeks blushed a bit. Probably from the adrenaline and the fight.

“Look, Lance. I’m sorry again. I didn’t mean for it all to end up messed up.” Keith sighed, rolling his shoulders at the soreness. He felt Lance’s eyes trained on him, keeping slow pace right at his side.

“Yah, you did mess up.”

Keith snapped his eyes back, but Lance held up a hand to continue.

“So, you’re going to owe me when we get back to Earth. You have to do a huge presentation to my class and talk about how cool of a pilot I was and what an amazing teammate and coolest Paladin to Voltron I was. Make sure to really accentuate how much better of a fighter I am to you.”

Keith blinked, thrown off once again by the magnetic pulse Lance’s energy was. Lance let out a grin, biting down on his bottom lip trying to hide the joy he must have been getting out of the shock from Keith’s face.

“I can’t lie like that. What would Shiro say if I name you the coolest Paladin?” Keith scoffed, and Lance let out a strangled noise.

“That’s not fair! Then at least give me the second place of coolest Paladin.”

“You and I both saw what Pidge just did. Not a chance.”

“Third?”

Keith snorted at Lance’s whining, his heart fluttering at the way Lance had gotten closer to make a pout, feeling the burning heat of his warmth so close to him again. His heart hammered in his chest at the thought that Lance was back on speaking terms with him too. No more secrets.

“I want to see you teach a class.” Keith held a look over at Lance, who faltered a bit from laughing when he saw the serious tone in Keith’s voice.

“W-wait really?” Lance started, but quickly cleared his throat, his face flushing even redder. Keith nodded, his heart pounding.

“You liked it, right?” Keith asked, watching. Lance paused, his eyes glazed over in thought, before nodding slightly.

“Yah, its new and different and I’m still in the orientation phase, but I think I’ll do good there. I actually am excited to go back to school. Who would have thought?” Lance let out an airy laugh, looking away from Keith’s eyes.

“I never doubted you would do good.” Keith hummed, gripping his hilt tighter to control himself. Lance paused, looking over at Keith to meet his eyes again. His eyes held something back, flicking around Keith’s face, his ears blushing red and his fingers strumming at his sides, flexing and pulling into a fist as if he wanted to grab at something.

“Keith, when this is done, there’s actually something I wanted to…” Lance started, but another shot came flying between the two of them, singing Keith’s shoulder. Keith’s arm instincively flew out in front of Lance as he brandished his sword with the other.

“Oops, sorry! Two guards in front of the bridge door.” Pidge yelped from behind.

“Thanks for the warning.” Axca growled over her shoulder, shutting Pidge up from her intensity.

“I’m over this.” Keith muttered under his breath, but Lance shouldered over Keith’s arm, aiming his gun at one of the guards.

“Then let’s hurry up and finish this so we can go home and you can do that presentation all about me.” Lance smirked over. Keith’s stomach flipped at that look, so he let down his arm and stood back. Lance paused, his eyes dropping to Keith’s feet as they took a step back, questioning. Keith cocked his head over to the two guards, who were slightly taller in build and spinning what looked like electric rods as their weapons.

“Go on then. Give me something to talk about.”

Lance’s face blanked, blinking in shock for a moment before a huge grin lit up his face as he narrowed his eyes, turning towards the guards.

“Gonna make you eat your words, mullet.” Lance shot off a fire at one of the guard’s arms, firing it off clean as it stumbled back. Nyma and Ezor were fast to shoot off at the same guard, compltely stunning it and rendering it useless as Axca went storming in with her own sword at the other.

“Careful letting him show off. He won’t shut up for the rest of the day if he does.” Pidge grumbled at Keith’s side, holding back a smile. The two stood back from the fight as the others rushed in, Lance taking most of the shots in such a precise way that sent a chill through Keith’s spine.

“You didn’t tell me he was such a good shot.” Rolo’s voice was low and hoarse, leaning against the wall with one arm. Keith turned to look at him, assessing how he was glued on Lance. Lance, with his broad shoulders and his legs dancing over the floor, his long limbs quick and stable as he ducked to shoot, his eyes trained and focused.

“One of the best shots out there.” Keith murmured in awe. Rolo hummed as Pidge let out a soft scoff.

“Don’t get gross before the main battle even starts.”

Keith shoved her lightly, but strong enough to send her stumbling away in small chuckles.

The guards were soon put down as the group centered right in front of the door to the bridge. Pidge did another scan, concluding that inside was in fact a body signature that reflected that of the scans she had of Vrelen, matching the heartrate and vitals to a match. Inside where also several other signals of more sentrys, which the team concldued as nothing more than annoying distractions from them all attacking Vrelen with their full force. Keith demanded he was going to head straight for Vrelen first, but Axca and Lance were fast to shut that down.

“You know he has some weird spell and target over you. He extracts the pain out of you from the amount of anger you have.” Axca narrowed her eyes at him. Keith held back a growl in the back of his throat. Lance snorted.

“See what I mean? You need to control all of that broodiness for once. You’re a target out of all of us.” Lance poked at Keith’s side, but Keith didn’t shrink away, instead opteing to hide the heat in his cheeks with an annoyed cross of his arms.

“What, so this guy is able to feed off anger?” Pidge poked in, clearly confused.

“That’s whats been happening every time we faced off with Vrelen. He goes after Keith because he, well, has the most…” Nyma sucked her bottom lip, which made Keith let out another low growl in his throat, but Rolo let out a chuckle.

“Unfiltered anger and crazy emotions.” Ezor finished, her grin clearly enjoying going for Keith’s most outstanding qualities.

“Oh man, we are screwed with boss over here and his anger. Maybe think of puppies and kittens for once and hold that anger back until after? We all are here for this huge showdown, so think of this as a delightful win! Besides, you saved me already. What more is there to be angry about?” Rolo elbowed Keith, his own shiteating grin beaming at him.

“And I expect you to stay unkidnapped.” Keith rolled his eyes at Rolo, and Rolo let out a satisfied hum. Lance shifted next to him, and Keith caught the sour look on his face, his lips pulled into a tight frown as he glanced at Rolo. Keith furrowed his brows, not wanting Lance to feel uneasy about the mission right when it was about to pick up.

“Alright, are we ready then? Finish this once and for all?” Axca’s sharp voice cut through Keith’s wandering thoughts on Lance. They all nodded, eyes firm and faces determined.

“Kolivan, we are about to breach. Are you good on your end?” Keith commed over.

“The ship still has ways to go before it hits the first of the two planets its headed for. You have time now, so use it to destroy the weapon. If taking down Vrelen happens at the same time, that’s good, but the priority for all of you is on that weapon.” Kolivan commed through.

“Be careful in there.” Shiro’s voice came over. Keith nodded, as if Shiro could see them.

“And don’t get hurt please!” Hunk’s voice came over, a little hysterical.

“Come on, buddy. Where’s the trust?” Lance commed back, throwing a cocky grin to Pidge, who just grinned.

“Alright, lets do this.” Keith glanced all his team, who all nodded in agreement.

Pidge clicked a button, making the doors to the bridge slide open with a harsh hiss, revealing the cold, metallic expanse of the room. It was cavernous, walls lined with glowing control panels and looming monitors, the front of room tilting to show the expanse of space ahead of them, where panels of windows revealed the direction they were headed, towards a far away planet in the distance, but still near. But the centerpiece was the machine—a monstrous construct of spinning gears and pulsating energy, its purpose ominously clear as it was charging up against the window, glowing and vibrating with energy that was meant ot be used towards the planet in the distance. Guarding it stood an army of larger sentry robots, each one outfitted with grotesque, oversized drill arms. Their build was slightly different from the usual sentrys they were up against, and a subtle mix of the creature they had faced with the volume and intensity of the drills that whirred to life. Their sheer size and lethality sent a ripple of dread through the team. Where the hell was he getting these blueprints from?

Vrelen stood before the machine, his towering figure cloaked in shadow, his sharp, angular face breaking into a twisted grin as his voice boomed across the room.

"I was expecting you. Shame you had to cause such a mess throughout my ship." His voice sent a cold strike of electricity through Keith’s body, the rumble of his laugh flickering through Keith’s memory like deja vu. He felt cold suddenly, the memory of the exhaust he had in the last battle crashing back into him.

The team froze for half a second, the weight of his words and the scene before them sinking in. Then chaos erupted.

Keith’s blade ignited in his hand as he charged forward, the others fanning out behind him, following just as fast as their leader. The first sentry lashed out with its massive drill arm, sending sparks flying as it gouged into the floor. Keith ducked and rolled, slashing upward to sever the arm. The drill clattered to the ground, but another sentry stepped in, swinging its deadly appendage toward him.

“Watch out for those drills!” Lance shouted, firing a barrage of shots from his blaster. One blast struck a sentry square in the chest, staggering it, but the others pressed forward with relentless precision.

Rolo ducked and rolled, sweeping up a fallen gun and blasting from his position, wincing at the movement as Keith covered him, swiping at a shot pointed at the both of them.

Pidge was already at work, her fingers flying over her handheld console as she hacked into the nearby systems. "There are

way

too many of these things! I’m trying to disable them, but it’s like fighting off a swarm of bees with a butter knife—hold them off!"

Axca moved with calculated precision, her weapons blazing as she systematically dismantled each sentry that approached her. She caught Keith’s eye for a split second, nodding toward Vrelen, who stood unmoving, watching Keith with unnerving intensity. Like he was tracking his every movement, waiting. Calculating the way he moved and anticipating how he was going to react next. It felt unnerving having his attention, and Keith wanted nothing more than to blast his face off his shoulders and scrub his own skin.

The drills made every movement treacherous. One grazed Ezor’s arm, sending her stumbling back with a pained grunt. “These things are insane!” she yelled, firing another blast that barely scratched the surface of a sentry’s reinforced plating.

Lance darted in to cover Ezor, shooting at a sentry to draw its attention. “Keith, we can’t hold these things forever! We need to get closer!” He ducked as a shot came at him, nearly missing his shoulder as Ezor shot from her crouched position under Lance.

Keith barely registered the words. His focus was locked on Vrelen, who stood still amid the chaos, his dark eyes gleaming as they followed Keith’s every move. Keith’s blade struck against a sentry’s arm, sparks flying as he sliced it clean off, but not before another drill knicked his side, drawing a sharp line of blood.

He staggered for half a second, letting out a hiss as his hand instinctively cluthced the wound, but the adrenaline roaring through his veins kept him moving. He caught Axca’s gaze as she dispatched a sentry with a brutal, calculated strike, her movements precise and lethal. She glanced at Vrelen, her meaning clear without needing words:

Both on him now.

Keith nodded, blood pounding in his ears.

The two of them rushed Vrelen at the same time, their approach a whirlwind of coordinated chaos. Vrelen’s laughter cut through the noise as he pulled a sleek, crackling electric rod from his side, its energy arcing dangerously around him.

“Trying to keep those emotions at bay, I see. Have you learned from our last conversation?” Vrelen rumbled, his eyes set strictly on Keith despite Axca flanking his side. Keith swung with his sword, inches away from Vrelen, but he kept a good distance as he swung with his rod, maintaining a circumference around him and their bodies apart. Keith narrowed his eyes, breathing hard as he sidestepped a swing and Axca went to come at the side. Vrelen’s other arm swung out with another rod, striking the hit Axca was going for, causing her to stumble back. Vrelen turned back to glare at Keith, watching as Keith felt his grip tightening and his eyes burning.

“Do you forget I can feel you,

Keith

?” he sneered, swinging the rod in a wide arc. Axca barely dodged in time, flipping back as the rod crackled inches from her head. Keith pressed forward, slashing at Vrelen, who sidestepped with infuriating ease.

The rod swung again, this time sweeping low to catch Axca’s feet. She stumbled but caught herself, her weapon raised as she regrouped. Keith lunged forward, blade clashing against the rod in a burst of sparks.

“Persistent, aren’t you?” Vrelen mocked, his voice dripping with disdain. “But persistence won’t save you.”

Keith’s grip tightened on his blade, his muscles burning as he pushed against the rod. Blood trickled down his side, but he didn’t relent, his focus laser-sharp. Axca moved in from the side, her own strikes aimed with surgical precision to find an opening.

The team battled around them, the clash of metal and the hiss of energy filling the room. The fight was brutal, every second a test of endurance and will. The tension was suffocating, every breath a battle in itself.

Each second more frenzied than the last. Keith and Axca circled Vrelen like predators, their weapons gleaming against the sterile light of the bridge. Vrelen stood at the center, a towering, cold presence, his electric rods humming with deadly potential.

“You’re wasting my time,” Vrelen sneered, his tone sharp and surgical. He flicked his eyes at Keith, and a familiar glimmer lit up his face as his lips curled into a smile. “Come on, Black Paladin. Show me that fire again. I want to

feel

it.”

Keith faltered, his mouth going dry and feeling numb as he stopped his advancement, wincing at the recognition. Vrelen noticed Keith’s falter and immediately stabbed at him, his rod jabbing a sharp cut into his side, shocking him back as he let out a snarl.

“Oh yes, I know exactly who you are, Keith. You showed me that through your tortured memories. I have to thank you for allowing me to have access to that. How is your brother, by the way? Shiro, was it?” Vrelen grinend, and Axca slashed wildly to cover for Keith as his brain flickered back to life, his body writhing at the fact that awful monster even spoke Shiro’s name. Keith’s teeth clenched, his blade slashing forward with a burst of energy, more angry and fiery than before. Vrelen deflected it effortlessly with a single rod, the clash sending arcs of electricity through the air. Keith grunted, stepping back, unwilling to give Vrelen the satisfaction of a reply.

“Oh, come now,” Vrelen continued, his voice a dark purr. “I remember the rage from our last encounter. That fire, that recklessness. It was intoxicating. Why are you holding back? Afraid you’ll lose control?”

Keith slashed again, his movements tighter, faster, but Vrelen dodged with unnerving precision. “You’re not getting to me. Not again.” Keith growled, his voice low and steady.

A flicker of movement from the corner of his eye caught Keith’s attention. Axca was closing in from the side, her approach silent and precise. Their eyes met for a brief moment, a flash of mutual understanding, before they both lunged in tandem.

Vrelen shifted instantly, his lips curling into a cruel smile as he pivoted toward Axca. “Ah, her,” he drawled, his voice suddenly laced with icy amusement. “You’re always so composed, aren’t you? Some silent and controlled energy that works well with this one over here, but rumbling a bit at the seams nonetheless. Let’s see how long that lasts.”

He lashed out with two rods, their electric arcs slashing dangerously close. Axca moved with fluid grace, parrying both strikes as her boots slid across the floor. Sparks rained around her as her sword met the electric rods in a flurry of precise strikes, but Vrelen pressed harder, his strength overwhelming.

Keith darted forward to intercept, but a third rod emerged from Vrelen’s armor, whipping around to block him with a pulse of energy that sent Keith staggering back. He wheezed out in pain, the hits he had from earlier pooling more blood, making him feel dizzy. But the dizzyness was the smaller emotion that was loosing to the building fury swarming in him, growing by the second.

“You should pay closer attention, Black Paladin,” Vrelen mocked, his tone biting. “Distractions are fatal, esepcially when it comes to those we care about. But oh, I think you know about that already from our last couple fights.”

Axca’s sword was flung from her hand with a powerful swing, clattering to the floor as she stumbled to her back. Her breaths were sharp and measured, but her gaze never wavered. Vrelen lunged at her, his rod poised to strike and bring down over her, when Axca’s hand darted to her waist.

With a swift flick of her wrist, she hurled two daggers. They struck Vrelen’s armor, lodging in his shoulder and side. He hissed in pain, his movements faltering for a fraction of a second. Using the brief opening, Axca flipped backward, her boots skimming the ground as she scrambled away. Vrelen roared in frustration, slamming both rods into the ground where she had been moments ago. The resulting electric shock rippled outward, scorching the floor and filling the room with the sharp tang of ozone.

Keith seized the moment, dodging sentry fire from around the room as he launched himself at Vrelen. His blade hummed with energy, slashing down toward Vrelen’s unguarded side.

“You talk too much,” Keith snarled as his strike came dangerously close.

Vrelen twisted just in time, the edge of Keith’s blade grazing his armor. “And you’re still too predictable,” he snapped, deflecting with a rod and countering with a swing aimed at Keith’s torso.

Keith twisted his body, narrowly avoiding the blow, his mind racing. Axca was already regrouping, her eyes sharp and calculating as she darted around Vrelen’s flank. Keith and Axca moved in perfect synchronicity, their strikes coming faster, harder, more desperate. Vrelen groaned, pausing for a moment from Keith and swinging all three rods at Axca’ sending her body flying backwards.

“A bitch doesn’t know when to quit, does she?” Vrelen’s eyes danced back menacingly at Keith, watching his reaction. Keith gripped his hilt, his knuckles white as his body rippled and seared in a burning red, turning back on Vrelen and swinging even more violently with a couple loud grunts.

Vrelen laughed darkly, his voice echoing above the chaos. “This is more like it. Show me your rage, Keith! Show me the fire that made you worth chasing!”

Keith’s blood roared in his ears, his breath ragged as he lunged again, each movement driven by a mix of determination and simmering fury. But the more he was crashing down with his force, the more he willed himself to remember that this is what Vrelen wanted. This was the anger that he was able to drive out of him, make him open for weakness.

His emotions could not be a weakness. Patience Yields Focus.

“You won’t be getting that and you know it. You know you won’t have the same affect one me this time and you’re getting sloppy.” Keith gritted back, letting out a deep breath to ground himself as he slashed a fash on one of Vrelen’s arms.

He glanced back briefly to check on Axca, who was being tended by Nyma briefly. Shots were firing from all parts of the room, and as a loud clang sound out of one of the robots dropping to the floor, he caught Lance flying over it, making a mad dash to the machine which was slightly away from Keith and Vrelen at this point, having moved over in the rush of the battle. He was sprinting with such a speed, graceful and bounding with his long legs.

But this is where Keith went wrong allowing himself to watch Lance.

Vrelen’s cold, calculating gaze drifted past Keith. His eyes locked onto Lance, who was firing precise shots at the sentries as he ran, his movements sharp and determined.

Vrelen’s lips curled into a wicked grin as he shifted his attention back to Keith. “Ah, of course,” he said, his voice smooth and venomous. “I should have remembered. You’ve always carried your heart too openly, made too much aware in those memories I hold dear. Such...

attachments

always make for the deepest wounds.”

Keith stiffened, his grip tightening on his blade as a surge of dread coursed through him. “Don’t,” he growled, his voice a low warning.

Vrelen ignored him, his movements swift and serpentine as he suddenly veered from the fight. His focus zeroed in on Lance, his laughter echoing through the chaos. “Let’s see how far your anger will take you, Black Paladin!”

“No!” Keith roared, a guttural sound tearing from his throat as he bolted after Vrelen.

Lance turned, his eyes widening in alarm as the towering figure of Vrelen closed in. He staggered back, narrowly dodging a rod aimed for his head, but the next swing caught him hard in the side. The electric charge sent him crumpling to the floor with a gasp of pain.

Keith was a storm unleashed. The moment Vrelen’s rod struck Lance, sending him to the floor with a strangled cry, something inside Keith snapped, a wire stretched too thin finally breaking. His scream tore through the room, a guttural, feral sound that reverberated like a thunderclap.

He charged at Vrelen with a ferocity that was nothing short of savage, his blade swinging in wild arcs, each strike heavy with unrelenting fury. The clang of metal against metal was deafening as sparks flew, and Keith’s movements became erratic, reckless, but devastatingly powerful. Blood already oozed from the wounds on his sides and legs, but he didn’t falter, didn’t stop, his focus singular and deadly.

“You think you know me?” Keith snarled, his voice a ragged growl as he forced Vrelen back a step. He brought his blade to a solid cling with every sentence, breathing hard. “You think you know my life from a few stupid seconds of a vision? You don’t know

anything

!”

Vrelen laughed, a cold, mocking sound, even as he deflected Keith’s onslaught. “Ah, there it is,” he taunted, his rods crackling with energy as he parried. “That rage—so potent, so delicious. Come, show me what it truly looks like when you lose control.”

Keith’s blade met one of Vrelen’s rods, and the sheer force of his strike sent vibrations up his arms. Vrelen countered, swinging the second rod low, aiming for Keith’s legs. Keith leaped, narrowly avoiding the swipe, but the move left him open, and a sharp crack of energy hit his shoulder. The smell of burning fabric and flesh filled the air. Keith barely registered the pain.

“You don’t get to touch him!” Keith roared, slamming his blade down with a force that dented the metal floor when Vrelen stepped aside. He spun, slashing upward, a move so fast it grazed Vrelen’s cheek, drawing a thin line of blood.

Vrelen’s eyes gleamed, his smile predatory. “Such fire... but it blinds you. You’ve allowed yourself to be open. You allowed yourself to see the anger that can come from caring.” He feinted to Keith’s left, then struck with his third rod, a wicked swing that caught Keith across the thigh. The blade of the rod tore through flesh, the sound sickening, and Keith’s blood sprayed across the floor in a violent arc.

Keith staggered, his leg nearly buckling under him, but he didn’t fall. He didn’t

stop

. If anything, the pain only seemed to fuel him further, his movements growing more brutal, his strikes less precise but devastating in their sheer force.

“Keith!” Lance’s voice cut through the chaos, hoarse and desperate. He was still on the floor, clutching his side, his eyes wide with something between terror and fury. “Calm the hell down! You’re—”

“Stay

back

!” Keith barked, his voice breaking, his body a bloody whirlwind as he swung at Vrelen again, forcing the man to retreat. He didn’t look at Lance, couldn’t afford to. Every ounce of him was focused on ending this, on making Vrelen

pay

.

“You’re so predictable,” Vrelen sneered, blocking Keith’s blade with one rod while the others swung in tandem, trying to break through his defenses. “This anger—it’s all you have, isn’t it? No control, no strategy. Just rage. And it’ll destroy you. Just like it will destory every relationship you have in your lif. Don’t you just want it to all stop?”

Keith didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. His blade screamed through the air, the strikes relentless, his breaths coming in harsh, ragged gasps. Blood soaked his leg, dripping onto the floor with every step, but he didn’t care.

It wasn’t until Vrelen managed to sidestep, spinning his rods in a dazzling arc of electricity, that Keith faltered. One of the rods struck him hard across the ribs, the force enough to knock the air from his lungs. He staggered back, but even then, he didn’t fall. His blade trembled in his grip, but his eyes burned with unyielding determination.

“You’ll never win,” Keith spat, his voice low and venomous. “Not while I’m still standing.”

Vrelen’s laughter echoed, cold and cruel. “Oh, that’s a bold statement you have there,” he said, his eyes flicking briefly to Lance, who was struggling to his feet. “I just need to remind you of what you are—a weapon. Nothing more.”

Keith lunged again, his scream ripping through the air as he swung his blade in a final, furious arc.

But the angrier he got, the more his vision blurred, and right at that second, he felt the sharp seering white pain shoot through his leg. He fell to the floor in a crumble, letting out a winded gasp as he clutched his leg. Vrelen stood back, bringing back the rod he had struck into a stab into Keith’s thigh. Keith hadn’t even registered how long it was in there, feeling the burning sensation from the fact Vrelen had dug it in, twisted it, and yanked it out heavily, letting the blood spray everywhere, rendering Keith ultimately useless on the floor, his blade no where to be felt in his hands.

“Keith!” Lance scrambled to his feet, gripping at a blaster, but Keith could barely see, his own breath coming out ragged, his vision blurry. He heard a couple shots ringing in his ears and the swift sound of a rod hitting something and another loud groan as feet appeared in his eyeview. Except, they weren’t Lance’s, and were very much attached to Vrelen. The flaming pain tearing through his body cancelled out any other sense as he felt something wrap around his throat, pulling him up. His legs failed to gain control as he felt himself dangling, his neck being held up by one of Vrelen’s hands. A numb feeling of nails were pressing into his neck as that was the least painful thing about the injuries on his body.

“Now, one more thing and I believe I will know everything there is to know about you, Keith, pilot of the Black Lion. You have been a wonderful guest into your mind.” Vrelen grinned, bringing his fingers up inching towards Keith’s forehead. Keith widened his eyes, squirming and lamely attempting to kick, but his legs burned with a pain he never felt before, feeling like deadweight.

“Get AWAY FROM HIM!” A blast shot out and struck Vrelen right in the side of the face, causing Keith to be dropped to the ground with a heavy thud. Keith let out a sharp groan, the wind getting knocked from him, his vision blurring even more and feeling more and more lightheaded. Everything hurt. He wanted to lie down and end this all. His body felt wet, and the more he attempted to move, the more he realzied that liters of blood were pooling out of him by the second, leaving him in his own puddle of dark blood.

“I’m still surprised you are such a fighter for him. I know who you are. You can’t seen to let him have peace in his life? Leaving him in turmoil and pain every time he’s around you.” Vrelen turned on Lance. Keith let out a choked groan, his arms shaking as he forced himself onto his elbows. Lance had his gun pointed at Vrelen, his teeth gritting and his eyes on fire.

“I’m not listening to you! So just shut up on this lame intimidation tactic.” Lance shouted.

“Intimidation? Oh no, you got this all wrong. You do realize that I can read Keith’s mind, feel every emotion he feels. Know where the source of his anger and passionate emotions stems from. I saw you in his vision,

Lance

.”

“Don’t you dare say his–” Keith shouted, but with a swift kick, Vrelen swiped at Keith’s propped arms, sending him back down to the ground before zapping him with a rod. Lance let out a scream, but Vrelen turned back on Lance.

“You makie him hate, Lance. You cause so much pain for him. The unrest he has? The unsettled emotions he has towards the things you chose and how you left him alone? How he could never be picked by someone like you, and you remind him that every day.” Vrelen hissed.

“LIAR!” Lance screamed, his voice tinging with pure rage. Keith’s muscles were screaming, shaking even harder as he tried to prop himself back up again. Vrelen’s attention was on Lance, away from the machine that was behind him. Keith let out a breathless groan as he forced himself to shimmy along the floor towards it, wincing with every scrape his body was touching, leaving a trail of blood in his path.

“Am I lying? Or are we forgetting everything you’ve ever said to him. How you told him that he was nothing but a lonewolf. How you were glad when he left for the blades, and how he should have stayed away.” Vrelen pressed on, causing Keith to falter in his attempt to get to the machine.

“Shut up! I didn’t mean that and he knows that.” Lance yelled, but his voice had lost the edge it had. Keith winced, pushing harder, but the machine swayed in front of him, blots of white inching at the edges of his eyesight. The pain was becoming unbearable, his body shutting down from the loss of blood.

“Does he? Or does he know that no matter what happens between the two of you, you would never pick someone like him to have around. You’re so different, after all. You showed that to him already that you have your priority lying somewhere else, with someone else.” Vrelen snarled, and at this, Keith heard the sound of shots being fired. Suddenly, he felt the weight lifting up on him as he realized Vrelen had snatched him off the ground, holding him flush against his body and facing Lance, whose eyes were wide and shaking, pausing his aim as Vrelen held a rod against Keith’s neck, his body able to be safely blocked by Keith’s from Lance’s shots. He held another rod out, pointing at Axca and Rolo, who had paused their attempts at running in from the side at the machine. Nyma came down to a halt on top of one of the machines, her eyes wide as Pidge let out a yelp of fear, her legs around the head of one of the machines as it slowly powered down to the ground, her fingers clicking a button on the monitor that must have overrid its power.

The entire room froze, seeing Keith’s positon on Vrelen, coming to a pause in everything they were doing.

“Here’s what we are gonna do. Either you hand over the Lion you have in your possession, or I slit Keith’s neck here. Seems like a handy deal, if I do say so myself?” Vrelen’s eyes tore across the room, pressing the rod tighter against Keith’s neck. Keith winced, letting out a pained gasp.

“You’re hurting him!” Lance sneered, stepping closer, but Vrelen pressed even tighter.

“Stop. Everyone go regroup.” Keith gasped out.

“Stop being stupid.” Axca started, but Keith tilted his face best he could to catch her eye.

“Go back to Kolivan. Now.” Keith demanded. Vrelen tutted, one hand coming to grip at Keith’s chin to tilt his face to look at Lance.

“You see that look. You ever thought you would get something so concerned coming from him to you? I know you haven’t.” Vrelen whispered into Keith’s ear. Keith squirmed, his body roaring with pain and anger. He felt Vrlen smile against his ear, and it made Keith want to skin his own flesh.

“You gotta shut up already. You wanna tell us why you’re headed to those planets over there or do we gotta force it out of you?” Lance growled, shoving his gun upwards. Keith felt the shuffle of his team closing in on all sides, inching closer to them.

“What, is it not obvious from the moment I found the first Lion? I honestly would have thought I was in the wrong place if it wasn’t for Mr. Black Lion right here. Letting me in on his memories and deepest fears and anger let me know that having a member of Voltron so close proved I was on the right track. I would have turned around and left that planet if it wasn’t for him.” Vrelen squeezed his fingers on Keith’s chin tighter, his nails digging into his jaw as the rod pressed tighter against his neck.

“There’s no point in trying to get the Lions. They are dead without a powersource. You’re chasing after a corpse.” Axca’s voice boomed. Vrelen turned to her, her eyes blaring daggers into him. Vrelen let out a chuckle as Keith tried to pry himself free, but the lack of blood in his body really weakened him to a loss here.

“You have such a small imagination if you think they are a quote on quote corpse.” Vrelen sighed out.

“Look, dude. You are absolutely insane if you don’t listen to us. Take it from three out of the five pilots, the Lions are dead. They won’t even respond to its original pilots. They won’t work without its lifeforce, so you can just drop it.” Pidge spat, her eyes narrowing.

“You don’t have Allura. No Allura, no working Lions. You’re at a loss here. So you might as well give up now.” Lance’s voice was stern, throwing Keith off. There was no shakiness in his tone, no waryiness or wince at the mention of the princess. His jaw was set, his eyes ablaze, glaring at Vrelen like he was about to blast a million holes through his body if it wasn’t for Keith there.

“Ahh, Allura. I recognize that name too. She appeared in those visions you were so dreadfully pained from, huh? Oh, and that’s where I was introduced to you, too.” Vrelen’s eyes trained on Lance.

“SHUTUP!” Pidge let out a screech, cutting off wherever this speech was going.

That was it for Keith.

With the smallest amount of strength left in him, he kicked back with his working leg hard, causing the momentum to push his head forward and grazing the shock of the rod, burning his neck, but the kick was enough to shock Vrelen, staggering a bit. Rolo took the opportunity and shot from his position on the side, causing Vrelen to swipe with his rod and spin the shot out of the way, while Axca went off at a dash towards the machine as Pidge threw off something similar resembling those chestnuts she had earlier. They landed at Vrelen’s feet, exploding off into mini vines that flopped and snatched at Vrelen’s feet, planting themselves as they curled around him and keeping him stuck to the ground.

Lance shot at Vrelen’s arm that was holding the rod, causing him to drop it and essentially drop Keith, who fell with a crumble over the vines that were still gripping and growing around Vrelen’s feet. Pidge went for a wild dash towards Keith, moments away from grabbing his arms when Vrelen brought down his rod into a wild twirl, putting it between Pidge and Keith as she stumbled back, wringing her hands close to her body as some of the electric shock got her fingers.

Keith lay sprawled on the cold, blood-slicked floor, gasping for air as the agony in his leg radiated through his body. His blade was no where to be found, and blood pooled around his torn flesh, painting the scene with visceral brutality. Vrelen stood over him, smug and towering, his electric rod humming with menace, ready to deliver the next blow, but turned at the others getting closer to the machine. With one annoyed growl, he lunged after the machine, opening Keith up for saving. The rest of the team was scattered, desperate to recover, but their collective focus was split between the machine and Keith.

Lance was the first to reach him, sliding to his knees with a frantic urgency that made the air between them feel electric. His hands trembled as they hovered over Keith, unsure of where to touch without causing more pain. Keith’s chest heaved, each breath a struggle as crimson streaks ran down his torso, his leg torn and barely supporting him.

“Keith,” Lance muttered, his voice low and cracking under the strain. “You’re a mess—why can’t you just stop for once? I swear, you’re going to—” He cut himself off, blinking hard against the wetness building in his eyes. “I can’t lose you. I can’t...”

Keith winced, attempting to push himself up but collapsing back down with a pained grunt. “Don’t... listen to him,” he rasped, his voice barely audible. His head rolled to the side, blood smearing across the floor. “Whatever he said... doesn’t matter. It’s not true—”

“Shut up,” Lance hissed, his tone sharp, but his hands were unbearably gentle as they pressed against Keith’s side, trying to stem the bleeding, the blood soaking through his own hands. “You don’t get to talk right now. Just... just stay alive, okay? Don’t make this harder than it already is.”

Before Keith could respond, the sudden, brutal force of Vrelen’s rod caught them both off guard. The arc of electricity slammed into Lance’s back and swept them sideways, sending them flying into the glass window that lined the bridge. They hit with a sickening crack, the glass spidering from the impact as both crumpled to the ground in a heap. Lance groaned, his body curled protectively over Keith as he bore the brunt of the blow. Blood streaked down the side of Lance’s head, mingling with the streaks on Keith’s already broken frame.

“Lance...” Keith croaked, trying to push him off despite his own weakness, dropping down to the floor. His body screamed and ached, wanting to get up and put Lance behind him.

“Don’t,” Lance snapped, his voice shaky as he pushed himself up on trembling arms. He turned his gaze to Vrelen, now advancing toward them, his smile cold and cutting. The room felt impossibly still, the only sounds the hum of the rods and the distant struggles of their team, who were all scattered to the ground from their own attempts at getting to the machine, weak to Vrelen.

“Ah, what a heartwarming sight,” Vrelen mocked, his voice dripping with malice. “The great Keith and Pilot of the famed Black Lion, always the martyr. Always so angry, so broken.” He flicked his gaze to Lance, the sneer on his face deepening. “And you, Blue Paladin, so desperate for scraps of affection, clinging to someone who can’t even admit his own strong emotions for you.”

Keith snarled, trying to pull himself upright, but Lance’s hand was firm on his chest, holding him down. “Don’t listen to him,” Lance muttered, his voice trembling as his eyes flicked to Keith, then back to Vrelen.

“Oh, but you should listen,” Vrelen purred, his voice like ice. “Do you ever wonder, Lance, why he keeps you at arm’s length? It’s hatred. Self-loathing. He sees the emotions you bring out in him, how he can’t stand his own self in comparison to the world you chose, and he can’t bear it.”

“Shut up!” Keith roared, his voice raw, but it lacked the strength to carry the weight of his anger.

Vrelen’s sneer widened, and in one swift motion, his hand shot out, gripping Keith’s arm like a vice. The rods he held crackled with energy, but it was nothing compared to the sudden, unnatural pull Keith felt deep inside.

“Let’s take a look, shall we?” Vrelen whispered, his voice smooth and venomous as he leaned in.

Keith’s scream was instantaneous, a bloodcurdling sound that echoed through the bridge and seemed to shake the walls themselves. It was agony that wasn’t physical but emotional, a tearing open of memories and thoughts he couldn’t suppress. The scream ripped from his throat as images blurred before his mind’s eye—Lance’s smile, his laugh, the warmth of his touch—twisted and reframed into flashes of loss, betrayal, and guilt.

His vision went white as it was suddenly shrouded in the look of his Paladins in space, when they were momentarily alone and lost with no Lion, no ship, nothing, just the five of them clutching to each other to keep themselves together. The heaviness in his eyes, the soreness and tightness in his chest of the lack of oxygen, and the look he got from each of the Paladins. Lance’s biting words.

Maybe you should have stayed away.

The image clashed with the look of the Paladins all giving him the cold shoulder every time he returned back from the Blades. The look of dissapointment in Shiro. The hatred Allura seethed at him with when she found out he was Galra. The memories were hitting and flashing at him in tenfold, each blow striking him even harder and harder, his throat feeling sore with how much he thrashed to pull himself free from reliving the pain and loss over and over again, the crashing and overwhelming BURN of it all.

“Let him go!” Lance’s voice shouted, his voice breaking. “Stop it! You’re killing him!”

The whiteness blurred out, momentarily bringing Keith back to the room and seeing the world he was currently in, feeling the air rush out of his lungs as he dropped down to the ground again, gasping.

Vrelen didn’t flinch, his eyes glowing as he absorbed the raw torrent of Keith’s turmoil. “Yes,” he mused, almost gently. “So much anger. So much pain. It’s exquisite.”

Lance screamed in rage, but the amount of time it took for Vrelen to be distracted by Keith had given his team enough time to regroup and fire endless shots at Vrelen. He stumbled back and away from the two, allowing Lance to prop Keith up against the glass. Keith winced out a gasp, his body hurting and aching.

“Keith, man. I’m so sorry that happened again. We are getting you out of here, ok?” Lance stammered, his eyes blown wide and tearing across Keith’s body.

Keith felt warm. Was it warmer in here? Or did he feel warm from the intense eye contact Lance was giving him, from the touch of Lance’s hands all over his body. This wasn’t exactly the scenario he imagined when he thought about Lance’s hands on him, touching him.

Was he about to die without ever expereincing that from Lance? Hell, he knew that was never gonna happen, but it was gonna happen a lot sooner than he thought.

“-eith. Keith! Mullet. Are you listening to me?” Keith felt himself being shaken lightly, but he could barley register the pain to wince anymore. He nodded, titling his head to focus on Lance in front of him, his eyes blurring out more.

Keith's head lolled to the side, his breaths uneven and shallow. Blood soaked his suit, pooling beneath him as Lance pressed his hands firmly against the worst of the gashes, trying desperately to stop the bleeding. His gloves were slick with crimson, and no matter how hard he pressed, the flow didn’t seem to slow.

Keith’s eyes fluttered over the silhouette of Lance’s face, attempting to make out what he was looking at, hazy and unfocused. His lips quirked into a faint, weak smile, his voice barely a rasp. “Lance...” he murmured, his tone almost teasing. “You’re... too much. Always... worrying.”

“Worrying?!” Lance’s voice cracked, raw with emotion. His eyes darted across Keith’s battered form, frantic and searching for any sign that the bleeding was stopping, any reassurance he wasn’t losing him. “Keith, you’re quite literally bleeding out in my arms, and you’re telling me not to worry? Are you insane?”

Keith huffed a breathless, broken laugh that sounded more like a wheeze. “Probably...” he muttered, his eyelids drooping. “Don’t... get so worked up, though... not worth it. Just... a scratch.”

Lance’s jaw clenched, his teeth grinding together as a surge of panic and anger swelled in his chest. He shook his head sharply, his hands trembling as they pressed harder against Keith’s wounds.

“Stop it,” he snapped, his voice shaking. “Stop talking like this is nothing! You’re—damn it, Keith—you’re dying! And I can’t—”

He cut himself off, his throat tightening painfully.

“Well the pleasure, the privilege is mine, huh?” Keith let himself huff at the irony of the situation, his mind drifting far and away from this very moment. He couldn’t hear the sounds of blasts that were going off, could barely pick up on the yells and screams of terror from his team around the room. He felt more than lightheaded now. He must have looked ghostly pale under all the blood covering his body. Lance stared down at Keith, his jaw dropped open slightly and gawking back, shaking his head.

“Shut up you idiot. You’re gonna be fine,” Lance said, his voice trembling as he forced the words out. “We’re getting out of here, okay? Just hold on a little longer.”

Keith’s head tilted slightly, his expression softening as he gazed up at Lance. “Lance,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “You... always... care too much. Big quality about you.” His eyelids fluttered, his head lolling back further as his breathing hitched. “You... don’t have to...”

“Shut up!” Lance yelled, his voice cracking as it echoed through the room. His grip on Keith tightened, his entire body trembling. “Stop saying that! Stop—just stop, okay? You’re not allowed to give up on me! You hear me? You’re not allowed! We’re gonna get you home, ok?”

“I never wanna go home ‘cuz I haven’t got one.” Keith mumbled out, his mind only capable of thinking about Lance's songs he gifted him. How sweet Lance was, letting him have his prized possession, even though Lance had always found comfort in music.

“Shutupshut UP KEITH. God, just…” Lance muttered, his voice growing more desperate.

Keith blinked slowly, his expression dazed as he tried to focus on Lance’s face. “Lance...” he murmured again, his voice softer, weaker. “Why... are you so...”

“Because I care, you idiot!” Lance snapped, his voice raw and breaking. The words spilled out before he could stop them, sharp and full of emotion. His hands pressed harder against Keith’s chest, desperate to keep him grounded, to keep him alive. “I care about you, Keith, okay? I care so much, and I—FUCK! I can’t let another person I love die right in front of me. I can’t do that again, especially not with you, so you’re gonna get up so I can do it right this time and we can…”

He stopped himself, his breath catching in his throat as he realized what he was saying. His eyes darted to Keith’s face, searching for any sign that he’d registered the words.

Keith blinked sluggishly, his lips parting as if to speak, but no sound came out. His brow furrowed, his expression confused and distant. He must have been really losing it because he thought he just heard Lance say something completely ridiculous.

“What... did you say?” he whispered, his voice so faint it was almost lost beneath the chaos of the room. Funny, his mind was playing the wildest tricks on him the longer he fought to stay awake.

“I–,” Lance said quickly, his voice trembling. “I meant—just stay awake, okay? Don’t—don’t close your eyes, Keith. Please. And then I can tell you again, but you’ll be able to actually look at me when I tell you how crazy you make me. How utterly mad I am when I’m with you and how I need you to stay awake so then I can beat your ass when we get back to Earth before I tell you again what I’ve been trying to say for ages!”

But Keith’s felt his eyes already fluttering shut, his head tilting back as his body went limp in Lance’s arms. His breathing slowed, each breath shallower than the last. His lips moved faintly, as if trying to form words, but no sound came out.

“No,” Lance breathed, his voice cracking as panic gripped him. He shook Keith gently, his hands trembling against his bloodied chest. “No, no, no! Keith, wake up! You don’t get to do this! Not now, not—”

Keith wanted to fight to answer, tried very hard to open his eyes, but the pull of the numbing darkness just felt so much better. That, and the thought that Lance was saying things to him Keith had always wanted to hear was making this world of delusion and quiet so much more appealing.

“Keith!” Lance screamed, his voice raw and broken. He grabbed at Keith’s face, his fingers shaking as he tilted his head toward him, searching desperately for any sign of life. “Don’t do this to me! Please! I can’t—” His voice broke, tears streaming down his face as he shook Keith again.

Keith could hear the distant sound of a scream, and then suddenly, there was a loud crashing sound, almost like the world around him was breaking, and right as he was swallowed up in more darkness and the lull of the silence, he heard something that distantly sounded like a loud deafening roar, but it felt miles away, and he felt airborn.

Until there was nothing around him but a void of darkness, silencing the world around him from anything else. There was a light that went out.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

The first thing Lance could feel was nothing. That’s the best way he could describe the feeling when there was no other senses around him.
His first sensation was blinding whiteness, an overwhelming, infinite stretch of nothing. It wasn’t just what he could see—it was everything. It seeped into his skin, his chest, his veins. A blankness so pure it felt like the universe had been scrubbed clean, leaving him untethered in this vast, weightless void. His breath caught in his throat, a gasp that sounded hollow and distant in the endless space. He blinked rapidly, trying to orient himself, but his surroundings didn’t change. There was no up or down, no ground beneath his feet, no horizon. Just... white.

It was an all-encompassing nothingness that made his skin crawl, like he was suspended in a dream he couldn’t wake up from. He reached out instinctively, his hands flailing, grasping at air that felt too thick and yet not there at all. His heart pounded, the sound deafening in the utter silence around him.

“What...?” His voice cracked, the single word vanishing into the void as if it had been swallowed whole.

He forced himself to breathe, gulping in deep, shaky breaths. But the more he tried to steady himself, the heavier the weightlessness became. It wasn’t just a physical sensation—it was in his mind, his soul, as though time and space had collapsed and left only this... this emptiness. He let out another breathless shudder as he blinked against th eblinding nothingness of whiteness at his hands, and the reality of what had happened moments before came crashing back as his eyes settled on dried up cracks of blood caked on his hands and up his arms.

The memories hit him like a shockwave.

Keith.

His eyes flew wide, and a jagged, sharp panic tore through his chest. Keith bleeding out in his arms, the warmth of his blood seeping through Lance’s trembling hands. The glass shattering, the ground splitting apart, the room breaking into chaos. The sound of his own voice screaming Keith’s name, over and over, until his throat felt raw, like it had been stripped with razors.

“No, no, no,” Lance whispered, his voice quivering, but the sound felt muted, like the void around him refused to carry it. He clutched his chest, his fingers digging into the fabric of his suit as he tried to ground himself, to anchor himself to anything real. Was he dead? Is this what death was like, just flaoting in nothingness forever?

He remembered the moment his body had felt like it was being ripped apart and pulled together all at once. That sickening lurch in his stomach, the lightness in his head. It was the same sensation he’d felt back then—back when he’d been bonded to the Lions. That strange, surreal tug, like being yanked out of his body and thrown into something bigger, something infinite. But this wasn’t the Blue Lion that he was so familiar with, nor was the Red Lion in sight in this cavern of white. This was different. This felt different. The humming energy he had felt moments before when he was screaming for Keith to respond to him was gone, the drumming of his heartbeat tied to the shock of energy that practically pusled through his body when he heard a loud roar tearing through his ears as he had reached out for Keith. It was a weirdly familiar sensation, one he hadn’t thought he would feel again.

But, any connection he had in the past with his Lion never led him to just…nothing.

This was something else.

He swallowed hard, his throat burning as the memory of screaming Keith’s name flashed again in his mind. His throat bobbed as he felt it getting hard to breathe, the anxiety raising faster and faster as tears pricked the corners of his eyes.

He turned frantically, searching for anything—any sign of Keith, of the others, of where the hell he even was. His pulse raced, the panic swelling and cresting in waves as the whiteness pressed in closer, suffocating and infinite all at once.

“I—what is this? Where am I?” he asked the nothingness, his voice cracking under the weight of his desperation.

No answer.

Just the endless stretch of white.

“Keith!” he yelled, his voice echoing faintly before being swallowed by the void. He clenched his fists, the sharp sting of his nails digging into his palms grounding him slightly. His chest rose and fell rapidly as he tried to think, to make sense of this.

Was he dead? Had the chaos, the shattering, the pull—had it killed him? Killed them both? When he pictured death, he imagiend it a brilliant celebration of light and warmth, so similiar to the stories his grandmother had told him. It was full of songs and colors, something not to be feared because it was a promise of seeing your loved ones again. When he was really little, his family had done a large trip to Cuba when his grandfather had passed. Although Lance was crushed to no longer hear his grandfather’s smooth voice singing their favorite songs, the actual day of his funeral was anything but sad. It was joyous as the entire Mcclain family and extended members had flooded the church where his grandparents had gotten burried, and it was decorated heavily with colorfuls wreaths and people sharing so much love and gratitude for his life. Lance remembered the smell out of anything. There were flowers, millions of them covering his coffin, the rows of families, the floor, the walls. Blooming, powerful flowers of the white mariposa. It filled the room and was on everyone’s outfits. Lance was too small to remember too much of the specific details, but when they had returned to his grandparent’s house, that’s when the singing happened. His father had picked up his grandpa’s guitar and started strumming, and everyone sung along with the songs that his grandpa used to love and sing so dearly.

It was the first funeral Lance had ever attended, and he was reminded that maybe death wasn’t something to be feared after all, so long you have loved ones there to remember you. Lance believed death would be filled with color.

He felt himself breathe in a second, calming his firing nerves as he took in the blankness around him. The complete opposite of color, a vacuum.

But... no. It didn’t feel like death. It felt like... like…

A pause. A space between moments.

Time itself had paused around him, and he was stuck in the in-between. He staggered forward, or what he thought was forward, his footsteps making no sound. “Keith!” he shouted again, his voice breaking with the weight of fear and grief.

He stopped, his breaths ragged as tears spilled freely down his face. The whiteness seemed to pulse faintly, like the heartbeat of the void itself. And for just a moment, he swore he could feel something—a faint warmth, a flicker in the endless nothing.

His heart stuttered.

And then the void shifted, the whiteness rippling like a still pond disturbed by a single drop of water. The sensation made his stomach twist, and his breath caught as he braced himself for whatever was coming. The blank, endless nothingness wasn’t so blank anymore. It pulsed again, and Lance realized with a bone-deep certainty that he wasn’t alone.

The whiteness around Lance began to shift. It wasn’t just light anymore—it was alive, pulsating and breathing like some immense, otherworldly force. He staggered back, panic rising as the void itself seemed to swell, a glowing entity forming in the air before him. It grew larger and brighter, its light swallowing him whole until it was all he could see, all he could feel. The energy surged through him, making every cell in his body thrum and hum with a force that was at once alien and intimately familiar. It wasn’t painful, but it was overwhelming, so much so that he let out a strangled gasp, his legs giving out as he collapsed to his knees.

The entity grew brighter, its glow burning into his mind, his chest, his very soul. Lance squeezed his eyes shut, his hands flying up to cover his face as though he could shield himself from it. The energy wasn’t stopping—it was building, growing bigger and bigger, filling every inch of space around him.

He clenched his teeth, curling in on himself, terror blooming in his chest. It was too much. Too bright, too powerful, too infinite.

And then…

It stopped.

The rush of energy ceased so suddenly that Lance’s ears rang in the silence that followed. The air felt still, heavy but gentle, like the quiet after a storm. His heart pounded in his chest as he waited, his eyes squeezed shut, his breath shaky and uneven.

Then came a voice.

Soft. Lulling.

A sound so calm, so serene, it felt like a balm against the raw edges of his fear.

“

Lonce

.”

His entire body jerked at the sound as he froze, his body prickling in recognition. His breath hitched, his chest tightening so painfully it felt like his ribs were caving in. That voice—it couldn’t be. It was impossible.

But it was her.

He knew it. He

felt

it.

Slowly, trembling, Lance opened his eyes, squinting at the change of scenery. Instead of the swallowing whiteness that had been surrounding them, it was replaced in the dark coolness of a black space, with distant flecks of stars flickering and twinkling ahead. And there she was.

Allura.

She stood before him, bathed in a glow that wasn’t just light—it was divinity itself. Her form shimmered and sparkled, her skin glowing with an ethereal luminescence that seemed to shift and change like a thousand constellations dancing across her body. Her hair floated around her like a cascade of starlight, long and weightless, each strand shimmering with a brilliance that rivaled the galaxies themselves, with an aura of light itself seemingly emanating off her.

She was draped in a flowing, otherworldly garment that seemed to be made of liquid light, its edges rippling like waves in a calm sea. Her presence wasn’t just seen—it was

felt

, a warmth that wrapped around him, comforting and overwhelming all at once. Her eyes were the most captivating of all. They glowed softly, an endless depth of calm and strength, holding the kind of grace that could bend worlds. They looked at him—not through him, not around him, but

at him

, as though he were the only thing in this vast, infinite space.

Lance’s breath hitched again, a strangled, broken sound escaping his throat as tears welled up in his eyes. His chest heaved, his entire body trembling under the weight of what he was seeing.

“Allura?” he croaked, his voice raw and barely above a whisper.

She smiled—a small, gentle smile that held the weight of the universe in it. But it was so familiar that it made him want to sob right there. That was Allura.

“Lonce,” she said again, her voice soft and warm, like the first rays of sunlight after a long, stormy night.

His tears spilled over, running down his cheeks in hot, silent streams. He shook his head, his lips trembling as he tried and failed to form words. “I—I... this isn’t real,” he choked out. “This can’t be real. I’m dead. Oh my god I am 100% dead and you being here is proof and…”

But she stepped closer, her movements impossibly graceful, as though she were floating rather than walking. The light around her seemed to pulse with each step, surrounding him, enveloping him.

“It’s real,” she said, her voice steady, unwavering. “I’m here.”

Lance’s chest cracked open at her words, his heart splitting with an ache so deep it felt like it would consume him. He wanted to reach out, to touch her, to make sure she was real, but his hands trembled too much to move.

“Allura,” he whispered again, as if saying it over and over into space will solidify the fact she was in fact there to hear it. He hadn’t spoken to address her in such a long time that her name breaking on his lips like a prayer. He wanted to say it loud, the way it sounded like music playing, yet saying it softer was almost like praying.

Her smile grew, just a fraction, and she knelt before him, her glowing form so close he could feel the warmth radiating from her. It wasn’t just warmth—it was

her

, the essence of everything she had been and everything she was now.

“I’ve missed you,” she said softly, her voice filled with a tenderness that made his tears fall harder.

Lance let out a broken sob, his hands flying to his face as he tried to contain the tidal wave of emotions crashing over him. “I—I thought—” His voice cracked. “I thought I’d lost you forever.”

Allura reached out, her hand glowing faintly as she placed it gently on his cheek. The touch was feather-light, but it sent a shockwave of warmth through him, grounding him in a way he hadn’t felt in so long.

“You never lost me,” she said, her voice like a soothing melody. Her lips curled up into a small tease. “I’ve always been here, Lonce. Always. I thought you would have known every time you looked in a mirror at least, which I thought would have been often.”

Her words shattered him, and he crumpled forward, his forehead resting against her glowing shoulder as he sobbed uncontrollably. That was it for him, feeling the weight of her shoulder against his forehead, knowing that when he was pressing down and leaning, there was something real supporting his weight back. He felt the gentle brush of her hands come to rest on his back, and he let himself break loose even more. So far gone was holding back for the sake of saving face and seeming heroic and cool. He felt a sort of quiet, radiating power coming out of her touch, something so soothing and controlled that let him feel at ease to cry harder. To let everything finally spill out that he had been holding in for so long. She didn’t speak, didn’t move, simply held him as the light around them pulsed softly, cradling them both in its gentle embrace.

For the first time since he had fallen into this void, Lance didn’t feel lost.

The warmth of Allura’s touch lingered on Lance’s cheek long after his sobs had quieted. He sat back on his heels, staring at her, his chest still heaving as he tried to process everything. The weight of his emotions—grief, relief, joy, disbelief—was overwhelming. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.

“I—Wh..Allura?” It was all he could manage, her name tumbling from his lips like a plea, a question, a prayer.

Her soft smile widened, her glowing form radiant against the backdrop of soft darkness. "You’re still struggling to believe it’s me, aren’t you?" she teased lightly, her tone holding that same regal confidence he remembered.

Lance nodded dumbly, his throat dry. "A year and a half, Allura. You’ve been gone... for so long. This—this can’t be real. I don’t even know where I am!" His voice cracked, his eyes wide and searching as he looked around at the infinite nothingness that was now….space? Yep, this was death. This was so so so death.

She chuckled, a delicate sound like the chiming of distant bells. "Oh, Lonce," she said, her tone both amused and fond. She extended her hand, gesturing to the space around them. "Don’t tell me you don’t recognize the astral plane."

“The

what now?

” Lance sputtered, his voice climbing an octave as he blinked at her. “You’re telling me this... this

void

is the astral plane?!”

“Not void,” she corrected with a playful lilt. She flicked her wrist, and the still darkness around them began to shimmer and shift. The emptiness filled with a cascade of stars and constellations, swirling in patterns so intricate and alive that Lance could swear they were breathing.

His jaw dropped as galaxies unfolded before him, their light dancing across Allura’s glowing form. Her hands simply danced next to them as she twirled her fingers and shifted her hand into a practiced motion, Lance’s eyes widening as the known universe seemed to swim around him like a fish swimming through water. Nebulas bloomed in bursts of radiant color, and streams of stardust spiraled like ribbons around her. It was breathtaking, magical, and completely unfathomable.

“I don’t...” He gaped, his hands motioning wildly. “How—what—how are you doing that?!”

Allura laughed, her head tilting slightly as she gazed at him with that familiar mix of fond exasperation and admiration. “Lonce, I’m in charge of the energy that flows between dimensions now. It’s a... let’s say, a promotion of sorts.”

Lance blinked rapidly, trying to keep up. “Wait—dimensions? Energy?

Promotion

? What are you, the CEO of the universe now?!”

“Hardly,” she said, smirking. She waved her hand again, and the stars shifted, creating a vibrant map of interconnected threads that pulsed with light. “This... is my domain. The energy that binds the universe together, the threads that weave time and space—it’s my duty to ensure balance between dimensions. I’ve been... entertained,” she added, her voice softening as she gestured toward a glowing thread. Within it, Lance could make out flickering images of a familiar blue and green planet he called home. Lance blinked back at it as the image appeared a little smudged, like he was in need of glasses and had to squint to make out its form. But it was there, Earth, floating as the size of an orange for him to scoop up and hold.

“You’ve been watching us?” Lance asked, his voice barely above a whisper, his throat thick with emotion.

“Of course,” Allura said, her gaze steady. “I couldn’t just... leave you and let fate run its course. Not entirely, without knowing how you guys go about in life.”

Lance stared at her, his mind a chaotic swirl of disbelief, awe, and an aching warmth he couldn’t describe. “So, what, you’re like... a goddess now?”

Allura shrugged, the motion impossibly graceful. “Something like that. Though I prefer to think of myself as... a guide. A keeper of the balance.”

Lance’s brain felt like it was short-circuiting. He pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes, groaning. “Okay, okay, wait—so you’re telling me that after everything we’ve been through, you’re out here... managing the

entire universe

? While we’re down there getting blasted by drill-armed robots and trying not to die?!”

“Well, I may be the ruler of my own domain and able to watch you from any point in time, but I am certainly not the keeper of fate and have no jurisdiction on interfering with what occurs in your lifetime from here on out.”

“I’m going to pretend to understand what any of that means. If you’ve been watching us, can’t you just, I don’t know, blast the bad guy out of the way so you could help your friends a bit?” Lance shrugged, his voice rising a bit but biting back the want to just scream out at how ridiculous this all was. Hell, he was still convinced he had lost it all.

“You know that I can’t do that, Lonce. I can not interfere with the space time continuum. I can watch, I can see pieces of the future and learn from the past, but I can not interfere with the current state of your lives.” She wrinkled her nose, her face deadpanned as if it was the most obvious thing. So Lance’s exgirlfriend was in control of the universe and she couldn’t even lend a little help as a reward. Go figures.

“But you literally

are

space and time!” Lance gawked out, throwing his arms out to motion wildly to the literal universe floating around them like lazy mist.

She raised a brow, clearly fighting a smile. “You make it sound so trivial.”

“

Trivial?!

” Lance threw his hands in the air, pacing in the weightless space. “You’re out here playing cosmic chess while we’re scrambling to keep our butts alive!”

“All the while under my watchful eye,” she interjected smoothly, her tone teasing.

“Unbelievable,” Lance muttered, running a hand through his hair. He glanced back at her, his frustration softening as his gaze landed on her serene expression. Despite everything—the impossibility, the chaos, the utter madness—she was here. She was

real

.

“Why me?” he asked, his voice quieter now. “Why am I here, Allura? Why are you speaking with me in this moment and not... anyone else?”

Her smile softened, her glowing hand reaching out to take his. The moment her fingers wrapped around his, a warmth spread through him, calming his racing thoughts. “Because you needed me,” she said simply. “And I needed you.”

Lance froze, his breath hitching. Her words hung between them, heavy with meaning.

“Allura...” He looked down at their joined hands, his thumb brushing over hers, marveling at the way her light seemed to meld with his skin. “I don’t get it. I don’t understand any of this.”

“You don’t have to,” she said gently. “Not yet. Just know that I’m here. That I’ve always been here. Watching. Guiding. Protecting.”

He swallowed hard, his throat tight. “I missed you,” he admitted, his voice cracking. “So much.”

Her other hand came up to rest against his cheek, her glowing eyes soft and full of something infinite and tender. “I know,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “I missed you, too.”

Lance’s tears came silently this time, a quiet release as he leaned into her touch. The vastness of the astral plane, the swirling stars and galaxies around them, all faded into the background. In that moment, there was only her.

His mind came to a slow again, trying to find its calmness in the serenity radiating off of Allura in front of him. He squeezed her hand again, as if trying to get the strength to stop shaking internally as he focused again on the floating Earth in front of him.

“Why haven’t you made yourself known in the past?” His voice felt dry in the rawness of the question. Allura pursed her lips, not following. Lance let out a sigh, motioning again to the vast universe around them.

“I mean, you said you have been watching. You came to me now, of all times, and now you’re here talking to me and I can actually touch you. Like, this is crazy. I just don’t get why you couldn’t have….you let us think you were…” Lance felt the words get caught up in his throat like a thorn, so he could only focus on choking back another big sob. He felt Allura’s hold on his hand tighten as she let out a far away sigh, looking down at the floating Earth.

“There are rules you don’t understand about my existence, or lack there of. Yes, you can see me and feel me now, but you are in my realm, or the physical embodiment I have created for you to exist in momentarily so we can see each other. I can’t do this all the time, and it is definetly against certain rules of being in my domain. Like I said, I am intertwined with the universe, and all that exists within that. I am meant to exist in the same way your thoughts can exist, or your memories. The concepts of nonexistent real things. I must maintain the balance of multiple realities, make sure they are all running on their courses, sort of like a train conductor making sure each timeline is going on its course and making sure no anomaly is there to flip a switch and send it off its desired course. If I was to make myself present in your timeline, this would cause an anomaly. I am not meant to exist in your physical realm, so I must exist in my domain. That doesn’t mean I can not watch over your timeline, and check in when I please. Although it is foggy for me to see it in its entirety, you have certainly helped me a lot when I want to check in on

special

moments.”

Lance just dumbly blinked at her, his words so far lost and his brain lacking the ability to fire up and work, needing a hard factory restart. At Lance’s silence, Allura let out a dramatic sigh, rolling her eyes as she leaned over and abruptly stuck her pinky and pointer finger at Lance’s cheeks, jabbing him back and earning a small yelp out of him in sheer shock.

“Ow, Allura!” Lance flew a hand to his cheek in surprise, but suddenly a swirl of blue came cycling in between them. It was curling and swirling like a crashing wave, and soon a blurry image began to appear, slowly rendering as if glasses were being placed on it to correct its image. Lance held back another choke in surprise as the image of Shiro and Curtis kissing on an altar came into vision. It took everything in Lance not to scream out in shock when he realized this vision was directly what Lance was seeing in his eyes. No, this WAS Lance’s eyes. He got to rewatch Shiro and Curtis walking down the aisle, holding up their hands and cheering as the entire ceremony erupted into more excitement and cheers and applause, before the vision flicked quickly to the altar again to focus on someone else.

Lance felt his face heat up, not realizing that he had been so focused on watching Keith at

Shiro’s

wedding.

Allura let out a soft chuckle as she shifted her hand and flicked lazily over the vision, as if she was switching a channel. The image was blurry again before materializing. This time he was looking up at a statue, the grand marble statue of Allura on New Altea. Except his vision was fixed on Coran, dressed finely in uniform as he was addressing the citizens spread out under the statue. Lance’s memory jogged back to a year ago when Coran had become the new leader of New Altea, promising to restore the Altean culture and community and grow to become the center of peace for the galaxy and live up to Princess Allura’s wishes for eternal peace throughout the galaxy. Coran had been teary eyed and nervous right before the speech, and all of the Paladins had been there to support him in this transition. Lance had remembered the way his cheeks had warmed watching the scene, knowing in his heart he felt Allura’s presence, but not realizing the entire time it was quite literally her making herself known.

“So it really was you…” Lance muttered, eyes pulling up to Allura. Her face was softened, her eyes cast down and watching Coran. If there was any sense of the simple emotional humanity that comes with being alive and experiencing pain and loss again, it flickered before her in her eyes, in the tight pull of her lips as she watched Coran, in the way her fingers hovered over the vision, dancing just around the image. In the small glimmer of a tear brimming at her waterducts.

“I watch all of you so closely.” Allura sighed out, blinking and in a moment snapping back to the regal posture she had as she quickly flicked her hand again, materializing another image.

“Can you only see us through my eyes?” Lance chanced the question he was slowly understanding. Allura’s fingers twitched, but she maintained her composure.

“The clearest I can grasp of what is happening in the moment is through you, yes. The marks I left helped that connection come across the strongest. Other times when I wish to visit in the moment, it comes across blurry, like I’m looking through a smudged glass. I can visit the past memories just fine, having it already cemented into the timeline, and for the future it comes across just as blurry, but–”

“Wait, pause. You can timetravel and see what happens to us?” Lance waved his hands over the vision that was coming to materialize again, pausing it. Allura immediately widened her eyes, snapping her mouth shut as if she was just caught. And in a way, she was. Her face blushed as she comically made a low humming noise, as if she was at a loss of what to say and hoped making a noise would distract Lance from the bomb she had dropped.

“Allura.” Lance squeezed her hand, making her eyes pop back to meet his, wide like a deer in headlights.

“Well, I don’t do it a lot. But some things I like to check in on to make sure are ok.” Allura shrugged, her voice growing high pitched. Lance let out a sputtering sound, gawking and demanding more, when Allura held up her hands in defense.

“I avoid the future for the most part, ok? So no, I can’t tell you what to do with your current situation and it would be against time code to even attempt to help you directly and interfere. Anyway, I like to save your guys lives as a mystery. Why would I spoil something I’m anticipating happening when its so close!” Allura’s blush faded into a glinting look, her eyes glimmering as she grinned back in a tease.

Lance stood frozen in the radiant light of the astral plane, Allura’s hand warm and grounding against his. The weightlessness around him felt heavier by the second, suffocating with every breath he couldn’t seem to take properly. The ethereal calm of the plane, once mesmerizing, now felt like a cage keeping him from everything that mattered as more of his needs came flashing back. The burn of the dried and caked blood on his arms returned with an unsettling realization.

“Allura,” he began, his voice breaking as he squeezed her hand. “I... I need your help. I can’t just stay here.” His tone grew more desperate. “They need me. Keith needs me.”

She tilted her head, her serene expression unchanging, the light of stars glimmering faintly across her features. “I can’t interfere, Lance. You know that.”

“Can’t or won’t?” he shot back, frustration creeping into his voice. The corners of her mouth turned down slightly, her usual composure flickering with a hint of sorrow. “It’s not about choice. My role here isn’t to change the course of your path. It’s to maintain balance, to observe, to—”

“To

watch

?” Lance’s voice rose, his free hand clenching into a fist. “You’re just going to sit here, all-knowing, while they’re out there bleeding and dying? While Keith—” He stopped, his throat tightening, his chest heaving with the weight of his words.

“Lonce,” she said softly, her voice a balm against the sharp edges of his anger.

“No!” He pulled his hand away, pacing in the weightless space as if the motion would anchor him. “You don’t get it. You

can’t

. You’re... You’re up here, in your goddess bubble or whatever, and we’re—”

“Fighting,” she finished, her tone not scolding but understanding. Her calmness only made the turmoil inside him worse.

“Yes,

fighting

! While you sit here and... move stars around while being able to avoid the pain of reality that we all face!” He gestured wildly, his voice cracking under the strain of everything he felt. “I can’t stay here, Allura. I can’t just—leave them.”

Her radiant gaze followed his frantic movements, and for a moment, she didn’t say anything. Then, with a small sigh, she stepped closer, her presence an almost tangible force that Lance couldn’t ignore. “You’ve come so far,” she said, her voice soft, almost reverent.

He stopped pacing, his arms dropping to his sides. “What?”

“You,” she said, her hand reaching out to press gently against his chest, right over his heart. “The boy I met years ago wouldn’t have understood what he feels now. The depth, the desperation to protect, to care. You’ve grown, Lonce. And it’s beautiful to see.”

His cheeks flushed under her touch, the weight of her words stirring something he wasn’t ready to confront. He tried to step back, but her hand remained, light yet firm, as if tethering him in place.

“Allura,” he muttered, his voice low, almost pleading.

She giggled softly, the sound light and teasing, yet full of affection. “You forget, I can feel it all. Every emotion you’ve ever felt, every thought you’ve ever had—”

His face turned a deeper shade of red, and he sputtered, “That’s—that’s not fair! You can’t just—”

Her laughter grew, gentle but warm. “Of course I can. I’m

goddess of the universe

, remember?”

He huffed, crossing his arms and trying to look anywhere but at her glowing, knowing smile. But her touch on his chest remained, the warmth of it radiating through him and unraveling his defenses.

“I don’t know what to do,” he admitted quietly, his eyes finally meeting hers. “I don’t know how to save him. Or fix any of this.” His voice cracked, the weight of his fear and helplessness finally spilling out. Her smile softened, and she seemed to study him for a long moment, her expression eternal and unreadable. Then, she stepped back slightly, lifting her hand to the air. A glowing thread appeared, shimmering with countless colors, twisting and bending as if alive. She grasped it delicately between her fingers, and the space around them rippled.

“What are you—” Lance started, but his words caught in his throat as the darkness of the astral plane melted away. In its place, a new scene materialized. The familiar hum of the

Castle of Lions

filled his ears, and the two of them stood atop the training deck’s observation platform. The sterile coldness of the observation deck came to a shock at Lance’s body, his entire body tingling with a weird dizzying sensation as he blinked, taking in the backs of the physical and younger forms of Coran and Allura, peering out the observation deck windows. This Allura was nonglowing, and Lance was stricken with a sickening feeling of seeing this Allura, alive and physical reality bound, standing before him, hands sprayed out on the deck in front of her and glaring out the glass pane that overlooked the training room.

Lance gasped, his chest tightening with the weight of nostalgia. “How did you—”

Glowing, goddess Allura turned to him, her expression serene yet tinged with something bittersweet. “Sometimes, when we feel lost, we need to remember where we’ve been to understand where we’re going.”

His gaze darted around, taking in the room that had been both a place of triumph and failure, of camaraderie and solitude. The weight of her words settled heavily in his chest.

Lance was about to open his mouth to fight back a desperate plea to understand what the FUCK was going on when he heard an annoyed groan. His attention flew to the physical Allura and Coran next to her. She had brought her fist down angrily on the glass, groaning as Coran jumped a bit.

“You can’t force them, princess. These types of character building takes time. You can’t will them into heroes overnight.” Coran’s singsongy voice lacked any of its usual lightness and mirth. Instead, it was lower and stern, as if he was softly warning the very anxious and wound up Allura besides him.

“We only HAVE overnight, Coran. We can’t afford to wait around and hope that they learn how to be a team. How do become Voltron. We

have

to force it. It’s all we can do!” Allura’s voice cracked out, fired up and angry. Lance sucked in a breath as he watched Coran place a tentative hand on Allura’s shoulders, where she tensed up and hunched her shoulders up to her ears, but didn’t shoulder him away.

“They just had their first battle. They learned how to become Voltron. We can count that as a win!” Coran’s voice was soft, but it stopped as he looked outside at a distant sound coming from the training deck. Allura let out an annoyed huff as Coran sucked in a breath at whatever the two were watching before Allura dropped her head down.

“I don’t know what I’m doing, Coran. How could I make heroes out of them? Sure, they managed it once, but its getting so hard to believe that they have what it takes. I keep telling them they do, and hoping it sticks. Shiro is the most promising out of any of them, but the rest? Especially those idiots down there?”

There was no malicious heat to the actual insult she had thrown, but Lance cringed at hearing Allura speak so brokenheartedly, turning to look at the glowing Allura next to him, whose face was blushing slightly red.

“Sorry for the choice words. I was a little overwhelmed with my current situation, though could you blame me? You two gave me the most worry of them all.” She smiled softly, her head tilting back to the window. Lance felt himself gulp as he approached it, the eerily realization that past Allura and Coran did not react to him hovering over their shoulders. It was weird, like he was a ghost existing around others, but that’s exactly what he was in the moment. Just a fleeting passing in their memories, unable to connect with the physical embodiments of his past. Lance curled his hands into a ball to hold back from reaching out to this past Allura, the Allura that was very much alive and breathing at one point in time. He took a chance glance at her. Her brows were furrowed, her eyes cast down at the training deck, her bottom lip being chewed on as she nervously and angrily clicked her fingers along the window.

Lance sucked in a breath and finally looked out the window to what was causing such disarray on her face, already dreading that in the bottom of his stomach, he had a feeling of exactly what it was. Below, in the training deck, the sharp clang of training rods echoed as Keith and Lance swatted and lunged at each other, the tension between them palpable even from their vantage point above. Lance felt the wind get knocked out of him, blinking and unable to catch his breath. Except, it was in fact him, but from assessing the sizes, hair length and styles, lack of muscle tone and build, or scars and scrapes, Lance was made painfully aware he was looking at 17 tear old Lance, a fresh and wide eyed baby in space. And directly in front of him was an even angrier, bristled, emotionally rampant 18 year old Keith. It took everything in Lance not to break through the glass and fly down at Keith, the only reminder that this was not

his

being the short unruly mullet, wide purple eyes and rounder face, smooth and clear of any scars. That may have been Keith, but it was not

his

Keith. Still, he couldn’t help but feel warm and smile at the sight of him, pouting an annoyed look under his dark bangs.

“Would you

stop

waving it around like a complete amateur?” Keith snapped, his frustration biting as he easily sidestepped one of Lance’s lunges.

“I’ll show you an amateur!” Lance fired back, wildly swinging the rod in a move so telegraphed that Keith blocked it with minimal effort. “You’re just scared I’ll actually land a hit on you for once!”

Keith’s eyes narrowed. “You couldn’t land a hit if I stood still and painted a target on my chest.”

Lance’s face flushed. “Oh yeah? Maybe if you weren’t such a—such a moody ninja wannabe—”

“

Wannabe

?!” Keith barked, his grip tightening as he jabbed the rod forward, forcing Lance to stumble back.

Their voices rose in volume, their bickering relentless, their strikes growing less coordinated and more about proving a point. Lance cringed at the way younger him and Keith had been constantly at each other’s throats.

Man, was I really that of an annoyance to Keith?

No wonder the guy hated him for so long.

“Enough!” Allura’s voice cut through the air, but the two teenagers were so caught up in their verbal sparring that they didn’t even hear her. She let out an exasperated sigh, turning to Coran, who stood beside her with his arms clasped behind his back, his mustache twitching in bemusement.

“They’re hopeless,” she muttered, her gaze locked on the pair below. Lance flailed his rod in an overzealous arc, and Keith easily deflected it, the resulting clang reverberating through the deck.

“Oh, I don’t know, Princess,” Coran replied lightly. “They’ve got a certain... youthful enthusiasm about them. A bit of fire never hurt anyone!”

Allura turned to him, her expression unamused. “Fire is fine, Coran. This is chaos.” She gestured to the deck below, where Lance had just managed to trip over his own feet, narrowly avoiding Keith’s retaliatory swing.

Coran raised an eyebrow. “Oh, come now. Do you not recall the tales of the original paladins? They weren’t exactly harmonious from the start, either.”

“But this is different!” Allura exclaimed, pacing the deck. Lance’s eyes strayed from watching with a frown his teenage self get smacked in the forehead straight on from Keith as he watched Allura bite her bottom lip, her brow furrowed and pacing angrier. “My father’s Voltron... they were legends, Coran. Heroes. They didn’t have time for petty squabbles like this. They carried the weight of the universe on their shoulders, and they rose to the challenge!”

Coran watched her with a patient smile, letting her vent.

“I don’t see how

this

—” she pointed down at Lance, who was now shouting something about Keith having an “unfair advantage” because of his “broody ninja energy”—“turns into

that

. How am I supposed to guide them, Coran? How do I turn... this mess into heroes worthy of Voltron?”

She turned to him, her blue eyes shimmering with the weight of her father’s legacy. “How am I supposed to make them into the heroes we need them to be?”

Coran’s smile softened, and he placed a hand on her shoulder. “Princess, you can’t make them into anything they’re not ready to become.”

Allura frowned, her frustration evident. “Then what am I supposed to do?”

“You give them time,” Coran said simply. He gestured to the training deck, where Keith and Lance were still circling each other, their energy undiminished despite their clumsiness. “They’re not the paladins of old, Allura. They’re something entirely different. And that’s not a bad thing.”

“They’re reckless. Undisciplined,” she argued.

“And they’re also resilient,” Coran countered. “Determined. And stubborn as a a pack of Yelfor.”

“That’s hardly a redeeming quality,” she muttered.

“Oh, but it is,” Coran said, his voice brimming with conviction. “Because it’s that indomitable human spirit—that refusal to give up, no matter how messy or chaotic things get—that will see them through. They may not fit into the shoes of the original paladins, but that’s because they’re not meant to. They’ll find their own way, with their own strengths.”

Allura looked back down at the training deck, her expression softening slightly as she watched Keith and Lance continue their sparring match.

Below, Keith lunged forward, and Lance narrowly dodged, grinning smugly. “See that? Reflexes like a

cat

!” he taunted, only to yelp in pain as Keith landed a swift, calculated strike to his shoulder.

“More like a cat that just got hit by a car,” Keith shot back, deadpan. Lance swatted at Keith with a heavy lean, but that allowed Keith to smack his rod extra hard, causing Lance to lose balance as he flew backwards onto his butt. Keith held the rod over Lance, scoffing as he angled the rod in a tease, but before he could get out any celebratory remarks, Lance was quick to fling his rod haphazardly at his legs, causing Keith to be thrown off balance as the rod took him clean out, dropping him onto his face.

A laugh erupted out of 17 year old Lance as he pointed and jeered at Keith, who was muttering curses for him to shut up, and Lance couldn’t help but feel his body warm at the sight. That had felt like millions of years ago, no, a lifetime ago. When the number one priority Lance had was to find new ways to annoy Keith to a tipping point. To get a rise out of him. To push and preen and get him to be fired up and bicker back. Anything for that attention. His stomach turned at the thought of Keith, and the sinking feeling he was not there with him.

Coran chuckled at the exchange. “Give them time, Princess. They’ll surprise you.”

Allura sighed, her shoulders relaxing just a fraction. “They’d better,” she muttered, though there was a glimmer of hope in her voice. As Lance watched the two below, still bickering, still swinging, he allowed himself a small smile.

“Chaos though it was, there was a spark in your dynamic.” Goddess Allura was at Lance’s side, gleaming over physical Coran and Allura to look down. Lance felt himself blush, turning to look at her as the memory slowly faded back into the darkness of space. They had returned to their astral space.

His face twisted into an incredulous grimace. “I was

so

annoying,” he muttered, half to himself and half to Allura, who stood beside him in her ethereal form, her arms folded as she watched the memory fade to its final shimmers with a knowing smile.

“

So

annoying,” she agreed, her voice laced with amusement. “But also endearing. In your own way.”

Lance turned to her, eyebrows raised. “

Endearing

? You mean the kind of endearing where Keith actively considered shoving me out an airlock?”

Allura laughed, the sound musical, warming the quiet astral projection around them. “Well, let’s just say your persistence had a way of growing on me. Eventually.”

He groaned, dropping his head into his hands. “I can’t believe you had to deal with

that

version of me. How did you not just snap and leave me floating in space?”

Allura knelt beside him, her hand resting lightly on his shoulder. “Because even then, I could see what you couldn’t. Beneath all the bravado and the bickering, you cared, Lonce. You cared so deeply it hurt. For the team, for the mission, for... everyone. Even Keith.” She smirked, her teasing tone unmistakable.

Lance scoffed, his ears burning red as he glanced away. “Keith? Please. I tolerated Keith at best back then, and even he was barely tolerable.”

Allura tilted her head, her expression serene and pointed all at once. “Is that what you’re telling yourself? Even now?”

He opened his mouth to retort but stopped. His gaze returned to the memory playing below, to the way he had thrown every ounce of his energy into sparring, taunting, and pushing Keith. The determination in his younger self’s eyes, masked behind his smirking facade, was impossible to ignore. He had wanted to prove something—to Keith, to himself, to the universe. And beneath that, there was something deeper, something he had always been afraid to admit. That something that had manifested so strongly into every inch of his body. Into the way his heart beat to the rhythm of his name. How when he was 12 years old he hadn’t realized he had fallen in love with a boy with eyes the color of a twilight sky. Who was always a burning warmness and smelt like a rich inside of a tree, like a bright pine. Who Lance loved to twirl his hair in his fingers because he never thought something could feel as soft. Who was graffiti and sunrises, who was the burning adrenaline of a motorcycle race, who was worn leather jackets and the leathery smell of worn in boots. Who had a wall he felt he spent years trying to scale, and once he got to the top, wanted to leap down to the other side and stay on the inside forever. Who smiled when Lance said a dumb joke and rolled his eyes when Lance tried to get him to try something new. Who scoffed when Lance said something at his own expense and who lifted him up in earnest and promise that Lance was worth it and saw who he was and what he had to offer. Who saw the fire beginning to flicker in Lance and was determined to fan it to life. Who Lance had heard laugh once and now never wanted to go another day without hearing it again.

Who Lance had fallen painfully, confusingly, soul crushingly in love with the annoyed 18 year old boy who had swatted back in annoyance at 17 year old Lance every time Lance poked fun at his haircut.

“You’re annoying

because

you care,” Allura continued, her voice softer now, like the gentle lapping of waves against a shore, bringing Lance back. “Because you fight so hard for the things and the people you love. It’s not a flaw, Lonce. It’s your greatest strength.”

He looked at her, his throat tightening at her words. “But what’s the point of all that caring if I can’t save the people I love? I couldn’t save you. I couldn’t save—” He broke off, his voice cracking as his mind flashed to Keith’s bloodied, broken body.

Allura reached out, her hand brushing over his chest. The warmth of her touch rippled through him like sunlight breaking through clouds. “Love isn’t about saving, Lonce. It’s about giving everything you have, even when it feels like it’s not enough. Even when the odds are against you. That’s what makes it powerful. That’s what makes it

enough

.”

Lance’s chest ached at her words, his heart hammering in his ribcage. He saw his persistence. His grit. His refusal to back down, even when he knew he wasn’t as skilled or educated. It wasn’t about winning the fight back then in that memory—it was about showing up, about trying, about putting his whole heart into something.

“I guess I was kind of relentless, huh?” he said quietly, a small, bittersweet smile tugging at his lips.

Allura smiled, her fingers lightly brushing against his temple, as if to encourage the thought. “You still are.”

His eyes met hers, shimmering with unshed tears. “That’s... not such a bad thing, is it?”

“Not at all,” she replied, her voice rich with warmth and pride. “It’s what makes you Lance. It’s what makes you capable of changing everything.”

The realization hit him like a wave, washing over him with a clarity that was almost painful. He didn’t have to be perfect. He didn’t have to save the world on his own. He just had to keep fighting—with everything he had, with every ounce of love in his heart.

Lance took a deep breath, the weight in his chest easing just slightly. “Okay,” he said softly, more to himself than to her. “Okay.”

Allura’s smile widened, and she gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “You’ve always had the strength, Lance. You just needed to believe it.” He closed his eyes for a moment, letting her words settle deep into his soul. When he opened them again, the stars around them seemed brighter, the infinite expanse of the astral plane shimmering with quiet possibility. He let himself sit with that, but another thought that had been gnawing at him since the moment he kissed her so long ago came slamming back into his mind. Lance sat in the soft glow of the astral plane, his knees drawn up to his chest as he looked at Allura. She stood before him, radiant and eternal, her presence a mix of serenity and something far more bittersweet. Her shimmering form seemed both untouchable and close enough to hold. He swallowed the lump in his throat, forcing himself to speak.

"Allura… can I ask you something?" She tilted her head, her eyes warm yet piercing, as though she already knew what he was going to say. "Of course, Lance. You can ask me anything."

He hesitated, running a hand through his hair, feeling the weight of the question sitting heavy on his chest. "Did you… were you happy? With me, I mean. When we were together?” Her expression softened, and she stepped closer, kneeling down to meet his eyes.

“Lonce,” she began, her voice gentle, “you were a bright light in a very dark time. When the universe felt like it was collapsing, you gave me comfort, laughter, and hope. You reminded me that there was still goodness and warmth, even in the face of unimaginable loss. You gave me hope when I had none. You made me laugh when I thought I’d forgotten how. You reminded me what it was to feel alive, even in the darkest moments. That was no small thing.”

He blinked, unsure whether to feel reassured or braced for something harder to hear. “That’s not really an answer, though.” His voice wavered slightly as he frowned at her.

She sighed, a sound that carried both weight and release. “I loved you,” she said softly. “I truly did. But…”

Lance’s heart twisted. The word hung in the air, sharp and jagged, waiting to fall.

“But I don’t think I was

in love

with you,” Allura admitted, her voice tinged with sorrow. “So much was happening back then. I was carrying the weight of my people, my father’s legacy, the fate of the universe. And you… you were my solace, my anchor in all of it. I needed that. I needed

you.

”

Lance felt the sting of her words, but he didn’t look away. “So, I was just… comfort?”

“Not

just

comfort,” she said quickly, her tone firm. “You were more than that. You were a reminder that I wasn’t alone. That I could still feel joy, even when everything around me was falling apart. You tried so hard to make me feel like I was a normal girl during all of that.
But Lance…” She reached out, her hand brushing over his, a faint, warm glow following her touch. “I wasn’t in a place to give you the love you deserved. Not fully. I did not love you but I almost did. If you were never loved by me, you were nevertheless loveable to me, and I wish very dearly I could offer back what you wanted to give to me. But I couldn’t, not fully. ”

He looked down at their hands, his throat tight. “Did you ever get what you wanted? You know… in the end?”

Allura’s gaze turned distant, her smile faint and melancholy. “I was close,” she said softly. “But no. Not everything. And that’s okay.” She turned her eyes back to him, luminous and steady. “Because I did get so much. I got to know the love of my friends, my family, and even you. I got to feel what it’s like to give love and to receive it. And here, in this realm, I’ve discovered new ways to love. It’s not the kind of love I thought I would have, and it’s beautiful in its own way.” Her gaze rose up to the stars, urging Lance to follow the look as she landed a look on two distant stars twinkling with life. One pink dancing and glowing next to a deeper purple. The energy they gave off felt familiar, burning in heat and light, and Allura had a far away look, like she wasn’t quite ready to reveal all her secrets in that moment to Lance, so he opted to let her have that.

Lance swallowed hard, his eyes stinging. “I wish I could’ve done more. I wish I could’ve saved you.”

“You did save me,” Allura said, her voice firm. “In ways you’ll never understand.”

Lance’s heart ached at her words, but he nodded. “I guess that’s all anyone can hope for, right? To find something, even if it’s not what you expected.”

Allura smiled knowingly, tilting her head as if studying him. “And you, Lonce? Are you learning how to love?”

His face flushed immediately, and he looked away, stammering. “I mean, yeah, sure. I guess. I’m trying.”

Her smile widened, sly and teasing in a way that was distinctly Allura. “You guess?” she repeated, her tone laced with playful curiosity. “Because I think you’re learning quite a lot about it. In fact…” Her eyes sparkled as she leaned closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “I’d wager there’s someone very important to you right now.”

Lance’s face turned beet red, his hands waving defensively. “W-What? No! I mean—what are you even talking about? There’s no one! Definitely not someone with stupid mullet hair and an attitude problem, if that’s what you’re implying!”

Shut up.

Allura’s laughter rang out, light and musical, and Lance groaned, burying his face in his hands, his big mouth once again betraying him.

“Oh, Lonce,” she said, her tone softening as the laughter faded. “You don’t have to hide it. Not from me. I can see it, you know. I can feel it.” Her hand brushed over his chest again, right above his heart, and he shivered at the warmth of it. “It’s written all over you. That fierce, unrelenting love. It’s always been your greatest strength.”

He peeked at her through his fingers, his voice small. “Do you think… do you think it’s enough? To save him? To save all of them?”

Allura’s smile turned tender, her eyes shimmering with something deep and eternal. “Love is never just enough, Lance. It’s everything. It’s the reason we fight, the reason we endure. It’s the greatest gift the universe has given us.”

Her words sank into him, filling the cracks in his heart with a quiet, steady resolve.

“You have everything you need, Lonce,” she said, standing and extending her hand to him. “You’ve always had it. Now, it’s time to use it.”

He took her hand, his grip firm despite the tears glistening in his eyes. Although this entire moment had felt like emotional whiplash, he felt a lot more grounded than he had at the start. Like she had given him an emotional invisible weapon that only he could hold. “Thank you, Allura,” he whispered.

Her smile was radiant as she began to fade, her voice echoing softly. “Your time here is coming to an end. I can’t hold the pause in your timeline much longer. Go, Lonce. Fight for them. Fight with everything you have. And don’t ever stop loving.”
“For whatever its worth I did love you. Isn’t that the worst thing you’ve ever heard?” Lance let his laughter die out in a fast, dry way. “Are you… are you mad?”
Allura tilted her head, confused. “Mad? About what?”

“I mean, at this point I feel you already know that–that I… fell in love with someone else.”

Her eyes widened briefly before softening, a warm, almost teasing smile playing on her lips. “Mad? Oh, Lonce. I thought it would have happened much sooner.”

Lance’s head snapped up, his face a mix of shock and embarrassment. “What? What’s that supposed to mean?”

Allura leaned closer, her expression exasperated yet fond. “I’ve been watching you and Keith go back and forth for what feels like

eternity.

Honestly, it’s exhausting.”

Lance sputtered, his face turning bright red. “Keith?! I—what—this isn’t about him! I don’t—”

Allura rolled her eyes and, with a swift motion, twisted his ear.

“Hey! Ow! What the—” Lance yelped, swatting at her hand as she released him with a look of amused disdain.

“You know, humanity is beautiful I’ve learned. The one person in the world you love isn’t always the only one you thought it would be.” She hummed.

“You know, just because you’re some powerful deity doesn’t mean you get to talk in fancy lingo to me.” Lance groaned, rubbing at his ear. She let out a soft chuckle, her voice like bells.

“Don’t play coy with me, Lonce,” she said, her voice teasing but firm. “You can’t lie to someone who can see your heart as clearly as the stars.”

Lance rubbed his ear, still red-faced. “I wasn’t trying to—ugh. Okay, fine. Maybe I… maybe I do love him. A little. Or a lot.” He groaned, burying his face in his hands. “Great, now you’re gonna think I’m some kind of fake lover or—”

“All I think,” Allura interrupted, her tone turning soft, “is that you’ve been given something very rare and very beautiful: a second chance at love.”

Lance peeked at her through his fingers, his expression conflicted. “It feels… weird. Like I’m betraying you somehow.”

“Love doesn’t work that way,” Allura said gently. “It’s not a finite resource. It grows. It changes. It evolves. And it can bloom again, even after great loss.”

He dropped his hands, looking at her with wide, tear-filled eyes. “You’re not mad? You don’t hate me for moving on?”

Her smile was radiant, full of grace and understanding. “I want you to love. To be loved. That’s all I ever wanted for you. And Keith…” Her eyes sparkled mischievously. “Well, let’s just say I think he needs someone like you in his life. Someone to remind him what it means to feel.”

Lance’s face burned, but he couldn’t suppress the small smile tugging at his lips.

“He’s stubborn, you know. And oblivious as hell to how I actually feel about him. I feel like everyone in the universe knows except him it seems…”

“All the best people are,” Allura said with a wink.

They both laughed softly, the sound echoing warmly through the astral plane. But as the laughter faded, Lance’s smile turned wistful. “Do you think it’s possible? To really get it right this time?”

Allura reached out, placing her hand over his heart. “Love isn’t about getting it right. It’s about showing up. Being there. Fighting for it, even when it’s hard. And if anyone has the heart to do that, it’s you. And that’s what you’re going to do back in your reality. Fight, remember? Like the stubborn kid you used to be when I thought there was nothing left of the universe.”

Her words sank into him, filling him with a quiet, aching hope.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his voice breaking.

She smiled, her form beginning to shimmer and fade. “I’m in the mood to dissolve into the sky now. Go, Lonce. Love fiercely. Live boldly. You still have so much life ahead and I am expecting to keep watching from above. And never forget—you are so much more than you know.”

Lance reached out as Allura began shimmering around him. The universe seemed to lurch and spin, the planets and galaxies and star systems all flickering and beaming with energy as they replicated the shimmer dissolve Allura was having.

“Allura! Please.” Lance felt his throat get caught in his throat as tears brimmed his eyes, grasping out as Allura as her presence was no longer touchable. Allura gave him another soft smile, tilting her head in a teasing way.

“Our friends are worried about you. You have a battle to finish after all, and a story to be told. I for one would love to see the ending of what I’ve been following along for some time. It’s such a pain to not look ahead for spoilers, but then where would be the fun in it all!” Allura threw him a wink as the world around Lance continued to spin at a rapid rate, as if he was a planet spinning on its axis. He watched as he shut his mouth shut, feeling the calming sense he never thought he would feel again as he watched Allura slowly dissolving in front of her.
As she disappeared, Lance felt a tear slip down his cheek. But for the first time in a long time, his heart felt light, as though the weight he’d been carrying had finally lifted.

“Oh, and one more thing.” Allura’s voice was now the only present thing about her, “Do tell Coran I am sorry I haven’t been around to see him. He is doing a wonderful job.”

“Anything, princess. I love you.” Lance choked out, feeling dizzy and lightheaded as more swirling and surging of energy stormed around him.

And although he couldn’t see or hear Allura anymore, he felt the love radiating through him one final time as her response before he was swallowed back in whiteness.

The next thing he knew, his body was gasping as his senses came to, with his eyes blinking awake at a red aura surrounding him.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Breathing air again felt like a sharp slice through his lungs. Like gasping for something so normal to the human body was poisonous. It was icy cold, staggering through his entire body and lungs like a crack through glass, searing through with such a sharp touch that should have left Keith sobbing in pain.

Until there seemed to be something else cold slowly laying across this crack, as if a bandaid was being placed over it to seal it up from cracking apart and just breaking.

Due to this, Keith gasped in again, and instead of it being a shuddering sharp pain of more pressure building around like a spiderweb, he was able to successfully breathe in. Then out. His eyes shot open after, the whiteness dissapearing to a now red blur around him. Breathe in and out again.

The coldness in his body hummed a bit before it disappeared with a numbness, and the more Keith breathed, the more the sharp pain felt more like a dullness under the figurative bandaid. Keith blinked again, forcing the blurriness to settle as his eyesight came to, taking in where he was as he let out another breath, his lungs gasping to catch up to how fast he was taking in air.

“Hey buddy. Hey, lets calm down. You’re ok. Just breathe for me, ok?”

Keith blinked again, forcing his eyes to focus on who was in front of him, his brain catching up to recognizing the voice speaking so softly to him, the disorientation hitting him like a wave. His head felt heavy, his body sluggish, but he forced himself to focus. He blinked again, taking in the odd angle of the hangar’s ceiling above his head.

Where…

?

Before his thoughts could catch up, his senses sharpened on something closer—a figure leaning in so close it startled him.

Lance was kneeling in front of him, his blue eyes blown wide, his hair a matted mess with dried blood and debris streaked across his face. His suit was cut up and darkened from different blasts and pools of blood dried up and darkened, but his eyes were trained on Keith’s, mouth parted and hands reaching out to press lightly on Keith’s side. Keith blinked again, taking in Lance’s face, one that he knew like the back of his hand, tracing in every part of it.

“Lance? What–” Keith rasped, his voice raw and cracking, but Lance shushed him quickly, lifting one hand up slowly to look at Keith’s side. He finally leaned back, seemingly satisfied with a grin flickering across his face. Although his hands were back in his lap, he kept them close and hovering, as if reluctant to stray from Keith’s body.

“You took some nasty hits back there. Your bleeding seems to have stopped, thank GOD. I was really getting worried there. But hey, now you’re awake,” Lance said, his tone light but strained. “That’s... good. I mean, not like

amazing

—I’ve been awake longer, obviously—but yeah, great job waking up. Ten out of ten.”

Keith squinted at him, confused and still groggy. “Where are we?” he muttered, his voice hoarse, trying to sit up.

“Uh, yeah, about that.” Lance gestured vaguely around them, his voice wavering between awkward and sheepish. “You’re in the Red Lion. Who seemingly like, woke up and got us? Ate us? Still playing catch up in that department. But yah, back in Red. Which, if you didn’t know, is kinda awesome, so... congratulations? Welcome?”

Keith’s brain struggled to reconcile his last memory—the chaos of the fight, Vrelen, the machine, the screams. And now... here? His chest tightened, panic fluttering just below the surface. He tried to push himself upright, but his body didn’t want to cooperate.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, slow down!” Lance’s hands were on him instantly, firm but gentle, pressing him back against the seat. “You’re not exactly in top form right now. Trust me, you don’t wanna keel over again. I worked way too hard keeping you alive for you to mess it all up by being stubborn.”

Keith let out a frustrated grunt, annoyed at his own weakness and Lance’s hovering. But the genuine worry etched into Lance’s features gave him pause. His dark blue eyes flickered with relief and something else Keith couldn’t name. Lance was so close Keith could feel the heat radiating off him, and for a moment, it was oddly comforting.

“Okay, fine,” Keith muttered, his gaze flicking back to Lance’s face as his thoughts caught up to his surroundings. “How did we even get here? The last thing I remember...” He trailed off, his voice faltering. The seering pain. The hits he had taken. Vrelen’s evil grin and voice taunting him.

Lance scratched the back of his neck, his usual bravado dimmed. “It’s kind of a long story that even I’m a bit fuzzy on some parts,” he said, avoiding Keith’s gaze. “Let’s just say... things got messy back there. Vrelen had us in a corner and I thought you were…” Lance trailed off, his eyes cast away with a frown. Keith’s heart beat at that look, but Lance flicked his eyes back up to meet Keith’s, leaning in a bit more. “What matters is that somehow, Red woke up and responded to us. To you. Or me. Whoever. I think she took a big chomp out of the ship where we were because here we are inside her with that machine.” Lance pointed over his shoulder to the very machine they were trying to destory, sat still in good shape with some scrapes on it, in the corner in front of them. Keith widened his eyes at it, but Lance pushed on, this time a little more hesitant. “What exactly is the last thing you remember from it all, though?”

Keith frowned, his mind still swimming with disjointed memories.

“I-I remember Vrelen having me, taking the brut of his attacks. Seeing you guys all trying to get to me. But after that it gets really fuzzy, like I wasn’t really there. Must have been the blood loss.” Keith winced as he tried to move his legs, huffing out in annoyance from the sharp pain around his body. He gave another look at Lance, but this time his brows were furrowed, his eyes steady and a nervous look on his face. Keith furrowed his brows back as a question. Lance blinked, snapping out of his look, his face dusting a light shade of red.

“Sooo…the whole dying part you were going through. Don’t remember getting thrown against the window? Me holding you in my arms while you bled out? Things we were saying?”

“Why? Did I say something bad?” Keith blinked, his mouth feeling like cotton. How bad was he in what supposedly was his final moments to have Lance looking like this at him? Lance quickly then shrugged, averting his eyes again.

“It’s nothin, just good to have you back then.” Lance’s face stayed the same red, leaving Keith to sit in utter confusion, blinking back aghast at him. He started to shake his head but froze mid-motion, his eyes narrowing on Lance. Something about him was off.

“Wait.” Keith’s gaze locked onto Lance’s face, making Lance freeze and his eyes blow wide. A sudden realization making his stomach lurch. He pointed, his hand trembling slightly. “Your face.”

“What?” Lance blinked, startled. “Is there something on it? Ugh, if you are getting this grossed out by the blood everywhere I gotta remind you that its YOUR blood on me. I thought I got all—”

“No,” Keith interrupted, his voice sharper now, his confusion mounting. “Your... marks. Your Altean marks. They’re gone.”

Lance froze, his expression faltering. He blinked rapidly, his hand instinctively brushing against his cheek as if he hadn’t noticed until Keith pointed it out. Then he straightened, quickly schooling his features into a nonchalant shrug.

“Oh. That.” He waved it off, though his tone wavered. “Yeah, no big deal. It’s, uh, a thing. Probably just some post-astral... stuff. I’m fine.”

Keith stared at him, his brows furrowed. “Post-astral? What does that even mean? And why are you acting like this isn’t a big deal? I mean, Allura..she left those…”

Lance hesitated, clearly uncomfortable, before finally meeting Keith’s eyes. There was something there, something vulnerable and raw that Keith wasn’t used to seeing. “It was Allura,” Lance admitted softly. “She helped. She... did something. I don’t know what, exactly, but I think—”

Lance cut himself off, his voice cracking slightly. He looked away, blinking rapidly as if trying to keep his composure.

Keith’s chest tightened, his emotions twisting uncomfortably. Jealousy bubbled faintly beneath the surface, unbidden and unwanted, but it was quickly overshadowed by something heavier. The idea of Lance seeing Allura—of her touching his life again in a way Keith could only envy—left him feeling off-kilter. But he pushed it aside.

“She helped you?” Keith asked quietly, his tone softer now.

Lance nodded, his hand fidgeting against his thigh, stretching and strumming patterns as he looked at his hands. “Yeah,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “She... fixed some things I was having issues with. I was like, in her world? Or her space in time? I’m still a little confused on all of that, but we got to talk. She’s been checking in on us, watching, sort of like a guardian angel.” Lance’s eyes glazed over, and Keith’s chest pulled tight.

“When I came back from the astral plane, I found you still bleeding out on the floor next to me and I nearly flipped out. I didn’t even have time to register where we were, I just rushed at you to try to stop the bleeding. But then, my hands just started glowing and these twinkling lights sort of came out of my hands and I didn’t need to question it because I just…knew it was Allura. Like, it was a feeling I can’t really describe. Whatever was happening, it was healing you, because you woke up. I guess she figured I didn’t need the marks anymore after that.”

The air between them grew heavier, charged with unspoken words and emotions neither of them knew how to articulate.

Keith swallowed hard, his gaze lingering on Lance’s face. “She must’ve known you were worth seeing again,” he said finally, his voice low but steady.

Lance’s eyes flicked back to him, startled, his expression softening. For a moment, neither of them said anything, the silence between them speaking unimaginable volumes.

Finally, Lance cleared his throat, breaking the tension with a nervous chuckle. “Yeah, well,” he said, his usual bravado creeping back into his tone. “I guess I’ve got a thing for making impossible stuff happen. You know, saving the universe, keeping you alive, getting celestial makeovers. No big deal.”

Keith rolled his eyes, but a faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. For the first time since waking up, the weight in his chest eased slightly. “Can’t believe I was here dying and you had the time for redoing your whole look,” he muttered, but the words were seeping in outright fondness he knew was impossible to hide.

Lance chuckled out, the tension in his shoulders dying as his eyes took in Keith’s better demeanor, as if relaxing knowing that Keith was able to even joke.

Keith leaned back again, eyes now flickering around the cockpit of Red. She wasn’t glowing her usual glow with lights or humming with the energy that usually filled her. But here they were, somehow alive and inside a Lion that was supposedly dead of life. Lance must have been following Keith’s eyes, letting out a sigh as he turned to look out the front of the Lion’s controls, where they both used to sit to pilot.

“Yah, another thing. We are kinda just floating in the middle of nowhere space. I can’t see any giant spaceship out the cockpit, nor do I recognize any star systems or any signs of planet life around us. We are just, floating?” Lance winced at this, turning to meet Keith’s eyes again.

“And no signal is coming out of Red either, so we have no way of alerting the others.” Keith muttered, his mind flying with how to fix this. Lance nodded slowly, shifting in his cross legged seat in front of Keith. Great, lost in space with a giant dead Red Lion, open for anyone to see. Partially bleeding out and definetly withstanding a couple concussions and fractured bones. Oh, and lost in space with

Lance,

who had just spent a near death epiphany with the lost love of his life. Could things get any luckier for him?

Keith stirred, trying to push himself upright again, but Lance was immediately at his side, hands on Keith’s shoulders.

“Will you

please

stop moving? Didn’t I

just

tell you that me and Allura saved you from bleeding out and DYING?” Lance said, exasperation laced with concern.

Keith scowled, shrugging Lance’s hands off. “I’m fine.” It would have been more convincing if he hadn’t winced sharply at that movement.

“You’re not fine,” Lance shot back, narrowing his eyes. “You almost died. Again. You think I’m gonna let you just—”

“Ok, fine,” Keith interrupted, his voice sharp but softening when he caught the genuine worry in Lance’s eyes. “We need to figure out how to get out of here. I can’t do that if you keep pinning me down like I’m some fragile—”

“You

are

fragile right now,” Lance cut him off, his voice rising, but his face reddened almost immediately as he realized how that sounded. He cleared his throat, looking away. “I mean—fragile enough. Not that you’re, like... delicate or whatever. But you’re injured, okay? So just... sit tight.”

Keith raised an eyebrow, confused by Lance’s sudden shift in demeanor. Normally, Lance’s dramatics were loud and over-the-top, but now there was something almost... shy in the way he avoided eye contact.

“Fine,” Keith relented, leaning back reluctantly. He took in another steadying breath, trying to calm the swirling darkness looming in his mind. He quickly surveyed the area, taking in the giant machine, to the dead cockpit next to them. “But at least look around for something useful so we can find a way to send a message to our friends, or anyone. Red’s gotta have something left in her.”

Lance’s face lit up, clearly relieved to have a task. “Right! Yes. Good idea. Stay put, and I’ll—uh, I’ll go check the hangar.”

He disappeared toward the back of the lion, leaving Keith to stew in the silence as his head banged with a raging headache. Or momentarily silence, as he now heard as Lance poked around the darkened hangar. His fingers brushed over storage compartments, opening each one with a faint click. He muttered under his breath as he rummaged through the sparse supplies.

“No emergency space beacon... no comm link... not even a pack of space snacks. What kind of unprepared soldier—”

“Are you talking to yourself?” Keith called from the cockpit, his voice cutting through the quiet.

The sound of a compartment being dropped echoed to the front of the Lion, and Keith held back a small smile as he heard Lance stutter. “No! I’m talking to

you

. Obviously.”

“Sure doesn’t sound like it,” Keith teased, his voice carrying a rare hint of amusement.

Lance huffed, muttering to himself again as he moved to another compartment. “So annoying... can’t believe I actually missed his obnoxious teasing we had when he was a teenager...like I’m the freak in this scenario? I mean, who in their right mind would actually look at an 18 year old version of someone they–”

“What was that?” Keith’s voice echoed down the corridor, nearly catching some of Lance’s grumbling.

“Nothing!” Lance called back, his tone slightly higher-pitched than usual.

More noises came from the back of Lance toying around and pulling out more compartments, coughing out when some dust came fluttering out at him.

“Man, when was the last time she was cleaned?” Lance coughed, swatting at the air.

“You were her last pilot. And it’s been well over a year since any of us had the Lions.” Keith muttered, watching as Lance groaned and plopped down back in front of Keith, unsuccessfull in his findings. Except, he had that strange look on his face, lips pulled to a frown and brow furrowed, giving Keith a tucked away look, almost like he was thinking

too

hard.

Never good.

The silence stretched between them, thick and awkward.

“Hey,” Lance said suddenly, his voice too loud in the confined space. “Remember when we shared Red at first?”

Keith blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

“You know,” Lance continued, his words tumbling out quickly, “back when Shiro disappeared, and we had to shuffle around lions. You took Black, and I—well, I ended up here.” He gestured around them. “Good times, huh?”

Keith snorted. “Yeah, because it’s always so great when Shiro’s missing and we’re scrambling to keep Voltron together.”

Lance winced. “Okay, fair point. But... I don’t know. I thought it was kinda cool. Being in Red, I mean. Like, for a second, it felt like I was finally... earning something that was way out of my league.”

Keith frowned, his expression softening. “Lance, you’ve always been worthy.”

The words came out so simply, so earnestly, that Lance’s cheeks flushed quickly before Keith’s eyes. He laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, yeah. Obviously. But, you know... it was nice to be her pilot after you. Even if she clearly liked you better.”

Keith shrugged. “She’s picky. But she trusted you when it mattered, and like Allura said, trust is the hardest thing to earn from her. But you got it. That’s what counts.”

“On the farm we had these stray cats that lived under our porch. They meowed really loud at night, like they were crying for their mom, but they never came out, no matter how much we tried to coax them out. I used to sit out there from the moment I woke up in the mornings and just wait with a bowl of milk. My other siblings used to try to poke them out with sticks or crawl under there to try and grab them, but I waited for them to come to me first. Eventually, one came out and drank from the bowl I had. They realized I wasn’t a threat or something, because slowly they all came out to finally eat next to me. I get how long it takes to earn trust I guess, must be why I’m able to get along with you so well now.” Lance shrugged, but his eyes flicked back teasingly at Keith. Keith could only stare back, his own face flushing with a deep heat at the way Lance was smiling so openly at him. His chest tightened, and he quickly looked away, unable to take that soft look from Lance’s eyes.

“Anyway,” Lance said, his voice unsteady. “I didn’t find any snacks or anything useful. Unless you stashed something in here when you were piloting her?”

Keith cleared his throat, forcing himself to calm down as he shook his head no. He never kept personal stuff on him, other than his moms Blade. Besides, its not like he had anything sentimental to him that could have possibly–

“Wait, I haven’t checked here.” Lance was on his feet, reaching over Keith’s head and pulling at a small drawer. Keith heard the way Lance gasped slightly, clicking the drawer back closed and pulling back, holding a small brown leather notebook.

“Woahh, jackpot! Do you think this belonged to Allura’s dad? I didn’t even know these drawers had anything when I was–”

Keith’s reaction was immediate—faster than Lance had ever seen him move in his injured state. Keith lunged, snatching the notebook out of Lance’s hands. The sudden motion sent a sharp groan ripping from his throat, his body curling in pain as he clutched the book protectively against his chest.

Lance froze, his hand still in mid-air, caught off guard by the ferocity in Keith’s movements. “Whoa, okay! Sorry—didn’t realize it was, uh,

yours

...”

Keith didn’t answer immediately. He shifted uncomfortably where he sat, hunching over the notebook like it was a lifeline. He could feel the rise and fall of his chest, adrenaline pumping as his jaw tight, and his fingers trembled as they gripped the aged leather.

“Keith?” Lance ventured carefully, lowering his hand. “Hey, man, it’s cool. I didn’t know you had... I mean,

what is that

? I didn’t even know you brought anything like that to space.”

Keith’s throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, his expression guarded. “I didn’t... I mean, I didn’t bring much. Just this.” His voice was low, quiet, like he was forcing the words out.

Lance watched him for a long moment, his usual teasing bravado replaced by something softer, something almost hesitant. “You don’t have to tell me about it,” he said, his tone unusually gentle. “But, uh... you look like you’re about to crush it, so maybe... ease up a little?”

Keith glanced down, realizing how tightly he was gripping the notebook. He loosened his hold, his fingers tracing over the faded edges and worn corners, his thumb brushing over the faint outline of his name written on the cover in black sharpie, chicken scratch under other doodles that were disappearing from time. The ink had long since faded, but Keith’s hand moved like he knew every curve of the letters by heart.

“It’s my journal,” Keith said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “From when I was a kid.”

Lance tilted his head, curiosity flickering in his eyes. “You had a journal?”

Keith shot him a sharp look, furrowing his brow and letting out a huff, but there was no real bite behind it. “Don’t make it a thing.”

“Not making it a thing!” Lance said quickly, raising his hands in mock surrender, but a small smile tugged on his lips. “Just... I didn’t know.”

“Yah, well, there’s a lot of things people don’t know about me.” Keith shrugged, leaning back against the wall and eyes glazing over the journal. It felt smaller in his now adult hands now, filled with memories Keith thought he was far away from. But after everything with Vrelen, those memories seemed to be dancing back to life.

He felt the shift in Lance as he scooted closer, their knees bumping against each other.

“That may be true for some people. But, I’d like to think I know my fair share of Keith lore.” Lance gave a gentle smile, tilting his head shly. Keith blinked back, his chest swarming with that familiar warmth he always felt when this close to Lance.

His fingers lingered on the cover, tracing over the ghost of the sharpie marks. “It’s the only one I ever had. I used to write in it all the time, back when I was at the shelter.”

Lance blinked, his playful grin fading into something more serious. “The shelter?”

Keith nodded, his expression distant. “After my dad... after he was gone, I didn’t have anywhere to go. Ended up in this group home. It was loud and crowded, and no one really cared about your story unless it could help theirs. I didn’t have much to hold on to, so I started writing things down. Stuff I wanted to remember. Memories, thoughts... even dumb stuff, like the way the stars looked from my window or how annoying it was when Shiro first took interest in me.” There was no way Keith was about to reveal every little detail about what was in the notebook. How cold the nights where in the shelter, how he spent some nights hungry when there wasn’t enough food to be shared between all the boys. From the cuts and roughened skin over his knees and knuckles he got from having to show dominance over some of the meaner boys, since being quiet meant weak. How he punched a kid square in the jaw once when he thought Keith was gay because he may have watched a little longer than everyone else as one of the older boys peeled off his shirt in the backyard after a game of soccer.

The boy was right, of course, but that was not something that would have settled well amongst the other boys in the shelter.

How the first time Keith realized maybe it wasn’t a bad thing to be called gay was when Shiro adopted him over to his apartment one weekend and was welcomed by another man already in it, smiling warmly as Shiro showed Keith in and met the distance halfway to go to the man’s side with an ease Keith never imaged from two guys.

How there were several torn out pages with angry scratches and scribbles when Shiro was deemed missing, leaving Keith to run away from the shelters and track down the beaten down shack in the desert that he used to live in with his father.

How towards the end of the notebook, attempts to remember turned to frantically jottled down notes of radio scans and patterns in rocks messily sketched. There was no longer a need to want to remember his life, instead replaced with survival. With a repeating conspiracy.

Lance stayed quiet, his frown deepening the more Keith spoke. Keith refused to meet Lance’s eyes, scared of what he would say if he faced them.

Keith’s hand stilled on the notebook. “I was already starting to forget things back then. Like... the way my dad looked, or how his voice sounded. I hated that. So I wrote it all down. It was the only way to keep it with me. Dunno why it seemed important at the time, like I could track that I actually came from somewhere instead of just being a kid lost in the system.”

The raw vulnerability in Keith’s voice was like a punch to Lance’s gut. He swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. “Keith...”

Keith shrugged, his eyes still fixed on the notebook. “It’s stupid, I know. Just a bunch of old pages with bad handwriting. But it’s all I had.”

“It’s not stupid,” Lance said firmly, surprising even himself with the conviction in his voice. “It’s... Keith, that’s—” He cut himself off, struggling to find the right words. “It’s not stupid,” he repeated, softer this time.

Keith glanced at him, his expression unreadable. For a moment, neither of them said anything. The silence stretched, heavy but not uncomfortable, as Lance’s gaze dropped to the notebook.

“So... do you still write in it?” Lance asked after a while, his voice carefully neutral.

Keith shook his head. “Not since I came to space with everyone. My writing stopped becoming memories and became more strategy. Notes on star patterns and weird anomolies in the desert, proof that there was something coming when I was tracking Blue and didn’t even realize it. But I keep it with me. Just in case.”

Lance sat in silence, his frown pursed and his gaze heavy on the notebook in Keith’s hands. The silence wasn’t awkward, but Keith knew the air was heavy with everything Keith had just revealed from his past. Finally, Lance sucked in a breath, letting out a deep sigh as he forced a smile.

“Got any fun memories you have jotted down?”

Keith hummed, fingering the pages on the side, the book shut tightly from a leather band that was weathered down and fraying.

“I miss the rodeo sometimes.”

Keith must have accidentatlly thought that sentence from the lack of response Lance was giving him in the moment. Did he forget to speak, and accidentlly just thought it instead? Keith looked up, but Lance was gawking back at him, his jaw open and his eyes wide.

“What?” Keith blinked. Lance just sputtered again, leaning in close as Keith was forced to draw his face back, his back pressed as far as it could against the wall.

“Did you just say you missed the

RODEO

? Like, riding horses and cowboys and shit?” Lance gasped out, his eyes so blue and making Keith’s skin hum.

“Well, yah. That’s typically what rodeos entail. I lived in the desert, remember? My dad had a lot of friends who participated in rodeos and bull wrangling so I have small memories of attending them with him. He taught me how to ride horses too.” Keith shrugged, but the faint memory danced around the back of his mind of the smell of a rodeo farm, the clanging of the metal fences that would swing open when a new man approached the bulls, the sound of a whip and tightened rope smacking and grazing the dirt. It was hazy, like he was trying to remember a dream, but the memory was very much there. If anything, it was written in the pages he had in his hands, a promise that it was not made up from the chicken scratch of an 8 year old Keith.

When he looked back up at Lance, he was looking at him again with a softened over expression, his cheeks flushed pink and his eyes oh so wide, as if they were drinking in Keith. It made his chest tighten and his heart flutter, so he opted for shifting and looking back down at the notebook.

“You’re not gonna... make me read it out loud or anything, are you?” Keith asked after a moment, his voice tinged with a faint hint of teasing, feeling his own face heat up from Lance’s look.

Lance blinked out of his dazed look, immediately breaking into a brilliant smirk, the familiar banter easing the weight in his chest. “Nah. Unless you want me to.”

“Not a chance.”

“Figures. Probably half full of embarrassing poetry or something. With a past like that, there’s plenty of room for a tortured poet inspired by the lyrics of Gerard Way.”

Keith rolled his eyes, but there was a flicker of a smile on his lips. “Shut up, Lance.”

“Hey, I’m just saying—bet you were a real Shakespeare back in the day.”

“That’s it. No more Keith lore time. Shut. Up.”

And just like that, the tension broke, leaving something lighter in its place. Keith leaned against the cool metal wall of the Red Lion’s hangar, his body aching but his mind too restless to let the pain slow him down. Lance stayed humming in front of him, not bothered by the way Keith had to take a second. He let his eyes close, taking in another slow deep breath through his nose, trying to calm the ringing in his ears from the banging of his temple.

“You know,” Lance said suddenly, breaking the quiet, “I bet you’d look ridiculous on a horse.”

Keith opened his eyes to peer at Lance, thrown by the randomness of the statement.

“What?”

“You know, big animal, hooves, yeehaw?” He threw in some mock reins-pulling for good measure. “I bet you’d look like a total disaster trying to ride one.”

Keith scowled, though a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “I’d look fine.”

“Oh, sure,” Lance said, nodding in exaggerated agreement. “You’d look totally fine getting bucked off in two seconds.”

“First of all,” Keith said, straightening slightly despite the pull of pain in his ribs, “I’ve ridden a horse before. And second, I didn’t fall off.”

“You’d definitely fall off.”

“No, I wouldn’t.”

Lance crossed his arms, his grin widening. “Oh, is that so, cowboy? You’re telling me you’ve wrangled cattle in the great Texas plains?”

“You’re an idiot.”

“An idiot who could probably ride a horse better than you,” Lance shot back, his grin widening.

Keith tilted his head, narrowing his gaze in mock defiance. “Pretty sure I’d leave you in the dust, city boy.”

Lance gasped, clutching his chest like he’d been shot
. “
Excuse you,
are you forgetting I was raised on my families farm? We may not have had horses, but I know a thing or two about dealing with wild animals.”

“Feeding a cow is very different from taming horses.”

“Don’t dodge the question, mullet,” Lance said, pointing at him. “You really think you’d make a better cowboy than me?”

Keith tilted his head, his smirk growing. “I don’t think. I know.”

“Prove it.”

Keith raised a brow. “How?”

Lance hesitated, floundering for a second before throwing out, “I dunno. Next time we’re back on Earth or the first planet with horses we find, we’ll have a showdown.”

“Fine,” Keith said simply, snorting at the absurdity of it all but once again and always failing to succumb to Lance.

“Fine,” Lance echoed, his bravado slipping slightly under Keith’s steady gaze.

Keith’s smirk didn’t falter as he rolled his eyes at Lance, muttering under his breath, “You know what they say. Save a horse ride a cowboy.”

Lance blinked, his face going blank. “Wait, what?”

Keith’s ears burned as the words caught up to him, realizing immediately what he said out loud. Man, his pain must have really been numbing all common senses. He forced a casual shrug, forcing his voice to stay even. “You know, piggyback or something. Seems more your speed.”

Lance’s expression shifted from flushed confusion to indignation, though a faint blush darkened up his neck. “Piggyback? Are you calling me lazy?”

“You said it, not me,” Keith said, biting back a laugh.

Lance opened his mouth, closed it, then huffed, clearly flustered but unwilling to give Keith the satisfaction of a real retort.

“You’re impossible,” Lance muttered, turning his face to the side to hide his flushed face. Keith allowed himself a quiet chuckle, his shoulders relaxing a fraction. Lance was still muttering something under his breath, probably insults, but Keith didn’t mind. Not when he found himself watching Lance this close up, his eyes tracing the curve of Lance’s grin, the freckles lightly splattered across the bridge of his nose, the way his shoulders shook when he laughed, the dark blush creeping up his neck.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Lance asked suddenly, his voice teasing but his eyes flickering with something more uncertain that Keith couldn’t place.

Keith blinked, startled out of his thoughts. “Like what?”

“Like—never mind,” Lance muttered, his face turning red as he strummed a pattern on the floor, his fingers flying anxciously. Keith frowned, not understanding the sudden shift. Lance looked taken back, restricting his usual blabber of his loud mouth, his face flushed red and strummingly wildly on the floor besides him.

“You know,” Lance murmured lower after a moment, his tone lighter, “you’d probably look good in a cowboy hat.”

Keith blinked at him, now his turn caught off guard. “What?”

“Cowboy hat,” Lance said, grinning again as he leaned forward. “You’ve got the whole midwestern emo thing down. Add a hat, maybe some boots and badge, and bam. Instant sheriff of the wild wild west.” Lance’s laughter rang out, warm and easy, filling the small space between them. Keith snorted, rolling his eyes, which apparently was incentive for Lance to continue on, his hands coming to grab at Keith’s knees and leaning more into Keith’s space, practically radiating joy.

Until Lance broke the silence with a sharp intake of breath.

Keith’s attention snapped to him, his chest tightening at the sight of Lance clutching his head, his face pale and eyes wide. “Lance?”

“I’m fine,” Lance said quickly, but his voice trembled, his hand still pressed to his temple. His face had gone white, his eyes blown wide and shaking his head a bit.

“You don’t look fine,” Keith leaned closer despite the protest from his own battered body. “What’s wrong?”

Lance shook his head, blinking rapidly as if trying to clear his vision. “I just... I don’t know. For a second, it felt like—” He broke off, his eyes darting around the room as if searching for something.

“Like what?” Keith pressed, his heart pounding.

Lance hesitated, his brow furrowing. “It’s... stupid. It just felt like... Red.”

Keith froze, his blood running cold. “Red?”

“Yeah.” Lance laughed nervously, strumming his fingers along his crossed legs. “But, not really. Like, I know for a fact it wasn’t red, because then it would have felt a lot hotter and stronger and more, defiant? You know...”

“Like when Red’s in your mind?” Keith started slowly, and Lance snapped his eyes at him, shaking his head.

“Yah, you get it. Like when Red is calling to you, its a lot more of a stubborn and strong energy. I felt it when I was on Earth in Pidge’s hangar, and again right before she bust through Vrelen’s ship and saved us. But this one is a lot more, calmer, I guess? I mean, that’s crazy, right? Red... she’s dead, isn’t she? And that’s not even what I’m feeling.”

Keith didn’t answer immediately, his mind racing.

“Lance,” Keith said slowly, his voice steady but laced with urgency. “Are you sure?”

“I don’t know!” Lance said, his voice rising in frustration. “It was just for a second, and now it’s gone, and—” He stopped, his hands dropping to his sides as he met Keith’s gaze. His eyes were wide, almost scared. “What if it’s not crazy?”

Keith’s chest tightened at the fear in Lance’s voice, the uncertainty written all over his face. Without thinking, he reached out, his hand brushing against Lance’s arm in a gesture meant to ground him. “It’s not crazy,” he said quietly. “Not if you felt it. I trust you.”

Lance looked at him, his eyes searching Keith’s face for something—reassurance, understanding, an anchor in the storm of his thoughts before his eyes dropped down to Keith’s hand on his arm. Keith held his gaze, his hand lingering just a moment longer before he pulled away, suddenly aware of how close they were. How much Keith wanted to keep holding onto Lance.

“We’ll figure it out,” Keith said, his voice firm despite the unease swirling in his chest. “Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out.”

Lance nodded slowly, his breathing evening out as he leaned closer towards Keith, his gaze drifting to the dark expanse of space outside the cockpit’s viewpoint. Keith watched him for a moment longer, his own thoughts a whirlwind of uncertainty and quiet.

Before Keith could speak to him, a low, distant hum reverberated through the Lion. Both of them froze, every muscle in Keith’s body tensing like a coiled spring.

"You hear that?" Keith whispered, his voice barely audible.

“Yeah,” Lance said, his tone wary. Without thinking, his hand shot out, wrapping firmly around Keith’s wrist in comfort, his thumb mindlessly sliding over Keith’s heartbeat banging wildly in his wrist. Keith would have melted right there and then if he wasn’t about to have a heart attack from the sudden change in serenity. They waited in tense silence, the hum growing louder, becoming a rhythmic, mechanical pulse that seemed to come from above. Keith’s sharp eyes darted to Lance’s hand on his wrist, but he didn’t pull away.

“Go check,” Keith urged, his voice low and clipped.

Lance blinked at him, incredulous. “Why me?”

Keith gave him a pointed look. “You made such a fuss about me staying still and not straining my injuries. What, did you change your mind?”

Lance flushed, opening and closing his mouth before muttering, “Fine, fine, I’ll go.” He let go of Keith reluctantly and moved to the front of Red, leaning over her controls, grumbling something under his breath. The hum grew louder still, and when Lance peered out, his entire body went rigid.

Keith sat up straighter, his heart pounding. “What is it?”

Lance didn’t respond at first, his hand braced against the wall as he leaned closer to the glass. Finally, he let out a breathless chuckle.

“I think we’re saved,” he said, his voice tinged with disbelief.

Keith frowned. “What are you talking about? Saved by what?”

Lance turned back to him, his expression a mix of relief and awe, though there was still a trace of uncertainty in his wide eyes. “Just… hold on.”

Before Keith could demand more, the entire Lion lurched, the motion so sudden it sent him sliding against the wall. Something had attached to them—above, by the sound of it—and the Lion began to move.

Keith’s hands shot out instinctively, gripping whatever was near to steady himself. Lance staggered back toward him, catching Keith by the arm and holding on tightly. The motion wasn’t smooth; it was a slow, deliberate pull, like they were being towed. The faint hum of engines vibrated through the Red Lion, muffled but unmistakable.

Keith’s gaze flicked to Lance, who was clutching him tightly but keeping his grip gentle to mind his injuries, his face tense and focused. “What’s happening?” Keith asked, his voice steady despite the chaos.

“I don’t know,” Lance admitted, his eyes darting toward the ceiling as if trying to see through it. “But it’s something that just attached itself to Red.”

Keith tried to look out the viewport, but all he could see was the glow of distant stars. The movement of the Lion was too steady, too purposeful, to be random debris.

Lance swallowed hard, his voice barely above a whisper. “Whatever it is, it’s taking us somewhere.”

Keith nodded, his mind racing. He shifted slightly, but Lance’s grip tightened, keeping him steady.

“Don’t move,” Lance said firmly, his voice softer than his words.

Keith glanced at him, catching the faint flush on Lance’s face, but didn’t argue. Instead, he let himself lean back into Lance’s hold, his body tense but his trust unwavering. The soft thrum of whatever was out there echoed around them, the motion of being pulled to safety stilling as a loud

clang

reverberated through the hull. Both Keith and Lance froze, the sound signaling they had landed somewhere.

As the Red Lion was guided into a hangar that Keith could barley catch, the space inside Red slowly darkened, any light shut out from the mysterious place they were now in on the mystery ship. Keith and Lance clung to each other, waiting for whatever awaited them on the other side.

Keith used his other hand to grab at his blade, finding the hilt and reflexsively stretching out his hand. Lance gave him a pointed look.

“Don’t you dare think about fighting whatever is out there. You still have to heal.”

“Yah, but what if its Vrelen. You can’t be the only one protecting us.” Keith snapped back.
He shifted slightly, wincing against the pull of pain in his body,
"Whatever's waiting for us out there, we need to be ready."
Lance snorted, keeping his hand firmly on Keith’s shoulder. "Oh, yeah, because you’re in great shape to start swinging a blade. I can protect plenty.”
Keith rolled his eyes, but there was a flicker of warmth beneath his usual annoyance. "Right. And how exactly do you plan on doing that?"

Lance bristled, his grip tightening for a moment. "Listen,

I’m

not the one with a death wish. You should be focused on staying alive, not jumping into another fight you can’t win."

Keith opened his mouth to snap back, but before he could, another loud sound came from outside—a heavy metallic door slamming shut. Both of them stiffened, the tension in the air thick enough to cut. Lance instinctively pulled Keith closer, his hand firm but careful. Keith felt a warmth spread through him at the contact, the kind that made his throat tighten and his chest ache with something he didn’t have the words for. It was the worst possible time to feel comforted yet still yearning for more of Lance’s touch, and yet here they were.

“I’ll check it out,” Lance whispered, leaning down to meet Keith’s eyes. His face was close—too close—and Keith’s breath hitched as he caught the flicker of nervous determination in Lance’s expression.

"Lance—" Keith began, his voice tight, but Lance was already pulling away.

“Stay put,” Lance said, his tone trying for casual but landing somewhere between teasing and pleading. He scrambled to the cockpit, peering out the narrow viewport. For a moment, he was silent. Then his entire body lit up, and he gasped.

“What is it?” Keith asked sharply, sitting up straighter despite the protest of his injuries.

But Lance didn’t answer. Instead, he bolted past Keith and into the back of the Lion. Keith could hear him clambering around, the sound of him prying open the emergency exit echoing through the quiet cabin. The door hissed open, and Keith’s sharp ears picked up muffled voices—gasps and cheers, footsteps rushing toward them. The sounds were distant at first, then suddenly louder, closer, clambering up into Red.

Keith turned his head, his heart hammering in his chest as he squeezed a tighter grip onto the hilt of his dagger as the faint voices turned into something familiar—something he hadn’t dared to hope for.

And then, there they were.

Krolia and Shiro appeared in the doorway, out of breath and wide-eyed, their faces etched with raw emotion. For a moment, none of them moved, the silence between them heavy and fragile. Keith’s vision blurred as tears welled in his eyes, the sight of the two closest people he had to family hitting him like a physical blow. His chest tightened, and he choked out a gasp, his throat raw with the effort to speak.

"M-mom," he rasped, his voice barely audible. All defenses he had fighting in him crumbled away in an instant.

Krolia’s face crumpled, and she rushed toward him, Shiro close behind. Her hands trembled as they found his face, brushing against his cheek like she couldn’t believe he was real.

“Keith,” she whispered, her voice breaking, and that was all it took for Keith to completely shatter.

He couldn’t hold back the tears as she pulled him into a gentle but desperate embrace, her arms wrapping around him like she could shield him from all the pain he’d endured. Shiro knelt beside them, his hand gripping Keith’s shoulder tightly, his eyes red-rimmed and glistening. “You’re okay,” Shiro murmured, his voice low and thick with emotion. “We found you.”

Keith’s breath hitched, and he let himself lean into their touch, the overwhelming relief coursing through him making it impossible to speak.

“About time we switched that role, huh?” Keith let himself laugh.

For the first time in what felt like forever, he felt like he could

breathe

. Krolia pulled back just enough to cup his face, her expression a mix of fierce love and heartbreak. “Let’s get you out of here,” she said, her voice steady despite the tears streaming down her face.

Shiro moved to support him as they gently helped him up, their touches careful but firm. Keith leaned on them, his body weak but his heart so full it felt like it might burst.

As they guided him out of the Red Lion, Keith took in the hangar they were in. It was one of the Blade’s larger ships, and a couple Blade members lined the room, taking in the view of Red.
The hangar was alive with muted murmurs and the hum of activity, but it felt like the entire room stopped when Keith was escorted in by Krolia and Shiro.
His eyes continued lazily scanning as he found his teammates, all scuffed up, bleeding, looking anything but healthy and put togehter. Everyone looked worse for wear, clear that the battle they had all survived had taken its toll. They were adorned in bandages, eyes wide with heavy eye bags. Upon seeing Keith exit alive from Red, Ezor let out a gasp, grabbing at Zethird, while Axca stiffened, anchoring herself to the floor, but Keith knew her well enough to see the swarm of relief washing over her. Keith glanced back, his eyes finding Lance’s. Lance was at the tailend of a soulcrushing hug from Hunk, who was a crying, wet mess, letting go of Lance finally while Pidge was wiping away at her eyes under her glasses. Lance was letting out chuckles, patting affectionately at Hunk, before catching Keith’s eyes. His face was soft and unreadable, but his eyes were bright with something Keith couldn’t quite place.

Keith’s eyes darted across the hangar, his heart tightening as he took in their state. The weight of the situation pressed down on him, but the sight of his friends alive, though battered, brought a flicker of relief. He wanted to rush toward them, to demand answers, but his body was still weak, and Krolia and Shiro kept a steadying grip on him.

“What happened?” Keith rasped, his voice hoarse but insistent. He tried to shake off their hold, his frustration mounting. “I want to talk to Axca about how things were left. Did we win?”

“Keith,” Shiro interrupted gently, squeezing his shoulder. “She’s fine. Everyone’s fine. But you need to slow down. Let’s get you checked out first.”

“I don’t

need

to be checked out,” Keith snapped, his restless energy making him push against Shiro’s hold. “I’m fine. I need to know what’s going on.”

Krolia stepped in, her voice firm but soothing. “Keith, we’re all alright. For now. However, Vrelen got away.”

Keith’s head whipped around to her, confusion flashing across his face. “Got away? What do you mean? He was—he was with us! We were on his ship, and—”

“When we arrived at Vrelen’s ship,” Krolia continued, her voice tight with frustration and lingering fear, “we found your team. They were scattered, injured, and confused. But you, Lance, and Vrelen were gone. The machine too.”

Keith stiffened, his brow furrowing. “The machine is in Red,” he said firmly, his voice edged with disbelief that they hadn’t noticed.

Both Shiro and Krolia froze, their eyes wide as the weight of his words sank in. “In Red?” Shiro asked, his tone sharp with disbelief.

“Yes,” Keith said, his frustration bubbling over. “It’s in the hangar. She took it when she got me and Lance.”

Krolia’s face darkened with concern, and she immediately turned to a group of Blade members who were stationed nearby. “Retrieve the machine from the Lion,” she ordered, her voice leaving no room for argument.

“Be careful with Red!” Keith snapped after them, his protective instincts flaring as the Blade operatives hurried toward Red.

Shiro sighed, his expression caught between fondness and exasperation. “Keith, you’re going to give me gray hairs. Can you please sit still for five minutes?”

Keith glanced at him, his scowl softening for just a moment. “You’re worse than Lance. And you already have gray hairs, Shiro.”

Shiro snorted, a dry chuckle escaping him. “Yeah, and I wonder who’s responsible for that.”

A faint smile tugged at Keith’s lips, but it was short-lived. He turned his attention back to Krolia, who stood nearby with a pensive look in her eyes. Her arms were crossed, her fingers lightly brushing her chin as if deep in thought, reserved but brimming with something Keith knew was about to burst out and bring down the energy quick.

“What is it?” Keith asked, his tone sharp with impatience. “You’re thinking something. Just say it.”

Krolia hesitated, her gaze flickering to her son. She reached out, brushing her hand against his arm, the gesture soft and grounding. “Keith, I... I don’t want to jump to conclusions,” she said carefully.

Keith’s eyes narrowed. “Jump to conclusions about what?”

Krolia sighed, glancing briefly at Shiro before meeting Keith’s gaze head-on. She seemed to be tormented about whether or not to continue, and Shiro’s pursed lips certainly weren’t on her side to help ease her tension.

Keith stood there, his mind heavy with unanswered questions, his heart restless as he tried to pacitently yet restlessly wait for Krolia’s words. But his gaze wandered, almost involuntarily, to the trio across the hangar.

Hunk, Pidge, and Lance were caught in a moment of pure, unrestrained relief. Hunk’s laughter boomed as Pidge tried to wriggle out of a bear hug he’d trapped her in, her protests playful but futile. Lance stood just a step away, grinning ear to ear, his arms outstretched dramatically as if to join the hug himself. The three of them were a mess—dusty, bruised, and tired—but there was an undeniable warmth radiating from them.

It should have been comforting. Instead, Keith’s stomach twisted. They were still involved in this.

They were still in danger.

The weight of his responsibility crashed into him all over again, suffocating and relentless. But before the spiral could tighten its grip, Hunk’s booming voice cut through his thoughts.
“Keith!”

Keith barely had time to blink before Hunk and Pidge were barreling toward him, their expressions alight with unrestrained joy. Pidge’s speed outpaced Hunk’s, and at the last second, she shoved him aside in an effort to reach Keith first. Keith tensed instinctively, but Krolia was already a step ahead, moving in front of him with a protective stance. She stopped their advance with a single, firm gesture, and Pidge skidded to a halt, her excitement dimming into a sheepish smile.

“Whoa, sorry!” Pidge said, raising her hands defensively. “Didn’t mean to, uh, scare you, Mrs. Kogane. Err, Krolia.”

Hunk halted beside her, rubbing the back of his neck with a bashful grin. “Yeah, uh... we just wanted to make sure Keith knew we, you know, loved him and all. Glad he’s not, uh... dead.”

Keith raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. “You thought I was dead?”

“You

disappeared

in the middle of an evil villain’s ship with a super dangerous machine after practically being beaten to a pulp!” Pidge shot back, her tone defensive but her eyes glassy with relief. “Excuse us for panicking.”

Hunk nodded, his usual gentle demeanor amplified by the sincerity in his voice. “Yeah, man. I—I’m just saying, I’m gonna tell you I love you every day now. No more missed opportunities.”

Keith’s expression softened slightly, the tension in his shoulders easing as he gave them a small, grateful nod. “I’m not going anywhere,” he muttered, though his voice lacked its usual sharpness.

Before he could say more, Lance joined them, his presence magnetic as always. He walked with a soft smile, his steps slower, more deliberate. His gaze landed on Keith, and for a moment, it was as if the entire hangar melted away. Keith felt his chest tighten. The look in Lance’s eyes—gentle, tender, and impossibly captivating—made his breath hitch. His body felt like it was overheating, his heart racing as though it would betray him at any moment.

He wanted to crumble under the intensity of it, to look away, to retreat, but he couldn’t.

“Hey, mullet, glad to see you standing on your own,” Lance said softly, his voice carrying just enough warmth to make Keith’s face burn.

Before he could even attempt a response, Krolia’s firm voice interrupted, snapping the moment like a taut string.

“Keith needs to be checked out,” she said, her tone brooking no argument. She shifted her grip on him slightly, her motherly concern hidden beneath a soldier’s composure. “He’s been through enough.”

“I can help,” Lance offered quickly, stepping closer, his smile faltering as he glanced at Krolia. His eagerness was palpable, but it was met with a wave of Krolia’s hand.

“Me and Shiro got it,” she said, her tone leaving no room for debate. Shiro snapped to attention at Keith’s side, as if at ease to a solider’s command. Keith tried not to snort that even his brother fell under Krolia’s intimidation.

Keith wanted to protest, wanted to tell her that Lance helping wouldn’t kill him, but his voice caught in his throat as he saw Lance’s expression. Lance’s smile fell, and though he nodded in understanding, there was a brief flicker of something raw in his eyes—something that punched through Keith like a blade.

“I’ll be fine. I got these two hoverers on me to make sure I actually listen to a nurse.” Keith offered a small smile. Lance visibly relaxed a bit, but he still looked torn, his eyes wavering as his fingers strummed on his sides, shaking as if he was physically holding back.

“Ok, sure man. I’ll see you when you get out then, yah?” Lance gave a small nod, to which Keith returned it before being led away. He barely caught the teasing snort Pidge tried to suppress behind her hand.

Keith muttered under his breath, “I’m fine,” but Krolia ignored him, her grip firm but careful as she and Shiro began guiding him toward the medical wing.

Her movements were steady, but Keith could feel the tension in her fingers, the worry she tried to keep hidden. He glanced up at her, frowning.

“What are you thinking?” he asked, his voice low.

Krolia sighed, her expression guarded. “Not now, Keith.”

“Mom,” he pressed, his tone firmer. “What is it?”

She hesitated, her gaze flickering briefly to Shiro before returning to her son. She let out a sigh, now farther away from his friends.

“If you and Lance got away in Red with the machine,” she said slowly, her voice heavy with implication, “and when we arrived, all we found was your team left—injured, confused, and…without Vrelen...”

Her voice trailed off, leaving the unspoken question hanging in the air like a heavy weight.

Keith’s blood ran cold. “Then where’s Vrelen?” he asked, the words barely above a whisper.

Krolia’s silence was answer enough. The dread settled in Keith’s stomach like a stone as he considered the implications. Vrelen wasn’t dead. He wasn’t captured. And if he wasn’t on his ship…

“Wherever he is,” Shiro said grimly, “he’s planning something. Away from you guys right now and lacking the machine he needed to destory planets with ease. I’d say we have things in our favor.”

“For now.” Keith muttered, the pit in his stomach growing more.

The space between the three fell into a heavy silence, the weight of the moment pressing down on them like a tangible force. Keith clenched his jaw, his mind already racing with possibilities, the need to act burning inside him like a flame. But for the first time, he felt the uncertainty creeping in.

This wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

“If you sigh one more time I’m gonna choke you out.”

“Woah, that’s kinky, even for you Pidge.”

Pidge made a gargled gag sound, pretending to wither away at Lance across the table from her. The three of them were in the small dining area of the Blade ship. A couple hours had passed since Lance and Keith had been found on Red, and Keith had been rushed off to an infirmary somewhere on the ship accompanied by Krolia and Shiro, leaving Lance to take the well earned time he had with Pidge and Hunk, catching up on all the details about what exactly went down once Lance somehow summoned Red to pick them up as Keith was dying out in his arms.

Which turned out, to be a very quick convo about how Pidge, Rolo, and the girls flipped the fuck out after Vrelen’s ship had a huge hole in the side of it and the room was completely destroyed with debris and ship parts flying everywhere, forcing them to retreat back and away from the whole gaping in front of them to suck them into space. By the time they recouped and realized Vrelen was gone too, they assumed Red had taken him with them too, and assessed their injuries and called for backup.

Oh, and they all had the sinking thought that Keith was dead.

Points for Lance in this department for keeping their friend alive with unknown Altean magic. Whooo!

The three of them sat in the table, killing time the only way they knew how—chatting away mindlessly. It was best agreed to not talk about how traumatic it was on Hunk and Pidge’s end to watch as their best friends disappeared inside a Lion they all deemed to be dead and never to be flown again, so it simply was agreed to not speak about it. Lance felt awful, knowing what they went through for the hours he and Keith were gone, but that’s what surviving a 3 year war did to you. Move along and just be happy to be alive. It was the only way to maintain some sort of control and sanity in it all.

It was nice having the two of them back in his presence, or it was nice, until Pidge rudely began pointing out how much he was sighing, which Lance still swore was a lie.

"I'm just saying," Lance began, his voice dripping with exaggerated arrogance, "if I were Kolivan, this mission would have been over yesterday. No offense to Keith and the way the Blades have been handling this, but my flair is

unmatched.

"

Pidge snorted, nearly choking on herself. "Oh yeah, because Keith is really the guy known for his

flair.

Nothing says ‘style’ like brooding in the shadows 24/7."

"Hey, brooding can be stylish!" Lance shot back, pointing a finger at her. "Batman does it!"

"Yeah, well, Keith is more like the actual bats hanging upside down in a dark layer, hissing at anything thats loud and bright," Pidge said, her smirk widening.

Hunk choked out a laugh. "You mean because of his stubbornness, or because he headbutts everyone in arguments?"

"Both," Pidge and Lance said in unison before dissolving into laughter.

Hunk tried to suppress a laugh, but was only so strong next to his two idiots of best friends. "Poor Keith. He's not here to defend himself."

"Not that it would matter," Pidge quipped before making a show of clearing her throat, folding her arms over her chest and furrowing her brows. "He’d just cross his arms, scowl, and grunt something dramatic like,

‘I don’t have time for this.’

"

Lance mimicked Keith’s gruff tone. "

‘Your petty jokes are all stupid. And Batman is the coolset superhero.’

"

Hunk laughed, shaking his head. "Okay, but honestly, he would say that."

"Exactly!" Lance grinned triumphantly, leaning back on the crate like he'd just won a major debate. “Even though it is 100% wrong and its definitely Spiderman.”

“Dude, we all know Iron Man is the peak superhero. He doesn’t need superalien bites or crazy spells, its all pure brain!” Hunk elbowed Lance, who just threw a dramatic gawk at how he could be friends with someone who was so extremely wrong.

Pidge narrowed her eyes, leaning forward with a sly smile. "Speaking of Keith..."

Lance stiffened immediately, the grin slipping from his face. "What about him?" He caught the unmistakable way Pidge threw a gleaming look over at Hunk before narrowing her eyes back at Lance, giving a subtle shrug.

“Are you gonna sit there all day looking like a kicked puppy, or are you gonna actually do something useful?”

Lance feigned offense as he gasped. “

Kicked puppy

? That’s rich, coming from someone who growls like a feral cat anytime someone tries to borrow their tools.”

Hunk snorted, covering his mouth. “She’s not wrong, though. You’ve been weirdly... mopey.”

“I am

not

mopey,” Lance shot back, straightening up. “I’m—” He hesitated, searching for the right word. “—thoughtful.”

Pidge groaned, dramatically flopping onto her back on the bench besides her. “You’re

pathetic

. Just go see him already.”

Lance’s stomach twisted at the suggestion, and he waved his hands in the air defensively. “What? No. Why would I? He’s probably still, you know, resting or whatever.”

“He’s fine, Lance,” Pidge said flatly. “Krolia dragged him off like an overprotective hawk mom. He’s probably more annoyed than hurt.”

“Besides,” Hunk added with a grin, “you’re not fooling anyone. We

all

know you’re dying to see him.”

Lance flushed, sitting up straighter as if that would somehow dispel the obvious truth in Hunk’s words. Betrayed by his own best friend. Ouch. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, the pitch of his voice rising slightly.

Pidge rolled her eyes. “Please. You’ve been staring at the med bay door like it owes you money.”

“I have

not

!”

Hunk raised a brow. “You kinda have, dude.”

Lance sputtered, waving his hands at them in a flourish as he felt his face heating up hotter. “I don’t know what you’re talking about” he muttered, his voice cracking.

Pidge smirked, leaning forward with her chin in her hand. “Oh, then let me paint you a picture of the guy who’s been sitting here sighing like a lovesick teenager for the past hour.”

“I am

not

—” Lance stopped himself, inhaling deeply as he tried to regain some semblance of composure. “Look, I’m just... worried, okay? He was hurt really bad. That’s all.”

Pidge raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. "Sure. And I’m secretly the Queen of Altea."

Hunk gasped in mock shock. "Pidge! Why didn’t you tell us? We could’ve been bowing this whole time!"

Lance groaned, dragging his hands down his face. "You guys are the worst."

"No, you’re the worst," Pidge countered. "At hiding your feelings, that is."

Lance scowled, his blush deepening. "I don’t know what you’re talking about."

Hunk went to place a comforting hand on his shoulder, but Lance smacked it away, earning a soft whimper from Hunk as Pidge just smirked that evil gremlin look over at him. He knew he was caught, but if there was one thing Lance wasn’t gonna do, it was to lose in a standoff between Pidge.

As if on cue, the sound of the door to the room slid open, catching his attention, and his heart leapt into his throat. He glanced toward the source instinctively, only to see Axca entering. His heartbeat fluttered for a second only to return back to its dormant, waiting state, but then a reminder flashed across his mind, finding this as a way out of the conversation he was currently in and also being the winning brother he knew he was.

Relief flooded him as he seized the opportunity. “Axca!” he called out, jumping to his feet and waving her over.

Axca paused, her expression flickering with mild confusion. She paused in her tracks, glancing briefly besides her as if she was looking for another Axca that magically appeared at her side, before flickering her gaze back to Lance and his friends in a question.

“Um, Lance, what are you doing?” Hunk muttered, his face blanking at the stern look mixed with confusion that rested on Axca’s face. Lance flicked his wrist nonchalantly at Hunk.

“Just wanting to ask my good friend Axca something real fast. No biggie.”

“Since when was

Axca

a good

friend

?” Pidge deadpanned, readjusting her glasses on her nose. Lance sniffed, turning to give her a small glare adn hoping Axca didn’t hear the doubt in their voices. And nervousness. That was unmistakable.

“You two have little faith in how good of a time I was the last month I was in the Blades. I bonded with all the girls here. We had some good times together when we were actually fighting for the same cause. Me and Axca, we’ve had some good bonding time!” Lance shrugged, turning to wave Axca over. She remained stilled, but slowly trudged over. He felt Hunk tense up beside him, glancing nervously between Axca approaching and Lance waving like sunbeams were shooting out of his ass.

“Hey, Axca! What’s up?” Lance asked, his tone a little too bright, a little too forced. He shoved his hands into his pockets, rocking back on his heels in an effort to appear casual.

Pidge squinted at him suspiciously, clearly unimpressed by his sudden shift in attention. “What are you doing?” she asked, her voice dripping with skepticism.

“Just being friendly,” Lance said with a shrug, refusing to meet her gaze.

“Uh-huh.”

Axca looked between Lance and Pidge, her brow furrowing slightly. “Am I... interrupting something?”

“Not at all!” Lance said quickly, stepping forward as if to shield himself from further interrogation. “We were just hanging out, you know, talking about... stuff.”

“

Stuff

?” Pidge repeated, crossing her arms.

“Yes, fun, important stuff. Like the kind of stuff that friends talk about.” Lance gritted his teeth, glancing back at the way Pidge rolled her eyes at him and how Hunk threw Axca a toothy grin, despite the slight sweat he had at being this close next to Axca. Axca lifted a brow, clearly unimpressed with the whole ordeal.

“Look, if you have something you were requesting to know–”

“Oh my god it’s soooo funny you mention it, actually. I was just wondering, you know, do you, like... not check your messages, or...?"

Axca didn’t even blink. "I check them when necessary."

Lance cleared his throat, ignoring the snicker he heard from Pidge. "Right, of course. Super efficient. Love that for you. But, uh... any chance you might’ve... lost your phone?"

Axca stared at him with a blank expression. "No."

Pidge cringed visibly, while Hunk hid his face in his hands.

“Oh, ok, then have you been on it at all? Like, recently?” Lance tried another way around the unapproachable and socially constipated Galra.

Axca stared tight jawed at him, blinking slowly and showing no show of her actually wanting to entertain speaking with him.

“Why would I have been on it? You and I were on the same mission the last 24 hours. You should have seen I was not on it.” Her voice was like a gunshot, and if this was an animation, the answer would have pierced right through Lance and left him crumbling to the ground in its coldness with steam coming out of his mouth.

“Oh, right, hah. Got me there.” Lance cringed, internally kicking himself for how stupid that was. Hunk and Pidge
exchanged uneasy glances with each other. Hunk winced, and Pidge subtly nudged him, mouthing,

What is he doing?

“Well, do you happen to know where that phone might be?”

“Why?” Axca shot out again, voice oh so montone and not giving Lance any help he clearly was needing.

Lance strummed at his legs, laughing nervously. "Well, it’s, uh, kind of a human thing. We get really stressed if we don’t get a text back, sort of like a culturall thing. Like, especially if its been a few days after having success texting back and forth. Just to know that the other peson is in fact alive, especially if the person they are texting has been in space. You know, silly Earth habits and all that, but also kinda serious. You get that, right?"

Axca blinked at him, her expression unreadable. "No. Sounds inefficient."

"Right, yeah," Lance said quickly, waving his hand. "Totally inefficient. But... still a thing."

Pidge groaned quietly and buried her face in her hands, while Hunk tried to stifle a laugh, his shoulders shaking. Lance shot them both a look but soldiered on.

"Anyway," he continued, leaning in slightly, "I just thought it was worth mentioning. Because, you know, someone might be, uh, waiting for your reply."

Axca tilted her head, her confusion evident now. "Who?"

Lance hesitated for a split second, then sighed heavily, giving up his attempts at subtlety. "Veronica. My sister. Remember her?"

For the first time, Axca’s expression shifted. Her eyes widened ever so slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing her face. It was brief, almost imperceptible, but Lance caught it.

Axca’s fingers tightened slightly around the tablet she was holding. "Veronica?" she echoed, her tone softer, almost uncertain, as if testing the name on her tongue.

"Yeah," Lance said, his voice quieter now, a little more earnest. "She’s been... you know, wondering if you’re okay. Mentioned that you guys have been making progress in being buds and getting to know each other and what not, but don’t tell her I’m telling you this or else she will definitely kill me. So... did you forget about her, or...?"

Axca stared at him, her fingers tightening slightly on the edge of her tablet. For a moment, she looked almost... human. Vulnerable.

"I didn’t forget," she said finally, her voice low and measured.

Lance nodded, a small, understanding smile tugging at his lips. "Good. Because I know she hasn’t forgotten you, and I bet would love to hear something from you back."

Axca’s eyes flicked to his for a heartbeat, her cheeks still faintly pink. Without another word, she spun on her heel, clutching her tablet as she stalked off without another word.

Pidge waited until the door hissed shut behind her before dramatically slumping back in her seat. "That was the most awkward thing I’ve ever seen."

Hunk nodded solemnly. "I felt physical pain. Like, in my soul." To make a point, he clutched at his chest.

The theatrics out of these two!

And Lance was to so called performer??

"Oh, come on!" Lance spun around to glare at them, but his grin betrayed how pleased he was with himself. "I just bridged an intergalactic communication gap. Give me some credit!"

“Credit for what? Making one of the scariest allies we got mildly uncomfortable?" Pidge shot back with a smirk, throwing her hands in the air. "I never want to witness that again. Ever."

"
A win’s a win," Lance said, crossing his arms dramatically.

Hunk gave a sympathetic look back towards the door Axca had just exited from, letting out a soft hum. "I mean, to be fair, she’s about as bad at social stuff as Keith is. It’s kind of... endearing?"

Lance opened his mouth to retort but stopped short, his mind drifting at the mention of Keith. The room suddenly felt too quiet, too empty. Too cold not having Keith in his direct range of contact.

Pidge groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Oh, no. He’s doing the thing again. The ‘mope about Keith’ thing."

"I am

not

moping," Lance said defensively, though his voice cracked slightly.

"Uh-huh. Sure." Pidge leveled him with a flat stare. "You’re practically broadcasting it. Just go find the guy already."

Lance blinked, caught off guard. "What?"

"You heard me," Pidge said, waving him off with a dramatic sigh. "Go. Get. Shoo. Do your whole pining, lovesick thing somewhere else."

“WHAT?” Lance felt his face heat up a million degrees as his voice cracked as it went up an octave. He was already beginning to come up with another award winning distraction when Hunk dropped a heavy hand on his shoulder, stopping Lance in his tracks.

“Dude, come on. It’s us. I think we are far beyond the denying stage at this point of the friendship.”

Lance snapped his mouth shut, boiling a bit at being so clearly seen, as if he really did wear his emotions on his sleeve. A realization hit him like a meteor:

Oh, God. They’ve known this entire time.

How could they have known before he did? Lance ran a hand through his hair, his internal monologue going a mile a minute.

Was I that obvious?

His mind reeled through memories like a rapid montage. All the times he’d complained loudly to Hunk about Keith and how much better at things he was yet would painfully not get his references or team chants, or when he would flop dramatically on Pidge’s desk in her hangar while she was busy decoding important Galra tech while all he could focus on was how Keith had one upped him in the training deck that day and how long his stupid hair got. How Pidge and Hunk would always just sigh or roll their eyes at Lance, but never shut him up, as if they were ok with listening to Lance attempt to trash talk their own teammate. All the excuses he made at the common dinner table when he was fast to sit next to Keith so he could annoy him throughout the meal, both of them bickering under their breath or kicking at each others legs under the table. How that soon became to opting to take Keith’s right hand side at the Atlas briefing table, keeping a steady eye watching Keith command the room, lingering back when Hunk asked if he wanted to walk out after the meeting for Lance to shut it down nonchalantly so he could wait to talk to Keith after. The way he couldn’t stop staring during training or biting back a stupid grin when Keith actually laughed at one of his jokes. How he felt a little sharper and faster when Keith threw a compliment over their comms in battle or how he pushed harder and stronger when Keith found himself at Lance’s side for cover. The endless banter, the lingering touches, the way his heart raced every time Keith said his name. How he had felt like he was in his own bubble when it came to Keith, but the entire time he was so painfully, excruciatingly, obnoxiously obvious to everyone around them.

His eyes widened in realization, a small, breathless chuckle escaping him. "Oh, quiznack," he muttered, stopping dead in the hallway. "I was never subtle, was I?"

The truth hit him with the force of Red’s plasma cannons. He had been so overwhelmed by his own emotions, by the yearning to be close to Keith, that he’d been broadcasting it to everyone around him unknowingly. No wonder Pidge was now looking at him like he was the most clueless person alive.

Lance felt her pointed expression, that flicker of

finally

flashing behind those amber eyes staring expectantly back at him. The understanding in Hunk’s eyes as he’d nudged at his arm, like he’d been waiting for Lance to figure it out for years.

He let out a soft laugh, still dazed by his epiphany. "You should have told me sooner!" he muttered under his breath, his voice tinged with a mix of embarrassment and amusement.

From across him, Pidge’s voice rang out, sharp and teasing. "Told you what? That you’re

hopelessly in love

with Keith? Yeah, Lance. That’s definitely

our

responsibility."

Lance whipped his eyes to see Pidge, arms crossed, her eyebrow arched so high it was practically in orbit. Besides him Hunk had a sheepish yet affectionate smile on his face.

"Honestly," Pidge continued, her tone dripping with mock exasperation. "The fact that it took

this long

for you to figure it out? I’m actually impressed. In a sad, tragic kind of way. You definitely deserve some sort of award for how long this took."

“Hey!" Lance tried to sound indignant, but the heat rising in his cheeks betrayed him.

Hunk chuckled, giving Pidge a look that meant

alright he’s suffered enough from us

. "We didn’t want to rush you, man. Figuring this stuff out takes time." His gaze softened, a quiet sincerity in his voice. "But… I think you know now."

The look Hunk gave him—a mixture of pride, encouragement, and unshakable support—made something in Lance’s chest tighten. It was the kind of look that told him he really

could

do this. That maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t screw it up this time. Just like Allura had hoped for him as well.

Before Lance could say anything, Pidge smirked and waved her hand dismissively. "Whatever. Go make your grand romantic gesture or whatever nonsense you’re about to do. Just please—" she pointed dramatically— "spare us the details later. I don’t need to hear your tragic soapy love ballad, okay? I’ve heard enough tangents about those awful soap operas you love and I do NOT need to picture you and Keith in those scenarios."

Hunk snorted as Lance rolled his eyes, a grin breaking through despite his nerves. "You guys are the

worst

," he said, his tone light but his heart heavy with gratitude.

"Yeah, yeah. You hate us. Now get out of here already." Pidge waved at him.

Lance hesitated for all of two seconds before he turned and bolted out the door, his heart racing.

Pidge watched him go, shaking her head. "He’s so pathetic."

Hunk chuckled. "Yeah, but he’s our pathetic fool in love. It’s kind of sweet. In a really, really exhausting way."

Pidge rolled her eyes. "Whatever. I’m just glad he’s gone. Watching him flail with Axca was so much worse than Lance finally admitting his feelings to us."

Lance didn’t slow down this time. His pulse was racing, his head spinning, but there was only one thing on his mind now.

Keith.

Lance found himself standing outside the medbay door, his breathing shallow, his hands clenched at his sides, shaking a bit from adreneline. His heart was thundering so loud it was a miracle the entire ship didn’t hear it. He wiped his palms on his pants for what had to be the fiftieth time, trying to pull himself together.

It’s just Keith,

he told himself, but that only made things worse. It wasn’t

just Keith

. It was Keith, who had been through so much with him. Keith, who made Lance’s chest feel too small for the emotions swelling in it. Keith, who looked at Lance like he was more than the jokes, more than the bravado, like he actually held the universe in his face. Keith, who Lance wanted so desperately to know how far gone he was for him, even if it ruined their new groove because it physically pained Lance not to tell him another second. Was it possible to die from feeling so intensely for someone?

Lance exhaled shakily, forcing himself to stop overthinking. He reached for the panel and pushed the door open.

The medbay lights were soft, the room quiet save for the hum of the machinery. Keith was sitting up on one of the medbeds, his posture tense but not uncomfortable. He was wearing a plain white shirt, with a couple bandages wrapped up his arms and around his leg. At his side was Shiro, his expression calm but his body language alert, the kind of concern only a brother could have. They seemed deep in conversation, but at the sound of the door opening, both of them turned toward Lance.

Keith’s violet eyes widened, caught off guard, and Lance froze. For a moment, it was like the air had been sucked out of the room.

"I—uh—" Lance stammered, heat rising to his cheeks. "Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt or anything."

Shiro glanced between the two of them, his expression softening with a quiet understanding. Keith, on the other hand, looked startled and flustered, like he wasn’t sure what to do with his hands now that Lance was standing there.

"It’s fine," Shiro said gently, his voice cutting through the tension in the air.

Lance shifted awkwardly, his feet feeling like lead. He strummed the side of his hips anxiously and rapidly, glancing at the floor. "I just… I didn’t realize you were, you know, talking. I can come back later—"

Keith opened his mouth, as if to say something, but Shiro interrupted. "No, it’s okay."

There was a pause as Shiro looked at Keith, then at Lance. Something unspoken passed between them—a careful yet playful look that made Lance’s face heat even more as Keith furrowed his brows, pouting at his brother.

"Actually," Shiro said after a moment, "I think I’ll give you two some time to talk."

"What?" Keith blurted, his face darkening with a mixture of embarrassment and annoyance. "You don’t have to—"

Shiro was already standing, his movements deliberate. He placed a hand on Keith’s shoulder briefly, a silent reassurance, before walking toward the door. When he reached Lance, he paused, tilting his head slightly to look at him. His expression was warm but calculating, like he was piecing something together. Then, with a barely-there smirk, Shiro gave a single nod—an unspoken message Lance couldn’t quite decode but felt all the same.

And just like that, he was gone, leaving Lance and Keith alone.

The door slid shut, and the silence was deafening. Lance swallowed hard, suddenly hyperaware of how small the room felt, how close Keith was.

Keith shifted on the bed, looking anywhere but Lance. His ears were tinged red, and he let out a quiet, frustrated huff. "You didn’t have to come all the way down here."

"Didn’t know there was a quota on who gets to check on you," Lance shot back, trying for casual but feeling his voice falter.

Keith’s lips quirked upward briefly, but the tension lingered.

Lance stepped forward hesitantly, his nerves bubbling over into a nervous chuckle. "I didn’t mean to, like, crash your brotherly bonding or whatever. You two—uh, you guys haven’t seen each other in a second for an actual peaceful moment, and I get it. I don’t wanna…" He gestured vaguely, unsure how to finish the sentence.

"You didn’t crash anything," Keith said, softer than Lance expected.

That took Lance by surprise, his heart skipping a beat. Keith’s gaze met his for the briefest moment, and it felt like the world tilted on its axis. The tension was suffocating, the unspoken emotions hanging thick in the air. Lance’s chest felt tight, his body warm under Keith’s quiet scrutiny. He tried to find something to say, anything to break the silence, but his mind betrayed him, stuck in a loop of

he’s right there, so close.

Keith looked away first, shifting uncomfortably. "So… are you just gonna stand there, or do you have something to you need?"

Lance blinked, startled out of his daze. His face flushed even more as he scrambled for words, his heart pounding so loudly he could barely think.

"I—uh…" He hesitated, his fingers twitching at his sides. "I guess I just wanted to make sure you were… okay."

Keith’s expression softened, his guarded walls lowering just a fraction. Lance felt his knees weaken when Keith shifted slightly on the medbed, making room for him without saying a word. It was a subtle invitation, casual to anyone else, but to Lance, it felt monumental. His body moved almost on autopilot, closing the distance between them as if magnetized.

"I’m fine." The way he said it—low, gravely, and sincere—made Lance’s heart ache.

He perched on the edge of the bed, his shoulder barely brushing against Keith's. That small, fleeting contact sent a wildfire through his veins, a warmth that started at the point of contact and spread outward, leaving him breathless. He had to force himself to keep his hands still, not wanting to fidget and give away just how much this proximity was affecting him. Lance couldn’t stop bouncing his knee. Every time Keith shifted even slightly, his shoulder brushing against Lance’s, it sent a shockwave through his body. He tried to play it cool—he really did—but his mind was short-circuiting. The way Keith leaned into the space between them, how his posture was relaxed yet alert, like he was focused entirely on Lance—it was too much.

And then Keith looked at him.

It wasn’t just a glance. It was a

look

. Those soft violet eyes, intense and searching, pinned Lance in place. Lance’s breath hitched, and his thoughts jumbled together into a chaotic mess of

want, love, panic, now, no, wait.

“So,” Lance started, his voice cracking slightly before he coughed to clear his throat. “Uh, is this the part where I dance like a candy striper and entertain the pain away? Or is it more like a buddy check-in thing? Y’know, just bros being bros.”

Keith blinked at him, his head tilting just slightly, like he was trying to decipher what Lance had just said. Then, his lips curved into the faintest smirk. “You’re so weird sometimes.”

“Charming,” Lance corrected, throwing in a lopsided grin, though his heart was hammering too hard for him to really enjoy the banter. Keith hummed noncommittally, his smirk fading as his expression turned contemplative. His violet eyes flickered to Lance’s, then away, as if debating something.

“You sure you’re okay?” Keith asked, his voice low and quiet. It wasn’t teasing or skeptical—just genuine concern, the kind that always caught Lance off guard.

Lance froze, blinking at him.

Was he okay?

No, not really. Not when Keith was looking at him like

that

. Not when his chest was this tight, his heart racing, his mind spinning because he wanted to say so many things but didn’t know where to start.

“I—uh, yeah. Totally.” Lance nodded, too quickly, and gave Keith a thumbs-up for emphasis. “I’m good. You’re the one who, you know, needs to be asked that here. I’m fine.”

Keith narrowed his eyes slightly, clearly unconvinced but choosing not to press further. Instead, he shifted again, leaning back just enough to glance toward the door. “We need to figure out what happens next,” he muttered, his voice taking on a more serious tone. “With Vrelen still out there, and the question of where he’s going next—”

But Lance barely heard him. His focus was entirely on Keith, on the way his jaw tensed, the way his eyes flickered with thought and determination, the way his body moved with a quiet strength that Lance couldn’t stop noticing. Lance’s chest felt too full, too warm, and he wanted so badly to say more, to tell Keith just how much he

wasn’t

okay because Keith was making him feel all these things, and he didn’t know how to handle it.

“Right, that,” Lance echoed weakly, trying to appear invested in the conversation but failing miserably. Keith was close enough now that Lance could see the way his hair fell slightly out of place, and he had the sudden, insane urge to reach out and fix it. Keith glanced at him, and Lance’s breath caught in his throat. The intensity in Keith’s eyes wasn’t just about the mission. There was something else there—something that made Lance’s stomach flip in a way he wasn’t ready for. He should be getting a lot more used to this, being in direct eye contact with Keith lately.

“Lance,” Keith said, his tone breaking through Lance’s spiraling thoughts.

“Yeah?” Lance managed, his voice almost a whisper.

Keith studied him for a moment, his gaze softening again. “You’re sure you’re okay?”

The question wasn’t just about the present moment—it was about everything. The mission. The weight they’d both been carrying. The time they’d spent stranded together in the lion. It was about all of it, and Lance knew it. And it was all a little too much for poor, pining Lance. The question shouldn’t have been hard to answer, but Lance froze. Then his mouth opened, and the words came out before he could stop them.

“Yeah! No. I mean—yes? I’m—ugh!” He groaned, throwing his head back dramatically and letting out an exasperated noise. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Keith blinked, clearly taken aback. “Like what?”

“Like

that!

” Lance gestured wildly, pointing vaguely at Keith’s face, who looked back at him with a frown. “With your—your

eyes

and your stupid little pout and—ugh! Everything!”

Keith’s confusion deepened, his head tilting slightly as he tried to make sense of Lance’s rambling. “Lance, I don’t—”

“Exactly!” Lance interrupted, his voice a little too loud. “You don’t! And that’s the problem! You’re just sitting there, being all—

you

—and I’m over here trying to—” He cut himself off, groaning again and burying his face in his hands. “Forget it. This is stupid. I’m stupid.”

Keith frowned. “You’re not—”

“You don’t get it!” Lance blurted, looking up at Keith with a mix of frustration and desperation, shifting in his seat as he turned closer in on Keith. Keith froze, his large eyes widened and flickering across Lance’s face, like he was also as concerned about Lance’s momentary breakdown as Lance felt. “I’m trying to talk to you, but I can’t because every time I do, you look at me like that, and my brain just—

poof!

Gone. Out the window. You’ve got this stupid effect on me, Keith, and it’s—ugh! It’s annoying!”

Keith stared at him, blinking slowly. “I have an effect on you?”

“Yes! No. I mean—ugh,

yes!

” Lance threw his hands in the air, his cheeks blazing red. “You make me feel like—like I don’t know what I’m doing! Like I can’t think straight, which is ironic, because I’m

definitely

not straight, but you probably didn’t even know that because up until like, a week ago I didn’t even know that so it’s kind of a lot to expect that you should have known that because it was quite the eye opener for me, especially all those conversations we had about people coming out and me being the number one ally, and I should have taken a moment to be like,

hmm, why do you feel so strongly about all of this?

And—God, I’m doing it again!” He groaned, covering his face with his hands.

Keith shifted slightly, his shoulder brushing against Lance’s again, and Lance jumped like he’d been electrocuted.

“I’m lost,” Keith said slowly, his tone cautious but gentle.

“No, no, no,” Lance interrupted, holding up a hand to stop him. “Let me finish. I—I’ve been thinking a lot, okay? About second chances. About—about getting things right. And I don’t want to screw this up, but I don’t even know what ‘this’ is, and it’s driving me

insane,

because I keep thinking—” He stopped, his voice catching.

Keith waited, his eyes softening, but the confusion was still clear on his face. “Thinking what?” he asked quietly.

Lance hesitated, his heart pounding so loudly he was sure Keith could hear it. “Thinking about

you,

” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “And how I don’t want to ruin… whatever this is. Because it feels important. You feel important. Are important.”

Keith’s eyes widened slightly, and for a moment, he didn’t say anything. Lance felt like he was going to implode.

“And now you’re looking at me like that again!” Lance groaned, slapping a hand over his face. “How am I supposed to function when you keep doing that?”

Keith blinked, his frown deepening into an even more ridiculously adorable pout that made Lance so close to reaching out to finally taste it once and for all. “Doing what?”

“That!” Lance gestured at him wildly. “The soft eyes! The intense staring! And the little pout thing you do with those lips and…The whole—Keith-ness of it all! It’s too much!”

Keith’s brow furrowed, and he looked down for a moment, clearly trying to process what Lance was saying. When he looked back up, his lips parted slightly, like he was about to say something, but the words didn’t come. Keith blinked, his expression a mix of confusion and something else that Lance was too frantic to interpret, needing to rise to his feet and begin a fast pace around the room, needing to

move

.

“See?” Lance said, throwing up his hands, as if the movement would ground the storm raging in his chest. “You’re doing it again! And I’m—ugh, I’m so messed up about it! You make me feel—

everything,

Keith. Everything all at once, and it’s terrifying, and I don’t know what to do with it! And it’s like my brain forgets how to function. Do you realize how annoying that is? Like, how am I supposed to figure out what to say?”

“And then there’s me!” Lance barreled on, his voice tinged with desperation. “I’m over here trying to figure out how to say the right thing—no, not the right thing, the

perfect

thing—because this feels like one of those moments, you know? The big ones. The ones where everything changes. And I don’t want to screw it up, but I’m also screwing it up

right now,

aren’t I?”

Keith’s lips pressed into that wonderfully painful pout again, and he looked away, his cheeks faintly pink. “Lance,” he started, his voice soft, but Lance cut him off, too far gone to listen or hear him.

“Nope. Don’t say anything. Just—let me have this moment to be a complete mess, okay? I’ll be fine in, like, five minutes. Probably.”

Keith’s lips twitched, his eyes glowing back at him in slight shock as the faintest hint of a smile broke through his confusion. “You’re such a drama queen.”

“And you’re infuriating!” Lance shot back, but there was no heat in his words. If anything, they sounded more like a confession. “And the worst part?” Lance continued, pacing a few steps away before whirling back to face Keith. “The worst part is that I don’t even know how you feel! Like, maybe you’re just being your normal unfazed, intense self, and I’m over here reading into every little thing like a total idiot. But then you go and look at me like—like I’m the only person in the room, and it’s like my heart forgets how to beat properly, and—God, Keith! How do you

do

that?”

Keith opened his mouth, but before he could respond, the door to the medbay slid open with a soft

hiss.

Both of them froze, their heads whipping toward the sound. Shiro stood in the doorway, his hand raised as if he’d been about to knock. His eyes flickered between them, taking in the tension, the way Lance was practically vibrating with energy, and how close they were to each other. He looked... embarrassed, like he’d just walked in on something private. “Uh,” Shiro began, scratching the back of his neck. “Sorry to interrupt. Kolivan wants a meeting. It’s about the next steps, and, uh, it seems pretty urgent.”

For a moment, no one moved. Keith and Lance were both flushed, their awkwardness palpable. “Right!” Lance finally burst out, laughing a little too loudly. “Yeah, totally! Important mission stuff! Definitely more important than, uh, whatever this was.” He gestured wildly, his face a deep shade of red, and started backing toward the door. “I’ll just, uh, go on ahead then!”

He felt Keith’s eyes on him as he hurried to the door, watching the way Shiro widened his eyes in his own agonizing awkwardness. He cleared his throat, stopping Lance right before him, looking away from either of the boys in the room.

“I’ll just, let Kolivan know you two are on the way then.” At that, Shiro rushed away, thankfully to Lance’s own inner turmoil and embarrassment.

Before he could make his grand escape, Keith’s hand shot out, grabbing the back of Lance’s collar and yanking him back with surprising force. Lance stumbled, spinning around to find himself face-to-face with Keith, their noses almost touching.

“Hey!” Lance squeaked, his voice breaking slightly. That should

not

have been hot.

Keith’s grip loosened, but his hand didn’t drop away. His eyes were fierce, intense in a way that made Lance’s breath hitch. They burned with a mix of frustration, vulnerability, and something deeper—something that made Lance’s heart stop.

“You’re not going anywhere,” Keith said, his voice low and steady, though there was a faint tremor beneath it.

Lance swallowed hard, his pulse pounding in his ears. Keith’s breath ghosted over his lips, close enough to touch, and Lance couldn’t move, couldn’t think.

For one agonizingly long moment, the world seemed to hold its breath.

Lance couldn’t breathe.

Keith’s eyes burned into his, so close and intense it felt like the weight of a thousand suns pressing down on his chest. The soft brush of Keith’s breath against his lips sent shivers cascading down his spine, his heart slamming against his ribs like it was trying to escape. Lance’s stomach churned, plummeting like he was free-falling with no parachute. Keith didn’t waver. His gaze was steady, searching Lance with a depth that made his knees weak, his voice rough and gravelly when he spoke. “Am I understanding this right?”

Lance’s mind blanked. He let out an awkward laugh that cracked in the middle, his face burning hotter than the sun. “Understand what? You understood anything I just said? That’s... that’s surprising, honestly. I mean, half of it didn’t even make sense to

me.

” His words tumbled out like a waterfall, unfiltered and panicked. “Look, just forget it, okay? I was being stupid, having some sort of psychotic episode or something. Let’s just—let’s just go!”

He made a feeble attempt to step back, but Keith didn’t let go. Instead, Keith let out a low, frustrated huff, the sound raw and guttural, and it sent a jolt through Lance’s body that left him trembling. The noise was so filled with restrained emotion—anger, longing, confusion—that it rooted Lance to the spot. Made his stomach lurch and his body shiver at the very sound of it coming from Keith.

Before Lance could process the sound and the strange arousal he got from simply a

noise

, Keith’s grip on his collar tightened, and suddenly, he was yanked forward.

Time seemed to slow as their lips slot together.

The world around them dissolved into nothingness. No sound, no thought—just the overwhelming, earth-shattering sensation of

Keith.

Keith’s lips were warm and firm, the press of them both tentative and insistent, like he’d been holding back for so long and couldn’t anymore. Lance’s breath hitched, his lungs forgetting how to work. Lance was on fire.

Keith’s lips were on his,

actually

on his, and the sensation was so overwhelming it felt like the world had split open and poured molten heat straight into his veins. Lance couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe—his entire body was caught in the collision of sensation. The rough pull of Keith’s hand on his collar burned against his skin, grounding him even as his mind spiraled out of control.

The spark was instant, igniting a wildfire that consumed Lance from the inside out. He felt like he was melting and flying all at once, every nerve in his body electrified.

Every inch in Lance’s body was alive, screaming with want, with need, with Keith. And yet, he was drowning. Lance’s breath hitched, a desperate gasp breaking through the kiss as his lungs fought for air, but he didn’t pull away. He couldn’t. His hands scrambled wildly, finding the front of Keith’s shirt and clutching it like a lifeline, his fingers twisting into the fabric as if letting go would make Keith disappear, desperate to anchor himself to this moment.

Keith leaned in, his other hand sliding up to cradle the back of Lance’s neck, his touch rough but achingly tender, lighting up sparks down Lance’s spine at the feeling of Keith’s hand, his hold, of

Keith

. He was willingly sinking deeper and deeper into the gravity of Keith, pushing in harder, deeper, wanting more. Desperate for it.
Lance’s mind spun wildly, trying and failing to process everything. Keith. Keith. KEITH. The name echoed in his head like a mantra, a plea, a prayer. His chest ached, his heart hammering so hard it felt like it might burst.
Just as soon as it happened, it couldn’t have been shorter. When they finally broke apart, Lance embarrassingly realized how a whine came from the back of his throat at the absence of Keith’s lips, trailing after Keith as he pulled back first. Lance’s forehead rested against Keith’s, his breath coming in shallow gasps. His eyes fluttered open, meeting Keith’s half-lidded gaze, dark and swirling with emotion, and it was like being hit by lightning all over again. Keith’s eyes were dark and burning, his expression somewhere between determination and vulnerability, and it stole what little air Lance had left.

“You—” Lance croaked, his voice barely above a whisper, his lips tingling. Lance blinked rapidly, his chest heaving as he tried to form a coherent thought, tried to make sense of what had just happened. “You—you kissed me,” he stammered, his voice cracking.

Keith’s lips twitched into a faint, almost imperceptible smile. “Yeah,” he said simply, his tone steady despite the faint tremor in his breathing.

Lance stared at him, his mouth opening and closing as his mind raced. “You kissed me,” he repeated, this time with more force, like saying it out loud might make it real. “Like—

you kissed me.

”

Keith’s lips quirked up in the faintest, most beautiful smirk Lance had ever seen. “That clear enough for you?”

Lance blinked, his brain scrambling to catch up. “You—uh—I—” He swallowed hard, the words tangled in his throat. “Yeah, okay, sure. Clear. Totally. Crystal.”

Keith’s quiet laugh rumbled against Lance’s chest, and it was the most beautiful sound Lance had ever heard. He nodded over Lance’s shoulder, taking a step back, his face flushed red. It looked good on him.

Lance blinked after Keith, his heart a chaotic drumline in his chest as he tried to process what had just happened. Keith—

Keith

—had kissed him. They had kissed. Lips on lips.

Actual kissing.

And now Keith was casually striding toward the door like it was just another Tuesday. “Wha—hey! Wait a second!” Lance squawked, stumbling after him. His voice cracked halfway through, and his face flared with heat as he scrambled to follow Keith’s retreating figure. He was surprisingly fast moving for a guy who almost died. “You can’t just—just drop that on me and leave!”

Keith paused at the door, glancing back with an amused yet shy tilt to his lips, his hands resting lightly on his hips. “We have to get to the briefing, Lance,” he said, his tone almost teasing. “You know, the thing Shiro came in here to tell us about?”

Lance gawked, his mouth opening and closing like a fish as he fought to find words that wouldn’t make him sound like a total idiot. “I—no! You can’t—how are you just—what the hell was that, Keith?”

Keith’s lips quirked into a small, lopsided smile, his dark eyes glinting with a warmth that made Lance’s stomach somersault. “That?” he echoed, his voice dipping into a teasing drawl.

Lance’s hands flailed helplessly. “

Yes, that!

The—y’know, the thing! The thing we just—

you just—

” He groaned, slapping his hands over his face. “Ugh, I hate this! I hate how cool you’re being about this while I’m literally dying over here!”

Keith’s quiet laugh reached Lance’s ears, soft and undeniably fond. “Cool, huh?” he said, the barest hint of a smirk curling his lips. Darn his gorgeous lips.

Lance dropped his hands, glaring half-heartedly at Keith even as his cheeks burned hotter. “Don’t get cocky about it! I’m still processing!”

Keith raised a brow, looking far too pleased with himself for Lance’s liking. “Take your time,” he said lightly. Then, with an almost imperceptible shift in his demeanor, he added, “I mean, I’ve waited four years. What’s a few more minutes?”

Lance froze mid-step, his jaw dropping as Keith turned and strode out the door like he hadn’t just shattered Lance’s entire reality.

“

WHAT?!

” Lance’s voice cracked so loud it echoed in the hallway as he stumbled after Keith, his brain stuck on a loop of

four years, four years, FOUR YEARS?!

By the time Lance caught up to him, Keith had stopped outside the briefing room, leaning casually against the wall with his arms crossed. The faintest pink dusted his cheeks, but his expression was calm—too calm.

“You’re gonna make us late,” Keith said casually, his lips twitching.

“You—

four years?

” Lance hissed, pointing an accusing finger at him. “

Four years, Keith?!

”

Keith tilted his head, his brow quirking. “Yeah, I mean time travel got messy in the quantum abyss, but in regular human years I would say four,” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the universe. His large violet eyes blinked back at him, watching as Lance clearly needed a hyperventilation bag.

Lance’s brain stuttered. “You mean to tell me that you—

all this time?!

And you—what, you just decided now was the time to spring this on me?!”

Keith shrugged, looking annoyingly unbothered as a small smile cracked shly on his lips. “Seemed like a good moment after that entire performance in the med bay.”

“A

good moment?!

” Lance flailed, his face on fire. “You’re unbelievable, mullet!”

Keith chuckled under his breath, shaking his head. “C’mon, Lance. They’re waiting for us,” he said, motioning to the door.

“We’re not done with this.” Lance muttered, sticking a finger out to motion between the two of them. Keith blinked back at him, and if Lance wasn’t so awestruck and dumbfounded by this entire revelation, he would have pounced right on the guy.

“Good. Was hoping this could continue.” Keith’s voice dropped low, and Lance’s stomach nearly dropped straight out of his body at the sound, his skin prickling and going hot. Yah, he was

so

incredibly fucked now.

Lance groaned, dragging his hands through his hair and mumbling incoherently as he followed Keith inside, his heart still pounding wildly in his chest. He was so disoriented, so completely thrown off-kilter, that he almost didn’t notice the way Keith glanced at him—just a brief, soft flicker of a look—but it sent a fresh wave of warmth flooding through him.

As they entered the room, he took in the sight of Kolivan, Krolia, and Shiro standing at the front with a couple other Blade operatives, all discussing in low voices and pointing at their tablets, nodding and muttering. More Blades trailed around the room, undistinguishable to Lance, until he found Pidge and Hunk also seated at the briefing table, chattering softly to each other while Pidge’s eyes took in the room. He felt better seeing their faces, but was then hit with another painful wave of embarrassment as he felt Keith’s arms brush against him as he started to head towards the big guys in charge.

Lance couldn’t help but mutter under his breath, “This better be the most important meeting of our lives because I’m pretty sure my brain just stopped functioning.”

Keith snorted quietly, his lips twitching into the smallest smile. “You’ll live,” he said, his voice low and warm.

Lance gave him his best annoyed scoff as he marched separately away, despite the beating in his chest and the reddening on his face. Sue him if he let his eyes trail down the backside of Keith as he walked away, shaking his head.

Oh god. Yah this was gonna be so bad for him.

Lance slid into the seat between Pidge and Hunk, barely sparing them a glance as his mind buzzed uncontrollably. He hadn’t even fully settled when he noticed the both of them staring at him. Not subtly, either. Expectant. Nosey. Like they already knew something was up.

“What?” Lance snapped, louder than he meant to, his voice sharp with residual fluster from… well, everything.

Pidge raised an unimpressed eyebrow, leaning lazily on her elbow. “Oh, nothing,” she said, her voice dripping with fake innocence.

She waved her hand vaguely toward the head of the table, where Keith was standing alongside Kolivan and Krolia, all of them preparing for the meeting as Shiro pulled out a seat to offer Keith. “Just wondering how you went from rushing out of here earlier to… that.”

“That?” Lance echoed, crossing his arms. “What’s

that

supposed to mean?”

Pidge rolled her eyes. “Oh, you know. The last time we saw you, you were running off to confess your undying love to Keith. So…

did

you?”

Lance choked. “I—you—that’s besides the point?!”

Hunk leaned in with wide, earnest eyes, clearly incapable of holding back. “So, like… did something happen? Because you two walked in here just now acting… well, the same. You know, like normal. You were even, like, blushing and stuff.”

“I’m not blushing because there’s nothing to blush about!” Lance shot back, his face immediately betraying him by flushing a bright crimson. He groaned, burying his face in his hands. “And what does ‘acting like normal’ even mean?”

Pidge gave him a deadpan look. “It means you two are always orbiting each other like you’re gravitationally bound. It’s exhausting to watch, honestly.”

“And adorable,” Hunk added helpfully.

Pidge smirked. “Sure. If you like watching two emotionally constipated disasters fail to communicate for years.”

I’ve wait four years.

Keith’s admission rung in his ears.

Lance’s face burned hotter as he glared between them. “Well, maybe it’s

none of your business

! Ever think about that? Maybe some things are private since apparently,

everything else

has been on display for years!” He huffed, crossing his arms like a shield.

Hunk giggled behind his hand, clearly delighted by Lance’s flustered outburst. Pidge groaned, scrubbing her face with her palm. “Ugh, you’re both so gross,” she muttered, though there was an undeniable fondness in her tone.

Before Lance could argue—or dig himself into an even deeper pit of embarrassment—Kolivan’s voice cut through the room. “Let’s begin,” he said firmly, the low rumble of his voice commanding everyone’s attention.

Lance sank lower in his seat, sending a final glare at his two best friends. Pidge smirked smugly, and Hunk shot him a supportive thumbs-up that did

nothing

to calm the chaotic fluttering in Lance’s chest. Lance tried to feign annoyance and hatred for his best friends, but he knew in reality, they would never imagine the day Lance actually thought any less of them. He met Hunk’s steady brown eyes, and could only last so long as Hunk narrowed his slightly, tilting his head as if to say

so?

Lance sucked in a tight breath and returned a small nod, his pulse racing. Hunk’s eyes widened, and before he could let a huge grin spread across his face, he clenched his lips shut to show face, although Lance knew the softie wanted to squeal right there and then.

As the meeting began, Lance snuck a glance toward the head of the table, where Keith was standing straight and composed, his focus entirely on Kolivan. The memory of Keith’s breath on his lips, the heat of his hands, flashed through Lance’s mind, and he immediately whipped his head away from Keith, his heart thundering in his ears.

Gross? Maybe. But Lance wouldn’t have it any other way.

Kolivan stood tall at the head of the room, his presence commanding even in the dim light of the briefing table. His voice was firm, every word precise as he addressed the gathered group.

“With the Red Lion back in our possession and the machine no longer in Vrelen’s hands, we hold a critical advantage,” he began, his gaze sweeping across the room. “However, we cannot assume this victory is absolute. Vrelen likely has the resources to recreate the device, or worse, improve upon it. His next move will be decisive and likely devastating.”

A ripple of unease passed through the room. Krolia folded her arms, stepping forward with her usual sharp decisiveness. “If Vrelen does have duplicates or plans to rebuild, the question becomes where he would strike next. We know his targets are planets with strategic significance—either politically or resourcefully. One suggestion is we head to the two planets initially on course for Vrelen’s target and work fast to patrol and monitor their surrounding systems for signs that Vrelen is planning to continue his initial target.” She made brief eye contact with Kolivan before her eyes flicked toward Shiro. “Perhaps it’s time to consider returning the humans to Earth.”

The suggestion landed like a bomb.

Lance’s heart stuttered, his entire body freezing up. His first instinct was to leap up and protest, but his voice caught in his throat.

Earth?

No. No way. They couldn’t be talking about leaving now. Not after everything. Not when—

“Returning to Earth could be an opportunity to deliver the Paladins back to their world and be able to regroup from the damages they all withstood with the last mission,” Krolia continued. “The planet’s relative distance from the current conflict zones might offer them some reprieve and a chance to recover their strength. We can’t overlook the toll this war has taken on the human members of the team. Without any other proof that the Lions can and will respond, there is no need to have the humans here and further put them in harms way.”

Shiro tilted his head thoughtfully, his brows knitting in consideration. “It’s a valid point. But, are you sure we are not needed to help figure anything else out about Vrelen, or even with the Red Lion itself.”

“Red only responded when one of you were in immediate danger.” at this, Krolia glanced at Keith at her side, who stiffened under her gaze, but stayed poised. “If this is so, then it would be dangerous to keep the Paladins so close to Red and in harms way in case this is the reason why Red was able to come back to life, even if for a moment. Reducing the Paladin’s presence and their close connection to it would have the Lion as ultimately dead and useless, which is what we hope to keep them as. Unusable to anyone and everyone.”

Murmurs echoed through the room, seemingly agreeing with this. Pidge and Hunk shifted nervously in their own seats, Pidge busying herself with digging a stubborn finger into the top of the table, as if this would stop her from interjecting her personal opinion. Lance clenched his fists under the table, his mind spiraling. Separating from Red? After all of that? No. They didn’t need that.

He

didn’t need that. But his lips stayed stubbornly sealed, even as his instincts screamed at him to speak up.

Other voices rose in discussion, throwing out potential strategies. Planets that had been targeted by Vrelen’s forces were named—some of them in the intial path of Vrelen’s ship, others rumored to be next on his list since they had high energy readings on charts. Ideas ping-ponged around the room, each more desperate and determined than the last. Questions of what to do and where to go in this seemingly impossible battle. Lance stayed forcing himself into silence, knee bopping aggressively up and down under the table, eyes focused on Pidge’s insistent nervous scratching, knowing if he as so much glanced a peek at Keith he would come crumbling down in a second. Different voices and murmurs in the room from Blade operatives cycled around his brain, fogging it up, causing his anxiety to buzz. This all felt so exhasuting, like a wild goose chase. How were they going to get ahead if they were always slightly behind everywhere Vrelen went?

And then it hit.

A sharp, searing jolt of white energy shot through Lance’s mind like a lightning strike, so sudden and intense it ripped a gasp from his lungs. The room blurred, the voices around him muffling as he clutched his head, wincing.

“Lance?” Pidge’s voice came first, sharp with worry. Lance peeked to look at her, her eyes wide in question and leaning over in her seat. Lance felt his mouth go dry, but the feeling of that energy was lingering, as if a fire was being stomped out. He glanced around the room, seemingly not changed by his small gasp, not hearing it over their own interjections of strategy. All except Keith, whose eyes were lazar trained on Lance from across the table, his brows pulled tight and his position shifted to face Lance more clearly. His eyes fixed on Lance with that fierce, focused intensity that made Lance’s chest twist.

Lance blinked hard, struggling to shake the lingering burn in his mind. His vision swam for a moment before settling, though the phantom echo of the energy still thrummed in his skull. “I—yeah,” he croaked, trying to wave it off. “I’m fine. Just, uh… headache. Long day.”

Pidge squinted at him suspiciously. “You sure about that? Because you look like you just got zapped by a quintessence bolt.”

“I’m

fine

,” Lance insisted, though the shaky edge to his voice betrayed him. He forced a laugh, desperate to dispel the concern. “Probably just low blood sugar or something.”

He turned his gaze back at Keith, but he didn’t look convinced. His eyes narrowed, and he didn’t bristle back to a listening state or turn his attention back to Kolivan fully, eyeing him. It made Lance’s body burn for another reason.

The room's tense energy was palpable, but Lance struggled to focus on the conversation as it ebbed and flowed around him. His mind was still reeling from the first jolt, his ears barely catching fragments of the strategy Kolivan was laying out.

Then it hit again.

A shock, sharp and searing, like a lightning bolt ripping through his skull. His head snapped back against the chair with a gasp as the sensation overwhelmed him.

The room vanished in an instant, a flash lasting no longer than a second, but he still was able to feel the something vast and intangible. Lance felt a low rumble reverberate through his bones—a distant, low and echoed roar that sent a shiver crawling up his spine. The coolness of something gentle, yet vast and commanding, brushed against his senses, making the hairs on his arms stand on end. It wasn’t hostile. It was calm, steady, familiar, and impossibly heavy, like the weight of an ocean.

And then he saw it.

For the briefest flicker, his vision was filled with a planet. Familiar oceans glinting under sunlight. Lush greenery, mountains, deserts, and cities he’d known his whole life. His chest tightened as recognition sank in.

Earth.

The image blinked out as suddenly as it had appeared. Lance’s vision swam, and his chest heaved as he came back to himself. His arms were lined in goosebumps, the entire reaction having lasted no more than a few seconds, but it was enough to interrupt the discussions occurring this time.

The room was silent. Everyone was staring.

Keith looked like he was moments away from vaulting over the table, his chair already halfway shoved back. Shiro frowned, his eyes flickering with concern, while Kolivan’s expression was taut with impatience. Krolia, however, sat unnervingly still, her sharp gaze locked entirely on Lance.

“What’s going on?” Shiro asked, his tone low but worried. “Lance, are you okay?”

Lance blinked rapidly, trying to ground himself. His limbs felt shaky, his heart still racing. “I—yeah,” he stammered, his voice unsteady. He sat up straighter, shaking his head as if to clear the lingering weight of the vision. “I’m fine. Just… I think….” His mouth felt like cotton as the words died out. How was he possibly going to explain this without sounding crazy?

Kolivan exhaled sharply, clearly unimpressed. His voice rumbled out, low and commanding. “If it’s nothing urgent, then let’s move on—”

“No.”

The single word cut through the room, spoken firmly and with a surprising amount of weight. Krolia leaned forward, her eyes boring into Lance.

“If you have something important to add, Lance,” she said, her voice even but pointed, “now would be the time to speak.”

Lance swallowed hard, his gaze flitting to Keith. Keith’s eyes were wide, his expression raw with concern. It made something warm and steady blossom in Lance’s chest, grounding him just enough to speak.

“We… we have to go to Earth,” Lance said softly, his voice still shaky but growing steadier.

Kolivan raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. “That’s already in consideration. We were planning on returning the rest of you to—”

“No,” Lance interrupted, his voice firm now. “We

have

to go to Earth. Now.”

The room went still again, Kolivan’s annoyance evident as he stared at Lance like he was about to demand an explanation.

“I… This is going to sound crazy and I get that.” Lance continued, his tone quiet but resolute. “But that’s where we are going to have the upperhand again from Vrelen. I saw Earth. Felt it. Something’s pulling us there. Something big.”

Kolivan crossed his arms, clearly unimpressed by Lance’s vagueness, but Krolia’s eyes narrowed with an intensity that sent a chill down Lance’s spine.

“What did you see, exactly?” she asked, her voice steady.

Lance hesitated for a moment, glancing around the table, his gaze lingering on Keith. The way Keith was watching him, fierce and unwavering, gave him the courage to answer.

“It wasn’t just seeing Earth,” he said slowly. “It was… I don’t know how to explain it. There was this… roar, and this calm, heavy energy. It felt… familiar. And urgent. Like something’s about to happen, and we’re supposed to be there. It was the same thing I felt back on Earth before Keith told us about Red. It was the same thing that happened right before I somehow summoned Red and saved Keith.” Lance pointedly looked over at Keith, who was watching him with a swirling determination that made Lance want to speak louder.

“In my hangar, you said it was from your long day at the Garrison.” Pidge whispered besides him, the gears slowly clicking into place, like watching a master solve a rubik's cube. Lance nodded, looking back at Kolivan, forcing his voice to not shake and meet his blazing glare.

“Trust me, I wish I could offer a better explanation, but I know what it feels like when the Lions are calling to you. If we have a certain reassurance that one of the Lions is in fact on Earth, we get to it before Vrelen can. I know the difference between what Red feels like and what Blue feels like. I piloted both.” Lance locked his jaw, hoping he looked as confident as he was convincing himself.

“We’re basing this entire operation—our resources, our lives—on a

feeling

? A fleeting headache and vague vision? This is reckless. We don’t even know what Vrelen’s next move is, and we’re supposed to throw everything away on a whim? No other proof to back up in what could happen if we left our current post in this galaxy?” Kolivan’s voice was cold, demanding, as if shocked someone was going against something he was saying. This made Lance’s throat close up again. Was he really asking everyone to risk the lives of other planets out here and trust Lance’s momentary shocks? Kolivan opened his mouth again, probably to dismiss it, but Krolia raised a hand, silencing him.

“If what Lance is saying is true,” she said, her tone measured as her yellow eyes met Lance, making him want to shrink yet rise up to them at the same time, “then we can’t ignore it. Not with everything we’ve seen being capable from Red and its connection to its Paladin. Lance has shown a unique connection to the lions, one that has guided us before. Red responded to him, even without him piloting her. And if Lance is feeling something this strong, we’d be fools to ignore it. The Blade has survived because we’ve trusted our instincts when it mattered most.”

Her words carried enough weight to make Kolivan pause, though his displeasure was evident. Kolivan scowled but didn’t interrupt, his jaw tightening as Krolia’s words settled over the room.

Keith finally spoke, his voice low but unwavering. “Then we go to Earth.”

His voice was calm but carried an unshakable authority. He turned to Kolivan, his gaze fierce and unwavering. “Lance has proven himself over and over again. He’s not just making things up. He’s connected to the lions—one way or another. They are showing proof that they can respond, making themselves known to him before anyone else has the chance to get to them. He’s still connected to the pilots he flew with, and we’re going to listen to him now.”

Keith met Lance’s eyes, locking Lance in that endless galaxy of them. Keith’s words sent a wave of warmth through Lance, making his chest tighten. The way Keith looked at him—sure, trusting,

completely unwavering

—made him feel like he could take on the universe. Lance’s face burned, and he struggled not to combust from the overwhelming surge of affection and yearning in his chest. Keith’s faith in him was unshakable, and that alone was enough to drown out any lingering self-doubt.

“You think one of the Lion’s is on Earth, right?”

Lance nodded, but cleared his throat to address in the same determined fight, “Positive. I felt the call of Blue that I could recognize like the back of my hand, and saw its energy coming from Earth.”

That seemed to be enough reason for Keith as he nodded, turning to glare back at Kolivan as if this was a shut deal. Krolia also threw a pointed look at Kolivan, a challenge in her sharp eyes. “This isn’t the first time we’ve had to adapt our plans on the fly, and it won’t be the last. You know as well as I do that ignoring this could cost us far more than taking a calculated risk.”

The room was silent, all eyes on Kolivan as he weighed the argument. His expression was a mask of frustration, but it was clear he was outnumbered and outmaneuvered.

Finally, he let out a sharp exhale, glaring at the group. “Fine. We go to Earth. But I expect results, or this entire operation will fall apart under the weight of your misplaced faith.”

Keith didn’t even flinch, his gaze locked on Kolivan as he gave a curt nod. Lance, still burning from Keith’s earlier words, couldn’t help the faint grin tugging at his lips. He caught Keith’s eyes, and the intensity there stole the breath from his lungs. It wasn’t just trust. It was belief. Lance felt like he was standing at the edge of a cliff, the wind carrying him forward, his heart soaring despite himself.

As Kolivan gave the final order to set the course, the meeting adjourned with the room buzzing with tension and anticipation.

Earth was waiting.

And with Earth, came another one of their Lions.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

The moment the meeting ended, Keith wished he could say he wasn’t surprised by the way Lance had aggressively dragged him by the arm, muttering under his breath about things Keith couldn’t quite catch. No one seemed to question Lance’s aggression, as Keith tried to fight back at first and look around the room to make eye contact with anyone that would question what Lance was doing in the moment, but was met back in an array of emotions. Nonchalance from Kolivan, questioning from Krolia, interest from Shiro, and two shit eating grins from Hunk and Pidge as they elbowed each other, watching intently. Keith tried to argue but was ultimately rendered helpless when Lance gripped Keith’s wrist tighter and threw him a determined look, his blue eyes sharp.

This…was new.

Definitely not something Keith was used to seeing from Lance. He had seen Lance determined with fire of adrenaline. Seen him angry and lash out at Galra and villains alike. Seen him excited and trigger happy. This Lance was blocking off what he was really feeling, and that made the sinking dread in Keith bubble under his chest as he was yanked out of the briefing room and through the halls of the Blade ship. There’s something so scary about a supposed chatter box who has gone quiet.

Keith’s mind flew through a million possibilities. Was this about whatever had just happened in the meeting? Was he somehow angry that Keith agreed to go to Earth quickly, without even questioning more if Lance was ok? Was he upset that this is what they had to do as their next steps?

Or was this about the stupid, heat of the moment, impulsive, lacking any sort of control, addictive need to kiss Lance in the med bay?

Sure, they never really got the opportunity to discuss the fact that Keith had finally broke after all this time and just went for a kiss that he thought felt right in the initial moment. Lance had been scrambling and sinking in front of him, blushing the more he talked and looking so utterly kissable and biteable that it was driving Keith crazy. But what was driving him even more crazier was how close he was actually getting to saying something that Keith thought that he would never hear back in a million years.

That maybe, Lance liked Keith back.

“I can basically hear your molars being crushed to dust in your mouth.”

Keith snapped his eyes up, surprised that Lance had stopped his quick pace. They had stopped in the alcove in the sdie halls of the ship, by the large windows looking out into the expanse of space. Where Lance had found Keith on multiple occasions in the past. He let his jaw relax, unaware of the tightened state they had been grinding at, finding Lance’s eyes. Lance had looked—well, like a storm. Fire and frustration, but Keith couldn’t quite place if it was aimed at him or something else. Keith straightened instinctively, his stomach twisting as the other man approached, arms crossed tightly over his chest. Lance stopped in front of him, his eyes blazing, and Keith braced himself.

“What the

fuck

just happened?” Lance demanded, his voice sharp, cutting through Keith’s spiraling thoughts.

Keith blinked, momentarily thrown. “The meeting? I could ask you the same with the way you–” he asked, genuinely confused.

Lance groaned, rolling his eyes dramatically and motioning between the two of them, his fingers shaking slightly. “No,

this

!

Us

! What was that back there?”

Keith’s mouth opened, then closed again. Words scrambled for order in his head, but none of them seemed right. His gut twisted painfully. What had that been? Impulse? Desperation? Hope? A begging for a miracle shot in the dark to be returned? He was so caught in the moment, the weight of years of yearning spilling out without thinking about how Lance might feel.

Keith swallowed hard, shifting uncomfortably. “I... I didn’t mean to—I mean, I didn’t plan for that to happen. Like, ever.” He paused, glancing at Lance’s fiery expression. “Are... are you mad at me?”

Lance froze, staring at Keith like he’d just grown a second head. “

Mad at you?

” he repeated, voice pitching high in disbelief. He dropped his arms, hands flying up in a frustrated gesture. “Keith, I’ve been wanting to kiss you stupid since I

brought you home with me

! And you think I’m mad?!”

Silence fell between them, the weight of Lance’s words hanging heavy in the air. Keith’s breath hitched, his mind stumbling to catch up. The fire in Lance’s eyes softened, turning into something warmer, brighter, as if realizing the significance of what he’d just admitted. Keith, though, felt his chest constrict, a swirl of emotions he couldn’t quite contain—hope, disbelief, a deep yearning that almost hurt. For so long, he’d seen himself as someone who wasn’t worthy of love, someone who didn’t deserve what Lance was offering so freely now.

When he was alone with his thoughts, the darkness that he usually fought against would settle like a heavy blanket, and he would feel the weight of his own actions pressing down on him. He didn’t want to be this way. He didn’t want to feel like he had to fight against the world, like he had to constantly be on guard, ready to defend himself from threats that might not even be real. But that darkness was there, deep and pervasive, a part of him that he didn’t know how to shake. Yet somehow…

“You—” Keith started, voice rough and unsure, as if the words might vanish before he could say them. “You’ve been... wanting to kiss me?”

Lance let out an incredulous laugh, stepping closer, his hands gesturing animatedly. “Keith, yes! Obviously! I’ve been a

mess

about it for ages. And then you just—” Lance paused, his face burning. “You

yank me

and kiss me out of nowhere, and you think I’m mad?!”

Keith blinked, his heart pounding as the truth of Lance’s words finally hit home. Lance—bright, fiery,

incredible

Lance—had been looking at him the same way he’d been looking at Lance??? If Keith didn’t know about the existence of aliens and magic he would have thought the claim was just as ridiculous as that.

Lance stood in front of him, arms crossed, his expression a mix of frustration and something softer—something Keith didn’t know how to name but felt himself drawn to despite his better judgment. Keith wanted to speak, to say anything to ease the crackling tension, but his throat felt dry. Lance's gaze was unrelenting, exasperated but gentle, and it made Keith’s stomach twist with guilt.

“Keith,” Lance started, his voice quieter now, less fiery but no less insistent. “What’s going on? Why are you—why do you look like you’re... I don’t know. Falling apart? Did I say something wrong or–”

Keith let out a humorless chuckle, shaking his head as he stared down at the floor. “Because I kinda am,” he admitted, his voice rough and raw. He ran a hand through his hair, frustration bleeding into his movements. “Lance, I don’t... I don’t really get it. I didn’t think you’d—” He broke off, his words faltering. “I guess I just didn’t think this would ever be a thing.

We

would ever be a thing.”

Lance blinked, his arms uncrossing slightly as he took a step closer. “What do you mean?” he asked, confused.

Keith let out a shaky breath, meeting Lance’s gaze with something guarded and vulnerable all at once. “I mean...” He hesitated, as if every word was a struggle. “You never showed any interest. Not even a little. Hell, I flirted with you in the beginning just to see if you’d bite that way, and you didn’t even notice.”

Lance’s jaw dropped, his face going red. “Wait,

what?!

”

Keith shrugged, looking painfully casual, though his hands were clenched tightly at his sides. “We were in space, Lance. I’d never known you or Hunk before and it was good-looking guys on the same team. Who knew how long we’d last? It felt harmless enough. I figured... why not?”

“Wait, HUNK?” Lance’s voice pitched an octave that could have shattered glass. Keith shrugged shyly, thinking back when he did think that it was nothing more than a couple sly comments to the two of them when they first found themselves in space, feigning a relaxed and cool demanor around them to just see, despite his initial wariness of the blue loudmouthed Paladin who came out of the gates practically swinging at him on first impression.

Lance’s face burned even hotter, his hands flying up in disbelief. “You were

flirting

with me?!”

“Yeah,” Keith muttered, his voice low and almost bitter. “At first, it didn’t mean anything. Just something to fill the silence. But then...” His voice trailed off, and he swallowed hard, looking away.

“But then?” Lance prompted, his voice softer now, less incredulous.

Keith let out a groan, rubbing the back of his neck as if the motion could ease the tension he felt. “Then I actually started

liking

you,” he admitted, his words sharp but the emotion behind them painfully raw, pinching at the bridge of his nose. “And you—you just kept being you. Bright, loud, impossible to ignore. And I didn’t know what to do with it. So I stopped. Figured it wasn’t worth it. You didn’t even see me that way.”

Well, stopped flirting, at least. The feeling he had for Lance never went away, even when he did his best to kill it at its source and disappear to the Blades. But after spending two convoluted space years on a space whale in the quantum realm and returning back to still have the fire in his chest flicker to life the moment he saw Lance again, he realized it was never going to be extinguished, even as hard as he fought to put it out. Even when he attempted to douse it in water when him and Allura started dating, that just made the flame tear up his skin in retaliation. He was homesick for arms that never held him, had feelings unspoken for that spiraled out like tentacles into abysmal nothing. He had thought about Lance in the quantum abyss a lot more than he should have, letting his quiet mind wander on long days of silence between him and his mother, and was struck hard when snippets of memories with Lance and the team came crashing onto him and revealing what he felt to Krolia. Across time and space, across the void of their worlds, sleepless, he still sought Lance. He had desired violently, hopelessly, hungrily, but had waited. Because waiting was a better option than disappearing from Lance’s life once and for all. Which, admittedly, Keith had tried. And still failed.

Burn victims are still victims no matter how intense the fire is. Fire is still fire.

Lance stared at him, his mouth slightly open, the pieces of their shared history suddenly rearranging themselves in his mind.

“Keith,” he said softly, stepping even closer, “I... I didn’t know. I mean, I never even thought—” He cut himself off, his brow furrowing as he searched for the right words. “Are you... are you okay with this? With liking me, I mean?”

Keith let out a sharp breath, his lips twitching in something that might have been a smirk if it weren’t so heartbreakingly soft. “Lance,” he said, his voice cracking just enough to betray the depth of his emotions. “It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever had to fight. I couldn’t get rid of it even if I wanted to. And I did.”

The words hung in the air, raw and undeniable. His chest tightened at the weight of his own words, at the sheer vulnerability he was letting himself finally show. He swallowed hard, his heart thundering in his chest.

“I’m not exactly easy to deal with,” Lance admitted, his voice quieter now, hesitant. “I mean, you’ve seen me. I’m a mess half the time. And the other half, I’m—”

“Everything,” Keith interrupted, his voice firm and steady, though his hands trembled slightly at his sides. “You’re everything, Lance. That’s the problem.”

Lance froze, his breath catching as Keith’s words sank in. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the air between them thick with everything they’d never said.

“Keith,” Lance finally managed, his voice shaky but determined. “You’re... you’re everything too, you know?”

Keith blinked, his lips parting slightly as if the words had caught him off guard. He searched Lance’s face, his guarded walls crumbling further with every passing second. The silence that followed wasn’t empty. It was full—full of understanding, of shared pain, of the years they’d spent as two ships just barely missing each other at sea.

Keith took a deep breath, his voice quieter now, almost shy. “So... what do we do now?”

Lance let out a soft laugh, the sound tinged with relief and something brighter. “I guess we stop missing each other? I mean, I don’t want things to change between us. I’m happy to have you this close to me, even if it took some time to get here.”

Keith scoffed, tightening his crossed arms and digging his nails a bit into his forearm to keep himself reeled in.

“Yah, those four years sucked, thank you.”

“Ok, I would like to go back on that and double it. Try ten years.” Lance threw a finger up, his mouth twitching into a small smile. Keith blinked, his brain slowing for a second.

“You did not like me for the last ten years. We didn’t even know each other–”

“False, you didn’t even know

me.

Clearly. But I remember the day you came to the Garrison when we were 12, and thank god you don’t even remember me at that age because I was embarrassing the hell out of myself trying to get your attention. Like, you wouldn’t even look at me!” Lance frowned, but his face lacked any real hurt.

“You didn’t even like guys.” Keith muttered, his voice cracking. Lance froze up, eyes blowing wide as his cheeks reddened.

“Yah, well, I didn’t think I liked guys! Until you, I didn’t think I would ever be with a guy! I guess my obsession with Anakin Skywalker is starting to make a lot more sense. Like, sure, Anakin Skywalker is objectively hot, but did I like him because he was cool and badass or did I

like

him because its Hayden Christensen. Like, hello??” Lance paused for a second, his eyes glazing over. Keith felt his throat huff, wanting to slap himself and then Lance for how crazy this entire situation felt, but his mind drifted to his antisocial and miserable days at the Garrison. How inwards on himself he was, how the memories flickered like dark, teasing shadows. How he was treated.

“I don’t remember much from the Garrison. I honestly shut out that part of my life, along with a lot of other bits.” Keith tightened his grip on his arms, feeling his brows furrow deep. He really wish he did remember Lance. Would he have been this much in love with that small, fiery kid just as he was now? Would they have even clicked? Then, another realization struck him as he tensed up more, throwing a glare at Lance.

Lance was suddenly right in front of him, placing shy and tentative hands on Keith’s arm, bringing Keith to snap out of his own thoughts and look at him. Lance looked a little taken back from Keith’s stare, his breath hitching slightly as his eyes flickered over his face, as if he was cautiously assessing whether or not a caged animal would lash at him. His gaze never wavered from Keith’s face, where torment and conflict flickered like shadows in a storm.

When Lance was close enough, his hand rose hesitantly, hovering in the air for a beat too long before finally settling against Keith’s jaw. Keith sucked in a sharp breath at the touch, his skin burning where Lance’s fingers brushed him. It was so gentle, so achingly deliberate, like Lance was holding the most delicate china, terrified of causing even the slightest crack. But Keith felt like the most shattered and broken plate under a couple bandaids.

Keith’s mind reeled. He felt the rough pad of Lance’s thumb graze the scar on his cheek—the one Shiro had given him all that time ago. No one had ever touched it, yet alone attempted to even address it when he came back from the fight newly scarred. Everyone was smart enough to realize that he had disappeared into the fight without a scar and came returned with it caterized on his skin, an evil reminder of his fight with the man he trusted and loved the most in this world. But it was also a reminder of the reason why he fought so hard to earn that scar. How he never gave up for someone he loved. The touch sent a shiver through him, as if Lance were tracing not just the scar but the story it carried, the pain and growth it represented. Keith’s chest tightened, and his lungs felt too small to contain the rush of emotions flooding him.

“Keith,” Lance whispered, his voice barely audible but so full, like the words themselves carried weight. “I need to get this right.”

Keith’s breath hitched, his eyes wide and searching Lance’s face. He was stunned—caught between disbelief and the unbearable warmth spreading through him. Lance’s thumb stilled, resting against his skin with a tenderness Keith hadn’t known he could long for. Suffering felt religious when done right.

“I went too long being stupid,” Lance continued, his voice trembling slightly but so earnest it broke something deep inside Keith. “Fighting something I didn’t even know was... God, Keith, this—” He swallowed, his throat bobbing as his eyes searched Keith’s, seeking something unspoken. “This might be the best thing I’ve ever done.”

Keith felt his legs weaken beneath the force of Lance’s words, his thoughts spiraling. This doesn’t seem right, his mind protested faintly.

This can’t be real.

Lance must have hit his head or gotten a concussion or something. And yet, the way Lance was looking at him—like Keith was the sun breaking through the storm—made it hard to breathe, much less think. Lance’s own breath was uneven, his lips parted as he leaned closer, his every movement so slow and careful it felt like a prayer. His gaze dropped to Keith’s lips for the briefest moment, before flicking back up to his eyes, asking a silent question. His hand stayed steady against Keith’s face, grounding him and making Keith feel like he was unraveling all at once.

Keith didn’t know what to do, didn’t know what to say, but the fire inside him—burning hotter and brighter with every second Lance lingered—left him no choice. He wanted this, wanted Lance in ways that terrified him.

And then Lance leaned in, his breath warm against Keith’s skin, pausing so close their noses nearly brushed. His throat worked, his hesitation palpable, as if giving Keith the chance to pull away.

But Keith couldn’t hold back anymore. His restraint snapped, and he surged forward, crashing into Lance like a tidal wave, his lips meeting his with desperation and longing that had been building for far too long.

It wasn’t careful. It wasn’t patient. It was fire and storm and everything Keith had ever wanted but never thought he could have. Lance gasped against him, his hand sliding to cup Keith’s face more firmly as he melted into the kiss, meeting Keith’s passion with his own.

The world around them blurred, faded away entirely, until there was only this—the two of them, colliding in a way that felt inevitable. Keith clung to Lance as if letting go wasn’t an option, pouring every unspoken feeling, every ounce of yearning, into the kiss and the heat of it, the overwhelming hunger igniting between them like a wildfire consuming dry brush. Lance’s gasp vibrated against Keith’s mouth, and it was all Keith needed to lose the last shred of restraint he’d been clinging to.

His hands shot out, one gripping Lance’s waist with bruising force, the other tangling in the soft strands of Lance’s hair, pulling him closer, needing him impossibly nearer. Lance moaned, a sound that sent Keith’s stomach twisting and dropping like he was freefalling. Lance’s hands found purchase on Keith’s shoulders, his grip tightening as if Keith might vanish if he let go.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t slow. It was desperate and messy and burning with years of unsaid words and buried feelings. Keith’s lips moved against Lance’s like he was drowning and Lance was the only thing keeping him afloat. Yet, Lance wasn’t falling behind. He stayed in pace with the same hunger Keith was pouring out, adjusting and flying in just as strong and desperate. He felt the scrape of teeth, the slide of their tongues, hot and dizzying. Lance’s fingers fisted in Keith’s hair, tugging just hard enough to make Keith’s breath hitch, and the sound he made in response was almost a growl.

Keith didn’t realize they were moving until Lance’s back hit the wall with a muffled thud. He barely pulled back to breathe, pressing Lance against the cold surface of the glass window, their bodies flush, every nerve ending alight with the intoxicating heat of him. Lance’s hands skated down Keith’s arms before clutching at his shirt, bunching the fabric in trembling fists. His chest heaved against Keith’s, their breaths mingling, and Keith swore he could feel the frantic rhythm of Lance’s heartbeat echoing his own.

“Keith,” Lance managed to gasp between kisses, his voice wrecked and low, making Keith’s head spin. His lips were already swollen, his face flushed, and Keith couldn’t get enough of the sight of him. He wanted to memorize this—how Lance looked at him like he was the only thing that mattered, his eyes dark and blown wide with want.

But he also wanted more. Hell, he waited long enough!

Keith dipped his head, his lips trailing down Lance’s jaw, his teeth grazing the skin there before pressing open-mouthed kisses to the curve of his neck. Lance’s breath hitched, his head tilting to give Keith more access as his nails raked lightly over Keith’s scalp. Keith’s hands slid under Lance’s shirt, palms skimming over warm skin, and Lance shivered at the contact, his back arching off the wall as if trying to get closer.

“God,” Lance breathed, his voice trembling. “Keith—”

Keith pulled back just enough to look at him, his own chest heaving, his face so close their noses brushed. Lance was a mess—flushed, panting, his hair mussed from Keith’s fingers—and he was so unfairly beautiful it made Keith’s chest ache.

“What?” Keith rasped, his voice rough and shaky, his lips already brushing Lance’s again. “What is it?”

Lance didn’t answer with words. Instead, he surged forward, capturing Keith’s mouth again with a ferocity that made Keith groan, low and guttural. His hands tightened on Lance’s hips, pulling him flush against him as their kiss deepened, growing hungrier, needier. Lance’s fingers slipped under Keith’s shirt, nails scraping lightly against his back, and Keith’s mind went blissfully blank. There was no space between them now, no hesitation, no restraint. They kissed like the world might end tomorrow, like this was their last chance to feel, to take, to give.

It wasn’t perfect—there were clashing teeth, muffled gasps, and the occasional awkward angle—but it was raw and real and everything Keith had ever wanted but never dared to dream of.

When they finally broke apart, their foreheads pressed together, they were both trembling, their breaths ragged and uneven. Keith’s hands stayed firm on Lance’s hips, grounding him, while Lance’s fingers slid to rest on Keith’s chest, feeling the erratic thrum of his heartbeat. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the air between them thick with everything they couldn’t yet say. But Keith didn’t need words right now. He could feel it in the way Lance was looking at him—in the way Lance had kissed him, had held him, as if Keith was the only thing he needed.

And for once, maybe Keith would allow himself to believe that.

“I can’t believe you don’t know who Anakin Skywalker is.”

Keith refocused his vision on Lance, who was looking back at him, lips impossibly bruised and puffy, hair messy and face flushed. His own voice was caught in his throat at the sight of it, at the fact

he

did that.

“See, there you go again with those eyes and that pout. You’re gonna be dangerous for me, I’m calling it now.” Lance sighed, leaning forward to snap a quick kiss on Keith’s lips before pulling back again with a huge grin on his face.

“What?” Keith mumbled, his voice raspy and windswept. Lance snorted, his finger pushing in at Keith’s side teasingly.

“When I mentioned my obsession with Anakin Skywalker, you had this look on your face. Like, you tilt your head the same way Kosmo does when he’s trying to understand english. That’s you’re

I don’t get your reference

face that you always make whenever I mention anything pop culture related. It’s cute.” Lance hummed, his hands now not shy to be touching Keith’s side, gripping at his waist, making Keith want to explode at the touch.

“Yah, well, that’s on you for talking about the most random things and expecting everyone to understand.” Keith scoffed, feeling himself heat up in defense. Lance gawked, pinching at Keith’s side to make him squirm in his hold.

“Dude, Star Wars is definitely not the

most random thing

. It’s like, basic introduction to loving space! Ask literally any normal person and they can tell you that. Anakin is like the super cool badass hero in the first part, which, now that I think of it, kinda makes sense I was obsessed with him. He’s broody and serious, like you. But really hot.” Lance smirked, leaning in close to tug at the bottom of Keith’s hair, “sort of like you. Might have a type.”

Keith groaned, swatting at Lance’s hands, but couldn’t really fight when Lance had his hands on him.

“I guess that’s just one of many things I’m gonna have to show you when we get back to Earth. Oh my god, you are so gonna love Brokeback Mountain. You seen it? It’s right up your alley.”

“Lance, I can promise you, I have not seen anything you ever talk about.” Keith deadpanned.

“But its about cowboys! Gay cowboys, might I add, who fall in love and makeout in the mountains and are all rough and rodeo-y. Like, its actually so right up your alley that I’m surprised you haven’t seen it. Cuz you’re a gay cowboy.”

“Then I’m surprised you have seen it. Since you were straight up until recently.”

“Oh wow, touché. Decent fires back on your front.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m about to change your life, mullet.”

“Looking forward to it, sharpshooter.”

When they returned to the briefing room, Keith couldn’t have felt more relieved that it was still alive and busy. Kolivan, Krolia, and Shiro were in deep conversation at the control panel, with holograms digitalized in front of them, mapping out routes as the ship was heading its course back to Earth. Pidge and Hunk seemingly hadn’t left either, Pidge in excited conversation with a couple of Blade Operatives, who looked like they wanted to be anywhere but talking to the preening, excietable 19 year old who seemed to one up their knowledge on tech. Axca and Keith’s girls wee also present, lost in their own discussions as they kept a steady and not so subtle eye on the Paladins at their table.

The two of them walked in, brushing shoulders, and Keith had to fight back the surge of shock he felt shooting through every vein in his body.

“I’m gonna go talk to Kolivan and check in everything is going right.” Keith nodded towards the Blade leaders. Lance nodded, his own face flushed a bit, his lips still generously bitten silly.

“Yup. Sounds good. I’ll be…” Lance lazily pointed over to Pidge and Hunk, whose heads whipped up out the sound of their voices. They narrowed their eyes as if on cue, leaning away from the operatives they were talking to, to their relief.

“Look who finally remembered about the rest of us.” Keith heard the biting smirk already crawling up Pidge’s face, her eyes narrowing at the two of them.

Hunk snickered, adding, “Yeah, did something

happen

in the hallway? You were gone for a while.”

Keith stiffened, crossing his arms and doing his best to seem unaffected. “Nothing happened.”

Lance, on the other hand, immediately flushed deeper and flails a hand in the air. “What’s that supposed to mean? We were—uh—talking! Important stuff. About, uh…the mission!”

Pidge rolled her eyes dramatically. “Uh-huh. Sure.”

Hunk leaned toward Pidge and muttered just loud enough for Lance and Keith to hear, “They definitely kissed.”

“Focus. We are headed to Earth and I expect everyone to be on their A game to finish this mission once and for all.” Keith huffed, spinning fast to rush off to Kolivan, and hoping his spin would hide the mad flush on his own face mimicking Lance’s.

“Ok, did you guys actually kiss or not because he seems a little too wound up to have NOT released some tension?” Keith heard the end whispers of Hunk to Lance, and a chortled strangled sound escape Lance’s lips as he struggled to recover from that hit.

He found Kolivan, Krolia, and Shiro deep in discussion. Shiro turned to nod at him, his gentle eyes scanning Keith’s face for a brief moment, as if sensing the change in Keith’s demeanor, his complexion, and the bites at his bottom lip. Keith immedelty crossed his arms, looking anywhere but his brother’s knowing gaze.

Kolivan stood tall, arms crossed, his imposing presence dominating the space. “We need precise coordinates. A planet as vast as Earth leaves too much room for error.”

Krolia, leaning slightly against the console, exhaled sharply. “Kolivan, we’ve been over this. If the Lion is on Earth, Lance will sense it. He clearly already saw a vision of it there.”

Shiro, ever the mediator, nodded. His expression calm yet weary, his voice taking on that familiar, steady cadence. “Lance’s connection to the Lions has been consistent, but…” He glanced at Keith, his gentle eyes brewing a though the clearly felt torn to speak. “We still don’t know how these visions work. He might not have any control over when or where they occur.”

Keith moved to stand near Shiro, his arms crossed, his mind already spinning. His jaw tightened at the conversation at hand.The idea of Lance being pressured into forcing another vision didn’t sit right with him.

Lance had already been through enough—why did everything have to rest on his shoulders? Of course, this all comes down to Lance. Again.

The idea of pushing Lance for more, of forcing him to go through those strange, searing flashes of energy, churned uneasily in his stomach. Lance had already been through so much—why did it always have to fall on his shoulders?

“We can’t afford guesswork,” Kolivan snapped, his frustration sharp enough to cut through the room. “Every minute wasted is a minute closer to Vrelen solidifying his plans. Earth may be the Lion’s resting place, but without its exact location, we’re as good as blind

.”

Keith clenched his fists at his sides. Kolivan’s words were clinical, pragmatic, but they grated against every instinct Keith had. Lance wasn’t just some tool to be used, and he sure as hell wasn’t some map they could unroll whenever it was convenient.

“Lance.”

Keith snapped his eyes up as his stomach dropped when he realized Kolivan was directing his fire at the love of his life sat mumbling out to Hunk and Pidge at the table. Lance froze, his back snapping straight in his seat as his eyes widened at the call. All eyes in the room shifted to Lance. His eyes darting nervously across the room before falling on Keith, who was fighting back every instinct to rush over. Lance offered a hesitant smile at him that faltered the moment Kolivan’s steely gaze locked onto him.

“Lance,” Kolivan said, his voice sharp and commanding. “Where is the Lion on Earth?”

Lance froze, his mouth opening and closing for a moment as if the words had snagged on something inside him. “Uh…” He ran his fingers along the table top, shifting awkwardly under the weight of their stares. “I don’t—uh, I don’t know. Yet.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Kolivan’s expression darkened, his jaw tightening as his arms uncrossed. “You don’t know?” His tone was disbelieving, teetering on the edge of outright anger. “We’re counting on you to guide us. Guesswork won’t suffice.”

“Well, uh...about that,” Lance begins awkwardly. “The visions sort of...just happen? It’s not like I can summon them on command.”

Kolivan’s brows furrow. “So, you don’t know where the Lion is?”

Lance winces at the tension creeping into Kolivan’s voice. “No! I mean, not

yet

! Look, the first one hit me out of nowhere. It might come back, or—” Lance’s shoulders dropped, his usual spark dimming as he shrank under the weight of Kolivan’s words. “I—look,” he said, his voice uncharacteristically small. “I can’t just

make

the visions happen, okay? They just… happen when they happen.”

“So, we’re relying on chance?” Kolivan snaps, his voice laced with irritation. “This is too important for guesswork.”

“That’s enough.” Keith’s voice sliced through the tension like a blade, sharp and unyielding. He stepped forward, placing himself firmly between Kolivan and Lance, his posture rigid and protective. His eyes locked onto Kolivan, unflinching. “We’ll figure it out. Lance has been right about everything so far, and is the entire reason why we even know where to go next. Give him some room to breathe.”

Kolivan’s glare was icy, but Keith didn’t waver. The two of them stared each other down until Krolia stepped in, her calm voice cutting through the tension. “Keith’s right. Pushing Lance won’t help us.”

Kolivan huffed, but he relented, stepping back with a muttered, “We’re nearing Earth within the hour. We’ll need a plan in place before then. Time isn’t something we have.”

As the room’s attention shifted back to the strategy at hand, Keith turned to Lance, his expression softening. Lance met his gaze hesitantly, and Keith felt his chest tighten at the storm of worry and guilt swirling in those familiar blue eyes.

Kolivan’s voice interrupted Keith’s thoughts and gaze at Lance, bringing him back as his voice was more quiter, only for their group at the font of the room to hear. “This isn’t a matter of patience, Keith. If Lance can’t perform, we—”

“He

can

,” Keith snapped, the bite in his voice silencing Kolivan. Kolivan’s jaw tightened, but he stayed silent, his eyes narrowing as Krolia gave him another pointed look.

The air in the strategy room was thick enough to cut with a blade. Keith stood near the edge of the room, arms crossed tightly over his chest, a storm brewing behind his eyes. The faint hum of the approaching Earth filled the silence as everyone mulled over Kolivan’s earlier demands.

Krolia stood a few paces away, her calm gaze flicking between Kolivan and Keith, her perceptive eyes lingering a little too long on her son. Keith could feel it, that maternal laser focus boring into him like she could read every thought running through his mind. Although she was a watchful mother, that didn’t negate the fact she was a brilliantly trained leader when it came to war, and knew when to interject and when to let a subject die. She was choosing the latter.

It didn’t help that Shiro was standing next to him, a quiet presence but one that radiated understanding. When Shiro’s hand came to rest firmly on Keith’s shoulder, Keith resisted the urge to shrug it off, more out of frustration with himself than anything else. He wasn’t in the mood for anchoring.

And then, as if the tension wasn’t already unbearable, the ship’s intercom crackled to life. The screens in front of them blinked on with the familiar logo that made Keith’s stomach twist at the sight of it, the room casting an orage glow from the screen. A gruff voice demanded, “Unidentified vessel, this is the Galaxy Garrison. State your identity and purpose for entering Earth’s atmosphere.”

“Blade of Marmora, demanding permission of landing.” Kolivan commed over, leaning forward to speak back. A cackle came from the other side before a deeper voice boomed over.

“Earth has no emergency calls or demands for Blade assistance, nor was there prior engagements to discuss having Blade details deployed here. I suggest saving your time–”

“This is Katie Holt of Team Voltron, and your brightest brain at the Garrison,” she said with practiced ease, though her tone had just the right amount of irritation. “Don’t act so surprised—it’s me, Iverson.”

Keith had barley registered the quick blur that seemingly materialized in front of him. Pidge, ever the quick minded, leaned heavily at the control counsel, smashing a finger down on the comm button. Kolivan even flinched, stepping back in surprise at the five foot girl suddenly in his spot.

On the other end, there was a long pause. Then, Iverson’s familiar but skeptical voice replied, “Holt? What the hell are you doing on

that

ship?”

Pidge smirked, clearly enjoying his confusion, but before she could launch into some snarky reply, Shiro stepped forward, anticipating her tongue. He placed a heavy hand on her shoulder as he softly nudged her away, slotting himself in her space. Pidge surprisingly gave no fight, just letting out a disappointed hum.

His commanding presence immediately shifted the tone of the room. “Commander Iverson,” Shiro said, his voice steady and authoritative. “This is Takashi Shirogane with the Blade of Marmora. We’re requesting immediate permission to land.”

“Shirogane?” Iverson’s tone was sharp but noticeably less dismissive. There was a beat of hesitation before he asked, “What’s the situation? Why are you requesting clearance?”

Kolivan, standing with his arms crossed, let out a low grunt of disapproval, seemingly snapping out of his shock at being undermined. “Mute the channel,” he instructed firmly.

Shiro shot him a sharp look but complied, silencing the audio. “We’re here to retrieve the Lion and establish a base of operations,” Kolivan stated, his tone brooking no argument. “Details of our mission are classified. The less the Garrison knows, the safer we all are.”

“Are you kidding me?” Pidge exclaimed, throwing up her hands. “We

need

the Garrison! They’ve got resources, tech, and intel on Earth we don’t have. They might even be able to track down the Lion before we can!”

“They’re also a risk,” Kolivan countered. “We can’t trust their bureaucracy to keep this confidential. If Vrelen catches wind of our plans—”

“He won’t,” Pidge cut in, her voice growing sharper. “We’ve worked with them before. Iverson isn’t going to leak anything, we can make sure of that. Right, Shiro?”

Shiro nodded, his voice calm but firm. “The Garrison has been an ally to Voltron in the past. I trust them to act in Earth’s best interest.”

Kolivan’s lips pressed into a thin line, his disapproval clear. “You’re thinking with your human sentimentality. This mission is too critical to let emotions compromise it.”

The strategy room had descended into a tense silence, the hum of the nearing Earth offering little comfort to those inside, along with the silent crackle of the comm to the Garrison waiting to be unmuted. Keith stood beside Kolivan, his arms crossed and his expression as hard as stone, feeling his jaw clicking in tension and annoyance at this standstill. Pidge was at the communications console, her fingers hovering over the keys, clearly waiting for someone to make a decision. Shiro stood between them, the steady presence he always was, though even he seemed to be bracing for impact.

“This is about strategy. Earth was a mess after the Galra invasion. The Garrison’s one of the only stable forces left. We need them.” Pidge darkened her voice, her eyes not wavering from Koliva who stood miles above her own height.

“They’re a liability,” Kolivan shot back. “This isn’t about earning anyone’s trust. This is about survival.”

“Survival means having allies,” Shiro argued, his voice steady yet tinging with a tone of annoyance. “We’re not going to win this fight alone.”

The tension in the room was about to hit a breaking point when Krolia finally stepped forward, her voice cutting through the heated argument like a blade. “Enough,” she said, her tone even but commanding. “Kolivan, Shiro and Pidge—you all have valid points. But this argument isn’t getting us any closer to a solution.”

Keith huffed, crossing his arms again, his jaw tight. His eyes darted to Lance, who had been conspicuously quiet the entire time. Lance was sitting at the edge of the room next to Hunk, who looked equally as stressed out watching the entire argument occur, eyes flicking from face to face. Lance’s legs bounced nervously as he avoided everyone’s gaze. The weight of the argument—and Kolivan’s earlier demands—hung visibly on his shoulders.

“The Garrison cannot be trusted,” Kolivan stated firmly as if it was a final fact, his deep voice resonating through the room. “Their history with the lions proves that much. They kept the knowledge of the Blue Lion hidden, even from those who could have wielded them properly. Their agenda has and always will be their own, despite how they fought to defend Earth. They got involved when it was on them to defend.”

Keith nodded sharply in agreement. “He’s right,” he said, his voice low and brooding. “The Garrison has been shady in the past. They knew about the lions when we first discovered them, and their first instinct was to bury the information. Who’s to say they won’t do it again?”

Pidge’s head shot up, her green eyes narrowing at Keith. “Are you serious?” she snapped. “That was years ago! The Garrison’s changed since then—so have we. They’ve been working with us, not against us.”

Keith’s jaw tightened. “It doesn’t erase what they’ve done before. If they kept something as vital as the the Kerberos mission a secret from the public, and told lies on its behalf, or spread lies to the public about the reasons why they did jet tests in the desert, they can do it again. I don’t trust them with this level of information and power.”

“You’re talking about the same Garrison that helped us fight Honerva,” Shiro interjected, his tone calm but firm. “They’ve proven themselves as allies, Keith. We can’t just write them off because of old grudges.”

Keith’s frustration flared, his voice rising. “It’s not a grudge. It’s a fact. They prioritize control above all else. If we give them too much information, they’ll try to take over or use it for their own gain, and we can’t afford that.”

Pidge, her patience clearly wearing thin, leaned forward on the console, glaring at Keith. “You’re being paranoid. The Garrison’s not the same bureaucratic mess it was before. My family has a huge influence there now, and they’ve done nothing but push for cooperation and peaceful negotiations throughout galaxies that came to help us and the future of scientific discoveries. If you’d just—”

“They’re still a risk!” Keith snapped, cutting her off. His eyes were fiery, a storm of unresolved emotions brewing beneath the surface. “You might trust them, but I don’t. And I’m not putting the Red Lion, this Lion—or Lance—at risk just because you want to believe they’ve changed.”

The mention of Lance seemed to draw the room’s attention. Pidge’s expression shifted, and she turned toward the silent figure sitting at the edge of the room, bouncing aggressively and strumming nonstop.

“Lance,” she said, her voice sharp but questioning, “what do you think? You’re the one with the connection to the lion. Should we trust the Garrison?”

Keith stiffened. His gaze flicked to Lance, who looked uncharacteristically unsure, his hands fidgeting in his lap. When Lance finally met Keith’s eyes, Keith felt a pang of something he couldn’t name—fear, maybe, or restrained, or just the raw weight of the situation. Lance hesitated, then shifted his gaze to Kolivan, whose expression was as stern as ever.

“We should trust them,” Lance said softly but with a surprising steadiness in his tone. “The Garrison has more resources than we do. If anyone has information on where to find the lion, it’s them.”

Keith sucked in a sharp breath, his chest tightening. “Lance—”

“No,” Lance cut him off, his voice firmer now, but a soft blush stayed on his cheeks. “I get why you’re worried, Keith, but we’re going in blind. We can’t keep shutting out allies just because of what they’ve done in the past. We need them.”

Keith felt like the air got punched right out of him, Lance’s apparent disagreement leaving him cold.

Shiro glanced back at Keith, then at Kolivan, before letting out a sigh. “We’ll need to find a compromise. Kolivan, if the Garrison’s involvement is a risk, then let’s manage the risk. We give them enough information to cooperate but not enough to jeopardize the mission.”

Kolivan’s eyes narrowed, clearly reluctant, but Krolia added, “It’s a practical solution. The Garrison can provide support while we maintain operational control.”

Kolivan’s expression darkened, his displeasure clear.

“This is reckless,” he said coldly. “The Garrison’s interests are not ours. You’re putting too much faith in their goodwill.”

Shiro stepped forward then, his voice calm but authoritative. “Kolivan, if we want to retrieve the Lion—and keep Earth safe from anything Vrelen may do—we need their cooperation. We’ve worked with them before. They’ve earned our trust.”

Kolivan’s glare didn’t soften, but he let out a low growl of frustration. “If this jeopardizes the mission—”

“It won’t,” Shiro interrupted, his tone leaving no room for argument. “We’ll manage the risks.”

Kolivan’s eyes flicked back to Lance, then to Keith, before he finally gave a terse nod. “Fine,” he said, his voice clipped. “But you’re responsible for handling them. And the Blade will not tolerate interference,” he said, looking directly at Shiro.

Shiro gave a curt nod before he unmuted the comms and stepped back to the console, resuming his calm and authoritative tone. “Commander Iverson, we have sensitive intel that requires immediate retrieval from Earth. I’ll explain more upon landing. Do we have clearance?”

There was a pause, and then Iverson’s voice came through, wary but compliant. “You’ve got clearance, Shiro. But this better be worth it.”

Shiro glanced back at Kolivan, who gave a terse nod, before the channel cut off.

As the tension in the room began to ease with the sinking of their decision, Keith let out a slow, frustrated exhale, his gaze locking with Lance’s again. There was no anger in Lance’s eyes—just a quiet determination that made Keith’s chest ache. The argument was over, but the feeling of betrayal lingered, a sharp edge beneath the surface.

“Make preparation for landing on Earth. I want everyone suited up and prepared to face Garrison soldiers and officials. No one speaks to anyone about the mission. If they want information, find me.” Kolivan commanded the room.

Operatives immediately rushed off, including Keith’s team. Kolivan turned a heavy stare at Shiro and Pidge, who stiffened at his turn on them. He didn’t speak, but he gave them both a one over look before heading off to join his fellow Blades. Pidge gave Shiro a small grin from their fight together before sprinting off to find Hunk and Lance. The three of them gave nervous looks around the room as they were quickly being directed out by Axca, who was commanding quickly that they needed proper uniforms. Keith tried to ignore the burn of Lance’s lingering eyecontact before he heard all of them get escorted from the room, the Blades fast to hop into action. He kept his eyes trained at the floor, his fingers digging into his arms as he felt his jaw click in annoyance. Of the pain of Lance leaving, and a little of Lance disagreeing with him.

“Keith, it’s going to work out.” Shiro was quick to now turn to Keith, sensing the storm brewing for dominion over Keith’s body. Keith went rigid, his body tensing at the idea of the Garrison. Of the fact they had to step foot back there again.

“If Iverson so much as looks at me wrong, the Garrison is gonna have more problems than Vrelen.” He muttered. Shiro breathed out a short snort, but nudged his shoulder to get Keith’s attention.

“You’re a stubborn fighter, Keith. You always were. Which is why I know that you’re not going to let anything go wrong with this mission from here on out. Iverson would be crazy to go against the Blades, along with the rest of us. They respect Voltron and our legacy, as well as our command. You need to trust them on this.” Shiro softened his voice, gentle to coax Keith out of his storm. Keith chanced a quick glance up at him through his bangs. It was hard to argue with Shiro when he looked so understanding.

“I trust

you

, just to make that clear.” Keith muttered.

“That works enough for me. Remember, Patience Yeilds Focus.” Shiro smiled, reaching out to ruffle his hair. Keith made a growl from his throat as Shiro turned to follow the rest of the team, giving Keith one last gentle look that made Keith feel bad for a second at his attitude towards the situation.

Only for a second.

Keith leaned back against the wall, running a hand through his hair in frustration until he realized it was just him and his mom left in the room. She had stayed silent, checking the coords at the control panel and clicking through different means of direction, surveying the galaxy for signs of disruptings.

The room felt heavy now with the lack of arguing in it, feeling the weight of the mission and the tension that could have been sliced with a butterknife. The room was heavy with the kind of silence that only follows an argument—thick, charged, and suffocating. Keith clicked his jaw more, his movements sharp and restless as the echoes of raised voices still clung to the air, leaving him in his simmering anger. His hands flexed at his sides, like he wanted to grab something, shake it, or throw it, but all he did was let out a harsh, annoyed huff.

Krolia’s soft tapping of her fingers on her datapad broke the quiet, her demeanor calm, entirely unbothered by the storm that had just raged around them. Keith glanced to his side to look at her, breathing out heavily to calm his nerves and annoyance.

"Was I overreacting?" he asked abruptly, the words carrying the sharp edge of doubt that always came in the aftermath of his impulsive decisions. "Was I… am I wrong about this? About them?"

Krolia didn’t glance up from her datapad, her fingers still moving with an unhurried precision. "If I told you that you were overreacting, you’d just argue with me," she replied smoothly, her voice light and even.

Keith let out a short, incredulous scoff, his hands planting on his hips. "When have you

ever

cared about avoiding one of my remarks?" he shot back, though his voice lacked true venom.

At that, Krolia paused, looking up at him with a faint, wry smile tugging at her lips. "Isn’t that what mothers and their sons are supposed to worry about?" she asked softly. "Silly arguments? Bickering over useless remarks?"

Keith faltered, blinking at her, the sharp edge of his frustration dulled by the warmth in her tone. He wanted to snap back with something sarcastic, something dismissive, but the words didn’t come. Instead, a quiet, unfamiliar warmth seeped into his chest, softening the rigid lines of his shoulders.

"That’s… not really something we’ve had a lot of," he muttered, his gaze dropping to the floor. His voice was quieter now, less certain. "I mean, we’re pretty far away from anything… normal."

The truth of that statement hung heavy between them, the silence stretching. Keith’s thoughts drifted, the tension in his jaw easing but giving way to a different kind of turmoil. His mind, traitorous as always, wandered to Lance—his sharp smile, his easy banter, the way he could light up a room without even trying. The hunger and passion in their kiss, how they both realized that the feelings somehow were mutual. The ache of unresolved agreements of where to go from here swelled in Keith’s chest, mixing with the restlessness that had driven him out of the argument in the first place.

Pursuing anything with Lance—it felt like a dream that was too fragile, too distant, too tangled in everything else going on. Was it fair to even try, knowing how complicated things were? How different their lives had become? How dangerous Keith’s own life was in comparison to the soft, loving light of a world Lance had on Earth? Was Lance just caught up in it all? Keith took a sharp breath through his nose, forcing his mind to quit swarming.

Krolia watched him, her gaze softening further as the tension in him shifted, quieter but no less conflicted. "You’ve got a lot on your shoulders," she said gently, setting the datapad aside. "You always have. But it’s okay to want… something for yourself too, you know. Even if it’s not normal."

Her words caught him off guard, and his head snapped up to meet her eyes. The sincerity there was like a balm to his frayed nerves, but it also left him feeling exposed, like she could see straight through him and into the messy, unspoken feelings swirling in his chest.

Keith shifted on his feet, crossing his arms tightly. "Yeah, well… it’s not that simple," he muttered, his voice dropping low. His gaze flicked back toward the door where Lance had left, his jaw tightening. "Nothing ever is."

Krolia’s lips twitched, a knowing smile gracing her face as she leaned back slightly. "No, it’s not," she agreed quietly. "But that doesn’t mean it’s not worth it."

The two stood in each other’s silent and strong company, Krolia letting Keith brood in silence as he needed. Keith knew he had never been good at building anything but a fire. A stormy, emotional, tormenting explosion in all his relationships. Shiro and Krolia were the small few who were able to get near and not run away burning. His friends somehow stayed close as well, but Lance wanted in. Lance not only wanted to be close, but he wanted to dance and leap around it, wanted to reach out and feel the heat.

And Keith was worried he was going to burn him.

Krolia placed a gentle hand on his arm, her expression soft but unreadable. “We’re almost there,” she said quietly.

Keith snapped out of his thoughts, looking up at the map in front of them. Earth was nearing, along with the rest of the mission. Along with decisions to be made about Lance, about the Garrison, and about himself.

Keith was a stubborn fighter at the end of the day. And he was definitely going to be stubborn as hell to finish this fight once and for all.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Two months since forming Voltron:

The scene was chaos. Pure, unfiltered chaos.

Allura stomped down the castle halls, dragging Lance by the scruff of his jacket with one hand and Hunk’s sleeve with the other. Both were flushed and giggling like school kids who’d just pulled off the greatest prank of their lives. Their legs barely moved, shuffling along as if they couldn’t remember how to walk properly. Coran followed fast and close behind, making sure the two didn’t leave Allura’s grip, but to be fair, it was hard to even fight back against Altean strength. That, and the fact that Nunvill had disasterly done Hunk and Lance in for the night, a victim to its poison. She finally pulled them into the lounge of the Castle, dropping them both down onto the couches below her as they fell in stifled giggles on top of each other. Allura and Coran stood with a mark of authority over the two, arms crossed and bright eyes glaring at them.

“I can’t

believe

you two,” Allura hissed, her eyes blazing. “Do you have any idea how much you could have embarrassed Voltron in front of the council? The

council

we were trying to win over as allies? This is anything but professional!” Allura then gasped sharply, turning bulge-eyed at Coran, who was shooing Hunk and Lance from his personal space, “Do you think the council caught on?”

“We were

fine

!” Lance interrupted, his words slurring just enough to make Allura groan louder, making it clear that, no, the two were NOT fine. “Like, sooo fine. I was being charming. You saw it. I did my—my eyebrow thing.” He tried to demonstrate, wiggling his eyebrows wildly, but it looked more like he was having a facial spasm.

Hunk snorted and clapped Lance on the back, stumbling backward in his seat as he did. “Dude,

your eyebrow thing

. Classic. Worked like a charm.” He paused, looking serious for half a second before breaking into giggles again. “Except it didn’t. Not even a little bit.”

Lance made a pouty face at Hunk before turning to Allura, who looked like she was about to blow a vein in her forehead. She still looked amazingly beautiful, as always.

“I bet if I worked my eyebrow thing on you, it would work like a charm.” Lance shot finger guns at her, winking, but forgetting winking takes closing just one eye, not both.

Allura let out another frustrated sigh through her nose, her patience fraying with every passing second, ignoring Lance’s lame flirting attempt. “You two could have

ruined

everything! You

reek

of that alien alcohol—what was it even called? Firebreath nectar?”

“Yeah,” Lance said dreamily, as if the name itself made him nostalgic. “Tasted like burning clouds. Super smooth.”

“Oh, totally,” Hunk agreed, swaying dangerously to one side. “I think I saw colors that don’t even exist. We should, like... ask Coran if that’s normal, since he knows everything about EVERYTHING. Coran?”

As if on cue, Coran popped his head up, his mustache twitching as he surveyed the situation. “Oh, for Quiznak’s sake. I didn’t think that you humans could have such a low tolerance to the nectar. You’ve tried out nunvill before and you weren’t nearly as this out of it!”

“It’s not that bad,” Lance protested, leaning heavily on the back headrest of the couches and reaching over to stroke at Coran’s boots with an overly familiar grin. “You know, you’ve got a great mustache. Like, really great.

Regal.

It’s doing a lot for your face.”

“Yeah, Coran,” Hunk chimed in, pointing with the enthusiasm of a drunk philosopher discovering the secrets of the universe. “I think your mustache deserves its own

title

. Like, High Mustache Commander of the Galaxy.”

Coran blinked, looking somewhere between flattered and deeply concerned. “Right. That’s enough of that, lads.” He tried to untangle himself from Lance, who was now attempting to mimic the shape of Coran’s mustache with his fingers. “Hands off, Lance! This isn’t some sort of grooming salon.”

“Oh my quiznak, Coran,” Lance sighed dramatically, his words slurring even more as he slumped forward, propping his arms up and laying his head down in them. “Let me live my dream, man. I just wanna... make art.”

“This is a nightmare,” Allura muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose as Coran continued trying to fend off his tipsy attackers. “The dinner is still happening in the Castle hall. Maybe if I go back right now and address the council that two of our members got sick, and to excuse them as we continue on the meeting as planned, then everything will be alright? I mean, Shiro and the others are still out there, and I’m sure that it can not be as bad as it has become in here. Coran, do

something

with them before I—”

The sound of the door sliding open interrupted her tirade. She turned sharply, her scolding frozen mid-sentence as Shiro stepped inside. He looked... composed, as always, but there was a distinct tension in his jaw and an edge to his stride that immediately caught her attention. Allura’s brow furrowed as her gaze dropped to who he was dragging behind him: Keith and Pidge, both of whom were flushed red, their heads ducked like guilty children caught stealing cookies, being dragged by their arms, powerless to Shiro’s strength and size.

“Shiro?” Allura said in bewilderment. “What are you doing here? You should be out there ensuring—” Her eyes widened in sudden realization, darting between Keith and Pidge. “

Not them too!

”

From the couch, Lance and Hunk erupted into muffled cheers, clumsily lifting their arms in a half-hearted show of solidarity. “Yeah! Keith and Pidge! Voltron Represent!” Lance managed, voice trailing into laughter.

Shiro let out a long-suffering sigh, his hand briefly covering his face before he turned back to Allura. “I wish I were joking,” he said flatly. “But no. Them too.” He released Keith and Pidge with a slight shove forward. “Go ahead. Explain yourselves to the princess of the state I caught you in.”

Keith and Pidge both avoided Allura’s seething glare, their gazes fixed firmly on the floor. The silence was deafening until Shiro crossed his arms, his tone sharp. “Now.”

Pidge was the first to crack, muttering under her breath. “It wasn’t

that

bad.”

Shiro’s brow arched, his expression saying otherwise. “Really? Nearly choking to death on laughter while the president of the council was speaking isn’t ‘that bad’? I thought I was going to have to pull the Heimlich maneuver on you.”

Allura’s jaw dropped, her hand flying to her chest as she gasped. “You

what?!

”

“It wasn’t on purpose!” Keith finally spoke, though his voice was cracking from holding back a laugh. “It’s just—”

Pidge cut in, her voice growing louder, “The president sounded like he was halfway between a slurp and a kazoo with the way he was pronouncing his name! I mean, come on!”

Keith, who had clearly been trying to stay composed, failed miserably. His shoulders began to shake, and before long, he was snorting with laughter. Pidge, emboldened by his reaction, joined in, her giggles bubbling up uncontrollably.

Shiro’s face was the epitome of exhausted patience as he raised a hand and smacked both of them lightly on the backs of their heads. “Enough.”

Both of them yelped in unison, their laughter immediately cut off, though they didn’t even try to wipe the grins off their faces. Their flushed cheeks and guilty expressions said it all: they were caught, and they knew it, but had no moral guilt whatsoever.

Allura stared at them in disbelief, her lips pressing into a thin line. Her voice dropped to a dangerously low whisper. “Do you realize how disrespectful—how

catastrophic

—this could have been for our alliance?”

Pidge bit her lip, clearly struggling to suppress another laugh. Keith just shrugged, mumbling, “It’s on them for having not safe for human drinks at the table as gifts for us. They should have expected this.”

From the couch, Lance’s voice chimed in lazily. “See, Allura? We’re not so bad after all.”

“Yeah, at least

we

didn’t laugh at a president,” Hunk added, grinning like he’d just won an argument.

Allura’s hands flew to her head, a muffled scream escaping her as she turned away from the entire group. “I am

surrounded

by children!”

“Hey, not all of us can be a million years old.” Pidge muttered, to which Shiro slapped her lightly on the back of the head again, earning a small huff from her. Allura’s eye twitched, and when she looked like she was about to strangle the Paladins directly in front of her, Coran bounced in, cutting off her momentarily blindness of anger.

“I say we lock them all up here and ban them from further interference. We can tell the council that they got a nasty bug and are dealing with…unfortunate bowel activities due to not being used to such exquisite and marvelous dining.” Coran suggested.

“So you’re gonna tell the aliens that we are suffering from diarrhea?” Lance deadpanned, to which Hunk, Pidge, and Keith all lost it into an array of giggles and snorts.

Allura’s sharp gaze swept over the room like a storm cloud about to unleash. “You are all

banned

from leaving this room,” she announced, her voice carrying the weight of an Altean queen ready to enforce her decree. “If I catch

any

of you so much as stepping near the council dinner, I will unleash the wrath of Barythian Krang-beasts upon you.”

The room went silent, except for the sound of Hunk whispering to Lance, “What the hell is a Krang-beast?”

“No idea, but I don’t wanna find out,” Lance muttered back, eyes wide.

Satisfied with the fear she’d struck into their hearts, Allura spun on her heel and gestured for Coran and Shiro to follow. Coran and Shiro both gave the room one final glare, Shiro being the least stoic as a small smile broke at the sight of them all drunk off their asses, failing to find the momentary seriousness of the situation before following along as well. It was as if, for a split moment, Shiro was seeing the group for what they genuinely were: cheeky teenagers who got into a little too much alcohol unwatched and had a little too much fun with it. No matter the current circumstances of their heavy fate and jobs, that wasn’t going to erase their unmistakable urge to act their age. And they unfortunately had.

As the door slid shut behind them, the atmosphere shifted. It was as if the tension snapped all at once, leaving behind a sense of resigned chaos.

Pidge flopped dramatically onto the couch, landing half on top of Hunk and Lance. Her feet found Lance’s side, and she gave him a few sharp kicks. “Well, this sucks.”

“Ow!” Lance yelped, laughing despite himself as he shoved her foot off. “You’re gonna bruise me!”

“Good,” Pidge retorted, smirking. “You deserve it for making me laugh in there.”

“I wasn’t the one making kazoo jokes,” Lance shot back, poking her ribs.

Keith plopped down heavily on the floor, leaning his back against the couch with a groan. His head tilted back onto the seat right next to Lance’s legs as he tried to piece together his thoughts, but his mind felt like it was swimming through quicksand. “What

was

in those drinks?” he muttered, rubbing his temples.

Hunk groaned, sinking deeper into the couch. “I don’t know, but I would

murder

for some good pizza right now.”

“Or Taco Bell,” Pidge added, perking up. “Can you imagine a Crunchwrap Supreme right now?”

Lance gagged audibly. “Taco Bell? Are you serious? That’s disgusting.”

“Oh, like Top Ramen is any better,” Pidge shot back, rolling her eyes.

“Excuse me,” Lance said, placing a hand over his heart. “Ramen is a culinary masterpiece to broke school kids who have nothing but a microwave in their dorm room. It got me through the worst of it during the Garrison, and I have Hunk to attest! Taco Bell is just—sad, lame attempts at Mexican food.”

Keith, who had been zoning out, eyes closed, finally muttered, “What’s sad is that all the good food is

out there

while we’re stuck in here.”

Lance snorted, his gaze flicking to Keith. “Big observation, genius. How did you ever come up with such an epiphany!”

Keith frowned, tearing his eyes open and glaring at Lance through his bangs, head still resting on the seat behind him. Lance giggled at the sight of him looking like a deranged cat. Keith was a lot less intimidating and annoying under the effects of this nectar.

“Well, what do you suggest?” Keith bit back.

“Definitely nothing with sitting here imagining things being smart alecs! Which by the way, amazing comebacks back there. Really stuck it to the system with your

not safe for human

drinks. Double observant, mullet.” he reached down and tugged at the ends of Keith’s hair, which had tufted and fluttered out on the seat next to him.

Keith’s ears turned red, but he quickly looked away, mumbling something incoherent. Lance just grinned, assuming it was the drink making him flustered.

Hunk suddenly sat up, his face alight with an idea. “Wait! We don’t have to sit here and suffer. If we can’t go out there for food, why don’t we just fix our problem and make our own?”

There was a moment of silence as the suggestion sank in.

Pidge blinked. “You mean… like… cook?”

“Exactly!” Hunk said, his energy contagious. “We’ve got a kitchen in the other room down the hall. It’s away from the main dining hall that Allura and all of them are in. Let’s make something amazing.”

The Paladins were silent for a moment, mulling this over. Until Lance’s stomach let out a needy growl, causing him to dramatically cover his stomach with his arms.

“I’m all for it, but isn’t all the food, like, goo?” Pidge poked her head up from Hunk’s lap, giving Lance’s side another lazy kick.

“Yah, but we’ve been collecting ingredients from trading posts and other alien castles with each stop we’ve made to form alliances. We have enough in that kitchen to scrounge something together! I’m sure I can come up with something!” Hunk beamed.

“Hunk could tell me to jump off a cliff, and I’d ask which one.” Lance shrugged, throwing Hunk an encouraging smile. Pidge kicked Lance again in his side for that sappy comment.

Despite their giggles and the occasional stumble, the group rallied around Hunk’s enthusiasm. Keith dragged himself off the floor with a groan, mumbling, “If we burn this place down, it’s on you.”

Lance snickered, poking Keith in the side, which he was quick but sloppy to react to, as they followed Hunk toward the small kitchenette on the ship. “Relax, mullet. Hunk’s got this. He’s basically a food wizard.”

“

Chef,

” Hunk corrected with mock indignation. “Future culinary master and current food

chef

to my good teammates

.

”

Keith rolled his eyes but couldn’t suppress the faint smile creeping onto his face as they all piled into the kitchen.

Hunk was right when he mentioned having a stocked and questionable kitchen. The kitchen was a chaotic haven of alien oddities. Shelves were crammed with jars of unidentifiable substances in every color imaginable, strange glowing fruits, and spices that looked like glitter but smelled like fire. Hunk was in his element, digging through cabinets with determination, occasionally muttering to himself about the lack of "proper Earth staples" and how there should be a better filing system like a cookbook or a spice rack with labels.

Pidge perched on the counter like a gremlin, legs swinging as she watched the scene with amused detachment. Keith and Lance, meanwhile, had flopped into chairs on the other side of the counter, their postures mirroring the exhaustion of the day but their expressions alive with the amusement of their mess.

Lance groaned, head tilted back dramatically as he flopped his arms across the counter. “Hunk, I swear, I could eat the first thing you throw at me. Just… anything.”

Keith arched an eyebrow, his mouth twitching in that signature smirk that screamed trouble. “I doubt that. You’d probably faint just looking at half the stuff in here.”

Lance snapped his head up, his face a picture of exaggerated betrayal. “Excuse me? You think I can’t handle a little exotic cuisine?”

“I think,” Keith drawled, gesturing toward a jar of what looked like writhing worms in red brine, “you’d scream the second anyone opened that, being the diva you are.”

Pidge burst out laughing, her voice cutting through the low hum of the kitchen’s atmosphere. “Keith’s got a point. You’re all talk, Lance. We’ve seen you gag over Coran’s stew.”

“That was

different!

” Lance stammered, his face heating up. “I’m not picky. Anything flies with me!”

“Anything, huh?” Keith’s voice was low, teasing.

“Honest to my core, I am down to try ANYTHING at least once,” Lance announced, putting all the confidence in his voice and puffing out his chest.

He waited to get a snort or an eye roll from Keith, but as Lance turned toward him, he saw just in time Keith choking his own throat, forcing out a choked back laugh through several attempts at clearing his throat, his eyes wide. Keith’s ears turned red, and he quickly cleared his throat, looking anywhere but at Lance.

Lance narrowed his eyes, unsure whether to feel flustered or suspicious, but decided to plow forward, puffing up his chest. “Yes,

anything.

I’m more adventurous than anyone in this kitchen.”

“Oh, really?” Pidge’s voice was sharp with mischief, her eyes gleaming as she leaned forward. “Prove it.”

Lance froze, gawking at her. “What?”

“You said you’d try anything. Now’s your chance.” She grinned like a cat cornering a mouse, pointing toward Hunk, who had just emerged from the pantry with a jar of something translucent and gelatinous. “Hunk’s got plenty of… options.”

Lance turned toward Hunk, who was holding a jar with a look of innocent delight. “Hunk,” Lance said slowly, eyeing his best friend, “you’re not gonna betray me like this, right?”

“Oh, buddy,” Hunk said with a grin, “I wouldn’t call it betrayal. I’d call it an opportunity. A

culinary adventure.

For science!” With a dramatic flourish, he unscrewed the lid and fished out a wobbling, iridescent blob with a spoon. It jiggled like it was alive, and its faint shimmer suggested it might be radioactive—or worse.

Keith, now recovered and fully back to his usual self, smirked from across the counter. “Well, go on, Mr. Adventurous. Show us how it’s done.”

Lance glared at him before taking a deep breath, squaring his shoulders. “Fine. Hand it over.” He reached for the spoon, his bravado faltering for just a second as the blob wobbled precariously.

“You’re actually gonna do it?” Pidge asked, leaning forward in disbelief.

“Watch and learn,” Lance said, lifting the spoon like a knight raising his sword.

He hesitated just long enough for Keith to snicker again, which, if Lance was being completely honest, was a great sound he wasn’t used to hearing, and that was all it took to push him over the edge. Without thinking, he tossed the blob into his mouth, determined to prove everyone wrong.

The texture hit first—rubbery and slimy at the same time. Then the flavor exploded: sour, spicy, and bitter in equal measure like a war was being waged on his tongue. Mabe what something fermented would taste like, yet cold and feeling like his niece’s slimes she played with. His eyes watered instantly, and he fought the urge to spit it out as his friends erupted into laughter.

“Well?” Keith asked, his tone smug. “How’s it taste?”

Lance swallowed with difficulty, slamming his hand on the counter as he wheezed, his face a mix of triumph and regret. “Delicious,” he croaked, glaring at Keith. “I’d eat another one.”

Pidge cackled, falling off the counter in her fit of laughter, while Hunk looked both impressed and horrified. Keith, for his part, leaned back in his chair with a satisfied smirk. “Sure you would.”

“Don’t test me,” Lance shot back, his pride barely holding him together as his stomach churned. He held back a gag coming from the back of his throat, and that was enough for the group to not push any further, too scared Lance was about to throw up more than the goo at the rest of them.

Hunk worked diligently in the kitchen, his brow furrowed as he expertly mixed and rolled items his friends could not see from behind his broad back and shoulders. Steam wafted from a nearby pot, and the scent filling the room was unexpectedly enticing. Keith sat stiffly in his chair, arms crossed on the counter with one hand propping his chin up, pouting at the steam in expectation. Lance, ever the drama queen, leaned over the counter, watching Hunk with exaggerated hunger in his eyes, as Pidge had flopped onto her back on top of the counter, going against all respectfullness of Earth manners. Good thing they were far from Earth.

Finally, Hunk plated the dish—small, pillowy dumpling-like shapes coated in a creamy sauce that looked eerily like an alfredo sauce. Lance and Pidge dove in without hesitation, scooping up mouthfuls and groaning in satisfaction.

“Hunk, dude,

what is this?

” Lance asked, shoveling another bite into his mouth. “This is amazing.”

“Yeah,” Pidge added between bites. “It’s like… gnocchi or something. What did you even use?”

Hunk, who had been cleaning up his station with suspiciously shy movements, glanced over his shoulder. “Oh, it’s nothing fancy,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Just, uh, stuff we’ve picked up over time. Space ingredients, you know.”

Lance swallowed and pointed his fork at Hunk. “Okay, well, whatever you did, don’t hold out on us. This could get, like, five stars in a Michelin restaurant. For real.”

Pidge nodded fervently, her mouth too full to respond verbally.

Hunk hesitated, then sighed and pointed to a bag on the counter. It was filled with something that looked unsettlingly like dead beetles, their iridescent shells catching the light. The room froze.

“...No,” Lance whispered, his face draining of color. “You didn’t.”

Pidge, mid-bite, glanced at the bag, then at her fork. Her eyes widened in horror before she bolted for the sink, spitting out whatever was left in her mouth. “HUNK!” she screeched. “WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?”

Lance was right behind her, gagging dramatically as he clutched the edge of the sink. “I TRUSTED YOU!”

Keith, who had been quietly enjoying the meal despite himself, froze. His fork hovered mid-air as he slowly pushed the plate away, his face blank but his eyes screaming betrayal. “...What did I just eat?”

Hunk, now visibly nervous, held up his hands defensively. “It’s protein! And it’s nutritious! I swear it’s safe—”

“DEAD. MURDERED AT THE RIPE AGE OF 17! Is this what the universe finds out about how most of Voltron was wiped out by BEETLE GNOCCHI?!” Lance yelled, still gagging, while Pidge made retching noises for added effect.

Lance, unable to handle the betrayal, began rummaging through the kitchen for something to cleanse his palate. He flung open the freezer compartment and pulled out a strange crystalline structure that looked vaguely like a popsicle. “What’s this?”

Hunk peered over, still sheepish. “Oh, uh, we got those from that ice planet. I don’t really know what they are, but they seemed edible.”

“Good enough!” Lance declared, pulling out a pair of red and blue icicles that were stubbornly stuck together. He tried yanking them apart, only to hiss when the icy surface bit into his fingers. “Ugh, this is so annoying—kind of like Keith.”

Keith, still frozen in silent horror over the beetle revelation, snapped out of it, throwing an incredulous glare at Lance. “Excuse me?”

Lance smirked, holding the icicles aloft. “Yeah, small, red, and cold. Really tracks, doesn’t it?”

Keith rolled his eyes, puffing out a snort through his pout. “You’re hilarious. Real comedian.” His voice was laced with unmistakable sarcasm.

Pidge, finally recovered from her gagging fit, piped up from her perch on the counter. “And yet, somehow, the red one’s stuck on the blue. Funny how that works.”

Her grin was as sharp as a blade, and Keith flushed instantly, his eyes darting between Lance and a proud Pidge, who was staring now nonchalantly at her fingernails.

Without thinking, Keith grabbed his empty bowl and hurled it at Pidge. She ducked just in time, laughing so hard she nearly fell off the counter. But it splattered right next to Lance just as he was closing the freezer drawer. He flipped his face towards Keith in shock, his mouth dropping open.

“Keith!” Lance exclaimed, pointing accusingly at the mess like he was a courtroom prosecutor. “What is

wrong

with you? You’ve got serious anger issues, man.”

Keith crossed his arms and scowled, his face flushing a slight red. “Oh, please. Like you’re one to talk.”

“Excuse me, I’m very emotionally stable—”

Pidge snorted so loudly she nearly fell off the counter again. “Yeah, stable like a teetering tower of Jenga.”

Hunk chimed in nervously, “Guys, maybe we should—”

“No, no, no, I’m handling this!” Lance interrupted, jabbing a finger in Keith’s direction. “You don’t just throw things when you’re mad. It’s juvenile.

Immature.

”

Keith raised a brow, his smirk widening. “And you’re the epitome of maturity?”

“Exactly,” Lance declared, puffing out his chest.

“Oh, for—” Keith rolled his eyes. “If I’ve got anger issues, you’ve got a

complex.

”

“Oh yeah?” Lance shot back, leaning closer. “Well, at least I don’t brood in the corner like a—”

Before he could finish, the unmistakable hiss of the door sliding open sent everyone into a panicked frenzy. In a millisecond, the Paladins reacted as fast as they could. Hunk and Lance dropped to the ground as Keith and Pidge dove to cover and join them behind the counter.

Lance’s elbow jabbed Keith in the side, earning a sharp hiss of pain and an annoyed glare.

“Sorry!” Lance whispered, though his apology was short-lived as Keith retaliated with an elbow of his own, digging into Lance’s ribs.

“Dude!” Lance stifled a laugh, clutching his side.

“Will you two

shut up

?” Pidge hissed, glaring at them. Hunk crouched nearby, looking far too big for their hiding spot and visibly torn between laughter and guilt.

From above, Coran’s voice rang out, filled with dramatic dismay. “Oh, my stars! Who has defiled the kitchen wall with… is that

Taberry sauce

? I can smell it! I

know

you’re all in here!”

Everyone froze, suppressing giggles. Lance squirmed slightly, trying to reposition himself, but in doing so, his arm brushed against Keith’s. A shock went down his spine at the new contact and being this close to Keith without one of them lashing out and pinning each other down. He whispered, “Sorry,” again, but Keith shot him a sideways glance before smirking mischievously and elbowing him back—harder this time.

Lance bit his lip to hold back a laugh, his face scrunched in barely contained mirth. Keith’s expression was a mirror of restrained amusement, his eyes glinting as if daring Lance to keep going. Pidge glared at both of them, loudly shushing their whispered antics.

From above, Coran sighed dramatically. “You’re only prolonging the inevitable. Come out

now,

or I’ll fetch Allura—and trust me, you do

not

want that.”

Hunk was the first to crack. “Alright, alright! We’re coming out,” he groaned, standing up and raising his hands in surrender.

“Oh, come

on

, Hunk!” Lance groaned, watching their one shield against discovery vanish.

“Don’t leave us like this, man!” Pidge added, exasperated, as Hunk stepped away from their hiding spot.

Coran stood with his arms crossed, waiting expectantly. “The rest of you, too.”

Keith and Lance exchanged a glance, both still crouched, eyes blown wide but stifling back smiles. Lance noticed how close they were—closer than usual. His gaze lingered for a second too long, catching the faint, crooked smirk on Keith’s lips. His heavy brows lifted slightly in amusement, and his purple eyes glimmered under those outrageous bangs with an unspoken joke. Usually, when Keith showed this much pleasure in something, Lance glared back or muttered threats towards him, always feeling left out of whatever was funny in the twisted mind of his sworn enemy, ashamed to desperately want to be in on the joke.

But now, with the two of them both crouched in a demeaning position, hearing their older chaperone reprimanding them out of hiding, Lance forgot for a moment that they were millions of miles somewhere in the galaxy, training to be warriors and symbols of peace and defenders of the galaxy.

For a moment, Lance forgot that Keith wasn’t a super annoying guy who made Lance’s skin crawl and always somehow outsmarted and outperformed him in every argument and fight.

For a moment, Lance forgot that they weren’t on Earth and he wasn’t sharing a teasing look with a guy he was going to high school with like other kids their age.

For a moment, Keith looked like someone Lance actually wanted to close the distance with and see smile like this more.

For a moment, Lance forgot how to breathe.

Then Keith shifted, standing up with a resigned sigh, and the moment was gone. Pidge stood next, dragging Lance up by the sleeve when he didn’t immediately move. Lance stumbled to his feet, still a little dazed, his cheeks faintly pink as he avoided Keith’s gaze.

“Well?” Coran asked, tapping his foot and gesturing to the sauce-covered wall. “Care to explain

this

?”

Lance opened his mouth to speak but was too distracted by the residual warmth of Keith’s proximity ghosting his side to form a coherent excuse.

Or the nectar.

Must have been the nectar.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

“So, like, did you guys even kiss? Or was something finally said between you too?”

“Hunk…”

“Ok, ok, fine. Don’t share the spicy details from your literal best friend in the entire universe. Then did you work something out? Like are you boyfriends or is that sort of on pause until you go on a date? Have you guys even been on an official date or is this actually as new as you claim it is?”

“Ignoring this.”

“I just want to know the rough timeline of when I’m becoming an uncle.”

“Oh my god!” Pidge groaned, and at the same time, Lance let out an embarrassingly high “WHAT?” shriek.

The three of them were forcing Blade uniforms on their bodies in a separate part of the ship, after being directed here from Axca and told to suit up and be prepared. None of them were in the mindset to say anything different from what Axca was demanding of them, nodding along politely despite Lance’s desperation to get back to Keith and talk to him. His mind was a blur of

I want to pounce on that man and kiss him until he forgets his name

and

What the fuck are we doing back on Earth why am I always the only one who has a Lion connection again?!?!

Safe to say, Lance was battling the might force of 22 year old hormones and sexual drive and the looming and sufforcating fear of living up to the Blade’s expectations and stopping an evil supervillian at large.

Could life get any more complicated?

“None of that is important right now. And what ever happened to mind your own beezwax!” Lance huffed, pushing harder at his boot that was refusing to go up his ankle.

“Come on, Lance. This is like, the closest we have gotten in years to the two of you being actually something! Sue me for wanting to know about you two dorks.” Hunk sniffed, looking towards Pidge as if she would back him up. She was suspiciously quiet during this, her usual attempts at teasing now lost in thought as she ran a finger over her Blade armor she was still putting on, lost in thought.

“Ok, honestly I thought Pidge was gonna back me up here.” Hunk seemed to have clicked her silence, which made her face snap up, reddening a bit.

“Sorry, just. I guess I was thinking about returning to Earth but not exactly being done with all of this.” Pidge shrugged, motioning to their uniforms. Lance and Hunk exchanged a glance, their previous taunting and fluster dissipating.

“What do you mean? You were the one fighting for the Garrison to be involved back there.” Lance tried, watching as Pidge flinched at the comment.

“Yah, well, so were you. And besides, I didn’t think when we were coming up to answer Keith’s call that it was gonna become all this! I mean, another galactic spacewar with a crazy dictator who wants to destroy planets? I just guess I thought we left all this in the past.” Pidge’s voice dropped low, her feet clicking together in a slow rhythm as her legs dangled off the side of the bench they were sat on.

“This isn’t gonna be a three year long war, Pidge. We are so close to ending this and helping everyone out.” Lance forced a smile at her, but her eyes stayed narrowed.

“But this isn’t

our

life anymore. We aren’t…” She let an annoyed grumble escape her lips as she shook her head, rewording her tangent, “The most dangerous thing I had in my life up until this point was whether or not a wire was gonna shock me.

You

were practically almost a professor, and Hunk bakes cakes! This is a whole other level. I mean, are we forgetting Keith

almost

died? We aren’t exactly the soliders we were anymore.” Pidge sucked in a deep breath.

Lance felt himself sink deeper into the bench, his mind swirling with the hard cold facts. Yah, this had become so much bigger than any of them had anticipated. It was dangerous, and terrifying to be back in this world, and who knew when it was going to end?

“But you were fighting for the Garrison’s involvement.” Lance pointed out.

“Yah, because the Garrison is a military base filled with technology, weapons, and state of the art equipment that is more suitable with assisting anything the Blades need. I mean, there’s a whole pilot program and weaponry that is waiting to be used. I just thought that this entire part of our lives was over.” Pidge shrugged.

Lance snapped his mouth shut, taking in her size. Forgetting the fact that she was such a high ranking credential at the Garrison and practically a certified genius along with her quick wit and mouth, she was still a 19 year old girl that withstood a whole war before she even hit her 20s. She was more accomplished than thousands would ever achieve in a lifetime, and still, here they were, retired war veterans, back in the drama of it all.

Lance knew he would follow Keith to the ends of the earth, but it was such an ask to assume everyone else naturally would too just because there was some drama.

“Are we forgetting the fact Keith gave us an out?”

Lance and Pidge both snapped their heads at Hunk, who had his jaw set tight and his soft gentle brown eyes flicking between the two, narrowed.

“What?” Pidge sighed, but Hunk just shook his head at the two of them.

“When Keith first sent for us, and told us why he was keeping the fact that Red was back, you all got pissed off at him. You guys felt like you deserved to know. Like, were really shitty about his rationing of keeping it a secret.”

“Yah, but we all were.” Pidge grumbled.

“No, you were. And so was Lance despite the fact he basically swapped spit with him.”

“That has nothing to do with–” Lance stumbled.

“I’m saying, our reasons for being mad were valid. We didn’t expect to be brought back into this world, and this is why Keith wanted to keep the decision and choice away from us because he knew what the weight of being involved meant. He wanted to protect us from all this, and once again gave us an out one more time. But none of us took it. We wanted to be there because at the end of the day, our involvement is just as important as Keith. He shouldn’t have to deal with something Voltron alone because there wasn’t just one Paladin. We may be retired soldiers, and I may have gained some weight from all the testers I’ve done, but that doesn’t mean we aren’t still Paladins. I don’t think that ever really goes away.” Hunk rationalized, s small smile tugging at his lips.

Pidge and Lance sat dumbfounded, the reality of their decisions so strong and sinking in as Hunk’s words filled the air.

“Am I terrified about this? Hell yes! I haven’t been able to contact Shay and let her know how I am and I still don’t know about that shipment Romelle did on my behalf made it to the swear in of a mayor and I’m missing the seasonal run of my favorite cooking show. But I know the moment it became Voltron related that I was stuck in this to the end. As a Paladin.” Hunk glanced at Lance, making Lance’s body tingle and feel warm. He couldn’t hold back anymore.

“I’m taking away the crown from Pidge of being the smartest and brightest and giving it to you, buddy. That was beautiful.” Lance swarmed forward, throwing his arms around the big guy’s neck.

“Lanceee.” Hunk laughed, his face flushing red, although he didn’t fight back Lance’s cuddles. Lance stayed cooing and squeezing his friend until Hunk directed his attention back to Pidge, who was fighting back a smirk watching the two of them.

“I forgot you have a way with words.” Pidge sighed out, her demeanor a little less on edge.

“Pidge, I get how scary this is. If you want out when we get back to Earth, I’ll make sure no one stops you. No one should be forced in on all of this.” Lance leaned away from Hunk, letting himself be lowered onto Hunk’s lap as he gently prodded at Pidge. Pidge stirred, her mind flying with calculations and conclusions Lance could never reach in a million years if he tried.

“No, Hunk’s right. I guess I forgot that the Paladin title doesn’t just go away just because Voltron did. Guess the Lion’s aren’t just the thing that makes us Paladins.” Pidge broke into a shy smile. Lance beamed as Hunk nodded.

“I saw you on Vrelen’s ship. You still got crazy moves, girl.” Lance pointed an accusatory at finger at her, which she waved away at, embarrassed.

“So, are you ok with all this Pidge?” Hunk asked softly, his eyes steady on her. Pidge flicked her look between the two of them, before nodding slowly but determined.

“I’m a Paladin of Voltron. We sorta all are stuck with each other, no matter how much life has tried to get in the way and separate us. I’m in this to make sure you losers get through this.”

Lance held up his arms and wagged his eyebrows at her, watching with a huge grin as she realized what he was trying to do. She shook her head no, but felt Hunk shift under him as he also held up his arms for a hug.

“I say Vol you say tron?” Lance sung out, waving his arms to have her join their giant group hug. Pidge rolled her eyes, but smiled back as she approached them.

“Tron.” She grinned, and at that Lance yanked her by the arm right on top of him and Hunk. Hunk fell backwards at the force, all three of them falling back onto the floor in a heap of giggles and limbs hitting each other.

“What is happening in here?”

The three of them all froze and twisted up from each other’s bodies. Lance’s eyes trailed to the door where he worked his way up the view of Keith, standing there in his Blade suit, hair tufted and framed around his face as it was pulled back in a tight ponytail, dark brows furrowed in confusion, lips twitching to fight back a smirk at the sight of the three of them on the floor.

Oh, and Kosmo was at his side.

“KOSMO!” Pidge held up her arms, popping up from the floor.

“I can’t believe you were more willing to hug Kosmo than us.” Lance grumbled, crawling off Hunk into a sitting position.

“WHOSE A GOOD BOY! I’m sorry, I didn’t pack your usual treats.” Hunk cooed as Kosmo’s head ducked to nudge at Hunk’s hands.

The wolf let out a gentle whine as it padded over to the three of them, sniffing and wagging its tail as it recognized its distant friends. Pidge leaped up to throw her arms onto its body, rubbing her face along his mane.

“I almost forgot about him. Where has he been?” Lance laughed, reaching out to also pet the wolf’s fur and narrowly avoiding a huge smack from the wagging tail.

“Krolia insisted on bringing him when they boarded this ship to rescue us, but Kolivan’s had him locked up in a room because they were all nervous about how Kosmo might have reacted if I wasn’t….there.” Keith placed a hand on his hip, and Lance couldn’t help but let his eyes follow the movement, taking in his slim waist and how the uniform held tightly on his body, accentuating his muscles.

Great, now he was blushing and horny again.

“Anyway, have you guys seen Axca? I was looking to talk to her and run some things by first.” Keith scanned the room, which was empty except for them.

“She mentioned how she had somewhere else to go, check in on the fight jets and make sure they were properly filled?” Hunk rose a hand to answer, his other hand also running along Kosmo’s fur. Keith nodded, his jaw tightening.

Lance let his eyes wander across his face, sensing his stress and hardened demeanor over everything. Right, the last time Lance looked at Keith he seemed as if he had been stabbed from Lance when Lance opted for the Garrison’s help. That left a bad taste on his tongue, especially when the only taste he wanted was…

Lance was quick to scramble to his feet to suddenly be close to standing in front of Keith, freezing up when he realized how crazy he must have reacted on instinct to be close. Keith also seemed surprised, raising a curious eyebrow at him that made Lance’s stomach lurch.

Fucked. So so so fucked.

“Hey, about the briefing back there..” Lance felt his ears redden, strumming his fingers at his side. Keith flinched, but let his shoulders relax a bit at Lance.

“It’s ok. You guys were right in wanting to have the Garrison help. I can’t keep my prior experiences and grudges with them stop them from helping us now. We just need to do this right and subtle, so to not let word get out completely about the Lions.” Keith’s voice was soft, and it hurt Lance to hear the sound of it.

“No, you’re sooooo fine with not trusting them. They hurt you in the past and did some shady shit, but we are gonna figure this out, ok? Let’s make this the last mission so we can all go home at the end of this.” Lance returned a small smile, his chest fluttering when he saw Keith ease at Lance’s words, returning the smallest smile back. It made Lance feel insane, how brilliantly beautiful a smile coming from Keith looked. He would do anything to have that smile bottled up and always on his face.

“Keith and Lance sitting in a tree…” Pidge sang out, leaning over Kosmo.

“K I S S I N G.” Hunk joined Pidge along.

Lance and Keith both turned to face the two, their faces both the same painful red color.

“You told them?” Keith whipped his face on Lance, who gawked in mock offense, shaking his head no wildly.

“I didn’t tell them nothing!! Well, maybe a little. But come on, they basically sniffed it out of me.” Lance flung his arm out to motion to the two who were beaming with pride at their teasing.

“Anything else you want to mention?” Keith covered his face with a hand, letting his bangs fall to cover up most of his embarrassment.

“They are just evil and know too much. NONE of this is funny, you know.” Lance grumbled, throwing daggers at the two, who were now holding hands and giggling as Pidge fake fainted into Hunk’s arms.

“First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes babies in a–”

Lance was fast to jump on Hunk and Pidge again, knocking everyone down to the floor again in more limbs being thrown around and strangled giggles and gasps of air.

The Blade ship descended through Earth’s atmosphere with a grace that belied its imposing size, its sleek, angular form casting long shadows across the Garrison landing platform below. The landing thrusters hissed as they deployed, sending a faint vibration through the floors of the ship. Lance stood on the bridge, his hands braced on the railing, watching through the viewport as the Garrison came into view—a scene both familiar and alien. It was the same stark white buildings with sprawling asphalt roads, but it felt so far removed from the last time they’d been here. Since the last time Lance had seen it in this point of view, descending upon it as a soldier dedicated to another cause.

Seperate of being owned by the Garrison.

Beside him, Keith stood rigid, arms crossed tightly over his chest. He didn’t let out any comments that Pidge and Hunk were excitedly making, sticking their faces as close to the glass as possible to take in the view and talk wildly about how weird this all was. His face was a mask of calm, but Lance could feel the tension radiating off him like static electricity. Could practically see the clicking of his jaw, hear the grinding of his teeth to calm. If it wasn’t for his stoic body language, it would be easy on the casual eye to assume Keith was neutral about the sight nearing. Lance let his gaze linger at Keith’s profile, at how his dark eyes were brewing with a storm building and attempting to stay put. How Kosmo sat at Keith’s feet, its ears up and alert, as if sensing its human’s rigid emotions. Keith wasn’t one to verbalize his nerves, but the stiff set of his shoulders and the way his eyes darted to the disembarkation deck every few seconds gave him away. Keith’s intensity was like a gravitational pull, and Lance found himself staying close—closer than he needed to, really. The fluttery feeling in his stomach that came with Keith’s proximity wasn’t exactly helping him focus.

The deck began to hum as the unloading ramp was prepared. Around them, members of the Blade of Marmora moved with efficient purpose, their sharp uniforms and disciplined steps a stark contrast to the lingering nervous energy of the paladins. Kolivan and Krolia stood at the ready, their eyes steady and discussing with Shiro some strategy that honestly, Lance couldn’t focus on. Not when Lance was so painfully attuned to the way Keith remained still at his side, like stone.

When the ramp finally lowered, the world outside came into sharp focus as the sunlight struck through the darkened ship, forcing Lance to blink and stumble as he hadn’t realized he forgot what sunlight was like. A group of Garrison officials waited below, clipboard-wielding figures in crisp uniforms, their expressions a mix of awe and apprehension. At the forefront was Commander Iverson, his ever-present air of restrained skepticism plastered on his face. Beside him stood Dr. Holt, his sharp eyes flicking across the ship with undisguised curiosity. A few other high-ranking officials rounded out the group, murmuring amongst themselves as they took in the massive Blade ship.

Lance stepped forward, his boots echoing against the metal deck. He surveyed the scene below, the Garrison laid out like a snapshot of the life he had once known intimately, of the buildings he was in just days ago as a returning professor. Nothing had changed, promising they were still remaining here for him, after all this time. As long as it took for Lance to figure himself out. That was comforting, as shocking as it was, to know this world remained intact and durable. Withstanding. Nostalgia hit him square in the chest, a pang of longing he hadn’t expected. The sight of the familiar white-and-gray facilities, the orderly arrangement of vehicles and personnel, even the sharp, sterile smell of the place—it all reminded him of the last time they’d returned to Earth in this very spot, when they were picked up by the NFE’s and taken to see their families after the years they had spent in space.

That time, the arrival had been chaotic, filled with tears and laughter as he sprinted off the platform to the open arms of his family. He remembered his mamá’s face, streaked with tears, and the way his siblings had clung to him like he might disappear again. The warmth of that reunion felt like a lifetime ago now, the memory a stark contrast to the stiff, formal atmosphere of this landing.

The Blade disembarked in disciplined, practiced formation, Kolivan leading the charge with his usual air of unshakable authority. Behind him, Krolia moved with her quiet, lethal grace, her gaze sweeping the area, as if she was on high alert for any potential threats despite the safety of their location. The paladins followed in their wake, and Lance couldn’t help but notice how Keith lingered closer to him than usual. Characteristically quiet, but stiff in his movements, as if he was unsure of stepping foot back on the property. The same careful caution that his mother’s eyes bore.

As they approached the waiting officials, Lance watched Iverson’s expression carefully. The commander looked exactly as always—stern and forever looking like he was braced for disappointment. His jaw was set, his clipboard clutched tightly in his hand, though his eyes betrayed his surprise at the sheer size of the Blade ship.

"Permission granted to land," Iverson said, his voice carrying over the hum of the ship’s engines. “Though I’ll admit, I wasn’t expecting something quite this... dramatic.”

Pidge snorted softly beside Lance, her arms crossed as she muttered, “Some things never change.”

Shiro stepped forward next to Krolia and Kolivan, his leadership instincts kicking in as he extended a hand to Iverson. “Commander,” he said with a polite nod. “Thank you for making the arrangements on such short notice. I understand this is unexpected.”

“Unexpected is one word for it,” Iverson replied, shaking Shiro’s hand with a firmness that matched his tone. His one eye looked Shiro up and down, before a small smirk broke on his lips. “I’d thought we would have been graced with one of your famous visits a lot sooner.”

Shiro returned an apologetic grin as the two stepped apart. Iverson’s gaze shifted over the group, lingering on Kolivan, whose towering presence was impossible to ignore. “This must be the famously known Blade of Marmora. An honor as always.”

Kolivan inclined his head slightly, though his expression remained as unreadable as ever. “Commander Iverson. We appreciate your cooperation.”

Commander Iverson’s sharp, authoritative demeanor barely masked his nervousness as he addressed Kolivan, his posture rigid as though bracing for impact. Lance observed the scene with a mixture of controlled amusement and secondhand embarassment. If

he

were in Iverson’s position, standing face-to-face with Kolivan’s intimidating presence, not to mention standing at 8 FEET TALL,

and

Krolia’s quiet but razor-sharp demeanor, he was pretty sure he’d be shitting bricks.

“Your arrival is... noted,” Iverson said stiffly, his gaze flicking between Kolivan and Krolia as if trying to decide which one was the bigger threat. “But I’ll remind you that Garrison protocols require advanced clearance for foreign—”

“This ship’s capabilities are far beyond what Earth could even conceive,” Dr. Holt interrupted, his voice equal parts awe and curiosity as his eyes swept over the exterior towering above them all. His attention lingered on the intricate designs visible even from a distance, and he turned briefly toward Pidge, giving her a pointed look. “You could have

warned

me about the tech before dropping out of the sky.”

Pidge gave a sheepish laugh, waving him off with exaggerated nonchalance. “Surprise?”

Lance smirked, nudging at Hunk as he suppressed a snort under his hands, though the tension between the Blades and the Garrison officials didn’t leave much room for genuine humor. Or the fact that Keith remained still at Lance’s side, his hands curled tight in a ball.

Dr. Holt raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by his daughter’s attempt at easing the situation. His expression shifted to something gentler, the look of a father who could never stay mad for long, even in the face of a stunt like disappearing into space without warning.

“Don’t think this conversation’s over young lady. You still left without even a warning,” Dr. Holt said, his tone low but warm. “But it’s not me you should be worried about.”

Iverson cleared his throat, cutting her off with a pointed look. “Let’s focus on the matter at hand, Doctor.”

He turned his attention back to the looming Galra in front of him, opening his mouth to begin whatever statement he had to make, when suddenly, the Garrison doors swung open with a sudden

clang

, the sound reverberating outside. The interruption brought every conversation to an abrupt halt, and all heads turned toward the entrance.

A piercing, unmistakably furious voice rang out. “KATHERINE HOLT!”

The clicking of shoes followed the sharp voice, growing louder as a figure stormed across the landing pad. If there was any two mother’s that Lance feared in this world, it would be Krolia and the violent storm nearing them. Collen Holt was a force of nature, and her arrival was nothing short of an event. She moved with the speed and precision of a heat-seeking missile, her steps striking the floor like a countdown to detonation. Hair cut short into a harmless pixie cut and a white labcoat with hints of dirt from her gardening, her visual was not meant to be taken lightly. Lance feared for Pidge’s life in that moment as Colleen neared, her eyes wild and blazing, set on its target. He and Hunk both in their right mind took a huge step backwards, Lance reaching out last second to tug Keith’s arm back in step with them.

Pidge froze as if someone had hit her pause button. Her wide eyes darted to her mother, who was already barreling toward her with an expression that could freeze molten lava. Lance swore he saw a flicker of pure panic cross Pidge’s face.

“Mom! Haha hi?” Pidge squeaked, her voice an octave higher than usual.

“You have

got

to be kidding me,” Mrs. Holt snapped, hands on her hips. “What were you thinking? Disappearing without a word, gallivanting across the galaxy, and now you show up here like it’s no big deal?”

Iverson, who had been visibly annoyed by the interruption, opened his mouth to interject. “Excuse me, Mrs. Holt, but this is a private conference that requires specialized permission to access—”

Mrs. Holt’s sharp gaze turned on him, cutting him off mid-sentence. “Commander Iverson, with all due respect,

zip it.

”

The entire group collectively tensed. Lance felt his stomach clench. Kolivan raised a brow but remained silent, as if he even recognize the willpower and strength of the small human half his size in front of him. Krolia exchanged a quick glance with Shiro, who shrugged slightly, as if to say,

This is out of my jurisdiction.

Even Keith, usually unflappable in the face of confrontation, looked like he was reconsidering his stance as the group’s unofficial brooder.

Meanwhile, Pidge attempted a half-hearted grin, hands raised as if surrendering might diffuse the situation. “Okay, Mom, so here’s the thing—”

“Don’t

Mom

me,” Mrs. Holt shot back. “You disappeared, Katie! No calls, no warnings, just gone! Do you know how worried sick you had us? Your father almost had a heart attack. Sam, tell her.” Colleen snapped her head over to her husband, who flinched at the look, nervously scratching at his beard. The rest of the group stood like statues, watching the exchange unfold. The paladins knew better than to get involved, and even the Blade agents, normally unflinching in the face of danger, were notably subdued.

“Well, we have been worried after not hearing from–” He began, looking nervous to be spoken to from the fireball in front of them, but Collen was quick to continue.

“You didn’t even call!” Mrs. Holt continued, her voice rising. “After everything we have gone through. How am I to trust you aren’t just, running off again on another casual whim? This is unacceptable behavior.”

“It was sort of important, mom. I’m sorry, but we had a mission that needed all of us and there was no time to warn you. Me and Lance and Shiro had to go fast!” Pidge narrowed her eyes back at her mom. Shiro went rigid, making a choked sound from his throat, as if hit with the fact his name was even mentioned in this crossfire. Pidge crossed her arms defiantly, glaring at her mom. “And we weren’t even gone for that long!”

“That long? Katie, I didn’t hear from you for two and a half days! I HAD DINNER WAITING FOR HOURS FOR YOU THAT NIGHT.” Colleen’s voice went shrill, making Pidge’s face blank, eye twitching when she realized just how long they were gone.

“Bets on whether or not we see Pidge alive and breathing tomorrow?” Hunk leaned over to Lance, their eyes not straying from the catfight exploding in front of everyone. Lance held a snort back, not wanting to draw unwanted attention from Colleen.

“Oh, she’s as good as fried BBQ.” Lance whispered back, hiding a smile under his hands.

The energy of the situation, already charged by the Holt family dynamic, boiled over into outright chaos as Mrs. Holt jabbed a finger at her daughter, her tone sharp. “Don’t you

dare

roll your eyes at me, Katherine Holt. Do you think saving the universe means you’re above being grounded?”

Pidge’s face flushed deep red, a mixture of embarrassment and indignation sparking in her eyes. “You can’t

ground

me, Mom! I’m an

adult

! I literally helped save the galaxy!”

Mrs. Holt leaned forward, her voice rising with every syllable. “Oh, you think being an

adult

means you can disappear without a word and waltz back in whenever you feel like it? Think again, young lady!”

The tension was unbearable, yet strangely captivating, as Pidge squared her shoulders and shrieked back, “I’ve piloted a giant robot! Fought intergalactic wars! Run my own scientific hangar! I have a PhD degree in Computer Engineering and made MY OWN of the study of alien tech!I think I’m allowed to not check in every five seconds!”

“Not in my house, you’re not!” Mrs. Holt snapped.

Pidge shot back, her face red and clearly mortified her friends were witnessing this. Her arms flailed dramatically, and she cast a quick glance at the group. “Can we not do this

here

?”

“I’ll tell you where we’ll do this!” Mrs. Holt countered, her voice carrying that finality that only a mother could muster.

Iverson, who had been rubbing his temples since the moment the shouting started, leaned toward Dr. Holt with a low mutter. “Can you handle this Holt family business

elsewhere

? We got serious business to handle without needing this.”

Dr. Holt, clearly used to this kind of dynamic, nodded. He stepped forward, clearing his throat with an authority that immediately grabbed both women’s attention. “Ladies. Katie. Colleen. Let’s... take this discussion inside, shall we?”

Mrs. Holt and Pidge, locked in an angry stare-off, both huffed but reluctantly followed his direction. The pair stomped toward the exit, Pidge muttering something about overbearing parents while Mrs. Holt fired back about disrespectful children. The door slid shut behind them, leaving an awkward silence in their wake. All Lance could do was be thankful his mother didn’t work at the Garrison because she would have caused an uproar to support Mrs. Holts.

Iverson turned back to the room, his face weary as he muttered, “Finally. Now, if we can focus on the—”

The sound of the sliding doors opening again made Iverson’s head snap up, his face twisted in sheer exasperation. “Who

is

letting everyone in here? Where is security?”

Lance barely heard him. His heart stopped as a familiar figure strode into the room with purpose, her steps quick and determined, her dark eyes locked on him. It took a second for his brain to catch up.

“Veronica?” he squeaked, the sound of her name slipping out of his mouth before he could stop himself. She didn’t slow down, her stride determined as she marched directly toward him.

The moment she reached him, her arms flew around him, pulling him into a tight, almost suffocating hug. Lance melted into her embrace, the tension in his shoulders easing for the first time in what felt like ages. Her familiar warmth and the smell of her hair—coconut and something floral—was like coming home all over again. He was floored with the memories of occasionally using her shampoo on accident and admittingly liking it.

“You idiot,” she murmured, her voice choked with emotion as she tightened her grip. “You absolute idiot. I can’t beleive you ghosted me in space after all that, too.”

Lance gave a watery laugh, his own arms wrapping around her. “I missed you too, sis.”

Veronica pulled back just enough to smack him lightly on the shoulder. “Don’t you ‘miss you too’ me, Lance. You’ve got some

explaining

to do.”

“Explaining can wait,” Lance said, his grin wide and relieved. “I’m just glad you’re here.”

Veronica’s expression softened for a moment, squeezing his arm like she was making sure he was real. “Of course I’m here. Where else would I be?”

The warm exchange was so characteristically Mcclain that the rest of the group couldn’t help but feel the moment’s sweetness. Hunk grinned, his own eyes misting, while Keith shifted awkwardly but didn’t stray too far from Lance’s side. Even Kolivan, for all his stoicism, looked vaguely less gruff in the presence of such a heartfelt reunion.

Iverson’s groan cut through the air like a knife. “If

anyone else

comes through that door uninvited, I’m shutting this meeting down.”

But no one seemed to care about his complaints anymore. All eyes were on Lance and Veronica, the siblings holding on to each other like they were the only two people in the room.

Kolivan’s voice cut through the quiet hum of the landing bay. “I demand a private space to speak. This matter concerns only select individuals and should not be discussed in the presence of unnecessary personnel.”

Iverson’s expression tightened, his grip on the clipboard in his hand whitening his knuckles as he shared a skeptical glance with the two other officials at his side. “With all due respect, I don’t trust you enough to grant private access without oversight. I’m not about to let classified information be shared without accountability.”

The silence that followed was thick and uncomfortable, with every ear subtly tuned to their exchange. Shiro stepped forward, his tone calm but firm, the natural authority in his voice immediately softening the edges of the brewing confrontation. “We all need to trust each other if we’re going to work together. Allow me to attend as an offering for both sides to understand the importance of trusting one another. Iverson, take my word in honoring Kolivan’s request to discuss this matter in private. Kolivan, take my word. Iverson will be here to assist you with where we need to go from here. I’ll be present during the meeting to ensure everyone’s concerns are addressed. This information is critical, and we’re not going to mishandle it.”

Kolivan glanced at Shiro, his expression unreadable, but the faintest nod betrayed his agreement. “Fine. You will accompany me.”

Shiro nodded, squaring up between the two leaders of their own militias. He turned toward the group, his sharp gaze scanning the gathered Paladins and Blades until it landed firmly on Lance.

“We’ll also need Lance.”

The words hit Lance like a gut punch. His breath caught, and he froze mid-step, his eyes wide as he clung to his sister Veronica’s arm for support. “What?” he managed to croak, his voice cracking embarrassingly. His stomach twisted into knots, his mouth dry as a desert. Why him? Why now? Anxiety clawed at his chest.

Shiro’s gentle, steady gaze turned to him, reassuring in a way only Shiro could manage. “We need you in the meeting, Lance. You know your connection to what is happening is vital. You’re the one who can help us find what we’re looking for.”

Lance’s pulse pounded in his ears. His heart raced as he glanced around, hoping someone would jump in and rescue him from the spotlight. Veronica squeezed his arm, giving him a small, questioning nod, but it only made the weight of expectation heavier.

Keith stepped forward, his arms crossed and his jaw set. “If Lance is going, I’m coming too.”

“No,” Kolivan interrupted sharply, cutting Keith off before he could continue. His voice was firm and final, like a boulder slamming into place. “This is to be quick and focused. Your presence is unnecessary.”

Keith bristled, his fists clenching at his sides. “He shouldn’t have to—”

Kolivan’s stern glare silenced Keith mid-sentence. The look was enough to make him visibly squirm, his lips pressing into a tight line. He didn’t back down completely but stood there, tense and obviously fuming. His eyes darted to Lance, filled with worry and frustration, as though willing him not to agree. He met Kolivan’s eyes, transfixed and terrifying. Sizing his up. As if waiting to see him squirm and dig below his legs and hide himself. Not stand up to bat.

Lance’s throat tightened, his mind racing. All eyes were on him now. Shiro’s steady gaze, Veronica’s reassuring presence, and Keith’s anxious, almost protective expression all swirled in his vision. He gulped hard, forcing down the lump in his throat.

“Let’s go then,” he said, his voice wavering slightly but gaining strength as he spoke. He met Shiro’s eyes, then Kolivan’s, his hands balling into fists to stop them from trembling.

Keith’s shoulders slumped slightly, a mix of defeat and lingering irritation. Lance couldn’t quite meet his eyes as he stepped forward, following Kolivan and Shiro toward the designated meeting area. He felt Keith’s gaze on his back the whole way, heavy and filled with unspoken emotions, but he didn’t dare look back.

The journey through the Garrison halls was quiet, save for the faint hum of fluorescent lights overhead and the soft echo of footsteps against the cold tiles. Lance walked at the rear of the group, his arms crossed tightly over his chest, fingers unconsciously strumming against his forearm—a nervous tick he couldn’t shake. The stark whiteness of the walls, the sterile chill of the air, and the unfeeling glare of the lights made him feel small.

The place was so familiar yet alien, and as he walked, he wondered how he had never noticed it before. Maybe it was the haze of youth and ambition back then, or the camaraderie that dulled the harshness. But now, stripped of those comforts, on the other side of questioning and misplaced trust, it felt... hostile. Lance shivered, his steps slowing for a moment as he trailed a hand along the wall. The tiles were cold to the touch, smooth and impersonal. Was this what Keith had felt all those years ago?

Keith had always been so guarded here, closed off in ways Lance now felt like he understood for the first time. The Garrison wasn’t made for warmth or welcome, not for someone like Keith who had carried the weight of being an outsider. Lance swallowed hard as the thought sank in. The place was rigid and suffocating, all cold lighting and no room to breathe. It reminded him of the Blades’ stronghold, with its austere walls and sense of duty pressing down like a physical weight. The starkness of both places—their light and dark differences—shared an uncanny, chilling similarity that made his stomach churn.

Was that why Keith had gravitated toward the Blades? Because if you didn’t fit anywhere, maybe at least you could survive in the shadows of the Blade’s base. Lance’s chest tightened at the thought, the weight of it making him drum his fingers faster against his arm. He knew Keith had chosen the Blades for a purpose, for something bigger, but it didn’t stop the pang of unease when he thought about Keith finding comfort in a place so cold. So eerily similar to the feeling he was having over the Garrison right now.

They reached Iverson’s office, and the older man stepped aside, motioning stiffly for the group to enter. The door slid shut behind them with a sharp hiss, sealing them into the small, stark space. The silence in Iverson’s office was oppressive. Lance lingered near the back, his eyes darting across the room. It wasn’t the first time he’d been in this office, but this was the first time he wasn’t here as a student—or even a professor. He wasn’t sure who he was in this moment.

Iverson sank heavily into his chair, the leather creaking as he leaned forward, folding his hands atop the desk. His sharp eyes moved between Kolivan, Shiro, and finally Lance, lingering on him as though questioning why he was there.

“All right,” Iverson said, his voice carrying the same strict, commanding tone it always had. “What’s the issue that required bringing in this... delegation?”

Lance tensed, feeling the weight of Iverson’s gaze like a spotlight. The office, though sparse and professional, felt unbearably tight. It was strange being here now—not as a cadet worried about grades or disciplinary action, not as someone who wanted to impress, but as Lance. Lance the Paladin. Lance who had fought in space, defended planets, and carried the burdens of an entire galaxy on his shoulders.

But in this moment, sitting in front of Iverson, it was hard to remember that. The old power dynamic crept back into his chest, making him feel small again. Lance straightened slightly, forcing himself to focus, reminding himself who he was now, who he’d become. He wasn’t just some kid anymore. He was here for a reason, even if his heart was pounding like crazy.

Kolivan stepped forward, his voice deep and steady, but with an edge that cut through the room. “We are here because of information vital to the survival of your planet and beyond. This is not a matter of negotiation or secrecy; it is a necessity.”

Lance felt Iverson’s skeptical gaze shift to Kolivan, the tension between them so thick it could have been cut with a knife. Shiro, ever the diplomat, stepped in before things could escalate. “We’re all on the same side here, Iverson. The stakes are too high for mistrust. Let’s just focus on what needs to be done.”

As the conversation began in earnest, Lance found himself shrinking back again, his hands gripping the armrests of the chair he’d taken. His stomach churned, not just with anxiety about what would happen in this meeting, but with the lingering thoughts of Keith, of the way this place could make you feel like you didn’t belong. Had made Keith feel like he didn’t belong.

Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to sit up straighter. He wasn’t here as a student anymore. He wasn’t here to prove himself to Iverson or anyone else. He was Lance. And that was enough.

Lance could feel his pulse pounding in his ears, so loud it almost drowned out Kolivan’s deep, measured voice as he began to speak.

“The Blades have reason to believe that one of the Lions of Voltron resides here—on Earth,” Kolivan announced, his tone cutting through the air like a blade itself. His piercing eyes stayed locked on Iverson’s, unwavering and unyielding. “We’ve tracked its presence, and we have the resources to retrieve it discreetly. For the safety of your planet and the galaxy, it is in both of our interests to ensure this is handled efficiently and without public attention.”

Iverson’s jaw tensed, his one good eye narrowing as he absorbed the statement. His shock was visible—like he had been hit with a blow—but he masked it quickly with the stern, suspicious demeanor he had perfected over decades in command. “You’re saying a Lion, one of

those

Lions, is on Earth?” His voice was clipped, disbelief and caution mixing in equal measure.

“Yes,” Shiro interjected, his calm and composed tone a stark contrast to the tension thickening the room. He stepped closer to Iverson’s desk, his posture solid and reassuring. “It’s true. And it’s imperative that this operation is handled with cooperation. The Paladins and the Blades are aligned on this, and with the Garrison’s support, we can ensure the mission’s success.”

Shiro’s gaze shifted then, landing on Lance, and something in his expression softened. “That’s why Lance is so critical to this. He has a connection to the Lions. He can sense them.”

Lance froze in his seat, his heartbeat suddenly deafening, pounding like a war drum in his ears. His palms felt clammy against the fabric of his pants as Shiro’s words hung in the air. Iverson’s gaze turned on him, sharp and assessing. For a moment, the room shrank. Lance was no longer the Paladin who had fought for galaxies, who had stood shoulder to shoulder with his friends and faced down impossible odds. He was the cadet again, the one who had always wanted to impress, to prove he was good enough. But now, Iverson wasn’t looking at him with skepticism or dismissal. No, the look on his face was something far more unnerving: shock. Maybe even... respect.

Iverson’s one good eye widened, his lips pressing into a thin line as he studied Lance. “You can

sense

them?” he asked, his voice quieter but no less sharp.

The weight of Iverson’s gaze made Lance’s skin crawl. He bristled under it, like the man was trying to see through him, to dissect him with a look. His throat felt dry, but he forced himself to nod. “Yeah,” he muttered, his voice quieter than he intended. He cleared his throat, willing some confidence into his words. “I... I’ve been able to feel them. It’s—”

“It’s more than a feeling,” Shiro interrupted gently, his tone supportive but firm. “Lance’s connection to the Lions has always been strong. It’s how we found them in the first place. And it’s how we’ll find this one now.”

Lance’s body warmed at the blatant confidence in Shiro’s voice for him. How could he possibly believe so strongly in him when Lance wasn’t even sure himself?

Iverson leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepling under his chin as he processed this. His gaze flicked between Kolivan, Shiro, and finally Lance, lingering on him the longest. There was something unnerving in the way Iverson looked at him, like he was seeing Lance for the first time—truly seeing him. It wasn’t the condescension or dismissal Lance had once been used to. No, this was different. And somehow, Lance liked it.

Lance shifted uncomfortably in his chair, his fingers twitching against his knees. The intensity of the moment, however, was suffocating, the sterile air of the office pressing down on him like a weight. His chest tightened as Iverson’s scrutiny lingered.

“I see,” Iverson finally said, his voice low and unreadable. “So, this is why you’re here.”

The words hit Lance like a blow. He didn’t know what he had expected—dismissal, maybe, or a skeptical remark about how he wasn’t qualified—but the quiet acknowledgment in Iverson’s tone threw him off. It felt like the man was finally recognizing something in Lance that he hadn’t before.

Kolivan, seemingly sensing the tension, stepped forward. “This is not a matter of personal capabilities or individual contributions,” he said sharply, his gaze cutting to Iverson. “This is about the survival of your world and the larger galaxy. We do not have time for doubt or delay.”

Iverson leaned forward, his fingers tapping against his desk as he considered Kolivan’s words. “So, the only Lion left here is the one you’re talking about now? There aren’t others hidden somewhere else on Earth? Are they coming back to form Voltron?”

Lance opened his mouth to respond, but before he could form a single word, Kolivan cut in with the precision of a blade. “This is the only Lion relevant to our current discussion and that we are aware of,” he said, his tone curt and unyielding, leaving no room for argument. His eyes locked onto Iverson’s, cold and immovable.

Lance’s mouth snapped shut, his heart sinking at the obvious dodge. He shifted uncomfortably, glancing at Shiro for reassurance, but his former leader’s jaw was tight, his expression unreadable. The lie hung heavy in the air, and Lance could feel the tension settling in his shoulders. He wanted to speak up, to push back, but something in Kolivan’s tone made it clear that wasn’t an option. That lying to Iverson about the truth about the Blades already having Red was the solution for moving forward.

Iverson, seemingly satisfied with the response, nodded slowly. “Alright. Keep me informed of any developments. This stays between us. I’ll deploy a small, trusted team to assist the Blades and ensure this stays under wraps. But I expect full transparency moving forward.”

Kolivan inclined his head in acknowledgment, but Lance noticed the subtle stiffness in the gesture. More importantly, he noticed Kolivan didn’t confirm the promise verbally. It was subtle—something Iverson didn’t seem to pick up on—but Lance caught it. His stomach twisted uneasily as he watched the exchange.

As they turned to leave, Shiro paused at the door, his voice softer than before. “Commander... is the memorial section open today?”

Memorial section?

Lance slowed from where he was praying thank yous to Allura in his head about this meeting being just as short and sweet as he hoped, glancing over to Shiro. He had a far away look in his eyes as he questioned to Iverson.

Iverson’s expression softened, his rigid demeanor melting into something more personal. He nodded. “It’s open. Take your time, Takashi. You have my permission.”

Shiro gave a small nod of gratitude and stepped out into the hall, his steps quick and purposeful. Lance watched him go, feeling the weight of the moment but unsure why. He turned to Kolivan, who was already striding off in the opposite direction, his movements brisk and focused. For a moment, Lance was frozen, torn between his instincts. Kolivan’s lie—it nagged at him, twisting his gut. But then there was Shiro, rushing down the hall with a tension in his shoulders Lance hadn’t seen in a long time. With a broken down voice Lance wasn’t used to hearing on him.

I should follow Kolivan, join the others, tell them about the updates. He shouldn’t be at Shiro’s side, that was never his place. But as he turned toward Kolivan’s direction, his feet hesitated. Curiosity flared, sharp and insistent. Shiro had looked so... strained. Lance bit his lip, his mind racing.
He groaned softly, kicking himself internally for what he was about to do. “Curiosity’s gonna kill me one day,” he muttered under his breath, turning away from Kolivan’s path and heading after Shiro instead.

The hallway stretched out before him, sterile and silent, his footsteps echoing faintly against the cold tiles. The lights above buzzed softly, their harsh brightness only adding to the starkness of the Garrison vs the Blades. Lance’s stomach churned as he thought back to how Keith had described this place—how unwelcome he had felt here, how isolating it had been. For the first time, Lance truly understood. The Garrison was a fortress, cold and unyielding, the eerily similarities to the Blades’ own spaces—both stark, both isolating, both heavy with unspoken expectations. Lance’s fingers began to drum against his thigh, his nervous tick kicking in as his thoughts spiraled.

He rounded a corner, the memorial section coming into view. The door stood slightly ajar, and through it, Lance could see Shiro standing still, his head bowed slightly. The tension in his shoulders had eased, replaced by something softer, more vulnerable.

Lance hesitated, his curiosity battling with his sense of privacy. But before he could make a decision, the faintest sound escaped Shiro—a shaky exhale, almost a sigh. It wasn’t like him, and it pulled Lance forward without thinking.

He stepped closer, quietly pushing the door open further. Inside, the memorial section was quiet and solemn, filled with plaques, holograms, and tributes to those who had served and fallen in the line of duty. Of the people lost during the fight a year and a half ago. Of the casualties of fighter pilots testing the edges of breakthroughs in flight tests and past missions gone wrong. It was a shrine to the Garrison’s history, both its triumphs and its losses. Lance’s eyes fell on Shiro, who was standing in front of one particular plaque, his hand resting lightly on the edge of the frame. Lance couldn’t see what it said from where he stood, but the weight in Shiro’s posture told him enough.

“Shiro...” Lance started softly, his voice hesitant.

Shiro turned slightly, his expression calm but tinged with something Lance couldn’t quite place—grief, maybe, or regret. “Lance,” he said, his voice steady but quiet. “What are you doing here?”

Lance scratched the back of his neck, suddenly feeling out of place. Like he was caught from a teacher or a parent in somewhere he should not have been. And he DEFINETLY should not be here. “I, uh... I saw you leave pretty fast back there... I got curious.”

Shiro’s lips twitched in the faintest hint of a smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Curious, huh?”

Lance shrugged, trying to lighten the mood. “You know me. Always sticking my nose where it doesn’t belong.”

Shiro let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “Can’t be mad at that. It’s helped us countless times in the past.”

But as the moment settled, the air grew heavier again, reminding him where he was. How Shiro had come here for a reason. Lance shifted awkwardly, glancing at the plaque Shiro was looking at. He still couldn’t read it, but he didn’t need to. Whatever it was, it mattered to Shiro deeply.

“You okay?” Lance asked after a moment, his voice quieter.

Shiro’s gaze lingered on the plaque for a moment longer before he nodded slowly. “Yeah,” he said, though Lance wasn’t entirely convinced. “Just... remembering.”

The words hung in the air, and Lance didn’t press further. He didn’t need to. Sometimes, just being there was enough.

“I’m sorry I followed, I didn’t mean to interrupt. I’ll–” Lance stuttered out, the guilt panging on his chest. Shiro tilted his head at the floundering and sinking boy in front of him, but his shoulders eased as he ran his finger over the plaque he was honoring, giving Lance a gentle smile.

“You remember me working at the Garrison when you were a cadet, right?” His voice was easy, reflective. Lance froze, his ears heating up hard as he nodded slowly.

“Yah, I thought you were like…the coolest ever. Not that you aren’t anymore. Still think that.” Lance’s voice cracked, feeling more flustered to admit. Shiro let out a soft chuckle, his eyes crinkling at the sides from age. From years of laughter lines.

“Well, its good to know that magic hasn’t warn off. I’m honored.” Shiro’s understanding smile melted through Lance. Lance’s shot nerves calmed at it. It was amazing how Shiro was able to just calm a storm inside you with one easy look. How forgiving and understanding he was. It reminded Lance how he was able to work with Keith successfully when he was younger. How Keith was able to let himself trust him as the first person worthy of Keith’s freying trust in people long ago.

“Do you remember a professor named Adam Wright?” Shiros voice calmed over Lance again. Lance hummed as he thought, raking his mind for the already disappearing memories he had as a cadet.

“Wait, wasn’t he the one who taught our math and stats class? Professor Wright?” Lance struggled to make out a clear image in his brain, the foggy pieces clicking as a tall, tanned man flashed in his mind. Did he have glasses?

Shiro smiled at that, so Lance must have struck gold with his memory.

“He was always the smartest in our unit when we were cadets. Used to ace every exam while I thought it was more important to know how to fly. He kept me humble to remind me that without the numbers and data, there was nothing to fly to begin with.” Shiro chuckled softly, his eyes glazed over in memory. Lance shifted awkwardly, trying to see the emotional connection that was taking its toll on Shiro. Shiro rarely spoke about the times he was a cadet to the team, having been able to pry some fun information about his youth over the last three years, but for the most part he stayed away from anything too deep, always seemingly brushing past any mention of people in his life other than his already established relation to Keith. Lance swallowed, hating how little he really did know about Shiro’s life pre Voltron. He had always just been this untouched symbol of strength and the Golden Years of the Garrison. But he was still a human with a past. With connections to people and memories of loved ones.

Lance couldn’t believe he never asked more.

“Did Professor Wr- erm, Adam, pass recently? Was he a good friend of yours before….Everything?” Lance’s throat tightened at the way Shiro’s eyes dropped heavy back on the plaque, a small frown on his lips.

“He was deployed defending off Earth when it was first being invaded, long before any of us got here. He died a hero, but without knowing I was on the way home.” Shiro’s deep voice was so light, so soft, that it twisted Lance’s heart.

Home

.
The word struck a chord in Lance, and he froze, blinking dumbly as the words sunk in.

“I’m sorry for your loss. I didn’t know you had people who passed before we got here. Guess that was on me for not checking in.” Lance tapped at his side.

“You were all experiencing your own emotions of returning, Lance. It’s alright. I had my private time to mourn and work through some tough emotions before getting back into the war mindset. I needed a clear head about everything, so the time I had alone was needed. It’s fine, I promise.” Shiro gave him another heart twisting gentle smiles. Lance forced a half smile back, but something still felt too emotional about this. Like there was more to Professor Wright then just being an old classmate and work colleague.

That thought spun around in his head like a guilty conscious. Why would Lance dare think that when the guy was happily married? Lance shifted awkwardly on his feet, his fingers still drumming against his thigh, unsure if he should leave Shiro in peace or stay. His heart beat loudly in his chest, urging him to speak, even as his shy nature made him hesitate. Finally, he cleared his throat softly.

“Shiro... if it’s okay, I mean—if you don’t mind—what... what did he, I mean.. What was he like? I only knew him in the context of him giving me bad grades so I rather have your version of him to remember and honor.”

Shiro turned his head slightly, his expression soft but visibly surprised by the question. For a moment, he studied Lance, as if gauging how genuine his curiosity was. Then, slowly, a small, gentle smile spread across his face.

“I don’t mind sharing,” Shiro said, his voice calm and warm. “I’ll take any opportunity to talk about Adam.”

Shiro continued, his hand brushing lightly over the edge of the plaque as though it were something fragile and sacred. “Isn’t that the point of loving someone who’s gone?” Shiro continued, his voice steady but laced with emotion. “Talking about them, keeping their memory alive. Giving them breath on Earth when they can’t breathe here anymore.”

Lance’s mouth opened and closed several times, his face steadily turning red as realization washed over him like a tidal wave. Shiro and Adam. They’d been in a relationship. And Lance—dense, oblivious cadet Lance—had somehow missed that entirely. His mind raced, sifting through memories and interactions, trying to pinpoint moments that might’ve revealed the truth. Had Shiro ever said anything? Had anyone? Oh god, did everyone already know this? His stomach churned with embarrassment. He hadn’t asked. He’d never thought to. It hadn’t even been a topic of conversation during their time as Paladins.

Lance glanced away, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “I... I’m sorry,” he said finally, his voice quieter now. “I didn’t know. I never asked.”

Shiro turned to him fully, his smile unfaltering, though there was a touch of sadness in his eyes. “It’s okay, Lance. I like talking about Adam. It makes the pain hurt less, you know?”

Lance nodded, though his throat felt tight. After a moment, he glanced back at Shiro, his nervous curiosity still bubbling beneath the surface. He hesitated but then pushed forward, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Are you... are you happy now?”

Shiro blinked, caught off guard by the question. “Happy?”

“With Curtis,” Lance clarified quickly, his face burning. “I mean... does it feel... hard? Moving on?”

Shiro’s expression shifted, thoughtful and calm. He looked down at the plaque, his finger brushing gently over the engraved name, his wedding ring catching the light as it rested there. For a moment, he didn’t speak, and Lance worried he’d overstepped. But then Shiro exhaled softly, his voice steady and reflective.

“You don’t move on from someone you love,” Shiro said, his words weighted with truth. “Love isn’t a door that closes to make room for someone else. It’s more like... like a tree that grows. Branches spread out, but the roots—the roots stay. Adam is part of my roots. And Curtis... Curtis is a new branch, a second chance. It doesn’t mean I stop loving Adam. It just means my heart made room to love Curtis too.”

Lance swallowed hard, his chest tight with emotion he didn’t quite know how to express. Shiro’s words were beautiful, profound, and they filled the quiet space between them with an almost reverent stillness.

“Besides, Adam would have haunted me if I suddenly gave up on my happiness and living on with the rest of my life. It would be a disgrace if I stopped everything completely. I want to live the rest of my life, however long or short, with as much time and energy spent doing good, loving all the people I love, and doing as much as I can of the work I still have to do.” Shiro let out a soft snort, shaking his head at the plaque as if he was speaking to Adam himself.

“Wow,” Lance muttered after a long silence, his voice thick. “That’s... that’s really beautiful, Shiro.”

Shiro smiled again, softer this time, and placed a reassuring hand on Lance’s shoulder. “Thanks, Lance. And hey... don’t beat yourself up for not knowing. Sometimes it’s not about knowing everything—it’s about listening when it matters.”

Lance nodded, a small, sheepish smile tugging at his lips. “I’m glad you told me. I... I think I needed to hear that.”

Shiro’s smile widened slightly, his hand lingering for just a moment before he stepped back, his gaze returning to the plaque. “I’m glad.”

The two shared gentle looks in each other’s silence that passed after, the promise of second chances swirling through him. How similar Allura had spoken about the gift of it. How Shiro had taken the leap with someone else who was giving him the chance of it.

How Lance wanted nothing more to have it himself. With the only other person in the universe who Lance would want this with.

“Don’t think too hard on all this. You’ll overstress and overthink something. Just go for it.” Shiro patted Lance lightly on the shoulders, which brought Lance back out of his thoughts.

“Huh?” He eloquently stuttered out. Shiro gave him a knowing look, crossing his arms.

“Telling Keith how you feel, I assume? Second chances and everything? I can only be so inspiring up to a point.” Shiro grinned, and Lance definitely was red.

“Oh! Uh, its alright.” Lance stammered out, rubbing the back of his neck. Shiro’s smile faltered, his gentle eyes confused, which made Lance hurt.

“Did something happen? I was so sure that’s what you were thinking about with this conversation. There’s no way I misread the last couple years watching you two..”

“No! You didn’t! I mean, yah, didn’t everyone! I just mean, thank you, but…it’s all good. We have it figured out. Or in the middle of figuring it out. I don’t really know, everything just started happening and now we are on Earth still doing this mission and you would think that you go on a date first before your first kiss, but I guess things are just completely different and out of order when it comes to us and–”

“Wait, hold on. Did you say first kiss?” Shiro’s face was now completely blank, a canvas of utter surprise and disbelief. Lance froze, snapping his blabbering mouth shut and flushing even harder.

“Um, we, I mean, yah, we kissed. And confessed we both sorta like each other.” Lance fiddled harder, avoiding eye contact. Shiro stayed frozen, blinking in shock.

“I’m gonna kill Keith.”

“WHAT?” Lance snapped his eyes up, only to be met with the most gleeful look he’d ever seen on the guy. He broke out into a deep, heavy laugh, his shoulders shaking and his head rocking back and forth. Lance stared at his reaction in disbelief, his embarrassment about confessing that Lance had in fact made out with Shiro’s younger brother, to now fear that Shiro thought it was the worst and funniest thing in the world.

“I’m, sorta confused now.” Lance muttered, watching as Shiro had to lean a hand on the memorial wall to stablize himself.

“It took Keith how many years of him in agony pacing back and forth in my room on the Castle about how much pain he was in over you, watching you and getting caught by me and getting more annoyed he was caught staring, all that grumbling and pining and complaining to me, just for the little shit to not tell me when you guys actually did kiss. I mean, I was there from the start as his emergency call everytime he felt like he was dying because you smiled at him. How could he NOT tell me?” Shiro let out a couple more laughs, shaking his head.

Lance flushed at the idea of Keith suffering over his one sided crush, his body feeling warm and his stomach flipping and rolling at the thought, but he had to come to the love of his life’s honor.

“To be fair, this happened, like, today. Yesterday? I don’t really have a good idea of our time lately. Are we on Eastern standard or…anyway. So be gentle with him.”

“I should be saying that to you.”

Lance was quick to excuse himself from the memorial, thank Shiro for his time, send his condolences towards Adam, and rush out of there before he screamed in embarrassment, his heart pounding in his ears and his chest aching.

Lance had spent a solid thirty minutes scouring the Garrison grounds, or the marked off area where they were told to wait as Kolivan had began ordering around Blade operatives in front of his ship that was now under high security from the Garrision officials, asking almost everyone he crossed paths with where Keith had wandered off to. Each dead-end left him more frustrated and, if he was honest with himself, antsy. It wasn’t until he’d stumbled into Krolia—whose unreadable expression and silent pause had nearly sent him running the opposite direction—that he finally got an answer.

“He’s in one of the meeting rooms,” she said, her tone curt but not unkind. “With Axca.”

Lance blinked, unsure if she was about to tell him off for asking, but her eyes lingered on him for just a moment too long. Feeling an uncomfortable heat creeping up his neck, he nodded and bolted. The tension in his shoulders eased slightly when he arrived at the meeting room that had Keith in it, after many failed attempts and awkward moments barging through doors and catching Garrison professors or officials in important looking meetings and having to excuse himself. There was no Axca, just Keith, sitting at the table alone. His arms were crossed, his brows furrowed in thought, and his entire frame seemed smaller than usual, as though the weight of his own mind pressed down on him.

For a moment, Lance just stood there, his breath catching in his throat.

How does he always look so—?

His brain short-circuited trying to find the word. Handsome? Gorgeous? Completely

Keith

? Whatever it was that was a mesh of all three, it left Lance utterly captivated. His chest buzzed, his heart twisting in that familiar ache he’d learned to associate with the sight of Keith when he thought no one was watching.

Lance made a lame attempt to knock lightly on the opened door, drawing Keith out of his thoughts. Keith’s face softened as soon as their eyes met, the tension in his shoulders loosening.

“Hey,” he said quietly, his voice a little rough around the edges but so uniquely Keith.

Lance grinned, leaning against the doorframe with exaggerated ease, though his pulse was anything but calm.

“Crazy running into you here,” he quipped with a sly smile. “You look familiar. Come here often?”

Keith’s brow quirked, and the corner of his mouth twitched upward before he caught himself. “I’m not playing into one of your weird cadet fantasies, Lance,” he deadpanned, though the fondness in his voice betrayed him.

Lance let out an exaggerated gasp, clutching his chest. “I’m wounded, Keith. Truly. How could you just dismiss the foundation of our relationship like that?” He stepped closer, his usual bravado dialed down as he tried to keep his tone playful, masking the overwhelming urge just to

be near him.

Keith rolled his eyes but didn’t push him away, and Lance took that as permission to keep going. He stopped a few steps away, the teasing grin slipping into something softer. His gaze lingered on Keith’s face—his slightly mussed hair, the scar on his cheek, the sharp curve of his jaw, the way his lips pressed together like he was fighting back a smile.

God, Lance’s heart ached. He felt it in his chest, his ribs, even in his stomach—a deep, overwhelming ache that made him want to laugh and cry at the same time. After everything—after the battles, the separations, the uncertainties—he was allowed to be here. He was allowed to be with

Keith.

For a moment, he didn’t even try to speak. He just looked at Keith, drinking in every detail like it might be the last time he’d ever get to see him. And Keith, despite the amused exasperation still lingering on his face, didn’t look away.

“What?” Keith finally asked, a small laugh in his voice.

God

, that sound was beautiful and made Lance feel all fluttery and want to do backflips the same way his stomach was.

Lance shook his head, his lips curling into a softer smile. “Nothing,” he said, his voice quieter now. “Just... can’t believe you’re real sometimes.”

Lance knew it was cheesy but didn’t even care. He was in LOVE, god damn it.

Wow, he was in love.

Keith’s eyes widened slightly, and a faint blush crept across his cheeks. “Lance,” he muttered, his tone half a groan, half something softer.

Lance chuckled, the sound warm and genuine. “Sorry, sorry,” he said, holding his hands up in mock surrender. But the look on his face—the love and awe and joy—gave him away completely. “I’ll stop being gross. For now.”

Keith didn’t respond right away, but there was a lightness in his gaze, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. Lips he very much wanted to kiss again. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And yet, here you are. Not running away,” Lance teased, stepping just a little closer.

Keith shook his head, the fondness in his expression unmistakable. “Guess I’m stuck with you.”

Lance’s grin widened. “Lucky you.”

Lance stood above Keith in his seat, the silence in the room stretching between them like a thread pulled taut. He couldn’t stop staring, couldn’t stop drinking in the sight of Keith—the way his brows were still slightly furrowed, even after Lance’s teasing had eased some of his tension, the way his hair fell messily across his forehead, the faint flush that still colored his cheeks from their conversation.

It hit him all at once:

He could touch Keith now.

The realization coursed through Lance like an electric shock, jolting every nerve in his body. They weren’t fighting on the battlefield, yelling over comms, or hesitating on the precipice of something unspoken. This was now. This was

them

. He could just—touch him. Hold him. Be close without a reason or an excuse. The thrill of it was almost too much, his heart pounding so loudly he was sure Keith could hear it. Before he could talk himself out of it, Lance moved behind Keith’s chair and leaned over him, wrapping his arms gently around his shoulders.

Keith froze beneath his touch, his entire body stiffening for the briefest moment, and Lance felt his own breath hitch, remembering for a moment about Keith’s aversion to touch. But then—like ice meeting the sun—Keith melted. Slowly, tentatively at first, but then all at once, leaning back into Lance’s embrace as though it was the most natural thing in the world.

And then Keith let out the most amazingly heavenly deep sigh and Lance’s heart felt like it might burst. Keith’s hair tickled his cheek, soft and warm against his skin, and he caught the faint scent of him—something earthy, grounding. He tightened his hold, just slightly, his arms wrapping around Keith more firmly, as if anchoring them both.

“What are you doing?” Keith’s voice was quiet, almost tentative, though there was no edge to it.

Lance pressed his cheek against Keith’s hair, humming softly. “Recharging,” he murmured, his voice light but steady.

Keith didn’t respond, but he didn’t pull away either. Instead, he relaxed further, the weight of him settling into Lance as if he’d been waiting for permission to do so.

Lance closed his eyes, letting himself sink into the moment. He focused on the sound of Keith’s breathing, slow and steady, the subtle rise and fall of his chest beneath Lance’s arms. He wanted to memorize this, wanted to wrap it up and hold it close forever.

For once, Keith’s silence didn’t unnerve him. It didn’t make him second-guess himself or wonder if he’d overstepped. Instead, it warmed him, filled him with a comfort he couldn’t put into words.

He held Keith closer, his fingers brushing against the fabric of Keith’s gloves, wishing he could do more—do everything. He wanted to keep Keith like this, safe and warm and loved, protected from every sharp edge the world might throw his way. He wanted to guard him against the memories that haunted him, the feeling of being out of place, the loneliness he knew Keith carried like a second skin.

More than anything, Lance wanted to be the one to make Keith feel like he belonged. Not just with Voltron, not just with the Blades, but

here.

With him.

He opened his eyes, looking down at Keith—at the way his shoulders had loosened, the faint upward curve of his lips, the peace that had settled over his face. Lance’s chest ached with how much he loved him, so much it almost hurt, like he could feel the weight of it pressing against his ribs. He wanted to be in Keith’s atmosphere.

Keith deserved this. Keith deserved to know he was loved, not just in fleeting moments but always, endlessly. And Lance? He would do everything—anything—to make sure Keith never doubted it. For now, though, Lance didn’t move, didn’t let go. He just held Keith, his own heart settling into the steady rhythm of Keith’s breathing, as if their bodies were syncing into one.

And in that moment, Lance thought,

If this is what love feels like, then I never want to let go.

God, he was so lovesick, what did Keith do to him?

“Oh my god I can’t believe we encouraged this.”

Lance and Keith both snapped their heads up to see Pidge and Hunk standing at the open door. Hunk looked like he was about to burst into tears from watching a sappy romance movie while Pidge stood holding a tablet at her side looked like she was about to puke.

“You ever heard of knocking?” Lance shot back, still refusing to untangle his arms from Keith’s shoulder.

“The door was wide open. This is on you for such public PDA.” Pidge jammed her thumb at the door to prove her point.

“Whatever, didn’t expect to see you so soon and not in timeout.” Lance grumbled, eyes watching as the two entered the room. Pidge scoffed in offense, popping down in the seat next to Keith as Hunk trailed, laughing at Lance’s gunfire.

“While you two were swapping cooties, some of us have been keeping a straight head on the situation here.” Pidge swung her legs in her seat, still barely able to touch the floor, plopping down her tablet that looked open to several files. Keith leaned forward, eyes curious and freeing himself from Lance. The lack of Keith burned harder.

“What data do you have there? Is it about Vrelen?” He went to pick up the tablet, to which Pidge just shrugged, glancing at Hunk nervously.

“Yes and no. I was just curious about the fact that the Lions keep just appearing on planets with no trace. Like, that just seems scientifically impossible.”

“When Red was found, the people on the planet said that there was no disturbance to alert them that a Lion was digging into their planet to begin with. It made no sense.” Keith muttered, clicking through the files Pidge had. Pidge nodded.

“Exactly. So I wanted to see if Earth had any sightings of, I don’t know, a huge Lion hurtling through its atmosphere. I went back into Garrison logs and old reports because I have access to that, after all,” She threw a glinting look at Lance, who just rolled his eyes at her, “and I went back to over a year and a half ago to when the Lions left us last. And then I did my scans of files and reports of every single flying object that has entered Earth. It ranged from small space ships to cargo shipments. Nothing reporting the size of a huge robotic Lion. It just doesn’t make any sense that the Lion exists underneath the Earth without ever having entered in the first place.” Pidge crossed her arms, leaning back in the seat as she chewed at her bottom lip. Hunk and Lance exchanged a nervous look.

“But it did? I mean, that’s how Red got under that one planet and no one was able to figure out how.” Lance suggested unhelpfully.

“Yah, but that’s the thing. Something physical just doesn’t…appear underground after having flown off into space! Especially with no prior signs of digging to get underneath to begin. No atmospheric entry, no seismic activity—just lions magically popping up like daisies underground. How is that even possible?” Pidge glanced up through her glasses.

"Yeah," Lance groaned, rubbing his temples. "Like, are we just supposed to believe they burrowed down there and then decided to hide for funsies?"

The four sat in silence to just the sound of Keith anxiously tapping through the reports Pidge had already shifted through, all at a loss of understanding the logistics of it. The frustration in the room was palpable.

“Well, what if they didn’t

dig

into the earth? What if they were... tucked into it?" Hunk perked up.

The room fell silent as everyone turned to stare at him.

"...Tucked into the earth?" Pidge repeated, raising an eyebrow.

“Like, what if the Lions were sort of like the meat in an empanada, or a dumpling. Or a calzone?” Hunk gestured as if he were folding imaginary dough.

“Hunk. Focus.” Keith snapped, lacking any real heat. Hunk jumped, flushing, but hurried on.

“Sorry, just, think about it. Like, if there’s no signs that the ground had been dugged up and stress in the ground, then what if the ground wasn’t dug up but simply, opened up magically and folded the Lion into the ground? Is that possible?” Hunk glanced at Pidge, who looked momentarily lost.

“Now I’m just more confused and hungry, big guy.” Lance groaned out.

“It was just a theory. It doesn’t make sense on paper, which is why I hated the unit of quantum realms and blips when we took it as cadets.”

Lance’s face twisted in confusion. "You were losing me, but now you completely lost me, bud."

Hunk visibly made a face at Lance that meant

shut up please and thank you

. Lance snapped his mouth shut as all eyes were trained on the man suggesting food analogies.

Hunk held up his hands. "Okay, okay, hear me out. You know how in quantum physics, there’s that theory about folding space-time? Like, you take a piece of paper and pinch the sides together so two points meet?" He demonstrated with his hands, miming the motion. "What if the lions are doing something

like that

, but instead of folding space-time... it’s more like folding them into the earth itself? Like, instead of being buried or entering, they’re just kind of...

placed

there."

There was a beat of silence as everyone tried to process this.

Lance blinked, making a dramatic groan. "I’m sorry, my brain just left the chat. Can you repeat that, but, like... not in nerd?"

Keith, leaning against the table, frowned in thought. "So, you're saying it’s not a normal spatial thing—it’s more like... they’re slipping into a hidden layer of reality?"

Hunk nodded. "Exactly! It’s like they’re... folded into this space, but instead of the traditional folding theory, it’s something different. Like quantum superstition. That’s the best way I can describe it."

Pidge snapped her fingers, her face lighting up. "Yes! Like a quantum tether. Or an automatic cheat code with a respawn point without ever having to disrupt the setting around it, and knowing it can reappear in its given coordinates. Something that connects the lions to specific points, even across dimensions or timelines!" She turned to Keith, clearly expecting him to follow her train of thought.

Keith’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "If that’s true, it could explain why they’re always drawn to certain places, like here on Earth? Maybe they’re... anchored. Like a waypoint."

Meanwhile, Lance was sitting there with his mouth slightly open, staring at all of them. "Cool, cool, cool. So, uh, what in the actual quiznack is happening right now? Are we still talking about empanadas?"

“Discussing it at a quantum level, its basically the theory that particles can exist in multiple states at the same time, like a coin spinning before landing. This is allowing it to be seen as a potential for multiple realities to exist until a measurement collapses the wave function and forces a single outcome.” Pidge fixed her glasses. Lance blinked at her, before turning to look at Hunk, gesturing at Pidge as if she was the wrong completely lost here and had sprouted a second head.

Hunk chuckled, his expression softening. "Okay, buddy, let me break it down for you. Quantum superstition is just my way of saying that sometimes things don’t follow normal science rules. It’s like... imagine reality is a giant cookbook. Sometimes, the recipe doesn’t make sense, but it still works because the universe just

knows

how to cook it."

Lance blinked at him. "...Okay, but, like, where does the empanada come in?"

"That’s the folding part!" Hunk said cheerfully.

Lance threw his hands up, groaning. "Great. Love that my life revolves around empanadas, space lions, and things that make my brain hurt. Fabulous."

Pidge rolled her eyes, but Keith’s lips twitched into a small smile.

“Don’t tell me you understand these nerds too. What, was there some major lesson one day that gave the crash course to understanding crazy quantum realities that I missed?” Lance shot out, narrowing his eyes at Keith.

“To a certain degree.” Keith shrugged, his lips twitching into a teasing smirk. Lance mentally kicked himself for how fast he went from wanting to kiss those lips to wanting to downright chottle them up.

“Whatever, dropout.” He scoffed, looking away as his neck burned.

"You’ll get there, Lance," Hunk said, patting him on the shoulder. "Or... maybe you won’t. But it’s okay! Not everyone needs to understand quantum empanadas."

"I don’t know if that’s comforting," Lance muttered, but the warmth in Hunk’s tone made him smile anyway.

“Ok, but that doesn’t describe how they suddenly learned how to do this by themselves? We definitely didn’t teach them that.” Pidge folded her arms.

Another long beat of silence and thinking. Or minds being exploded, in Lance’s situation.

“It’s just a theory, but who knows anything anymore? I used to not believe in magical aliens existing but hey, I’m dating one so.” Hunk shrugged, and the confusion and tension of understanding the situation lightly diffused.

Before anyone could respond, a sudden booming voice from the doorway shattered their little bubble of camaraderie.

"Keith."

The group jolted, every head snapping toward the door. Kolivan stood there, his broad frame nearly filling the entryway. His expression was as inscrutable as ever, his stern eyes scanning the room with unnerving precision.

"Uh, hey, Kolivan," Hunk said nervously, scratching the back of his neck and darting his gaze elsewhere.

Pidge quickly buried herself in her tablet, pretending to be preoccupied. Lance, meanwhile, stiffened, glancing at Keith, who sat beside him. Keith, who had been leaning slightly toward Lance in a relaxed posture, immediately straightened, his entire demeanor sharpening.

"Kolivan," Keith said, his voice steady but his jaw visibly tense. "We were just—"

"I need to speak with you. Now," Kolivan interrupted, his tone brooking no argument.

Keith glanced toward Hunk and gestured vaguely. "Hunk had a theory about the lions’—"

"This isn’t a request," Kolivan said firmly, his gaze narrowing.

The room fell utterly silent. The air seemed to grow colder, tension thick enough to choke on. Hunk pretended to adjust something on his uniform, his usual bright expression replaced with awkward concentration. Pidge tapped furiously at her tablet, clearly just for show. Lance sat frozen, his stomach twisting uncomfortably as he glanced at Keith. He saw Keith’s jaw tighten, the grinding of his teeth visible in the flicker of his expression. Then, after a sharp exhale, Keith stood.

"Pidge," Keith said, his voice softer as he turned toward her. "Keep tracking the data and work with Hunk on his theory. I’ll be back."

Lance felt the absence the moment Keith pushed himself away from the table, the warmth of his proximity vanishing like smoke. As Keith stood, his arm brushed against Lance’s, a fleeting touch that left a cold ache in its wake.

Keith paused at the door, glancing briefly back at them. Lance, heart pounding, caught his gaze. His throat felt tight, his words stuck. But then, almost instinctively, Lance gave him a small smile, tapping his own jaw as if to remind Keith to relax.

Keith’s eyes widened in recognition of Lance’s secret signal shared between the two, a faint blush creeping up his cheeks. For a moment, he looked like he might say something, but instead, he quickly turned away, his back stiff as he followed Kolivan out the door.

As the heavy door slid shut behind them, Lance stared at the empty space Keith had just occupied, his chest hollow and his stomach twisting painfully. There were so many places Keith had to go that Lance couldn’t follow, no matter how much he wanted to. He clenched his fists, fighting the urge to run after him.

Hunk, noticing Lance’s expression, patted him gently on the back. “Hey, buddy. Keith’ll be fine. He’s tougher than all of us combined. You know that. He just has a habit of getting really intense parental figures around him.”

Lance gave a weak nod, but the ache didn’t subside. It was as if the room had gone colder, missing something vital. His hand hovered briefly where Keith’s arm had brushed his, and he couldn’t stop the overwhelming desire to reach out—to be there, to remind Keith he didn’t have to carry everything alone.

But all he could do now was wait.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

The fresh evening air was cool, and the grounds outside the Garrison were eerily quiet save for the faint hum of the blade ship nearby. Garrison officials had fled from the landing pad and were bustling through the halls of the Garrison, returning to their work, as Blade operatives locked down the ship from the inside, staying to Kolivans command of keeping a low profile and away from prying Garrison eyes. Keith walked alongside Kolivan, the imposing figure leading in a silence that felt heavier with each step. Keith’s stomach churned, his nerves a gnawing presence as he clenched his jaw and bit the inside of his cheek, the gravel crunching angrily beneath his boots as they walked outside farther from the main Garrison buildings. The cold air stung his skin, and every step away from the others twisted something deep inside his chest. He could still hear Hunk’s excited ramblings in his head, see the flicker of understanding in Pidge’s sharp eyes, and feel the warmth of Lance’s presence at his side. He clenched his fists, teeth grinding as frustration bubbled to the surface.

The Garrison loomed behind them, its sterile lights glowing faintly against the deepening sky. Keith’s eyes wandered back to the building, his chest tightening. Being here again was like reopening an old wound, the dull ache of memory mixing with the new weight of who he had become. Yet somehow, it was harder than he thought it would be. He wasn’t that scared 12-year-old anymore, darting through the halls with his head down, trying to avoid the curious stares and biting whispers. But some part of him still felt like that kid—out of place and searching for Shiro to make everything okay.

Kolivan stopped abruptly near the Blade ship, his sharp gaze turning to the sleek, dark vessel. He stood still for a moment, his silence even more commanding than his voice. Keith halted as well, hesitating before following Kolivan’s line of sight. Kolivan, as always, was silent, commanding in his stillness. Keith’s emotions churned, his thoughts racing, until finally, he snapped.

“Hunk had a brilliant idea about the lions,” Keith said, his voice sharp and edged with anger. “We were onto something, and now I’m out here instead of being there to figure it out with them.”

Kolivan stopped abruptly, his broad shoulders casting an imposing shadow in the moonlight. He turned to Keith, his expression impassive but his golden eyes cutting through Keith like a blade.

“This is not a game,” Kolivan said, his voice low and firm. “You have responsibilities beyond playing catch-up with your friends.”

The words hit Keith like a slap, his breath hitching as his anger flared. “They’re not just my friends,” he snapped. “They’re my team. And they’re the ones who’ve been fighting this war just as much as I have. They—”

“They are a distraction,” Kolivan interrupted, his tone unyielding. “You are no longer just a paladin, Keith. You are the leader of the Blades of Marmora. And that means you must focus on what matters.”

Keith bristled, his hands shaking with the effort to hold back the torrent of words threatening to spill out. His jaw clenched, his voice low and trembling with controlled fury. “What matters is finding the lions and stopping whatever’s coming before it’s too late.”

Kolivan stepped closer, his presence heavy and commanding, forcing Keith to look up at him. “Then act like a leader,” Kolivan said. “The search mission to track the lion falls under your command. There are soldiers waiting for you to give them direction—waiting for

their leader

to take charge. Or would you prefer to sit in a room with your friends, playing at theories while the galaxy inches closer to outright chaos as a supervillian demands destruction and the Lions?”

Keith’s mouth opened, ready to lash out, but Kolivan’s next words stopped him cold.

“I trust no one else to do this,” Kolivan said, his voice quieter but carrying more weight than any shout. “You are the only one capable of leading this mission and the Blades, Keith. You have the instincts, the drive, and the vision we need. But that comes with sacrifice. If you can’t focus, if you can’t see beyond yourself, you will fail. And failure is not an option.”

Keith’s jaw snapped shut, his breath catching in his throat. The honesty in Kolivan’s tone, the rare compliment twisted with impossible expectations, threw him off balance. He wanted to be angry, to fire back, but the weight of Kolivan’s words settled heavily on his shoulders. He stared at the ground, his fists tightening. The ache in his chest deepened, the longing for the team he’d fought so hard alongside clawing at his insides. But he couldn’t ignore the truth in Kolivan’s words, no matter how much it hurt to hear. The weight of the reminder of the responsibility he had with them.

Kolivan’s voice broke through his thoughts, calm yet unyielding. “The lions are too critical to involve outside hands. This is why we need Lance to act fast and tell us where it is. His connection is unique. The information is out now that it exists, and we must act quickly.”

Keith’s brow furrowed, a sharpness in his voice as he responded, “Lance can handle this. I believe in him.”

Kolivan turned to face him fully, his piercing gaze like a blade cutting through Keith’s resolve. “This is not about belief, Keith,” Kolivan said, his voice firm but not unkind. “Belief is for uncertainties. For possibilities. This is about capability. Ability is not something you place hope on. It must exist without the need for wishing or believing.”

Keith felt his hands curl into fists at his sides, his jaw tightening. He wanted to argue, to say that Lance’s abilities didn’t need to be questioned. But Kolivan’s words struck somewhere deep, not just about Lance but about himself.

Keith’s lips parted as if to speak, but no words came out. His eyes wandered back toward the Garrison, the memories flooding in again. All the times he’d run to Shiro for strength, for guidance. All the times he’d felt lost, needing someone to believe in him because he didn’t believe in himself. How there was always a lack of people believing he was worth something more than a stray orphaned kid who had no future, no past, or answers to help direct himself. And how somehow, Shiro had expected more out of him, had seen the small and emotionally rampant child who stole his bike and thought,

yah, that one. I believe in that kid for more.

And now, Lance was stepping into a space Keith knew all too well—a space of expectation, of responsibility that felt far too heavy to carry alone. But then his thoughts shifted, not to the past, but to Lance. To the way Lance always rose to the occasion, even when it scared him. To the way Lance looked at him—not with expectation, but with unwavering belief.

Keith looked back at Kolivan, his jaw relaxing slightly. “He will prove you wrong,” he said quietly, his voice steady but tinged with a faint defiance.

Kolivan’s expression didn’t change, but there was a faint flicker of acknowledgment in his eyes. He turned back to the Blade ship, his broad shoulders a silhouette against the dim light.

“I hope you are right,” Kolivan said after a pause, his voice carrying a weight that seemed to echo in the stillness. “For all our sakes.”

Keith's fists clenched as Kolivan's words settled over him, heavy and unshakable. The subtle flicker of doubt in Kolivan’s gaze hadn’t gone unnoticed, and it lit a fire in Keith’s chest. His voice rose before he could stop himself, sharp with emotion.

“The connection isn’t weak! Lance’s bond with the lions is strong—stronger than you’re giving him credit for. And the lions—” He stopped, his voice faltering for a moment, then steadied. “The lions will always stay connected to us, one way or another. That’s what they’re meant to do.”

Keith’s heart raced, his pulse loud in his ears. His emotions were rushing forward, spurred by Kolivan’s stoicism. How could Kolivan not see it? After everything they had fought for, how could he question it now?

“This is not about belief,” Kolivan repeated, as if reading Keith’s raging and defensive mind for Lance, his tone unyielding. He turned his head just enough to meet Keith’s gaze, his golden eyes gleaming with authority. “This is about ability. You cannot lead by hoping. You must lead by knowing. Belief has no place in war, only action.”

Keith’s breath hitched, his throat dry as the fire in his chest flickered. He clenched his fists, frustration boiling beneath his skin.

Kolivan’s gaze lingered on him for a beat longer before he took a step closer. “This is not the time for you to play tug-of-war with your emotions. The stakes are too high. You must choose who you are, Keith.”

Keith blinked, caught off guard. “I know who I am,” he said, though the words sounded weaker than he intended.

Kolivan let out a low hum, his expression unreadable as he turned fully toward Keith. “Do you? Because what I see is a boy trying to wear every mask he owns, hoping one will fit when the moment demands it.”

Keith stiffened, his chest tightening. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Kolivan gestured faintly toward the Blade ship. “I am Galra. That is the mask I wear when I lead the Blades. It is the face they need to see—the leader who commands respect, trust, and strength. The face that so closely resembles most of them back.” His eyes narrowed slightly. “But when I stand before the Galactic Coalition, begging for scraps of trust, do you think that is the same mask I wear? When I negotiate with leaders who still see us as monsters, who flinch at the sight of my face, do you think I can remain only the warrior?”

Keith’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, his mind racing. Kolivan’s voice grew heavier, laden with a gravity that seemed to settle into Keith’s very bones.

“We are all many pieces, Keith. But we cannot show them all at once. We must choose which mask to wear, not for ourselves, but for those who rely on us. The Blade must see me as their leader. The Coalition must see me as a diplomat. And yet, the man beneath all those masks must still remain intact.”

He stepped closer, his towering presence overwhelming but calm. “You are trying to wear both your paladin mask and your Blade mask. One foot in two worlds. And it is pulling you apart. Making you more emotional, more erratic, less focused and more distracted with everyone who came back, more desperate for control that you used to have. You cannot lead the Blades if you are still clinging to being a paladin.”

The words hit Keith like a blow, his breath catching as they sank in. “I’m not—” he started, but the protest died in his throat. Kolivan’s expression softened just enough to make the weight of his words even heavier.

“You can’t be everything to everyone. Not right now. There is only one mask that will make you a better leader for the Blades. That is the mask you must wear.”

Keith’s chest ached, his mind a whirlwind of emotions. He thought of his time with the paladins, the bond they shared, the sacrifices they made. And now, his time with the Blades—the weight of their trust, their hopes for him to lead. He felt like he was being ripped apart, forced to choose between two identities that were both undeniably him.

Keith’s shoulders slumped under the weight of Kolivan’s words, his heart heavy as he looked away, his eyes burning with unshed tears. He hated how much it hurt to hear, how much it felt like Kolivan was asking him to sever a part of himself.

Kolivan’s voice softened, though it still carried its unyielding strength. “Leadership is sacrifice, Keith. It is not about what you want. It is about what your people need. The Blades need their leader,” he said. “Not a paladin chasing ghosts.”

Keith swallowed hard, his throat tight as he nodded stiffly. He couldn’t look Kolivan in the eye, the ache in his chest threatening to crack him open. He turned his gaze back toward the Garrison, the lights in the windows a faint reminder of the warmth and connection he’d just left behind.

But Kolivan didn’t give him time to dwell. “The team needs rest. The Garrison is monitoring the skies while we will be tracking movement around Earth’s atmosphere in space to keep information about what they are looking for limited. It will give us all time to prepare and recoup energy that clearly is needed. The mission begins at dawn,” he said, his tone final as he turned and strode toward the Blade ship.

Keith remained rooted in place, the cold air biting at his skin as he stared at the ground. His mind raced, his heart heavy. The push and pull of Kolivan’s expectations and his own desires tore at him, leaving him raw and aching.

He wanted to go back. To sit beside Hunk, hear Lance’s laughs, watch Pidge’s eyes light up with realization. But Kolivan’s words echoed in his head, a heavy reminder of the weight he carried now.

Keith nodded slowly, his throat tight. The weight of Kolivan’s words pressed down on him, settling deep into his chest. As Kolivan turned and walked toward the ship, Keith remained frozen, staring at the ground. The leader of the Blades. Not just Keith, the paladin.

Not just Keith, their friend.

With a deep, shaky breath, Keith forced himself to straighten, the tension in his shoulders tightening as he turned toward the Garrison. His footsteps were heavy, his heart even heavier, as he walked forward, the cold night swallowing him whole.

The mask of the paladin, waiting. The mask of the Blade, necessary.

And Keith, somewhere in between, wondering if he deserved either.

Keith heard the knock before the door slid open, but he didn’t look up. His fingers pressed absently into the coarse fur along Kosmo’s neck, grounding himself in the wolf’s calm presence who lay at his feet, his tail flicking along to match the nervous heartbeat in Keith’s chest. By the time Keith came back inside the Garrison, his friends had already disappeared from the meeting room they were in. He didn’t know where everyone else was, having only known that everyones instructions were to settle in for the night and lead into this mission at dawn the next morning, and Keith didn’t mind not being around Garrision officials. Questioning eyes. The whispers about the Blade ship and words being slowly spread down halls at the Blades arrival and what they were to bring. What was to happen.

Keith had texted Shiro where he was spending the night, having assumed the Blades were all stubbornly locking themselves up in the ship, but after a lack of response Keith had stumbled upon an empty dorm room. It was just as small as he had remembered, dark and quiet and absent of a cadet living there. He had opted to shut himself in rhere, blocking himself in as his thoughts stormed wildly in him and his chest panged with guilt. With responsibilities. With expectations and uncertainties and just wanting this all to stop. To not be here. It felt too much, being in the halls. Seeing pictures of past pilots and commanders who had been here for years. Of being surrounded in this world again. Of a reminder of the awful feeling of exclusion, of a loss of drive or purpose. Of being told the person he cared for most at the time was dead. Of returning now with even more dooming thoughts and expectations, of being told he couldn’t have one thing without completely leaving another thing behind. His breathing was steady, but his mind was anything but. Kolivan’s words churned in his thoughts, over and over, weighing down every breath he took. He felt like he was wearing armor again, but this time it wasn’t to protect himself—it was to hold everything inside.

The sharp click of boots made him glance up. Lance stood there, leaning against the doorframe like he didn’t have a care in the world, but there was an uncharacteristic hesitation in his posture. He was no longer in his Blade suit that all his friends had been suited in, now in simple Garrison slacks and the uniformed grey casual shirt that he remembered the MFE’s would wear on the Atlas when training or getting ready for bed. But he still wore his usual green jacket he seemed to never leave out of an outfit. His shoulders were a little too stiff, his smile a little too forced.

“What?” Keith asked, his voice coming out more clipped than he intended.

Lance didn’t flinch. Instead, he smiled faintly, his hands shoved into his jacket pockets. “Weird seeing you alone and not with either Kolivan or Axca nagging at your side. Everyone else is bunking together. Big sleepover vibes. Like old times.”

Keith felt his chest tighten at the words.

Old times.

The phrase hit him like a slap. The garrison halls, the hushed questioning eyes, the ache of being on the outside looking in—it was all still too fresh. He ducked his head, letting his hair fall into his eyes as he focused on Kosmo. His hand stilled on the wolf’s fur, who let out a small whine sensing his owners anxiety.

Lance shifted his weight, the sound pulling Keith’s attention back up. He was standing there, awkward but oddly patient, his eyes scanning Keith’s face like he was trying to solve a puzzle.

“Not saying you have to join or anything,” Lance added quickly, stepping further into the room. “I mean, if you wanted this time to brood alone and have a moment away from people? Very on-brand for you.”

Keith’s lips twitched despite himself, the corner of his mouth lifting for just a second. “Guess I’m predictable.”

“Painfully so.” Lance’s teasing was softer this time, lacking its usual sharpness. He hesitated again, then opted to entering the room and perched on the edge of the bed, his knee brushing against Keith’s. “You good?”

The question caught Keith off guard, making him blink. “Yeah,” he said automatically, his voice flat. His gaze dropped to Kosmo again, who thumped his tail lazily against the floor.

“Keith,” Lance said quietly, his voice gentler now. “You don’t look fine. And you’re a terrible liar, by the way.”

Keith clenched his jaw, his fingers curling into Kosmo’s fur. “I said I’m fine.”

“Sure you are,” Lance replied, leaning back on his hands. “And I’m a Pulitzer prize winner on time warps and space empanadas.”

Keith felt the words catch in his throat. He wanted to push Lance away, tell him to leave, but something about the way Lance was looking at him—like he actually

saw

him—made it impossible. How he was always so patient with him, despite the throns that Keith bristled out. The walls Keith had spent years perfecting felt paper-thin.

“I have a lot to think about,” Keith muttered. It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the full truth either.

Lance tilted his head, studying him. “Kolivan?”

The name alone sent a jolt through Keith’s chest. He nodded stiffly.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“No,” Keith said immediately, but his hands betrayed him, tightening into fists.

Lance didn’t push. Instead, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his voice low. “I know you think you have to carry everything by yourself. But you don’t. You’ve got... us. Me.”

Keith felt his breath hitch, the words hitting him harder than they should have. His shoulders sagged slightly, the weight he’d been carrying for hours threatening to crush him. His throat felt raw and tight, as if betraying his own body and wanting to stop him from being able to breathe at how weak he was becoming.

Keith’s jaw grinded anxiously, his thoughts storming with every fear he’d shoved to the back of his mind. Kolivan’s words echoed loudly, grating against everything else in his head—

responsibility, leadership, masks.

He felt like he was falling. Falling felt like flying until the bone crush. Like no matter how hard he worked, it would never be enough.

Then, there was a shift.

A warm, grounding touch rested on his knee. Keith’s breath hitched sharply, the sudden contact pulling him out of his spiraling thoughts like a tether. He flinched slightly at the sensation, his gaze snapping down to where Lance’s hand now rested, light but firm, steady as if it was meant to anchor him. Slowly, hesitantly, Keith lifted his eyes.

Lance was looking at him—not with pity or impatience, but with something deeper, something gentler. The soft light of the room caught in his eyes, making the blue glow faintly against the dark. His face was open, careful, almost cautious, as though he were afraid he might spook Keith by saying the wrong thing. His fingers hovered slightly, like they weren’t sure if they were welcome, like Lance himself was testing the boundaries of what he could give.

Keith’s chest twisted painfully.

How can he look at me like that?

Keith thought, his throat tightening.

How can he be so gentle with me?

The way Lance’s thumb brushed once, briefly, against the fabric of his pants made Keith’s breath catch again. He looked away, unable to hold the gaze, the softness too much, too undeserved. He wanted to pull away, wanted to tell Lance to stop looking at him like that, to stop being so damn

kind

—but he couldn’t move.

Because some part of him didn’t want Lance to stop. The selfish, desperate, clawing part that had waiting too long for this. This reality that seemed impossible that had been finally reached. Like he was about to be shaken awake and hit with his real reality of Lance not actually being so loving and seeing him for who he was.

And that was the worst part of all.

Lance tilted his head slightly, his brow furrowing in concern as if he could feel the tension vibrating through Keith’s body. The hand on his knee didn’t falter.

“Keith,” Lance said softly, a sigh brushing past his lips, filling the heavy silence between them. He hesitated, then let out a faint, almost nervous laugh. “You know... my mom’s going to lose her mind when I tell her I’m bringing you home.”

Keith blinked, the words slicing through his fog of self-loathing like a knife. The warmth of Lance’s hand on his knee hadn’t left—it lingered, steady, like it belonged there. Keith was caught between two worlds: the one that was heavy with responsibility and uncertainty, and the one Lance effortlessly created, filled with laughter, warmth, and light. His head shot up, his eyes locking on Lance’s.

“What?” he asked, his voice rough with disbelief.

Lance’s mouth quirked into a small, playful smile, though his hand stayed steady. “I mean it. And like before you say you’ve already been brought home with me, I mean it in the updated, post kiss, want to reintroduce you to the family way. And when she finds out it’s

you

that I’m finally bringing home? Forget about it. My mom’s probably going to cry. Like, full-on waterworks. She’s been waiting for something like this forever. You don’t even know. Oh, she’s also gonna cook enough food for an army to celebrate. She’ll probably make a whole spread just because she’ll think you look like you need to eat more. Which, let’s be honest…” He gave Keith a teasing once-over, his grin widening. “She’s not wrong.”

Keith’s lips twitched, a half-smile threatening to appear despite the storm still brewing inside him. “I eat plenty,” he muttered, his voice low, but there wasn’t any real conviction behind the protest.

Lance’s laugh was warm, the kind that made Keith’s chest tighten and ache in ways he wasn’t used to. “Yeah, yeah. You’re full of cosmic Blade goo and protein bars. Super nutritious. My mom’s going to fix that, don’t worry.”

Keith felt his throat tighten, the words sticking as he tried to respond. The heat in his chest hadn’t subsided, and every brush of Lance’s hand against his knee sent small shocks through his system. He focused on Lance’s face instead, the way it lit up as he continued, a faint flush on his cheeks.

“And my family’s going to flip,” Lance went on, the warmth in his voice unwavering. “I mean, I’ll have to come out to them first.” He paused, a small frown tugging at his lips, but then he shrugged, brushing it off with ease. “Honestly, it’ll only be a problem if I tell the extended family in Cuba, but I’m not planning on that. What matters is the immediate crew. And they’re gonna love you, Keith. I know it.”

Keith opened his mouth, the urge to protest rising—

why would they love me? I’m not even—

—but the words didn’t come. Lance’s confidence in his statement left no room for his rebuttal.

Lance leaned closer, his voice dropping slightly, almost conspiratorial. “I mean, I want to shout about us, you know? Like, just stand on the rooftops and yell it to the world.” His smile turned mischievous as he teased, “But I won’t. I know you don’t like loud noises.”

The affectionate, playful tug at the ends of Keith’s hair that followed nearly undid him. His body reacted instantly, heat pooling low in his stomach, his pulse quickening and his heart thudding wildly in his chest. The simple gesture was enough to send a wave of warmth and shock rushing through his veins, leaving him utterly still under Lance’s touch.

“Relax,” Lance chuckled softly, oblivious to the chaos he was causing, his fingers lingering in Keith’s hair for a moment before retreating. “Your mullet lives to see another Mcclain housetrip.”

It wasn’t just hair to Keith—not the way Lance’s touch seemed to short-circuit his brain, not the way his voice soothed the storm in his chest.

Keith blinked, his brain struggling to keep up. The weight of Kolivan’s words, the burdens of leadership, the doubts that gnawed at him—all of it faded as Lance’s tangent carried on, steady and calming. The touch on his knee stayed constant, Lance’s fingers occasionally slipping up to brush his upper leg. Each time, Keith flinched slightly, the sensation sending tiny jolts of heat and surprise through him, but Lance didn’t seem to notice.

Instead, Lance’s flushed, soft expression remained, his eyes distant as he pictured his family. There was such ease in the way he spoke, such trust and affection in the way he lingered near Keith. It was like Lance didn’t even realize how much he gave—how his warmth made Keith’s chest ache in the best way. How much Keith writhed and craved it.

And as Keith sat there, barely breathing, he realized that this was what he needed—this moment, this distraction, this

Lance.

Lance leaned closer, his smile softening as his gaze caught Keith’s, and for a moment, the air between them felt heavier, like a string pulled taut.

“They’re gonna adore you and me,” Lance said gently, the teasing gone from his tone, replaced by something earnest and hopeful, his cheeks flushing red as he shly eyed Keith’s stunned expression. “My family, I mean. And they’re going to love you. All of you.”

Keith swallowed, his throat dry, the weight of those words settling on his chest.

All of you.

It was such a simple thing for Lance to say, like it wasn’t something extraordinary, but to Keith, it was everything.

“Even the part of me that…” Keith trailed off, hesitating, his fingers curling into fists on his lap, flexing out as Kolivan’s words echoed in his mind. At the reason why the Mcclains had lost their son to a space war and had underwent so much destruction and loss. “The part that’s Galra?”

Lance’s brows furrowed, his expression softening even more. “Keith,” he said, his voice so gentle that it made Keith’s heart twist. “Why would that even matter? It’s part of who you are. And that’s… that’s kind of the whole point, isn’t it? That they love

you

—not pieces, not versions, just you.”

Keith couldn’t look at him anymore, his gaze dropping to his lap as a deep flush crept up his neck. The vulnerability in Lance’s words was too much, too raw, and yet, he couldn’t bring himself to shy away from it. The hand on his knee shifted slightly, Lance’s fingers brushing higher again—just a fleeting touch, but it sent a wave of heat and static through Keith’s body. He flinched, a small, sharp breath escaping him before he could stop it.

Lance stilled, his eyes widening slightly. “Oh, sorry, did I—”

“No,” Keith said quickly, his voice coming out rougher than he intended. He peeked up at Lance, and the concern on his face made Keith’s chest ache. “It’s… it’s fine.”

Lance hesitated, then let out a soft laugh, the tension in his shoulders easing. “Man, you’re like a skittish cat sometimes, you know that? I’m not gonna hurt you.”

Keith huffed a breath, but it wasn’t annoyed—it was more like a weak attempt to mask the way Lance’s words disarmed him.

“I know,” he murmured, his voice quieter now.

Lance’s hand stayed, his thumb brushing over Keith’s knee absently as if he wasn’t even aware of the way it made Keith’s heart stutter. “Anyway, my twin? She’s definitely going to have some words for me. I mean, she was totally convinced she’d be the one to win you over.”

Keith blinked, startled out of his thoughts. “Your

twin

?”

“Mm-hmm.” Lance grinned, clearly enjoying this. “Rachel was always saying stuff like, ‘If I had the chance, I’d have Keith’s last name in a heartbeat.’ And now look. Who would’ve thought?”

Keith’s lips parted slightly, unsure whether to laugh or groan at the ridiculousness of it. “That’s… I don’t even know what to say to that.”

“You don’t have to say anything.” Lance chuckled, leaning back slightly but keeping his hand where it was. His fingers flexed slightly, brushing against Keith’s leg again, and Keith’s stomach flipped.

The idea of meeting Lance’s family—being introduced as

someone important,

someone who was

with

him—made Keith’s chest swell with both warmth and anxiety. He was so starkly different from the loud, warm, laughter filled household of the Mcclains. They were loving and numbered and built for reunions and parties and fighting to be the one with attention in the room. They were safe and rambunctious and close knit. And Keith?

Keith was far from any of that.

He glanced at Lance again, taking in the way his face had softened, the way his blue eyes seemed brighter even in the dim light. Keith felt his heart stutter as Lance leaned back, studying him with those piercing blue eyes that always seemed to see too much. The warmth of Lance’s hand still lingered on his knee, but Keith’s thoughts were racing too fast for him to focus on the comfort it brought.

“I just don’t get it,” Lance said softly, his voice shaking with a mix of nervousness and frustration. “How you don’t see it.”

“See what?” Keith asked, his voice raspier than he expected, though he already dreaded the answer.

Lance exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair as if trying to steady himself. “How amazing you are. How deeply cared about you are. How you have people who truly lov–” Lance cut himself off, his face flushing for a second, before he stammered on.

“You act like you’re not… like you’re not enough, but, Keith, you’re

everything.

”

The words hit Keith like a freight train, and he recoiled slightly, his mind scrambling for a way to process them. Lance thought he was… amazing? Keith’s chest tightened, fear clawing at the edges of his thoughts. This was what he was afraid of—someone getting too close, expecting more from him than he could give. He wasn’t sure he could live up to whatever it was Lance saw in him.

But then Lance shifted closer again, his posture open and vulnerable, as if sensing Keith’s internal struggle and refusing to let him spiral further.

“Keith…” Lance started, his voice soft and unsure, “I—I feel like I’m constantly getting burned by you, you know?”

Keith flinched, leaning back further, his eyes darting away. Of course. He’d known this would happen. He’d known he’d hurt Lance. That he’d ruin this. Disaster. Complete disaster.

Lance, however, didn’t pull away. Instead, he tilted his head, letting out a nervous laugh that sent a strange pang through Keith’s chest. “But, uh… the thing is,” Lance continued, his voice growing steadier, “I think I

want

to be burned.”

Keith’s gaze snapped back to him, startled. “What?”

“I mean,” Lance said, his cheeks reddening as his hands fidgeted in his lap, “I don’t know how I went this long without experiencing you—without being close to you. It’s like, now that I’ve had even a little bit of you, I constantly want more.”

Keith’s breath hitched. Lance’s words were too much—too raw, too overwhelming, too

real.

He didn’t understand how someone like Lance could be so gentle, so persistent, so willing to reach out even when Keith felt like he was impossible to touch. Both of them were flushed now, the air between them thick with something Keith couldn’t name but felt in every nerve of his body.

Keith felt Lance’s eyes flicker unsubtly down to his lips and flickering fast up to Keith’s eyes, as if caught, blushing harder.

Keith’s stomach flipped at that, parting his own lips to speak, when Lance rushed in fast again, his voice hesitant as his question came out in a rush, his voice pitched a little higher than normal, “Would it… would it be bad if I kissed you?”

Keith’s eyes widened, the words hitting him like a slap to the face. His cheeks went a violent shade of red as his brain tried and failed to keep up. He barely managed to form a coherent thought before Lance was staring at him, wide-eyed and intense, like he was bracing himself for impact.

A nervous smile tugged at the corner of Keith’s lips despite the heat crawling up his neck. “I think we could… make that happen,” he mumbled, his voice somehow steadier than he felt.

Lance straightened slightly, as if Keith had handed him the galaxy’s most precious treasure, but then his mouth started moving, and Keith realized he wasn’t about to let the moment breathe.

“Well,” Lance began, clearly trying to play it cool and failing spectacularly, “I didn’t know if this was the right vibe, you know, with all this emotional, lame gushy talk we were doing. Like, maybe I’m ruining the moment. But also, I’ve been wanting to jump on you all day, so, you know… maybe it’s the

perfect

vibe. That said, I did come in here to genuinely comfort you—don’t let my raging horniness overshadow that fact. I’m very layered and thoughtful like that. So, uh, would it be acceptable behavior for your incredibly amazing and very good-looking boyfriend to thus lead in and—”

Keith blinked, trying to keep up with Lance’s rapid-fire words, but one particular part of his ramble hit him like a ton of bricks, barley catching on to that slight slip in. And then the words registered.

“Wait,” Keith cut in, his voice sharper than he intended, “

Boyfriend?

”

Lance froze mid-sentence, his mouth still half-open, and the color drained from his face as if he’d just realized he’d walked straight into a lion’s den. Slowly, his hands flew to his mouth as if that could somehow erase the words he’d just said. “Oh my God,” Lance mumbled through his fingers, his voice muffled and horrified.

Keith stared at him, his own face heating up as the room suddenly felt ten degrees hotter. Lance’s wide, nervous eyes, his twitchy fingers, his very

Lance-ness

in this moment—Keith couldn’t decide if he wanted to laugh or combust on the spot.

Keith stared at him, his own face heating up as he tried to process the confession. Lance’s flushed cheeks, his nervous eyes, the way his fingers twitched against his mouth—all of it made Keith’s chest ache in a way that was almost unbearable.

You…” Keith’s voice faltered, his heart pounding. “You think of me as your boyfriend?”

Lance groaned, slumping forward and burying his face in his hands. “NO! I didn’t mean to— I mean, I

do

, but— Oh, quiznack, this is not how I wanted to—”

Keith blinked again, his mind blanking at Lance’s flailing attempt at damage control. A small, breathless laugh escaped him before he could stop it, and the sound seemed to startle both of them.

“Lance,” Keith said softly, surprising himself with the gentleness in his tone.

Lance peeked through his fingers, his expression a perfect storm of hope, panic, and embarrassment.

“I don’t mind,” Keith said, his voice steady now, though his cheeks were still burning. His lips quirked up into a faint, hesitant smile.

Lance slowly lowered his hands, blinking at Keith like he wasn’t sure he’d heard him right. “Wait. You don’t mind… what?”

Keith leaned forward, the small space between them suddenly feeling too vast. Their faces were close now, the warmth of Lance’s presence pulling Keith in like gravity. “Being your boyfriend,” Keith said, the words barely above a whisper but carrying more weight than he thought possible.

Lance’s breath hitched, his blue eyes going impossibly wide before a slow, disbelieving grin spread across his face. “Oh,” he breathed, his voice soft and awestruck. “

Oh

.”

And then, without thinking—because thinking felt like too much right now—Keith leaned in and pressed his lips lightly to Lance’s. It was awkward and hesitant, a little too fast and a little too unsure, but it was them. It was perfect in the way only they could make it, and Keith felt his chest swell with something so big and so warm it was almost painful.

When they pulled back seconds later, Lance was grinning like an idiot, his eyes bright and his cheeks impossibly red.

“Okay,” he said, his voice breathless and warm, “I think that was more than acceptable.”

Keith huffed out a soft laugh, the corners of his mouth quirking up. “You’re such a dork.”

For the first time in what felt like forever, he let himself feel the warmth Lance offered so freely, and it was everything. Lance’s grin softened as he gazed at Keith, his eyes tracing every detail of his face like he was committing it to memory.

Slowly, he reached up, brushing a lock of Keith’s hair away from his face with a touch so gentle it sent shivers down Keith’s spine. “And you’re…. So unfairly gorgeous,” Lance murmured, his voice low and warm, his thumb lingering against Keith’s cheek, caressing the rough skin of his scar.

Keith’s breath hitched, his cheeks flushing even deeper at the intensity of Lance’s gaze. His chest felt tight, his stomach flipping in ways that were both thrilling and terrifying. “You’re such an idiot,” Keith muttered, his voice catching as his hands gripped at the bed for support before he nearly passed out from Lance’s fullness. His honesty and earnest look and full LOOK.

“Maybe,” Lance replied with a small, teasing smirk, but the fondness in his tone made Keith’s heart ache. “But I’m your idiot now, right?”

He grabbed Lance by the front of his jacket and tugged him forward, pressing their lips together in a kiss that was anything but tentative this time. Lance made a surprised noise before melting into the kiss, his hands coming up to rest on Keith’s waist. The kiss was slow and unhurried, their lips moving together like they had all the time in the world. They leaned back onto the bed, Lance encasing Keith under him as he propped an arm besides Keith’s head as he positioned himself anchored over him. Keith’s fingers curled into the fabric of Lance’s jacket, pulling him closer, needing to feel more, needing to drown in the warmth Lance was offering him.

Lance’s breath huffed as his hands ran down the sleek material of Keith’s Blade suit, his fingers slipping along the smooth, reinforced fabric that hugged every inch of Keith’s form. His fingers pressed harder and began tugging impatiently at the suit fabric as if it was mocking him for not being able to reach the skin underneath.He pulled back just slightly, his forehead still pressed against Keith’s, his lips brushing against his in a way that was maddeningly light.

“You know,” Lance started, his voice breathless and low, his frustration spilling out as he yanked harder at the material, “I’m all for this mysterious, space-ninja look you’ve got going on, but right now it’s really—really—inconvenient. And slightly unfair. Who designed this, and why do they hate me?”

“It’s not—ah—meant for this,” Keith huffed out a laugh, his voice trembling as he clung to Lance’s shoulders, his body buzzing with heat and urgency. Lance had an adorably frustrated look on his face that warmed Keith in too many ways.

Lance’s hands roamed down Keith’s sides, his touch firm but teasing as his fingers slid over the seams of the suit. “Quiznack,” he said, his voice tinged with frustration and desperation. “How am I supposed to get to

you

when you’re wrapped up in, like, a second layer of armor?”

He jabbed his hands annoyingly into Keith’s side, causing Keith to swat at Lance’s chest, snorting at how frustrated Lance was getting.

“It’s… it’s just my suit, Lance,” he mumbled, but his voice faltered when Lance’s fingers found the latch near his waist, tugging at it experimentally.

“Yeah, well, your suit is currently

keeping me from touching you

,” Lance countered, his tone a mix of teasing and needy. He leaned in again, his lips brushing against Keith’s ear as he added, “And I really, really want to touch you right now.”

The edge of desperation in Lance’s voice sent a thrill through Keith, his body reacting before his brain could catch up. He surged forward, his hands tangling in Lance’s hair as he kissed him with all the force of a storm, their teeth clashing for a moment before they found their rhythm again. Lance let out a muffled noise of surprise, his hands tightening on Keith’s hips as lowered further down ontop of Keith. The motion only seemed to stoke the fire between them, Keith’s lips moving hungrily against Lance’s as if he could devour every inch of him in one go.

“Lance,” Keith started, his voice shaky and low, but Lance cut him off with a kiss that was searing and desperate, his hands working at the clasp of the suit with single-minded determination. Keith let out a muffled sound of protest that quickly turned into a groan as Lance’s fingers finally found a way under the edge of the suit, brushing against the bare skin of his waist.

“Fuck,” Keith hissed, his head tipping back as a shiver ran through him. The suit felt stifling now, too hot, too tight, and Lance seemed to sense it, his hands working to peel it back inch by inch.

“You’re not making this easy,” Lance muttered, his voice laced with frustration and affection as he kissed along Keith’s jaw, his lips warm and insistent. “How do you even move in this thing?”

Keith huffed out a breathless laugh, his hands gripping Lance’s shoulders tighter as the suit finally gave way under Lance’s determined fingers.

“Practice,” he murmured low, but his voice broke on the word as Lance’s hands slid under the fabric, his palms warm against Keith’s bare stomach.

Lance paused for a moment, his hands stilling as he looked up at Keith, his blue eyes wide and dark with emotion. Of a needy want that seemed animalistic on someone who never wore this look.

“There you are,” he whispered, his voice soft and awestruck as his thumbs brushed against Keith’s sides.

Keith’s heart ached at the look on Lance’s face, so open and vulnerable and full of want. He swallowed hard, his hands moving up to cup Lance’s face as he leaned in, their foreheads touching.

“I’m right here,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, his breath mingling with Lance’s.

Lance’s hands slid up Keith’s sides, his touch light and teasing, making Keith shiver. Keith let out a frustrated noise, breaking the kiss for only a moment to murmur, “Stop teasing.”

Lance chuckled, his breath warm against Keith’s lips. “Who’s teasing?” he asked, but the playful lilt in his voice betrayed him.

Keith growled low in his throat, his frustration bubbling over as he yanked Lance even closer, their bodies pressed flush together. He kissed him harder this time, pouring all his pent-up emotions into it. Lance groaned softly, his hands tightening on Keith’s hips as he eagerly returned the kiss. The air between them grew hotter, heavier, their breaths mingling as the kiss deepened. Lance’s hands began to roam, his fingers slipping further up the underneath of the Blade’s loosening suit to brush against more bare skin, to grab at his chest. Keith shuddered at the contact, a gasp slipping from his lips before he could stop it, his breath hitching as Lance’s hands slid up under his suit, palming the muscles of his back with a touch that was both reverent and possessive.

Lance breathed against his mouth as Keith finally yanked the shirt over his head, the fabric hitting the floor in a forgotten heap. Keith froze for half a second, his breath catching as he took in the sight of Lance’s flushed chest, his skin gleaming in the low light of the room, sat right on his legs encasing him under him.

The moment hung heavy between them, charged with an intensity that made Keith’s chest ache. But then Lance was moving again, his hands back on Keith’s suit, tugging it down further with an urgency that made Keith’s head spin.

“Keith,” Lance said, his voice low and almost pleading as he leaned in, pressing a trail of open-mouthed kisses down the side of Keith’s neck. “I need—”

“Lance,” Keith interrupted, his own voice cracking as he gripped Lance’s shoulders, his nails digging into his skin. “I—just—

take it off already

.”

Lance let out a breathless laugh, his eyes bright with exhilaration as he worked faster, the suit finally slipping down over Keith’s shoulders, baring more of his skin to the cool air and Lance’s burning gaze.

“This doesn’t exactly come with an instructions manual,” Lance murmured with a sly smile, his hands roaming over Keith’s chest, his touch both tentative and greedy as if he couldn’t decide whether to savor the moment or drown in it completely, tracing patterns.

Keith shuddered under the attention, his head dipping back as Lance’s lips found the hollow of his throat, his tongue darting out to taste the sweat that pooled there. The heat between them was unbearable, their breaths mingling as their movements grew more frantic, more desperate.

“Looks like you’ll be the first to write an

undressing a Blade’s

tutorial,” Keith rose a brow with an evil smirk, glowing in the way Lance’s entire face flushed red as he flinched. Their hips pressed together in a way that made them both gasp, a jolt of heat searing through Keith.

“Keith,” Lance breathed heavy, his voice trembling as his hands slipped lower, his fingers brushing against the waistband of Keith’s suit where it still clung stubbornly to his hips. “You’re driving me insane.”

Keith let out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a groan, his hands tangling in Lance’s hair as he kissed him again, hard and unrelenting. “Good,” he muttered against Lance’s lips, his voice rough with need.

Keith’s hands slid down to grip Lance’s hips, pulling him closer until there was no space left between them. Lance’s hands mapped out every inch of skin they could find. His touch was reverent yet desperate, his fingers pressing into Keith’s skin, his thumbs brushing against the curve of his ribs. Keith shuddered under the attention. Every touch, every kiss, every gasp from Lance set him on fire. He couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything but

feel

as Lance’s hands explored every inch of him, his touch leaving a trail of heat in its wake.

“Keith,” Lance said again, his voice softer now, almost reverent as he pulled back just enough to look at him. His blue eyes were wide and dark, filled with so much raw emotion that it made Keith’s chest ache.

“What?” Keith huffed, his throat making a slight whine at the amount of times Lance insisted on talking during this wonderfully overstimulating moment. He searched Lance’s face, his own heart pounding so loudly he was sure Lance could hear it.

Lance didn’t answer right away. Instead, he leaned in, pressing a kiss to the corner of Keith’s mouth, then his jaw, then the curve of his neck. Finally, a trembling hand grabbed at Keith’s own hand, taking his fingers to his mouth and brushing them against his lips, causing Keith’s chest to tighten.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you.”

Keith’s breath hitched, his hands gripping Lance tighter as he let those words sink in. And then, without thinking, he pulled Lance in again, their lips crashing together in a kiss that was all fire and chaos and pure, unfiltered want.

The rest of the world faded away as they lost themselves in each other, their touches growing bolder, their kisses deeper, their breaths mingling in a symphony of need and exhilaration. Everything that had been swirling and storming in Keith’s mind had suddenly stilled, like the ocean after typhoon. Nothing felt wrong. Keith had never felt so alive, so grounded, so completely out of control—and he didn’t want it to stop. Not now. Not ever.

Nothing would ever capture the sting of never having this moment ever again. Keith didn’t believe in a god, but in that moment, he was fully ready to give up all and worship Lance as his savior.

As their desperate, feverish touches began to slow, the room filled with a heavy, almost sacred stillness, like the eye of a storm. Keith’s fingers trailed over Lance’s flushed skin, trembling slightly as he committed every dip and curve to memory. Lance mirrored him, his palm ghosting over Keith’s cheek, his thumb brushing the corner of his mouth where their lips had pressed moments ago—red, swollen,

claimed

.

It wasn’t just lust anymore. It hadn’t been for a while, and Keith could feel it deep in his chest, in the way Lance looked at him, eyes soft and unguarded. Keith had spent so long bracing for a fight, building walls to keep people out, but Lance had broken through all of that so effortlessly. The air between them was thick with the ache of unspoken words, the kind that neither of them was ready to voice. Yet, they hung there, pulsing like the beat of a song, reverberating through the quiet.

Keith's breath hitched as Lance leaned forward, pressing their foreheads together. The room was dim, but even in the low light, Lance’s blue eyes glowed, their depth threatening to pull Keith under.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” Lance murmured, his voice soft, almost trembling.

Keith’s chest tightened, his fingers curling into the fabric of Lance’s waistband. “I think I do,” he admitted, his voice low and rough, his throat tight, giving him a satisfied smirk.

Lance let out a shaky groan, a small, awestruck laugh breaking through the tension. “You’re so—” His voice faltered, his lips brushing Keith’s temple.

Keith felt something inside him crack, raw and aching, and he couldn’t look away from Lance, who seemed to shine in the dim light, like the North Star guiding him through endless darkness. Keith wanted to say something, anything, to tell Lance how much he meant to him, how deeply he was rooted in his soul, but the words tangled and stuck in his throat. Instead, he reached out, his hand sliding into Lance’s hair, pulling him close for a kiss that was softer this time. There was no urgency, no frantic desperation—just a deep, aching tenderness that made Keith’s heart feel like it was breaking and mending all at once.

The world narrowed to just them, their bodies pressed close, their breathing synchronized as if they were two halves of the same being. And Keith realized, with a pang so sharp it almost hurt, that he didn’t know how to exist without Lance anymore as a gentle rhythm of their breathing settled the room. The slow rise and fall of their chests pressed together. Lance's fingers drew delicate patterns across Keith’s back, tracing galaxies into his skin, as if mapping out every place he wanted to explore.

It was too much—this ache, this love—but it wasn’t enough at the same time. How could he feel so consumed by Lance and still yearn for more?

“Oh my god.”

Keith opened his eyes to peek at Lance staring blankly off the bed. Frowning and thrown off by the rhythm they had going, he peered to follow Lance’s gaze, but froze.

Kosmo sat there, head tilted and tail slowly swaying back and forth, not fully understanding the situation in front of its eyes.

“We soiled his eyes. His wonderful, youthful eyes.” Lance muttered out, gripping at Keith. Keith snorted.

“Kosmo’s gonna forget everything that just happened in like ten seconds if he smells something else more entertaining to explore.” Keith lay back down on the bed, watching as Lance’s widened eyes flicked between Keith and Kosmo, growing more red.

“This is not the kind of exposure I ever want to give my step-son. I’m already a bad influence!” Lance’s voice cracked.

“Uh, your step-son?”

“Well, what else am I going to be to your son? I certainly refuse to be a one time stand. We gotta have him think that you have someone who is gonna stick around. He wants two parents!”

“Lance…its a wolf.”

“A wolf who will be very lovingly supported by the world’s best step-dad, thank you very much.”

Keith shoved Lance to the floor at this.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Lance was surprised when he woke up to the serenity of a dark Garrison dorm room. He woke slowly, the kind of groggy, half-conscious haze that usually accompanied too little sleep in too short a span. His sense of reality was momentarily thrown if it wasn’t for the heavy deadweight on his arm and side bringing him back to blink at what the moment was. His arm ached from a pressure, but when he tried to move, his chin tickled from something soft, and slowly, his senses came to.

Keith was sleeping on his shoulder, his head tucked peacefully under Lance’s chin. They were in bed together. In the Garrison dorm room. His hair, impossibly soft, tickled Lance’s chin with every exhale. Lance blinked a few times, clearing his vision in the low light of the room, a faint orange glow from the hallway seeping through the door. It took him a moment to piece it together: the mess of blankets tangled around their legs, the steady rise and fall of Keith’s bare chest against his ribs, and the way his own hand rested gently on Keith's shoulder.

It took Lance all but three seconds for his reality to click in on where he was, who he was with, and how 12 year old little Lance would have absolutely lost his shit if he knew this was his future.

Lance stilled, his breath catching in his throat as he stared down at the man sprawled so vulnerably across him. His arm was dead asleep under Keith's weight, pins and needles threatening to prick through the haze at any moment, but he didn’t dare move. Not yet.

Keith looked so peaceful like this. His face was soft in slumber, no furrowed brows, no tightness in his jaw, none of the constant tension that seemed to cling to him like armor he adorned outside his body. His lips, slightly parted and slightly bruised, were relaxed, and for once, he didn’t look like the soldier or the leader Lance had grown to admire. He looked young—

normal

. Human, in a way that made Lance’s chest ache.

Lance shifted slightly, freeing his hand just enough to let it brush over Keith’s bare shoulder. His fingers traced the faint lines of muscle there, marveling at how warm Keith’s skin was beneath his touch. The sensation was grounding, his fingertips memorizing the curve of Keith's shoulder blade, the faint dip at the base of his neck, the scars and burns Lance hadn’t noticed before scattered like stars on his skin. Keith stirred slightly, his breath hitching as he shifted closer, nuzzling his face further into Lance’s chest. Lance froze, but Keith didn’t wake—his body simply melted further into Lance’s, his muscles completely slack, his trust so absolute it almost made Lance’s heart break.

He let out a soft, shaky exhale, his hand continuing its lazy strokes along Keith’s skin. His other arm was still firmly pinned beneath Keith, but he didn’t care. This was worth it.

His mind wandered as he gazed at Keith, helplessly fond. How crazy would this have been to his 12-year-old self? The idea of lying in a bed like this,

holding Keith Kogane

, skin-to-skin, their bodies so tangled together that Lance could barely tell where he ended and Keith began? It was insane. A laugh bubbled up in his throat, so quiet it barely escaped, but he bit it down anyway. The irony of it wasn’t lost on him, either.

A Garrison dorm room.

Of all places, it had to be here—where they’d met, where their rivalry had sparked, where Lance had spent so many nights complaining to Veronica about Keith in excruciating, dramatic detail.

God, Veronica would laugh herself into next year if she saw him now. All those nights he’d stormed into her room, fuming over Keith’s attitude, oblivious to the obvious crush written all over his face. He’d ranted about Keith for hours, completely clueless to what his feelings really were. And now? Now, he was here, in a bed, in Keith’s arms, touching him, loving him—

how was this his life?

Lance’s fingers brushed along Keith’s side, his hand gliding over the smooth expanse of his chest. His palm pressed lightly against the warmth of Keith’s skin, and Keith murmured something unintelligible in his sleep, his lips brushing against Lance’s collarbone. Lance’s breath hitched. He looked down again, taking in the sight of Keith completely at ease. His broad shoulders looked smaller like this, his body curled slightly toward Lance’s as if seeking comfort. His muscles, so often coiled and ready to spring into action, were soft, unguarded.

Lance felt a lump rise in his throat. Keith always carried so much—the weight of the universe, of leadership, of his past, of his very identity. But here, right now, in the stillness of the room, he didn’t look like the hardened soldier or the Blade of Marmora warrior.

He just looked like Keith. His Keith.

Lance let his hand trail to Keith’s hair, his fingers threading gently through the dark, silky strands. He pressed a feather-light kiss to the top of Keith’s head, his lips lingering there as he closed his eyes.

It wasn’t just the way Keith looked or the way he felt against him—it was everything about him. The way he made Lance feel seen,

wanted

, even when Lance didn’t think he deserved it. The way he challenged him, infuriated him, and supported him all at once. Lance felt his chest tighten, tears prickling at the corners of his eyes as he thought about how much Keith meant to him. How much he wanted this—wanted

him.

“Mullet,” he whispered softly, his voice trembling just enough to give him away, though he knew Keith couldn’t hear him. “You have no idea how much I love you.”

Lance knew he didn’t have to rush to say it. They had all the time in the world at this point, and saying the big L word felt too important. It had to be just right. Lance wanted to be able to take Keith on his first date. Wanted to whoo him so hard and make him feel like the luckiest guy in the world. Wanted to show him every single movie and be able to do those cheesy couple things where you pretend to yawn and drape your arm over the shoulders of your date. Lance wanted to do this a million times in a million different date ideas and make sure that Keith knew he loved him before he said it verbally. And now that he had Keith, he would wait for however long to make sure he did this right this time.

Keith shifted slightly, his arm tightening around Lance’s waist as if answering him in his sleep.

Lance smiled, his cheeks damp as he held Keith a little closer, a little tighter, feeling like the luckiest person in the galaxy

The shrill sound of phones ringing from somewhere on the floor cut through the quiet peace of the room like a dagger, making Lance flinch so hard he almost knocked Keith off his arm. Kosmo, sprawled out at the foot of the bed, shot up with a startled whine and began nervously pacing the room, his claws clicking softly against the floor.

Keith groaned into Lance’s chest, his voice low and gravelly with sleep, “I’m gonna shoot whoever is calling.”

Lance chuckled softly, though it was laced with reluctance as he ran a soothing hand through Keith’s hair. “Good morning, grumpy pants. Always the sweetest thing in the morning.”

Kosmo let out another whine, looking over his shoulder as if to say,

Fix it already,

before giving a dramatic huff. Keith grumbled something unintelligible, likely about being just as annoyed as his wolf. Still, he burrowed deeper into Lance’s side, clearly unwilling to move. But the phones kept ringing from somewhere on the floor under their discarded clothes.

With a sigh, Lance started to sit up, only to be sharply elbowed in the ribs by Keith’s unknowing movement.

“Ow! Keith!” he groaned, clutching his side dramatically. Keith mumbled something that might have been an apology—or just another growl of irritation—but Lance wasn’t sure. He was too busy untangling himself from Keith’s limbs and reaching for their discarded clothes on the floor. Finally finding both phones in a tangled mess of their jackets, Lance grabbed his own first and clicked to answer with a loud yawn. “Hello?” he said, his voice scratchy and full of sleep.

“Lance.” Shiro’s voice came through the line, calm but firm, with a hint of urgency. “We’re gathering in the Garrison briefing room. We’re starting to plan the mission to track the lion. And we need you here.”

Lance rubbed at his face, groaning softly as he stretched his back. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll be there,” he muttered, his eyes wandering back to the bed.

Keith was still lying on his stomach, his face half-buried in a pillow, his hair an absolute mess. But it wasn’t just his hair that caught Lance’s attention—it was the way Keith flexed his shoulders, rolling them lazily as he tried to fight waking up, the movement pulling his muscles taut and then letting them relax again. His skin looked warm and soft in the faint light, and the scrunched-up, annoyed pout on his face made him look almost kitten-like.

Lance bit his lip, momentarily forgetting Shiro’s voice in his ear as he got lost in the sight. Keith’s back, strong and broad, was on full display, and his shoulders... Lance could write a love song just about Keith’s shoulders.

“Lance,” Shiro’s voice cut through again, sharper this time. “Did you hear me?”

Lance yelped, nearly dropping the phone in his scramble to focus. “Yes! Yeah, I heard you,” he said quickly, his voice pitching higher than he intended. “Briefing room, got it.”

There was a pause on the other end, just long enough to make Lance sweat. Then Shiro added, “Bring Keith, too.”

Lance’s cheeks immediately flushed. “Uh. Right. Yep. Will do. We’ll… we’ll both be there,” he stammered, frantically ending the call before Shiro could ask any more questions.

He sat there for a moment, staring at the now-silent phone in his hand, his brain racing. He could already imagine the look Shiro would give him—the raised brow, the knowing smirk, the subtle teasing that would no doubt come later. But before he could spiral any further, a soft snort of amusement pulled him back.

Keith was sitting up now, one hand running through his messy hair tangled around his shoulders, the other braced on the bed. He looked so impossibly good, Lance almost forgot how to breathe. His face was still flushed from sleep, his lips slightly swollen, his neck dotted with faint marks that made Lance’s stomach flip. And that smirk—Keith’s satisfied, lazy smirk that said he knew

exactly

what he’d done to Lance.

“You’re blushing,” Keith teased, his voice low and rough from sleep, sending a shiver down Lance’s spine.

Lance whipped his head toward him, flustered beyond belief. “I am

not

!” he protested, his voice cracking slightly. He stood up too fast, stumbling a little as he started grabbing clothes off the floor. “We’re gonna be late, and it’s all your fault!”

Keith just leaned back on his hands, watching Lance with an infuriating amount of calm. “My fault?” he repeated, his tone slow and deliberate, his smirk growing. “Pretty sure you were the one who—”

“

Don’t,

” Lance interrupted, pointing a finger at him while trying to look serious. But the sight of Keith—disheveled, flushed, and far too smug for someone who had just woken up—made his knees feel weak. “Just… get dressed, okay? I distracted you enough last night, and now we’re late, and Shiro’s gonna kill us.”

Keith shrugged lazily, completely unbothered as he stretched his arms over his head, his muscles pulling taut in a way that made Lance’s mouth go dry. “Everything’s going to be fine. Kolivan gave us until dawn anyway and I don’t even see the sun rising through that window yet.”

Lance groaned, pulling his jacket on with more force than necessary. “Of course you’re fine. You’re always fine. Meanwhile, I’m out here losing my

mind

because there’s a whole Lion out there and I don’t even know how I’m supposed to reach it because its tucked apparently into a space empanada and–

.

”

Keith chuckled softly, finally standing and moving toward him. He leaned in close, his voice still low and rough as he said, “Hey, it’s gonna be alright. We’ve got this.”

And just like that, Lance was melting all over again.

The blinding, sterile lights of the Garrison halls bore down on them as they walked, an oppressive brightness that made Lance squint and made Keith’s shoulders seem even more rigid. Kosmo padded along happily at Lance’s side, his tongue lolling out in what could only be described as canine contentment. The sight made Lance grin despite himself. It was almost like Kosmo was proud of him for finally being where he belonged—next to Keith.

Keith, however, wasn’t handling the nostalgia as well. His jaw tightened and flexed as his eyes darted around the halls, like he was waiting for the walls to close in or for some long-buried memory to jump out at him. Lance’s stomach twisted at the sight. He knew how hard it must be for Keith to be back here, in the place that had once made him feel so out of place, so isolated.

Without thinking, Lance nudged Keith’s arm with his own, a small, grounding touch to let him know he wasn’t alone. Keith shot him a sideways glance, his expression softening just enough for the tension in his shoulders to ease slightly. Lance’s heart flipped at the subtle reaction, the connection sparking between them like a live wire.

But then that spark twisted into something else—a stomach pull that turned tight and sharp. Lance stumbled, his breath hitching as a wave of dizziness slammed into him out of nowhere.

“Keith—” he gasped, reaching out blindly and grabbing for Keith’s arm to steady himself. The world blurred around him, the harsh white lights bleeding together until they burned into his vision. His knees buckled slightly, and he felt Keith’s hands on him immediately, strong and steady as they held him upright.

“Lance!” Keith’s voice was sharp, tinged with worry, but it sounded far away, muffled beneath the sudden roar in Lance’s ears. The sound was deafening, and yet… familiar. A deep, guttural rumble, like the echo of a lion’s roar.

Cool air rushed over his skin, making the hair on his arms stand on end. Lance’s vision snapped into something else entirely, the blinding white giving way to something darker, more vivid. He was flying—or at least it felt that way—racing through a dimly lit cave at lightning speed. His body wasn’t his own; he was simply a passenger in this vision, being yanked along like a leaf caught in a torrent.

The cave walls blurred past him, narrow and jagged, until the tunnel opened into a small cavern. It was empty but humming with energy, a low, resonant hum that thrummed through Lance’s very bones. Before he could make sense of it, he was yanked again, rushing through a winding tunnel until everything expanded. His view burst upward and outward, and he was soaring over an endless stretch of desert. The heat was palpable, the golden sands glinting under a blazing sun.

And then, as suddenly as it had started, it ended.

Lance snapped back to reality with a sharp gasp, his back pressed against the cold wall of the hallway. His chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath, his vision clearing to find Keith’s face hovering just inches from his own. Keith’s brows were furrowed, his dark eyes scanning Lance’s face with a mixture of concern and intensity.

“What happened?” Keith’s voice was low but urgent, his hands still gripping Lance’s arms to keep him steady. “Are you okay?”

Lance swallowed hard, his heart still pounding as he tried to process what he’d just seen. “I—yeah, I’m fine,” he managed, though his voice was shaky. He forced a nervous chuckle, hoping to ease Keith’s worry. “Just… another vision. This one was, uh, a bit more detailed. And intense.”

Keith’s grip tightened slightly. “A vision? What did you see?” His tone was sharp, his eyes locked onto Lance like he was searching for something deeper.

Lance waved a hand, attempting to brush it off. “It’s nothing. Just… the lion, I think. A cave, a desert… I don’t know. It felt closer this time. Louder. Like, giving me more direction to where its located now.” He let out another laugh, this one lighter, hoping it would help put Keith at ease. “It just made me a little lightheaded, that’s all. Nothing I can’t handle.”

Keith didn’t look convinced. His gaze lingered on Lance’s face for a moment longer, as if trying to gauge whether or not he was lying. Then, with a quiet huff, he let go of Lance’s arms, but not before giving them a quick, grounding squeeze.

“It’s probably because we’re on Earth now,” Keith said, his voice softer but still serious. “The lion’s connection to you might be stronger here. But if you’re feeling off, we’re stopping.”

Lance grinned, leaning away from the wall and giving a mock salute. “Captain Keith, always so serious. I told you, I’m fine. No need to freak out.”

Keith rolled his eyes but didn’t argue, instead grabbing Lance’s wrist and pulling him down the hall. “Come on. We’re late, and Shiro’s going to have my head if I don’t drag you in there.”

Kosmo trotted ahead of the two, his tail wagging as if to say,

Finally.

Lance glanced down at Keith’s hand on his wrist and smiled softly, letting himself be pulled along. Even as they hurried, Lance couldn’t help but notice the tension still lingering in Keith’s posture. His jaw was set tight again, his eyes sharp and darting around as if he expected the halls to come alive at any moment.

Lance squeezed Keith’s hand briefly, drawing his attention for just a moment. Keith’s lips quirked in a faint, fleeting smile, but it was enough. It was always enough.

The briefing room was already thick with tension when they entered. At the front of the room, Iverson and Kolivan stood on opposite sides of the central display, their postures rigid and their faces set with clear signs of a prior heated exchange. Shiro stood between them, his hands raised slightly as if attempting to mediate, while Krolia leaned against the table with an air of cool but sharp observation. Keith’s steps didn’t falter. His expression hardened into one of focused determination, and without a word, he marched straight toward the group at the front. Lance didn’t even have a chance to ask if he was okay before Keith was already diving into whatever discussion had been interrupted by their arrival.

Lance hesitated for a moment before his gaze drifted to the other side of the room. Pidge and Hunk were hunched over Pidge’s tablet, muttering quietly to each other, their faces illuminated by the bluish glow of the screen. They both looked worse for wear—dark circles under their eyes, their postures slouched with the kind of exhaustion that came from running on fumes. Did they even get any hours of sleep? Lance’s heart twisted at the sight, but before he could say anything, Pidge’s head snapped up.

Her wide hazel eyes locked onto him, and her mouth fell open as if she’d just spotted something horrifying. Lance froze mid-step, blinking in confusion. Hunk followed Pidge’s gaze, his own eyes going wide before he audibly gasped and let out a shocked, “Oh my GOD.”

“What?” Lance squeaked, his voice shooting up an octave. His stomach churned as both of their stares intensified, making him feel suddenly exposed. “What’s wrong? Why are you looking at me like that?”

Pidge’s mouth floundered for a moment, but then she managed to choke out, “What the

quiznack

happened to you?” Her voice was laced with disbelief and… was that a hint of horror?

“What are you talking about?” Lance scoffed, throwing his hands in the air. “You guys don’t look any better! Have you even slept? None of us have!” He gestured vaguely at their tired forms, his irritation bubbling up as he assumed it was about the long mission wearing them all down.

But Hunk was already biting his fist to stifle a laugh, his shoulders shaking as his gaze pointedly dropped to Lance’s neck. “Oh, no, no. It’s not the bags under your eyes we’re talking about,” he said, barely able to hold back his amusement. “Dude, I

always

knew Keith had some, uh… animal tendencies. You know, being Galra and all, but—wow.”

Lance blinked, completely lost for a moment before he processed Hunk’s words. His stomach dropped, and then, as if hit by a bolt of lightning, he slapped a hand over his neck.

“Oh. My. God,” he whispered, mortified as the heat in his face shot up to a thousand degrees. The realization hit like a brick—

hickies. Bruises. Last night.

His hand pressed harder against his neck as if that could somehow erase the evidence, but the damage was done.

Pidge visibly recoiled, her face twisting into a mask of pure disgust as she let out a loud, dramatic gag. “Ew, EW!

Lance!

I did not need this visual. This is worse than when Hunk and Shay nozzle each others noses in front of us! Stop existing!”

“

I’m not even doing anything!

” Lance snapped back, his voice cracking as he flushed even deeper. He tried to stammer out an excuse, but Hunk’s grin only grew wider, and Pidge looked like she was ready to throw the tablet at his head.

“Dude, you look like you got mauled by a very affectionate Galra,” Hunk teased, his voice shaking with barely-contained laughter. “I mean, we’ve all seen Keith’s intensity, but… wow, man.

Respect.

”

“

Shut up!

” Lance practically screeched, his free hand flailing as he tried to defend himself. “This is—this is—IT’S NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS!”

“None of my business?” Pidge exclaimed, waving a hand wildly in his direction. “It’s all over your neck! How am I supposed to

not

notice as you're putting it all on blast for the world to see? And now I have to live with this information. Forever. It’s burned into my brain!”

Lance groaned, sliding his other hand down his face in an attempt to disappear as he used his other hand to pop the collar of his jacket to attempt damage control. “I hate you both so much,” he muttered, though his voice lacked any real heat. The mortification was enough to make him want to crawl into a hole, but there was no way he could show weakness now.

Hunk clapped him on the back, still chuckling. “Don’t worry, buddy. We’ll keep this between us.” His grin said otherwise, and Lance shot him a murderous glare.

“Yeah, right,” Pidge deadpanned, still looking vaguely nauseous. “I’m erasing this from my memory as soon as possible. Just… stay on your side of the table. Far away from me..”

“Gladly!” Lance huffed, spinning on his heel to storm off, but not before catching Hunk’s cheeky whisper to Pidge.

“Totally calling him Spots now.”

The sound of her snorting laughter chased him into hell.

The air in the briefing room was thick with tension, the weight of two stubborn leaders butting heads making everyone else shift uncomfortably in their seats. Kolivan stood tall, his imposing figure unyielding as he addressed the room of very small populace; the Paladins, Iverson, Krolia, and Kolivan. Kosmo included, but its not like the poor fella was gonna run off and bark the secrets of this very high profile mission, code named Case Feline, as claimed by Iverson. His words were crisp and commanding, leaving no room for doubt.

“We are to set off immediately,” Kolivan said, his voice calm but sharp, “and locate the Lion. My operatives are already prepared to scout the surrounding areas.”

Lance felt the heavy weight of Kolivan’s gaze settle on him, as if the leader of the Blade expected Lance to stand and summon the Lion out of thin air. He swallowed hard, suddenly hyperaware of the room’s eyes flickering toward him, and fought the urge to shift awkwardly in his seat.

Iverson, sitting stiffly to the side, crossed his arms and leaned forward. His tone was clipped, tinged with annoyance. “The Garrison has high-tech scanners. A small team of

trusted

officials can be dispatched to track any heat signals or anomalies in the area. It’s a far more precise approach.”

Pidge, who had been quietly gagging and throwing dirty looks at Lance up until now, immediately bristled. “With all due respect, sir,” she said, pushing her glasses higher up her nose, “I’ve been scanning for hours. All night, actually.

Nothing

—and I mean nothing—has come up. Scientifically speaking, it’s

impossible

that a giant metallic lion isn’t showing any kind of signal. Unless it’s, I don’t know, cloaked, which isn’t outside the realm of possibility given what we know about Altean tech.”

Hunk shifted and glanced at Lance, narrowing his eyes as he whispered, “Then do you think its Green?”

Lance shrugged, helpless.

Iverson turned to her, his expression flickering between astonishment and skepticism. “You’ve been accessing the Garrison’s systems without clearance?”

Pidge smirked, her confidence unwavering. “In all fairness, I do have the highest clearance under you, with the whole

being a Holt and establishing the new Galaxy Garrison future

and all.”

Iverson looked briefly stunted but didn’t press the issue. Instead, he exhaled through his nose, clearly biting back irritation. “Fine, I’d expect nothing less. But—”

Kolivan cut him off with a sharp wave of his hand, his expression icy. “We don’t need your officials. This is Blade territory. My operatives will handle the search. The Garrison’s presence here should remain minimal, quiet, and out of sight. We can’t risk unnecessary disturbances.”

Iverson’s face darkened, his jaw tightening as he straightened in his seat. “Your operatives aren’t the only ones with the skills to handle this. My men—”

“This is not a matter of your men, Colonel,” Kolivan snapped, his voice lowering into something that felt more dangerous. “This is a matter of diplomacy. You agreed that we would handle majority of the mission, with allowing you this much insight to the information we have. I suggest you remember that.”

Shiro, standing between the two like a referee in a boxing match, looked visibly strained. His shoulders were taut, and his lips pressed into a thin line as he raised his hands, attempting to ease the situation. “Let’s not lose sight of the bigger picture here. The Lion is the priority. We’ll need cooperation if we want to make progress.”

Before either Kolivan or Iverson could respond, a sharp, hot sensation blasted through Lance’s head like a lightning strike. He gasped, wincing as he clutched at his temple, the intensity of it making his vision blur for a moment. The pull was searing and direct, like an invisible laser guiding him. West. The direction was clear, and the sense of urgency gripped his chest like a vice.

The sudden movement caught Keith’s attention immediately. He turned sharply, his voice cutting through the room like a blade. “Lance.”

The single word, filled with concern and alarm, silenced the room. Everyone froze, their arguments forgotten as all eyes turned to Lance. Lance was leaning heavily against the edge of the table, his knuckles white as he gripped it for support. His breath became uneven, and sweat beaded along his forehead, yet he felt the hair on his arms stand up on end, as if an ice cube had traced along his sensese to shock him awake and alert. Keith was already moving, stepping closer, his hand hovering just above Lance’s arm as if afraid to touch him and risk making things worse.

“Lance, what’s happening?” Keith’s voice was low, but there was a note of urgency beneath it. His eyes were sharp, scanning Lance’s face for any sign of what might be wrong.

Lance blinked rapidly, his chest heaving as the vision slowly faded, leaving behind a disorienting aftershock. This one was definitely a lot more stronger and dizzying than the past ones, almost as if the lack of a vision made the feeling a lot more stronger, more worse feeling.

“I—” he started, his voice hoarse. He swallowed hard, shaking his head as if to clear it. “It’s fine. I’m fine.”

“You’re

not

fine,” Keith said, his voice firm but tinged with worry. His hand finally found Lance’s shoulder, grounding him with a steady grip. “What did you see?”

Lance hesitated, glancing around at the room full of expectant faces. The pull was still there, faint but insistent, tugging at the edge of his consciousness. He couldn’t ignore it, and he knew he couldn’t brush this off.

“It’s the Lion,” he finally admitted, his voice steadier now. “I saw it. Or at least… I think I did. It’s close. West. Somewhere west.”

Kolivan’s eyes narrowed, his attention laser-focused on Lance. “You’re certain?”

Lance nodded, standing up straighter despite the lingering dizziness. “Yeah. It felt… real. Like it was pointing me in the right direction. It’s definitely that way.”

He extended his arm to wave vaguely in the general direction of the searing pull he had felt through his head, motioning as if they could see the invisible line that the energy had shot off in.

Keith’s hand remained on his shoulder, a silent but grounding presence. “Then we’re wasting time here,” he said firmly, his eyes darting between Kolivan and Shiro. “We need to move.”

Iverson gave a single, sharp nod. “Agreed. I’ll have a team prepared immediately.”

“You are not preparing any team. You will stay here and monitor the area we head off to. Scan to make sure there is nothing that enters the atmosphere or leaves the grounds.” Kolivan snapped back. Iverson bristled, looking like he was about to pop a blood vessel, when Shiro gently wedged himself in between the two, bringing Iverson’s attention to him.

“If we want to keep this a quiet mission, we need to make sure that Garrison vehicles aren’t seen or detected from everyone else. There will be questions on what is occurring, especially if any news sees you guys and starts poking questions.”

“And their ALIEN vehicles won’t?” Iverson shot another glare over Shiro at Kolivan, who made a grunting noise back in return.

“That’s what staying poised and uniformed at the Garrison is for. A figurehead to answer any questions about the Blades arrival. Maike it a sort of diplomatic learning opporunity, about how the Blades have been interested in Earth’s materials you invited Kolivan to collect samples and learn more about the terrain. Anything to make it seem like there is no immediate danger.” Shiro’s voice was stern.

The room stilled, seemingly thinking this through. Iverson made a low grunting noise as he mulled this over, his singular useful eye throwing daggers at Kolivan, who refused to flinch at the heat. Finally, Iverson looked over Shiro and let out a deep breath through his nose.

“Takashi Shirogane stays here with me to help delegate news sources and other Garrison questions. When the world wakes up and sees a giant alien ship parked outside our building, there’s gonna be questions. I would prefer one of my best winning professors here with me for this.”

“Shiro–” Keith started, his voice snappy and his brows furrowed, but Shiro held up a hand absentmindedly to Keith, giving him a gentle look.

“I’ll stay here. But I get to pick a team of officers and professors to share the information with and help monitor and scan as a data team. Deal?” Shiro looked between Kolivan and Iverson, two large giants at the will of Shiro.

Both the two leaders huffed out an agreement, nodding despite looking at each other.

So that was that then.

Lance’s forehead throbbed again with an insistent pull, causing him to wince again. It felt as if his eyes were about to burst through his head, a tight pressure building up and pulling at him in the direction it was begging to be found at.

“We should go with Lance leading. I’ll get a couple of our hoverbikes to get across the desert quickly and quietly to not cause attention.” Krolia’s sharp voice cut through the stubborn men, her yellow eyes lazar focused on Lance, making him want to squirm from that piercing alone.

Keith paused, his jaw visibly clicking as he gave Shiro a final look, who just nodded at Keith. If Lance had a gift to read minds, he would use it on the two brothers in an instant. They had such a deep and indescribable bond that looks alone could not be deciphered by what would pass between the two.

It was truly a beautiful thing, and Lance would have found Shiro’s gentle soothe to Keith’s restlessness a lot more endearing if he didn’t feel like a hot air balloon about to pop.

The rush to the Blade ship was a flurry of movement and adrenaline. Iverson had given Lance, Pidge, Hunk, and Shiro Garrison commanding officer uniforms, so similar to what they wore as their uniform on their time in the Atlas. They had all changed willingly into their outfits, the familiar clothing a lot more soothing and softer than the hardened and cold armor of the Blade suit. Lance felt like the thought of preferring this over the Blade outfit betrayed his alignment for Keith, but he bit back, knowing his place. Keith had wanted him to find his way to the Garrison again, hadn’t he? He wasn’t meant to stay with the Blades forever, Keith made that very clear. But that was before they became all….boyfriends.

Hmm.

Lance tried not to giggle at the thought.

Kolivan strode ahead, his expression unreadable as he finished a call on his comm. The morning sun was now just barley rising over the desert expanse, gleaming the dark metallic ship with an ethereal glow that reflected back the orange sunkiss of the land around it. Just as they arrived, the ship’s ramp lowered with a sharp hiss, revealing Axca, Ezor, and Zethrid dismounting with precision. Lance let out a deep breath, not sure if it was from relief of seeing those three trusted girls or of nervousness of simply being around them again. Maybe a bit of both.

Each of them handled a sleek, dark hoverbike that gleamed under the hangar lights, their designs cutting-edge and intimidating.

At Lance’s side, Hunk let out a low whistle, his eyes immediately drawn to the smooth lines and polished details of the bikes. “Okay, those are

amazing.

What’s the horsepower on these? Or, uh, hover-power? Is that even a term? I need to know.”

Pidge was already reaching out, muttering under her breath about magnetic fields and propulsion systems or whatnot. “These are insane. I bet they have an adaptive AI system, don’t they? Oh, I

have

to—”

“

Nope!

” Lance slapped both of their hands away before they could get too close. “Hands off the shiny Blade tech. We are not about to make a bad impression by breaking something expensive before we even started the day.”

Pidge scowled but relented with a huff, while Hunk sheepishly retracted his hand, muttering something about just wanting to

look.

Meanwhile, Krolia and Keith had already launched into a serious discussion, their voices low but intense as they mapped out the plan. Keith’s eyes darted to Lance frequently, his brow furrowed as though weighing something heavy in his mind.

“We should have Lance drive and lead the way,” Krolia said, her tone even but firm. “If his visions are guiding us, he’ll know where to go.”

“No,” Keith interrupted immediately, his voice sharp. “He can’t drive. If he gets hit with another vision while we’re moving, it’s too dangerous. He could lose control—he could get hurt.”

Krolia tilted her head, her gaze softening just slightly at her son’s protective tone. “The Blades will drive. None of the Paladins are trained on these vehicles anyway, and we can’t risk any delays. Kolivan and I will stay on the ship, monitoring from above. We’ll keep you updated with scans and coordinates.”

Kolivan stepped closer, his presence commanding as he murmured something low to Keith. Lance couldn’t make out the words, but he caught the way Keith stiffened, his shoulders squaring and his jaw tightening. The look in Keith’s eyes shifted—darker, colder, like a wall had snapped into place, steeling him from being just Keith to being the trained Blade leader that always seemed to be pressing down on his shoulders. Lance’s stomach twisted at the sight, a nagging sense of unease settling in his chest. Whatever Kolivan had said, it hadn’t been good.

Lance knew he was looking solely on Keith’s demeanor, but he would have thought that his senses were sharpened within the last month from all of this before he suddenly jumped at the presence now squaring in front of him.

Axca stepped forward, her dark eyes locking onto Lance with an intensity that made his breath hitch. Her arms crossed over her chest as she regarded him like a general sizing up a recruit. “You’re riding with me,” she stated, her voice low and commanding. There was no room for argument.

Lance blinked, his mouth opening and closing like a fish as he tried to process her words. “Uh—uh, sure! Yeah, okay. Sounds... great,” he stuttered, shifting nervously under her unyielding gaze. His brain screamed at him to come up with something witty or charming, but Axca’s presence made his usual bravado shrivel into a ball of nerves.

Keith was suddenly at Lance’s side, his voice sharp and defensive. “I’ll drive him.”

Axca’s eyes narrowed, her expression cool and unamused. “We are to stay focused, all eyes on deck,” she shot back, her tone leaving no room for debate. Her lips quirked up in the slightest twitch, “If he’s riding with you, you’ll spend the entire time looking over your shoulder every time he gasps or squirms. You’re too distracted when it comes to him.”

Keith’s mouth snapped shut, his face flushing slightly in frustration. Axca’s pointed look clearly hit its mark, and Lance, for once, found himself too intimidated to crack a joke about it. He stayed perfectly still, his eyes flicking between Keith and Axca like a bystander caught in the middle of a duel.

“Glad we agree.” Axca nodded sharply, already turning toward one of the bikes. “Get on. We don’t have time to waste.”

Lance swallowed hard, throwing Keith an attempted soothing glance, but his laugh came out a lot more nervous than intended. Keith’s lips pressed into a tight line, his frustration visible in the way his jaw clenched and grinded, but he said nothing. With a small, apologetic shrug, Lance followed Axca to the bike, eager to do whatever the lady wanted. He was a gentleman, of course! No other reason forcing him to listen like a child at a beckoning call.

Kosmo trotted over to Keith, his tail wagging happily as if he could sense the tension and wanted to diffuse it. Keith let out a low sigh, rubbing the wolf’s ears absentmindedly before turning toward his own assigned bike. He cast one last glance at Lance, his expression unreadable, before climbing on and revving the engine.

“I’M RIDING WITH KEITH!” Pidge screamed, sprinting towards Keith on his bike. She flew a couple meters through the air as she elegantly landed on the back, throwing a devilish smile back at Lance and Hunk, who more than anything would have all wanted the opportunity to ride with Keith.

“No fair!” Hunk whined, glancing nervously towards Zethrid and Ezor, who grinned back wickedly at Hunk.

The hoverbikes roared to life, the sound vibrating through the hangar as the team prepared to move out.

“Alright, Lance. What’s this whole thing I’ve been hearing about your weird headaches telling you the direction to go?” Axca glanced over her shoulder, her voice a bit lighter than before. Lance got to really look at her face this close up, the closest he ever let himself get to her to be honest. She had the same sharp features as any of the Galra, though the strong warrior gleam and bitting eyes. Lance reached up to rub his forehead, where the pressure was still burning. It felt like he was being yanked forward, yet he was safely sat behind Axca. It made him feel almost queasy, like the feeling of being thrown around an ocean all day from the waves and still feeling the pull when you were going to bed at night, safe and steady in your bed.

“That way.” Lance pointed out across the desert, opposite of where the sun was raising higher above the ground, where nothing but miles of sand lay.

“You better be right, Blue, and not schizophrenic.” Ezor roared her bike to come along their side, throwing him a gleaming look. Hunk sat nervously behind her, unsure of where to put his arms and looking like he rather shoot himself than touch her.

“I’m positive.” Lance spoke before he even realized what he was saying, surprising himself for a second.

Because honestly, he was. He never felt so sure and confident about knowing that he was leading everyone somewhere important. Somewhere big. Even though there was no genuine proof of the Lions at whatever destination they were headed, he knew that there was something awaiting them at the end of this pressure rope. And that made his skin crackle to life a little more, made the adrenaline begin to rush through his blood and his heart pump a little harder in his ears.

Ezor threw Axca a raised brow, a huge grin crawling up her face. She roared her bike again, causing Hunk to let out an embarrassing surprise yelp.

“Alright then, Blue’s in charge today. Follow the leader.”

The mission was underway, and there was no turning back.

The desert stretched wide and endless, an expanse of golden sand and blinding sunlight hitting their backs. The roar of the hoverbikes cut through the otherwise serene landscape, a symphony of engines roaring in tandem as the team flew across the dunes. Lance held on tight behind Axca, the heat of the sun biting at his back as the wind whipped his hair in every direction. The bike hummed under him with a power that made his fingers twitch, yearning to take the handlebars himself. The speed, the rush—it reminded him of that time on the jungle planet with Keith, racing through thick foliage with nothing but instinct and adrenaline guiding them. What felt like years ago despite it being nearly a whole month ago stroke him the same exhilarating feeling of this ride. He remembered the reckless thrill of it, how his chest had filled with an electric buzz, and how Keith’s rare, unrestrained laugh had echoed in his ears like music. It was the same now, the wind tearing at his clothes, cutting sharp against his face, and stinging his eyes to the point that tears threatened to spill. He bit down on his lip, holding back a delighted whoop—it wouldn’t do to break his cool facade in front of Axca.

But a sound to his left caught his attention, a muffled cheer carried by the wind. Lance turned his head just slightly, squinting through the sting of air and sunlight to catch sight of Keith and Pidge riding a bike close to his side. Pidge’s goggles were fogging slightly as her hair flew wild in the wind, her small hands gripping tightly around Keith’s middle. She was grinning like a madwoman, her voice loud and joyous as she let out another yell, her excitement unmistakable. Keith couldn’t help it either. His mouth broke into a rare, wide grin, the sound of Pidge’s pure joy infecting him. His eyes briefly flicked to Lance, who couldn’t help but smile back, the moment soft and fleeting between the speed and the noise. They were pilots after all—this was where they thrived. No matter what else changed, the adrenaline rush of flying, of pushing limits, would always feel like home.

A home that Lance forgot was always there to be visited.

Lance’s chest tightened in that warm way that made his emotions feel too big to hold in, but that sensation was quickly overshadowed by something darker and heavier. His forehead throbbed with an increasing pressure, a searing heat building behind his eyes. It started as a dull pulse, manageable, but as they continued to speed over the sand, the intensity grew unbearable. Lance squeezed his eyes shut against the sensation, his hand twitching involuntarily before he shot it out in front of Axca.

“Left!” he shouted, his voice hoarse and tight. “Tilt left, now!”

Axca reacted instantly, tilting the bike sharply to the side without hesitation. The sudden shift made Lance’s stomach churn, but his hand gripped the side of the seat tightly to stay balanced. The others followed suit, their formation adjusting to mirror Axca’s movements.

The longer they drove, the worse it got. The pressure in Lance’s head felt like a sinus infection on steroids, an airplane ascent with high cabin altitude pressure and no hope of relief, like being trapped at the bottom of the ocean with a crushing weight squeezing his entire body. The sensation built and built, each second an unbearable escalation of pain, signaling they were getting closer. His breath came in shallow gasps, the nausea twisting his stomach into knots, the heat in his skull feeling like a bomb waiting to detonate.

And then it snapped.

The searing pain turned into something else entirely—cold, icy, and sharp. It hit Lance like a sledgehammer, and he couldn’t stop the scream that tore from his throat. The sound was guttural and raw, echoing across the open desert as Axca swore loudly in response. She slammed on the brakes so hard the bike swerved in a full circle, the back end sliding out from under them. Axca’s boot hit the ground with enough force to steady the bike as it skidded sideways, sand kicking up in a golden storm around them.

Lance would’ve been in awe of her effortless control—under any other circumstances, he might’ve called it the coolest trick he’d ever seen—but his entire world was narrowed to the unbearable cold radiating through his body. His hands flew to his head as if he could physically rip the sensation out of himself, his chest heaving as he gasped for air. Behind them, the other bikes came to screeching halts. Keith was the first to dismount, nearly throwing Pidge off in his rush to get to Lance. His boots hit the sand hard, his voice cutting through the haze of Lance’s agony.

“Lance! Lance, what’s happening?!” Keith’s hands gripped Lance’s shoulders, shaking him slightly as he leaned in close, his face taut with panic.

The others circled around, their voices a blur of concern and confusion. Kosmo barked loudly, his pacing frantic as the wolf’s instincts kicked in, sensing Lance’s distress.

Lance’s vision swam, but through the fog, he managed to choke out, “The Lion... it’s here. So close. I saw—” His words cut off with a sharp gasp, the icy sensation gripping him tighter as if demanding all of his attention.

Keith’s grip tightened, his voice lower now but no less urgent.

“Pidge, I want scans of this area from what you can do. Axca, call Kolivan and Krolia to alert them of the area.” Keith directed like the leader he was, everyone listening closely.

“What about Iverson? And everyone at the Garrison?” Pidge called from her seat on the bike, already pulling out her tablet.

“They aren’t a concern right now. Right now I want to know whats in this area and how to get to whatever is going on with Lance.” Keith snapped, his eyes careful on Lance. Pidge flinched slightly, frowning at the direction and clearly not agreeing, but stayed silent, clicking along. Lance sucked in a deep breath, wanting to calm down in front of everyone working diligently. This was getting a lot more unbearable the closer they were getting, and it made him feel like he was about to throw up as a pain response.

“Are we sure something is here?” Axca’s voice cut through Lance’s pain, getting off a comm call with Kolivan.

“Well, if its not the Lion then I must be having the worst sinus infection of my life.” Lance laughed uncharacteristically, feeling the bite in it and getting more overstimulated with his head by the second. Axca threw him a look, but didn’t fight back, scanning around the desert they found themselves in.

Lance could barley register Keith crowding with Axca, Ezor, and Zethrid, all hurried fighting to talk over the comms to the Blades as Hunk was quick to replace Keith at Lance’s side, nervously rubbing a soothing circle on Lance’s back. Lance groaned, shifting Hunk off as he held his hands over his head and squeezed, trying to combat the pressure.

“Don’t touch, buddy. Sorry. It’s so….uugahhh.” Lance squinted his eyes dark, everything feeling a little too much. He slipped off the bike to stablize himself into a squat on the ground, feeling like he was seconds away from falling off the back of the bike from the intense nausea and dizziness.

The tension in the group was palpable, thick as the heat radiating off the desert floor. Axca’s bike idled quietly as she and Zethrid stood locked in a heated argument, the latter’s sharp grin promising trouble.

“Just let me plant the damn bombs,” Zethrid said, her gravelly voice tinged with impatience. Her hand rested eagerly on the satchel of explosives strapped across her chest. “We blow a hole, down wherever we need to be, simple.”

Axca scoffed, her tone sharp as a blade. “If we detonate anything this close to the surface, it’ll draw attention. The Garrison will notice an unwarranted explosion and come running in. Not to mention anyone else watching. Or do you want half the planet knowing where we are?”

Zethrid rolled her eyes dramatically, crossing her arms. “They’ll notice when we dig for hours and get nowhere. You want to waste time? Or do you just enjoy arguing with me?”

“Between the two of you,

it’s loud enough already,

” Keith shot back to Zethrid in defense of his second, his narrowed eyes betraying his storic demeanor and searing irritation.

Hunk muttered to Lance from his spot next to him, his voice quiet but laced with humor to break the tension. “Man, I wish we had, like, a giant spoon or a knife. Something to just cut through this space empanada and get to the good stuff inside.”

Lance gave a faint chuckle, but it was strained. His head was throbbing again, the icy chill from earlier crawling back into his bones. His fingers dug into the sand to steady himself as another vision ripped through him without warning. This time, it was vivid—a cavern, its walls towering and jagged, echoing faintly like the chambers of some ancient beast. Lance felt like he was falling, his stomach flipping violently as the ground beneath him gave way. The sensation was so disorienting that his legs buckled, sending him crashing backward onto the sand.

“Lance!” Hunk was at his side in an instant, hands gripping his shoulders as Lance sat dazed, his breaths coming in shallow gasps. “Are you okay? Dude, what just happened?”

Lance groaned, pressing the heel of his hand against his forehead as if it could stop the pounding. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he muttered, though his tone betrayed his frustration more than reassurance. He gritted his teeth, leaning into Hunk’s steady grip as the vision’s intensity began to fade. “I’m fine. I just—” He blew out a shaky breath, pushing himself upright with a groan, looking over at the disagreeing Blades.

“I’m telling you, blow it up. Just blow it up already. There’s a tunnel right under us. We’re wasting time.”

Everyone stilled at his words. The tension simmered, stretching long and thin as they exchanged nervous glances. Even Axca looked uncertain now, her gaze flicking to Zethrid before landing back on Lance. The only sound was Kosmo’s low whine, the wolf pacing with a restless energy that mirrored Keith’s, who hadn’t taken his eyes off Lance since he fell.

“He’s right.” Pidge’s voice broke the silence, quieter than usual, almost hesitant. Her expression was calculating as her gaze flicked between her tablet and Lance’s pale, strained face, until determination sparked in her eyes. “It’s the only way. I’m detecting a small tunnel underneath, just barley a couple feet wide and tall, serpanting really far down. I can already see the readings—it’s thin. Barely stable. One good explosion, and we rip all this up directly into it.”

Keith turned sharply toward Axca’s radio, his expression shifting from concern to hard-edged resolve. “We need to move now. What’s the call?”

Kolivan stayed silent for a long moment, unreadable, and Lance felt like he was gonna puke with this unbearable silence and pain. Finally, his voice crackled back, firm and determined. “Blow the damn thing. We’ll cover from above.”

Zethrid’s grin widened into something feral, her voice rough with a laugh that sounded like she’d been waiting for this moment all her life. “

Finally.

” Her massive hands already worked to unclip the explosives from her belt, as if she couldn’t move fast enough. “Been itching to blow something up since we got to this dumb planet.”

Axca rolled her eyes but didn’t argue, stepping back to let Zethrid work, ignoring the look of pure bliss Ezor was throwing at her. Lance watched her with a weary smirk, his exhaustion overtaken momentarily by the absurdity of the situation.

Keith knelt in front of him, eyes scanning his face carefully. “You good?” His voice was low but intense, concern hidden just beneath the surface.

Lance waved him off, brushing the sand from his pants. “I’m fine. Seriously, Keith. Go keep your

girlfriend

from killing Zethrid and make sure her explosives are in check before she takes out half the desert.”

Keith didn’t crack a smile but let out a scoff at the joke, a faint softness in his gaze as he stood, his hand brushing against Lance’s shoulder for just a moment before he turned to help Zethrid and make sure Axca did, in fact, not kill Zethrid out of annoyance. As the team prepared for the detonation, Lance leaned back against Hunk for support, his body still reeling from the vision. His mind felt heavy, like a compass being tugged relentlessly toward something buried deep below.

The team moved the bikes to a safe distance, Hunk, Lance and Pidge all perched together watching the Blades work. Keith and Axca soon joined at their side with Kosmo in tow, pacing around Keith and sensing his anxiety like a cloud following a storm. Lance wished he could make out Axca and Keith’s comments whispering to each other, but he was too concerned with not wanting to present as ill as he was feeling. Finally, Zethrid and Ezor returned to them, and Lance could have sworn he had never seen the crazy beast of a lady ever so happy in her life.

She held up a cylinder button to Axca’s face, giving her a nasty smile.

“You want to do the honors?” She huffed out, clearly very happy to have won this.

Before Keith could comm over to Kolivan and before Zethrid could laugh and bring the button back to herself, Axca quickly snapped her finger up and down onto the button, clicking it with such speed that this movement was more shocking than the ground a couple meters in front of the group exploding in a giant sound. The explosion shook the ground like a thunderclap, the force reverberating through Lance’s chest as he shielded his face from the blast. The air filled with the choking grit of sand and debris as a massive plume rose into the sky. His head felt like it was splitting in two, the pressure in his skull so sharp and relentless that he could barely register the triumphant shouts of his friends behind him. All he could feel was

movement

—a pull so visceral and commanding it drowned out everything else. The ground immediately concaved below, sand and rocks giving way and tumbling down below, revealing a secret tunnel that did in fact stretch down into the earth, just as Pidge had claimed.

Ezor let out a sharp, long whistle in appreciation.

Lance didn’t hesitate. Without a word, he bolted forward, his long legs carrying him toward the edge and down the crumbling slope. The sand slipped under his feet, sending him skidding wildly, but he didn’t stop.

“

Lance!

” Keith’s voice rang out, sharp and frantic, but it felt distant, like a fading echo swallowed by the thrum in his ears. He thought he heard Pidge yelling, maybe Hunk too, but their voices were muffled, like they were underwater. None of it mattered.

The pull was unbearable now, his head pounding in rhythm with his racing heart. It wasn’t just pain anymore—it was fire and ice tearing through his veins, searing and freezing at once, like his body couldn’t decide if it wanted to burn him alive or leave him numb. He didn’t stop. He

couldn’t.

The tunnel swallowed him whole, the air inside cold and damp, but Lance didn’t feel the chill on his skin. He only felt it

inside

—this freezing burn that twisted his stomach and made his lungs feel like they were collapsing. The darkness pressed in around him, suffocating, but somehow, impossibly, he could

see.

He darted through the narrow passage with a precision that felt unnatural, his movements guided by something instinctual and primal.

His limbs ached, his legs felt like lead, but he pushed harder, faster, every step sending another shockwave of pain through his body. His breaths came in ragged gasps, his throat raw, and he thought he might scream just to release some of the unbearable pressure building inside him. It felt like the entire tunnel was collapsing around him, the walls closing in as his vision blurred with streaks of white-hot light.

He stumbled, his foot catching on uneven ground, and for a moment he was weightless, tumbling forward as the floor beneath him dropped away. He hit a steep incline and slid uncontrollably, the rough surface scraping at his sides and back as he was thrown further into the cavern. His momentum carried him down and down until the incline leveled out, sending him flying forward.

Lance landed face-first in the dirt, the impact knocking the wind from his lungs. He lay sprawled on the cold ground, dazed and trembling, as silence fell around him.

The pressure was

gone.

His head felt strangely light, like the sudden release after popping your ears on a high-altitude plane ride. Maybe he hit his head too hard on his fall and finally got the pressure to leave from that? He let out a shuddering breath, relief flooding through him as the pain ebbed, leaving only the dull throb of his pulse and the sting of his scraped skin. It was over. For the first time in what felt like hours, he could

think.

Man, he never thought he’d miss having silence in his brain. This felt amazing.

Oh, except for the skin ripping at his hands and the scrapes and banged up bruises he got from falling down a tunnel and sliding on the rocky floor.

Groaning, Lance pushed himself up onto his elbows, his head spinning from the tumble. His hands shook as he tried to gather his bearings, his mind catching up to the present. He was in some kind of cavern, the air around him thick and heavy, but the oppressive force in his skull had lifted.

“

Lance!

”

Keith’s voice echoed through the tunnel, closer this time. Lance craned his neck to look back just as Keith came barreling down the same incline, his silhouette sharp against the faint light from above. He slid to a stop with practiced grace, his boots kicking up dust as he rushed toward Lance.

Keith was on him in seconds, his strong hands gripping Lance’s arms and pulling him upright. His face was a mix of anger and worry, his dark brows drawn tight as his violet eyes scanned Lance from head to toe. “What the hell were you thinking?” Keith snapped, his voice low and biting, but his grip betrayed his concern. “You could’ve gotten yourself killed running off like that! This whole place is unstable—what if the tunnel collapsed? What if you—”

His words faltered as his gaze shifted, catching sight of something just beyond Lance. His jaw tightened, and his breathing hitched, the frustration in his expression softening into something unreadable.

“Keith? Cat got your tongue?” Lance murmured jokingly, feeling like his usual mojo was finally back without the overbearing nausea and pressure, his voice hoarse as he tried to stand fully. His legs wobbled, and Keith’s hand shot out to steady him, but his focus remained fixed on whatever he had seen.

Lance followed Keith’s gaze, turning slowly, and his breath caught in his throat.

There, in the dim light of the cavern, stood the massive, unmistakable figure of the Blue Lion. Its form was half-submerged in the rock, its metallic surface dulled and worn from time, but its presence was undeniable. The Lion’s eyes, along with the rest of it, was seemingly dead, just as Red had been in the Blade hangar. However, despite the lack of pressure build in Lance, he felt the energy of its past life glowing faintly in his chest, a soft, flickering blue light that seemed to pulse in time with Lance’s heartbeat.

The two stood below it, just miniature in comparison, staring up in shock at what lay before them. Lance’s lips parted, a mix of awe and disbelief washing over him as he took a shaky step forward. The sight of Blue stole the breath from Lance’s lungs. The cavern seemed to fall silent, the chaos above muffled to a distant hum as his gaze locked on the magnificent form of the Lion.His fingers brushed against Keith, a reminder that he was there and in fact seeing it too. Looking at its figure, the large, symbolic memory, struck him a lot deeper and emotionally than he had anticiapted. Sure, he knew for the most part that there was another Lion here, but seeing Blue, actually seeing her in the same manner as he had first laid eyes on her years ago, made him feel lighteaded again. The deja vu of it all, making him feel like he was hanging on the edge of his seat.

The connection hit him like a tidal wave, the familiar coolness and caring strength of the Blue Lion wrapping around him like an embrace, despite her actively being alive and moving. She was still there, the energy just as strong, as if a shared secret was just between the two, telling him

I’m still here for you

.

For a moment, time seemed to fold in on itself. Lance’s chest tightened as memories flooded of Blue’s last and final pilot, of Allura. He had tried so hard to hold those memories at bay, to tuck them away somewhere safe where they couldn’t break him. But standing here, in front of Blue, there was no resisting them. His breath hitched as a lump rose in his throat. This was different from when he had reunited with Red. That had been fire—chaotic and fierce, like the Lion’s temperament. But this? This was a quiet storm, an overwhelming calmness that swept over him like a tide. It was as though Blue herself was reaching out to him, her presence warm and steady, her gaze soft and understanding. Tears prickled at the corners of Lance’s eyes as the weight of it all hit him. This was the Lion who had started it all—the one who had chosen him when he was just a loudmouthed, cocky 17-year-old wannabe pilot. He remembered the first time he had laid eyes on her, joking about knocking on her door like she was some ordinary machine. And then she had

erupted to life

, light and power pouring out of her as if to say,

You’re ready. Let’s go.

It was Blue who had swept him into space, into a destiny far greater than he could have imagined. It was Blue who had taken them to Voltron, to the team, to the journey that had defined his life. And now, standing before her again, he felt like that same 17-year-old boy—only this time, he carried the weight of every victory, every loss, every scar from the years in between. And just like how he had found her at 17, Keith was standing next to him, the ever present anchor in his life.

His hand reached out, trembling, to touch her. The cool metal under his fingertips sent a shiver through him, grounding him even as the tears spilled over. The pain of the past collided with the comfort of her presence, and for the first time in a long time, Lance felt at peace.

“You found it

,

” Keith said softly, his voice almost reverent. Lance turned to look at him, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Keith wasn’t scowling or yelling. He was just looking at Lance, his eyes wide and filled with something Lance couldn’t quite name.

Lance smiled faintly, the corners of his lips trembling as emotion welled up in his chest. “We found it,” he corrected, his voice barely above a whisper.

But the moment didn’t last.

A sharp

boom

echoed from above, shaking the cavern walls and sending dust and debris raining down around them. The calm was shattered, replaced with the raw panic of reality. Lance spun around, instinctively shielding himself as the tremors shook the ground beneath his feet.

“Oh my god what was that!?” His voice cracked, covering his head as sand and rock sprinkled down from the top of the cavern.

“Lance!” Keith’s voice cut through the noise like a blade, sharp and urgent. Lance turned to see him rushing forward, his expression fierce and focused. Keith grabbed his arm, his eyes darting between Lance and the Lion. “I don’t know, but I have a feeling that wasn’t Zethrid. We have to go! Now!”

“But Blue—” Lance started, his voice breaking as he looked back at her. He didn’t want to leave her, not now, not after everything.

“She’ll be fine!” Keith snapped, pulling Lance toward him. “If we stay here, this whole tunnel is going to collapse. We can’t get her if we’re buried alive!”

Lance hesitated, his heart twisting as he took one last, desperate look at Blue. She seemed to glow faintly, as if to reassure him, to tell him that she would wait. Swallowing hard, he nodded and turned to follow Keith.

The two of them scrambled up the tunnel, the walls shaking violently around them as explosions roared from above. Every step felt like a race against time, the ground shifting precariously beneath their feet.

Keith whistled sharply, and like the magic it was, Kosmo materialized in a flash of blue light at their side, his eyes sharp and alert despite the chaos. Keith didn’t hesitate, grabbing Lance’s arm and holding tight as Kosmo stepped closer.

“Hold on!” Keith barked, and before Lance could protest, the wolf teleported them out of the collapsing tunnel in a flash of light.

The shift was disorienting, the sudden rush of air and light hitting Lance like a wave as they reappeared above ground. He stumbled, gasping as he tried to steady himself.

But the relief was short-lived.

Lance’s gaze shot upward, and the color drained from his face. His heart stopped, then started again in a panicked frenzy as the sight of the descending ship brought a tidal wave of trauma crashing over him.

It was

him.

The sleek, ominous vessel descending from the clouds, its sharp edges glinting in the faint sunlight, was unmistakable.

Vrelen.

He had found them.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

The ship loomed on the horizon, a shadow blotting out the sun as it made its slow descent over the desert. The dull gleam of its hull caught the light, sending an eerie shimmer across the sand. Keith cursed under his breath, his fingers tightening into fists. It was here—

Vrelen’s ship

.

The memories of the last time they had encountered it swarmed back like a landslide, threatening to close up Keith’s throat as his chest tightened.

“How the hell did it get this close undetected?” he growled, whipping around to face the team. Ezor dropped her mouth open in shock while Zethrid stayed eyes glued to the huge ship approaching, both at disbelief.

Axca, always quick to act, had already tapped her comm. “Kolivan, do you copy?” she called, her voice sharp and strained. Nothing but static answered. She tried again, and again—each attempt met with silence. Her worried expression tightened, and Keith could feel the tension radiating off her. She locked eyes with Keith at a loss, the other girls shifted at her side nervously.

Lance’s voice cut through the chaos, higher-pitched than usual. “We have to do something! It’s heading straight for us—and for Blue!” His wide, panicked eyes turned toward Keith, searching for an answer, for a plan, for

something

.

Keith caught the look. Lance always wore his emotions on his sleeve, but this time it wasn’t just fear—it was guilt, desperation. He knew Lance was thinking of Blue, of how they’d found her in that tunnel only minutes ago. Of her closeness to Vrelen descending from above. Keith clenched his jaw, his mind racing, finally deciding on one of his always famous plans.

“Damn it,” he muttered, pivoting toward the hoverbikes.

“Keith—where are you going?” Lance called after him, taking a step forward. Keith didn’t stop. He strode straight to his bike, throwing a leg over it as the engine roared to life. He turned back, his glare sharp as a blade.

“We’re leading it away from Blue,” he snapped. “Axca, Ezor, Zethrid—get on your bikes. Now.”

His girls didn’t hesitate. They moved with precision, mounting their hoverbikes without a word. The hum of engines joined the mounting tension, their readiness unwavering.

“What?” Pidge’s voice cut through the noise, incredulous. “You’re just going to—what? Play bait?”

Hunk added, his voice cracking, “Keith, this is insane! You can’t just—”

“You’re staying here!” Keith barked, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Hide. Wait for Kolivan and the Blade ship to get here. We’ll lead the attention away.”

“But—” Lance started, stepping closer to Keith’s bike. His voice was tight, like he was about to argue, about to plead.

Keith’s patience snapped. “Stay here, Lance!” he shouted, his eyes locking on him.

His chest was heaving, adrenaline already pumping through his veins. The words came out harsher than he intended, but he couldn’t afford to soften them. He saw the flicker of hurt in Lance’s expression before it turned into something harder—frustration, anger, defiance. Keith didn’t have time to deal with it. The bike roared beneath him as he twisted the throttle. Axca, Ezor, and Zethrid were already moving, their bikes kicking up plumes of sand as they followed his lead.

“Keith, don’t you dare—!” Lance yelled, starting to chase after him.

But Keith didn’t stop. He didn’t look back.

The desert stretched out ahead of him, the oppressive shadow of Vrelen’s ship growing larger by the second. As the wind whipped past his face, Keith felt a pang of something he didn’t want to name—a weight pressing on his chest as he thought of Lance, Pidge, and Hunk, left behind in the path of danger. He shoved it down. He couldn’t let himself think about that now.

“Let’s go!” he shouted into his comm, his voice cutting through the static. His girls responded with a sharp chorus of acknowledgments.

And then they were tearing off, a blur of speed and sound across the desert sands, heading straight toward the looming threat.

The bikes roared across the desert, kicking up trails of sand as Keith and his girls surged forward, their silhouettes dark against the blazing sun. Keith’s knuckles were white on the handlebars, his teeth clenched as his sharp eyes stayed locked on the massive Vrelen ship descending in the distance.

“Axca!” Keith shouted into his comm, his voice cutting through the rush of wind. “Have you reached Kolivan yet?”

Static crackled in response, followed by Axca’s sharp voice. “No! Something’s interfering with our system—no signals are going through. It’s like he came out of nowhere, no warning.”

Keith’s jaw tightened. That shouldn’t have been possible. The Blades were meticulous, their surveillance ironclad. The fact that Vrelen’s ship had dropped in undetected sent a cold ripple down his spine.

A searing

whine

sliced through the air. Keith instinctively jerked the handlebars, narrowly dodging a laser blast that scorched the sand in front of his bike.

“Damn it!” he hissed, weaving hard to the left.

More lasers followed, each shot disturbingly accurate. Keith’s movements were quick, practiced, but the barrage was relentless. Axca swerved beside him, her bike kicking up a sharp spray of sand, while Ezor and Zethrid zigzagged to avoid the incoming fire.

“He’s too far away for this kind of precision!” Zethrid roared over the comm, her voice laced with frustration. “How the hell is he getting so close with these shots?!”

Keith didn’t answer. His focus was razor-sharp, his eyes darting between the ship—still a couple of miles ahead—and the fiery streaks raining down around them. The realization gnawed at him: Vrelen wasn’t firing blindly. He

knew

exactly where they were. The thought barely had time to settle before another laser streaked through the air, striking the back of Keith’s bike. The impact sent a jolt through him as the bike burst into flames. Keith fought for control, but the machine wobbled violently, the handlebars jerking out of his grasp.

“Keith!” Axca’s voice cut through the chaos. She pulled up beside him, her bike skidding close, and reached out. Keith lunged, her hand clasping his arm as she hauled him onto the back of her bike just as his exploded behind them, the force of the blast roaring in his ears.

“Damn it!” Keith cursed, his breath ragged as he clung to Axca’s waist.

“He’s tracking us!” Axca shouted over her shoulder. “It’s the bikes—something on them is giving us away!”

“Like a huge metal detector?” Ezor shouted, her voice high pitched.

Keith’s eyes darted back toward Ezor and Zethrid, just in time to see another laser slice through the air and clip Ezor’s bike. The vehicle veered wildly, Ezor’s scream echoing as she lost control and crashed into the sand, the bike skidding on fire besides her.

“Ezor!” Keith’s voice was sharp with panic.

She hit the ground hard, but within seconds, Zethrid was there, zooming by to pull her to her feet and on the back of her own bike. Another blast whizzed by, narrowly missing Axca’s bike. Keith didn’t need any more convincing of Axca’s theory.

“We’re done with the bikes!” he yelled, his voice cutting through the comm. “Jump off and run—now!”

He didn’t wait for confirmation. As more lasers streaked toward them, Keith launched himself off the bike, hitting the sand in a rough tumble. Behind him, Axca, Zethrid, and Ezor did the same, barely escaping before several more blasts struck their bikes in rapid succession.

The explosions ripped through the air of the space they had just existed in, the shockwaves throwing up clouds of sand. Keith staggered to his feet, spitting grit as the remnants of their bikes smoldered in the distance.

“Move!” he barked, his voice hoarse. “Scatter and keep low!”

The desert stretched endlessly before them, shimmering with heat and danger as Keith and his team crested a rise. The distant hum of Vrelen’s ship still echoed in their ears, a sinister reminder of the predator looming above. Keith’s heart pounded, a mixture of adrenaline and frustration as they sprinted back toward the others. The sight of Lance, Pidge, and Hunk and Kosmo standing just over the next dune sent a fleeting wave of relief through him—until their wide, panicked eyes focused on the skies behind him.

“What the hell was that?!” Lance shouted, his voice cutting through the chaos.

Keith didn’t stop moving. He lunged forward, grabbing Lance’s arm in a vice-like grip. “Run!” he barked, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“What—”

“

Run!

” Keith yanked Lance forward as the team bolted into action.

The group sprinted across the uneven desert terrain, dodging stray laser blasts that no longer hit with the unnerving precision of before. Keith’s legs burned, his lungs heaving as he glanced over his shoulder. Vrelen’s ship was still hovering above, its sleek shadow casting an ominous silhouette against the sand.

Ahead of him, Pidge let out a sharp scream, pointing toward something in the distance.

“There!” she shouted, her voice cracking. Keith turned, following her outstretched finger. Just beyond a cluster of crumbling cliffs, a small, dilapidated farmhouse nestled in the shadows, nearly invisible against the dusty backdrop.

“This way!” Keith yelled, leading the charge.

They stumbled toward the building, their boots kicking up clouds of sand. Keith and Lance got there first, grabbing at the large doors and attempting to yank at it. The old building moaned and shifted, but refused to open sanctuary. Keith grit his teeth, pressing his fingers harder into the door and was about to attempt again when Zethrid and Hunk reached the door, throwing their weight against it. The heavy wood groaned under their effort before finally swinging open.

“Inside,

now

!” Hunk bellowed, motioning frantically.

One by one, the team piled into the darkened interior, the air thick with dust and stale heat. Zethrid and Hunk shoved the door shut behind them, the sound of the lock snapping into place echoing through the silent space.

For a moment, the only sound was the labored gasping of their breaths.

Pidge doubled over, hands braced on her knees. “What... the

fuck

,” she wheezed, glaring at Keith through the strands of hair plastered to her face.

“How did it get us that smoothly!” Ezor groaned, slumping against Zethrid with a wince as she looked over her bruises.

“The ship had to have metal sensors to detect your stupid bikes.” Pidge snapped, her eyes will angrily trained on Keith through each gasp.

Keith ignored her, frantically tapping at his comm. “Kolivan,” he muttered under his breath. “Come on, pick up.”

Static crackled uselessly in response, his frustration boiling over as he slammed a fist against the nearest wall, causing Hunk to wince.

Lance, still catching his breath, stormed toward him. His blue eyes were wild, a storm of anger and fear swirling behind them.

“What the

hell

was that?” Lance demanded, grabbing Keith’s arm with a force that rivaled Keith’s earlier grip. “You just

left

us! What were you thinking?!”

Keith jerked his arm free, his brow furrowing in defiance. “I was thinking about Blue,” he snapped, his voice cold and sharp. “Vrelen’s here for a reason—why else would he show up out of nowhere? Especially with no prior knowledge of her existence or location. He’s after her clearly and was

this

close to getting her hiding spot..”

“And your solution was to use yourself as bait?” Lance shot back, his voice rising. “You could’ve gotten yourself killed! You could’ve gotten

all of us

killed!”

Keith’s jaw tightened, his expression hardening. “I bought us time, didn’t I? The Blades are on their way—”

“

You don’t know that!

” Lance’s grip on Keith’s arm tightened, his knuckles white. “You don’t even know if they’ll get here in time!”

The room fell into a tense silence, the only sound the faint, distant hum of Vrelen’s ship outside.

Keith’s voice dropped, his tone steely. “If I hadn’t done something, Vrelen would’ve torn through you, Hunk, and Pidge without hesitation. You think I don’t know the risks? He already almost got Red, and he’s far too close for my liking right now on Earth. It’s about stopping him at this point—whatever it takes.”

Lance’s gaze burned into his, the tension between them crackling like a live wire. “But we’re a team, Keith. Or did you forget that trying to be our hot shot leader just now?”

Keith opened his mouth to retort, but the words caught in his throat. Lance’s frustration wasn’t just anger—it was fear, raw and unfiltered. And for a split second, Keith felt the weight of that fear settle on his own shoulders. Before he could respond, Ezor’s voice cut through the tension like a knife, leaning on the wall for support as she gripped at her side.

“Guys,” she said, her voice trembling slightly as she peered through a crack in the boarded-up window. “He’s getting closer, and I don’t like that he keeps shooting where we all just were.”

The tension in the farmhouse was palpable, a heavy cloud of panic and unease that no one could seem to shake.

Hunk was pacing in tight circles, his hands wringing as he threw a glance toward the slats in the boarded-up window. “It’s too close,” he muttered, voice low but thick with anxiety. “It’s way too close to Blue. What if they find her? What if they dig her up?”

“They haven’t yet,” Keith snapped, his tone sharper than intended as he turned to glare out the window. His jaw clenched so hard it hurt, his teeth grinding audibly as his eyes tracked the movements of Vrelen’s ship. It hovered like a predator, its shots firing sporadically now, unfocused and aimless.

“This is good,” he muttered mainly to himself. “They don’t know exactly where she is. Not yet.”

Axca was furiously trying to fix the comms, her movements growing more frantic by the second. “Still nothing,” she growled, shaking the device like it might somehow spring to life. “There’s interference everywhere—this doesn’t make sense. He’s jamming our signals, but it’s sloppy.”

Pidge leaned over, trying to snatch the comm from Axca’s hands.

“Let me see it,” she demanded, her voice quick and clipped, but Axca jerked it away, glaring.

“Hands off.”

“Hey!” Pidge shot back, the tension between the two sparking even as the room felt like it might crack under the weight of panic.

Hunk groaned, throwing his hands in the air. “Guys, can we

not

do this right now? We’re literally in the middle of a life-or-death situation!” His voice broke slightly, panic creeping through his words as his gaze darted between the fiery Galra and an equally fiery 19 year old girl

“Keith, we need a plan. And fast.” Zethrid’s voice boomed, getting up from checking Ezor’s scratches.

Keith ignored the noise behind him, his eyes scanning the room as his mind raced. His focus landed outside the window, his sharp gaze locking onto a small group of grazing horses just beyond the back of the farmhouse. His breath caught.

Bingo.

His strides were purposeful, determined, as he crossed the room as Kosmo trailed at his legs, his ears sharp on edge sensing the emotions of the barn. Axca’s head snapped up, her brows furrowing in confusion. “What are you doing?” she called out, but Keith didn’t answer.

“Keith,” Lance’s voice cut in, sharper and laced with both annoyance and fear. “What are you doing

now

?”

Keith reached the back door, planting a shoulder against the heavy wood and pushing it open with a creak. The sunlight flooded the dim interior, illuminating the handful of horses standing just a few feet away, their heads lifting curiously at the sound. Lance’s sharp intake of breath was audible behind him, and Keith didn’t need to turn around to know the expression on his face, to know that Lance just

knew

.

“No,” Lance muttered, his tone firm and absolute. “No, no, no. There’s no way. You’re not seriously thinking—”

“I’m not thinking,” Keith cut him off, his voice flat and cold as he turned to lock eyes with Axca. “I’m

doing

. You’re in charge until I get back or the Blades show up. Whichever happens first. We need to keep Vrelen far enough away from Blue. I can do that. But you need to keep working on that comm and make sure the rest of them stay here.”

Axca opened her mouth to argue, but the look in Keith’s eyes stopped her short.

Lance stepped forward, his hand clenching into a fist at his side. “You’re insane,” he spat, his voice trembling with barely restrained anger. “Do you even think before you pull this shit? Or do you just—”

“Keith—” Axca’s voice interrupted, her eyes flicking from the horses to Keith, then to the group. “This is reckless. Even for you.”

“Everyone wanted me to lead the Blades. Then this is me leading.” Keith clicked his jaw, turning to glare back at the horses. He snapped his fingers to make a sitting motion, forcing Kosmo to stop in his tracks with a whine, knowing this meant not to follow.

“Good luck taming them.” Pidge scoffed, but Keith didn’t need to turn when he heard Lance groan out bitterly.

“That’s not gonna be an issue.” He muttered low.

“Since

WHEN

?” Hunk nearly shriked, his voice high in worry.

Pidge blinked, startled, but before she could retort, the look on Lance’s face stopped her. His eyes were wide and stormy, a hurricane of worry and frustration swirling beneath the surface. Keith tried not to let Lance’s expression root itself in his mind. He had to clear his thoughts, focus on the task ahead. He couldn’t afford to get distracted, not now.

He turned back to the group one last time, his voice steady and commanding, “I’m going to lead him as far away as I can,” he said, his tone brooking no argument. “If Kolivan and the Blades haven’t realized something’s wrong by now, they will soon. But we need time.”

As he spoke, his sharp eyes scanned the barn, landing on a coil of rope slung over a hook. He strode forward, his boots kicking up dust, and yanked it free. The coarse fibers scratched at his hands as he spun it between his fingers, tying a tight loop with practiced efficiency. He turned toward the door, ready to grab a horse and bolt when he felt a hand on his arm. The grip was firm but trembling, and he froze, slowly turning to find Lance standing behind him.

Lance’s eyes were wide and glassy, his face pale, his lips parting to speak. “I’m coming with you,” he whispered, his voice quiet but fierce, trembling on the edge of desperation. “Don’t do this alone, Keith. Don’t make me—”

Keith’s chest tightened painfully, the weight of Lance’s words hitting him like a punch. For a moment, his resolve wavered, his mask slipping at the raw emotion in Lance’s voice. But he steeled himself, shaking his head.

“I have to,” he said, his voice low but firm. “You can’t come with me.”

Lance’s grip on his arm tightened, his knuckles white. “Why not?” he hissed, his tone breaking.

Keith swallowed hard, forcing himself to meet Lance’s stormy blue eyes. “Because you’re the only one who can help if something happens with Blue,” he said, his words deliberate and measured. “If Vrelen’s after her, there’s no telling what else he’s planning. And if—” His voice caught for a split second, and he forced himself to push through. “If you have another vision, I can’t risk you being out there. You need to be here, Lance. Trust me.”

Lance faltered, his brows pinching as he stared at Keith, the storm in his eyes threatening to break. “I trust you,” he said finally, his voice shaking. “I just don’t trust

him.

”

Keith’s lips curved into a faint, crooked smirk. “Good enough,” he said, his voice softening just for a moment.

Lance’s eyes flickered back with a darkened look before breaking into something more pained, his mouth dropping open as if he was about to say something. Keith waited for a brief moment, his eyes catching the way Lance’s throat bobbed and his sharp inhale of a breath, but whatever Lance seemed like he was about to say, he clearly second guessed as he shut his mouth shut tightly, locking in his comment. Lance’s hand slowly slipped down his arm, as if his fingers were trying to memorize its last feel of him, before dropping from his arm, falling to his side as Keith turned and strode toward the horses, his movements sharp and deliberate. He didn’t look back—he couldn’t. His chest ached, and he knew if he saw the look on Lance’s face one more time, he might hesitate.

And hesitation would get them all killed.

Keith’s mind raced as he strode toward the horses. His dark eyes burned with determination, his sharp jaw clenched as he sized up the animals. The dry desert wind whipped around him, tousling his too long hair in a way that looked almost deliberate, like something out of an old western film his dad used to watch. He wracked his brain, willing himself to remember everything he could about the last time he’d ridden, gritting his teeth as he narrowed his eyes on a particularly strong-looking horse grazing near the edge of the pen. The horses startled as he neared, their heads snapping up, ears flicking back nervously. They began to back away, their hooves scraping against the hard ground. The horses startled as he got closer, their hooves scuffing against the dusty ground, heads tossing as their wide, nervous eyes tracked him. But Keith didn’t falter. With one deep breath in and out, he was calm, focused, his movements smooth and deliberate. The coil of rope in his hand was steady, his fingers sure as he spun the loop in a perfect circle above his head, the rope slicing the air in a low whistle, the fibers whistling faintly as they cut through the air.

With a sharp flick of his wrist, the rope lashed out and landed perfectly, snaring the horse by its muzzle. The animal reared slightly, its startled whinny cutting through the quiet, but Keith was already pulling the rope taut, tightening it with an easy strength. The horse bucked and struggled, but Keith held firm, muscles flexing as he locked the rope into place like he’d watched done a hundred times before. The animal reared, muscles rippling as it let out a panicked whinny, but Keith held his ground, planting his feet firmly as he yanked the rope taut. His arms flexed under the strain, the veins in his forearms standing out as he wrestled the powerful creature into submission. The horse bucked, but Keith’s grip didn’t waver. His jaw tightened, and a low grunt of effort escaped his lips as he pulled back with enough force to lock the rope in place. The fight was brief, the animal finally stilling under his control.

Before anyone could react, Keith moved with a fluid grace, leaping onto the horse in one seamless motion. It wasn’t much different from mounting a hoverbike, he told himself to feel more at ease, his thighs clenching tightly to hold himself steady as the horse shifted beneath him. His hands gripped the rope firmly, yanking it just enough to guide the horse’s head in the direction of the open desert. He glanced back over his shoulder, his eyes briefly locking onto his friends still gathered by the barn door. Their expressions were a mixture of shock and awe—wide eyes, open mouths. Hunk and Pidge stared with their mouths half-open, and even Axca’s usual composure faltered, her brows lifting ever so slightly in surprise. Lance, in particular, stood out. His face was flushed, his lips slightly parted, and his bright blue eyes were wide with something Keith couldn’t quite place, his face a shade darker than usual as if the heat of the desert had nothing to do with his flushed cheeks

Keith’s lips twitched into a small, almost teasing smile, that seemed to make Lance’s flush deepen even further, making his heart beating faster than it should’ve. Lance blinked, seeming to catch himself, and quickly scoffed, rolling his eyes as if to shake off whatever had flustered him.

“Be careful out there, cowboy,” Lance called, his voice laced with a mix of exasperation and something softer, warmer.

Keith’s stomach twisted at the nickname, the faintest hint of heat creeping up his neck. He nodded sharply, his grip on the rope tightening as he gave the horse a quick, decisive kick to its side. The animal reared slightly before taking off in a blur of movement, Keith leaning forward as the wind whipped past him, his focus narrowing on the looming Vrelen ship in the distance.

The desert stretched out before him, vast and unforgiving, but he couldn’t help the small, defiant smirk that tugged at his lips as Lance’s voice echoed in his ears.

Keith’s heart thundered as he dug his heels into the horse’s sides, urging it to go faster. The dry desert air tore at his face, the distant ship looming larger with every stride. Its wild, erratically firing, sending blasts of heat and sand into the air, explosions crackling in the distance. Despite the chaos, Keith couldn’t shake the one salvageable thought that Vrelen had no idea where the lion was buried. That was their only advantage, and he had to keep it that way.

Leaning low over the horse’s neck, he clenched the rope tighter, his fingers burning from the grip as he pressed his body against the animal to cut through the wind. The sand mound ahead rose high like a small mountain, its steep incline daunting. Keith’s jaw set in determination as he coaxed the horse forward, feeling its muscles bunch and strain beneath him. They surged up the mound, the horse’s hooves kicking up clouds of sand with each powerful stride.

At the top, Keith reined the horse in, pulling it to an abrupt halt. The animal reared slightly, letting out a sharp neigh before settling, its chest heaving as Keith scanned the horizon. The ship hovered ominously in the distance, its size casting a massive shadow over the dunes. Keith’s sharp eyes darted around, searching for any sign of Kolivan and the Blade’s reinforcements, but there was nothing. His chest tightened with frustration as he leaned back, gnawing at the inside of his cheek, his mind racing to devise a plan.

The horse shifted beneath him, its movements uneasy as if it could sense Keith’s tension. He tried circling the animal, weaving a wide arc in the hopes the ship might track his motion, but there was no response. The ship remained eerily indifferent, its weapons continuing to fire blindly into the desert. Keith’s teeth ground together, his frustration boiling over into desperation as he gripped the reigns so tightly his knuckles turned white.

What the hell do I do…

Suddenly, a sharp crack of energy split the air, reverberating around him like a mini sonic boom. Keith’s head snapped downward, his eyes going wide as the familiar shimmer of a glow materialized beneath the horse. The horse whinnied in panic, rearing back violently. Keith’s reflexes kicked in as he gripped the rope with one hand and steadied one arm in the air for balance, holding on tight as the animal threatened to throw him off.

From remains of the sparkles left two figures in its path, and Keith’s stomach lurched with either pure anger or genuine shock, whatever threatened to battle for dominance first. The furry, large lines of Kosmo appeared first, followed by a second figure standing away from the wolf—Axca. She stood tall and defiant, her piercing gaze locking onto Keith with a mix of disapproval and determination. Her arms were crossed tightly against her chest, her body language radiating a restrained fury.

“What the hell are you doing here? I just told you what was to happen!” Keith snapped, his voice rough and sharp, a mixture of anger and alarm. He jumped off the horse, his boots hitting the sand with a thud, the animal still restless behind him.

Axca didn’t flinch under his glare, her own eyes narrowing as she stepped closer. “Saving your reckless ass, apparently,” she said coolly, her tone biting.

“I left you in charge–”

“Yah, well, you clearly left the wrong person that position so I fixed that.” She shot back, narrowing her eyes and unwavering from Keith’s own fire, the unspoken acknowledgement that she had in fact turned the weight onto noneother than Lance.

Keith’s heart raced, not just from the sudden appearance of his teammate but from the surge of panic that overwhelmed him. His thoughts immediately shot back to Lance, Pidge, Hunk, and Zethrid and an injured Ezor back at the barn. “You

left

them?” His voice cracked slightly, his anger laced with an undercurrent of fear.

“They’ll be fine!” Axca shot back, her tone low and dangerous. “Kolivan and the others haven’t shown up yet, and I let the small annoying one take control of fixing our damaged comms while the rest came up with a plan of how to stall without getting close. You’re out here alone, about to do something stupid—again. Someone had to make sure you didn’t get yourself killed, and it sure wasn’t going to be Lance. We both know you would have sent him straight back to that barn.”

Keith’s jaw clenched as he took a step closer, his eyes blazing. “You don’t get to make that call! If something happens to them while you’re out here—”

“Stop,” Axca hissed, her voice sharp as a blade. “Do you think I don’t know the stakes like you? Do you think I’d be here if I didn’t think this was our best shot?”

Keith’s hands curled into fists at his sides, his mind spinning. Axca’s words cut through his fury, making him hesitate. As much as he wanted to disagree, he knew having Axca would potentially increase his luck. She thought like him, fought like him, argued like him. They were like two sides of the same blade, able to stab and push. While he was for the most part the leadership, she still was able to clean up his frayed ends. The anger didn’t dissipate, but it mingled with the sickening churn of nervousness. His eyes darted to Kosmo, who stood between them, tail wagging slightly but ears pinned back as if sensing the tension.

Axca’s voice softened, just barely. “You’re not invincible, Keith. I’m here because we need you alive, and mainly because

someone

was two seconds away from blowing his brain with worry. So, what’s the plan?”

Keith’s chest rose and fell as he struggled to steady his breathing. He looked over his shoulder at the looming ship, its weapons still firing aimlessly into the desert. The tension in his body didn’t fade, but he forced himself to refocus. “We keep the ship distracted,” he said finally, his voice low but resolute. “Long enough for Kolivan and the others to get here. But I can’t get its attention.”

Axca turned to stare at the looming ship, silent for a moment. Finally, she nodded, her expression still hard but no longer cold. “Then let’s get its attention.”

The metallic snap of Axca’s gun leaving her holster was sharp and precise, like the crack of a whip. Keith barely glanced at her as she spun it with practiced grace, the fluid motion almost mesmerizing before she leveled both arms, aiming toward the ship with deadly intent. Her focus was razor-sharp, the faint tension in her jaw revealing just how much she meant business. Without hesitation, Axca pulled the trigger, the blasts cutting through the air in quick succession. Each shot landed with an echoing clang against the curved metal side of the ship, leaving faint scorch marks but no visible damage.

Keith’s eyes didn’t waver from the ship, his posture rigid as he muttered under his breath, “Real impressive.”

Before Axca could bite back a scoff, a low mechanical hum erupted from the ship, growing louder by the second. The sound sent a chill down Keith’s spine, his grip tightening on the horse’s rope as his gaze snapped upward.

A slit opened in the ship’s underbelly, and in an instant, it was raining drones. Hundreds of them spilled into the sky like a swarm of malevolent hornets, their sleek forms gleaming in the sunlight as they organized into formation. Keith’s breath caught, his mind racing to process the overwhelming sight. Axca didn’t miss a beat.

“Still think my shot wasn’t strong enough?” She turned to him, eyes wide.

The drones pivoted in perfect unison, their sharp, angular bodies whirring as they locked onto Keith and Axca with unnerving precision. It took no more than five seconds for the momentary shock to melt into full-blown action.

“

Move!

” Keith barked, leaping onto the horse and kicking at it’s sides, snapping the rope. The animal leapt forward with startling speed, its hooves thundering down against the sand as it prepared to bolt across the desert.

Axca reacted just as quickly, lunging up and grabbing Keith’s shoulder for balance as he yanked her onto the horse behind him. She twisted her body, her knees digging into the horse’s sides for stability as she aimed her gun upward. Kosmo snarled at the horses side, but thankfully, the wolf had also grown and become highly trained in speed and agility, able to keep up just as fast at the horse’s side. The first wave of drones broke formation, splitting off to dive toward them. Axca didn’t hesitate, firing off a string of shots with rapid precision. Her blasts cut through the air, striking one drone cleanly and sending it spiraling down in a fiery blaze.

The rest of the swarm responded, unleashing a volley of laser fire. The blasts rained down around them, scorching the sand and leaving trails of smoke in their wake. Keith leaned low over the horse’s neck, his muscles taut as he guided the animal in sharp, unpredictable turns to avoid the strikes.

“Hold on!” he growled, snapping the rope to push the horse faster.

Axca’s body pressed against his as she twisted further, her aim steady even as the horse raced and bucked beneath them. She attempted to steady her arm as the drones swarmed closer and closer, sniping off a couple with shots, while other shots bounced harmlessly off a couple, barley clipping their sides. The wild movement from the horse shook and bounced the two of them, and Keith heard Axca practically growl in annoyance between each attempted shot.

Her next shot clipped another drone, sending it spinning into a second in an explosion of metal and flame. The heat of a near miss singed Keith’s shoulder as a laser struck the ground inches from the horse’s hooves. He swerved sharply, nearly throwing them both off balance.

“Could you make this thing any smoother?” Axca snapped, her words biting but laced with adrenaline.

Keith shot her a look over his shoulder, his eyes flashing with that familiar fire. “You’re welcome to walk if you think you can do better.”

Axca let out a dry laugh, but the two both flew back into attention as a couple more shots skimmed past the horse, her focus back on the swarm above them. More drones descended, their laser fire growing more precise. Keith’s jaw clenched as he yanked the rope, forcing the horse to veer hard toward a rocky outcrop. He made several small glances over his shoulder to see if the ship was following, but it still hovered farther and farther away, seemingly not entertained to follow the two on horseback. However, that didn’t stop the drones from closing distance, one flying dangerously close for liking. Kosmo reeled away from the horse’s side, leaping up and snatching it in his jaws, snapping it in half.

The heat of the desert air felt suffocating as Axca’s shots grew sloppier with each passing second. Her precise assassin’s edge was dulling under the relentless pressure of the swarming drones. The strain showed in the tension of her shoulders, in the way her breaths came faster and sharper, her grip on Keith’s stomach loosening as she was slipping from exhaustion. The shots fired from her gun began to miss their targets, glancing off the sand or ricocheting harmlessly into the sky.

Keith could feel it too—the unraveling chaos. The drones buzzed around them like an angry hive, their coordinated movements cutting off every escape route. His grip on the rope tightened as he leaned into the horse, urging it forward faster and faster.

And then it happened.

A searing blast struck the horse’s leg, the sound sharp and final like a snapped wire. The animal let out a guttural cry, its legs buckling beneath it before it crashed to the ground, skidding in the sand. Keith and Axca were thrown clear, both of them tumbling hard into the dirt.

Keith hit the ground with enough force to knock the wind out of him, but his instincts kicked in immediately. He scrambled to his feet, his blade unsheathing with a sharp hiss. Axca was already up, her hand trembling as she fired wildly at the descending swarm. Her frantic movements were a stark contrast to the composed, deadly assassin Keith knew her to be. Kosmo appeared at their side in a blur of motion, his claws digging into the sand as he snarled at the drones. The wolf’s fur bristled, his glowing eyes locked on the nearest targets as he shifted to shield Keith and Axca, teeth bared in defiance. Keith braced himself, his gaze flicking rapidly between the swirling mass of drones. His blade hummed in his hand, the comforting weight of it grounding him as he prepared to fight. But there were too many of them. Even with Kosmo and Axca, the odds were grim. His blade and her gun stood no chance against a firing ensemble of small drones.

And then, without warning, the air seemed to split apart with a deafening roar. A massive blast of energy tore through the sky from over their heads behind them, searing straight into the heart of the drone swarm. The explosion was instantaneous, disintegrating half the herd on impact. The heat of it rippled through the air, leaving a sizzling hum in its wake. Keith and Axca froze, their eyes snapping toward the source.

Not far from them, a small cruiser-class airship descended, its sleek silhouette unfamiliar and vaguely menacing. The ship landed smoothly on the sand a few meters away, the low hum of its engines reverberating in the tense silence.

Axca’s gun was already up, her eyes sharp and wary as she hissed, “That’s not one of ours.” Keith gripped his blade tighter, his body coiled and ready to spring, his other hand on Kosmo’s mane in preparation and anticipation.

The airship’s door slid open with a hydraulic hiss, and for a heartbeat, the world seemed to hold its breath. Then, a woman dressed in that familiar orange uniform stepped out with all the swagger in the universe, her smirk brilliantly crooked and infuriatingly confident. One that rivaled dangerously similar to the only person that ever made Keith’s heart skip a beat.

Keith blinked, his brain taking a second too long to process.

“Looks like you two could use some backup!” Veronica shouted, her voice carrying easily over the din. She hefted a sniper rifle onto her shoulder—a beast of a weapon, nearly twice the size of the one Axca carried. Keith didn’t even have time to fully register her presence before more drones broke off and fired down at them.

“Eyes up!” Veronica barked, her tone sharp and commanding. She turned back toward the airship and waved a hand. “Monitor the skies! Let Commander Iverson know we found them, we’ll hold them here!”

Keith’s gaze darted past her to the cockpit of the cruiser, where he caught sight of a few pilots scrambling to man the guns and steering. The realization hit him like a slap, and for the first time in what felt like hours, hope flickered in his chest.

The air thickened with tension as the hum of the drones drew closer, their shadows cascading over the desert sands like predators closing in for the kill. Keith and Axca barely had a chance to process the sudden appearance of Veronica’s cruiser before she stepped forward, rifle in hand, exuding an air of calm confidence. Her steps were unhurried as she planted herself firmly on the ground in front of them, shoulders squared, the sleek, high-caliber sniper rifle resting against her shoulder like it was an extension of herself. Her gaze, sharp and unwavering, locked onto the swarm of drones, her smirk carrying the kind of unshakable certainty that only came from someone who

knew

they were the best at what they did.

Without a word, Veronica raised her rifle and fired the first shot. The sound cracked through the air like thunder, and a brilliant streak of energy tore across the sky. The nearest drone exploded into a cascade of fire and shrapnel, disintegrating before it could even register the impact. Keith blinked, stunned by the sheer precision. But Veronica didn’t pause. She adjusted her aim with practiced ease, her movements fluid and exact, as though every second was pre-calculated in her mind. Another shot rang out, then another, each one striking true. Drones fell from the sky in rapid succession, their remains scattering like debris caught in a storm. The power of her rifle was unlike anything Keith had seen. It wasn’t just the accuracy that set her apart—it was the

reach

. She was taking down drones that were far beyond the range of most conventional weapons, her shots cutting through the air like they were guided by fate itself.

Axca, snapping out of her initial shock, let out a sharp breath and quickly picked off the few stragglers with methodical precision, picking off the last few that Veronica deemed unworthy of her own rampage.

Veronica’s focus remained unshaken, her movements quick and deliberate, yet rolled her shoulders between each shot, as though she had all the time in the world. Each pull of the trigger was met with another drone plummeting from the sky, the blasts searing hot and leaving behind trails of smoke and fire.

Finally, the skies were cleared. Keith, his chest heaving as adrenaline surged through him, turned his gaze to Veronica. Her rifle slung casually over her shoulder, her expression smug yet calm—like she hadn’t just dismantled a small drone army with terrifying efficiency. The cocky wink she threw in his direction knocked any argument he might’ve had straight out of his mind. Keith couldn’t help but watch, a strange mix of relief and admiration swirling in his chest. This wasn’t just skill—this was

art

. Keith’s mind finally caught up with reality as his eyes locked on who exactly was out there with them. The casual confidence in her smirk clashed with the gravity of the situation. Keith felt a swirl of emotions—shock, relief, and... panic.

“Wait... Veronica?!” he blurted, the name catching in his throat as his voice cracked. The surprise and concern twisted together in his chest as he tried to piece together how Lance’s older sister had ended up in the middle of this chaos.

She threw him a wink that nearly gave him a heart attack with how similiar it looked to Lance’s. Before Keith could form an argument—or demand answers—she gave a casual shrug and started reloading her weapon. “What? You didn’t think I’d let my baby brother’s crush bite the dust, did you?”

Keith felt his brain short-circuiting at the comment. He barely had time to react before Axca stepped up beside him, her own expression flickering between stunned silence and something else heavy. Veronica’s sharp eyes flicked to Axca, and for a moment, her smirk faltered. Keith caught the shift immediately—the brief awkwardness that settled between the two women like a ghost from the past. Axca’s usual composure cracked just enough for him to notice, her fingers twitching slightly as though debating whether to say something. Veronica’s ears tinged a faint red, and Keith watched her mask of cool confidence slip for the briefest second. He cleared his throat awkwardly, cutting through the tension and giving them both an out.

“How—how did you know we were in trouble? Or where we were?” Keith asked, his voice hoarse from the dust and shouting. He needed to focus, to understand how they’d even found them.

Veronica blinked, snapping out of her daze and straightening up. Her smirk returned, though it wasn’t quite as sharp as before. “It was Shiro’s call. When Kolivan and the Blades went silent, he didn’t trust it. Said it wasn’t like you to drop off the radar without reason.” She gestured over her shoulder toward the cockpit of the small ship, where an MFE pilot Keith faintly recognized was running diagnostics. “So, he sent us out here with my team to check on things. Looks like his instincts paid off.”

Keith swallowed hard, the mention of Shiro sending her filling him with a mixture of relief and guilt. Of course, Shiro would sense something was wrong. He always did. Keith silently thanked him, his heart steadying at the thought as a pang of gratitude surged through him. For a moment he battled the idea that more and more people at the Garrision were learning about their mission, but seeing the way Veronica took down practically an army of drones, he wasn’t about to get upset on Kolivan’s behalf, wherever the guy was.

“We need to move,” Keith said quickly, his voice sharp again. “The rest of my team is in a barn a couple of miles back with your brother. We need to get in contact with them and Kolivan.”

Veronica nodded, slipping back into her commander mode. She gestured for them to follow. “Get on my ship,” she ordered, her tone leaving no room for argument. “I’ll radio back to the Garrison and try and get some sort of coordination with your Blades. We had another ship headed towards the signals that were tracked out to that barn. We got the interception of it, but still nothing on our end of Kolivan.”

“Let’s go,” he muttered, striding after Veronica toward the cruiser, Kosmo trotting protectively at his side.

Veronica's ship hummed with energy as the hatch slid shut behind them, sealing the three of them in its metallic, cramped interior. It was a lot smaller than the battleships the Blades used, but a little larger than the singua.r fighter jet Keith flew to come and leave Earth on his trips. The low whir of the controls and the faint hum of the engines were the only sounds cutting through the tense silence as Veronica made her way to the cockpit. She leaned over the control panel with effortless poise, her sharp gaze scanning the displays. The MFE pilots exchanged glances, quietly deferring to her authority as she toggled switches and adjusted frequencies with practiced ease. Keith barley registered they were the same ones who had been the Atlas crew, their features slowly coming back to him as the four who had sacrificed their time and energy to joining Voltron and defending for their behalf. Keith tried to ignore one of their searing eyes trained carefully on his, the memory of who he was battling the importance of this mission.

"Shiro," Veronica said, her voice calm but clipped as she tapped into the comm system. Keith’s pulse quickened at the name, and he stepped closer, his body instinctively drawn toward the console. He leaned over another chair, the one that held the godforsaken MFE pilot that he still felt a lot of unresolved feelings for, who flinched underneath Keith’s lean but stayed quiet.

The comm crackled before Shiro’s voice came through, steady but tinged with concern. “Veronica? Is everyone okay?”

Hearing his brother’s voice sent a wave of immediate relief through Keith. His breath hitched for just a moment before he leaned further over, his eyes trained on the display as if Shiro were standing right in front of him. “We’re okay,” Keith answered, his voice quieter than he intended but steady enough. His throat tightened as the obvious worry in Shiro’s tone hit him, a reminder of how deeply his brother always cared.

But there wasn’t time for sentiment. Keith’s focus sharpened as he quickly added, “Vrelen’s ship is still firing wildly, but it hasn’t pinpointed Blue yet. The problem is we lost contact with the Blades—Kolivan isn’t responding to us.”

A new voice cut through the comm, this one familiar and calculated—Sam Holt. “That’s because Vrelen’s ship is emitting a disruption signal,” Sam explained, his tone brisk but concerned. “It’s interfering with communications, cutting off any chance of contact with the Blade ship. Whatever tech Vrelen is using, it’s jamming frequencies across the board.”

Keith’s hands balled into fists, his jaw clenching. “Can’t you use another system to track the Blade ship?” he snapped, frustration seeping into his voice.

Shiro’s voice came through again, calm and grounding as always. “We’re working on it, Keith. But whatever this interference is, it’s making a mess of our scans. Vrelen’s tech is ahead of anything the Garrison’s dealt with before. We’re trying to adapt.”

“Adapt faster,” Keith muttered, his voice like steel. “We can’t just sit here and wait for him to make the first move. We need to hit him back,

now.

”

Before anyone could respond, Sam’s voice cut in again, sharper this time. “Where’s Katie? Where’s my daughter?”

Keith’s stomach tightened at the urgency in Sam’s voice, but he answered firmly, “She’s at a barn a few miles out with Hunk and Lance. They’re safe for now, but getting them out of there has to be the priority.”

The one and only MFE pilot underneath Keith shifted uncomfortably in his seat, clearing his throat. Keith shot him a glance, biting back an annoyed comment, but quickly returned to the console, his focus still locked on the comm as he waited for a response.

“Who else is involved at the Garrison on this mission?” Keith asked.

“I involved my officers when deemed necessary. Kolivan and the Blades failed in dealing with this.” Iverson’s voice finally snapped over. Keith tensed, grinding his jaw when the same pilot below him cleared his throat again.

“Griffin, not now.” Veronica sighed out, sensing the way Keith had clearly bristled at Iverson’s jab.

James Griffin groaned below Keith, gritting his teeth as he threw an annoyed look over to Veronica, just shy of glancing up at Keith.

“If you just listen to me you’d know there’s–”

“There’s... another ship,” The girl next to him with similar glasses to Veronica,

Nadia…was it???

pointed out the windows.

Keith’s heart jumped, and everyone in the cockpit turned to look. His stomach twisted as his eyes landed on the sleek, unmistakable form of the Blade ship breaking through the desert horizon. The sight of it brought a strange mixture of relief and tension.

“Finally,” Axca muttered, exhaling a shaky sigh of relief as her gaze softened at the sight of her allies.

“Come in. Is everything alright on your end?” Shiro’s voice cut through the relief and tension break.

“The Blades just arrived. They are nearing level with Vrelen.” Keith’s eyes stayed trained on the Blade ship, who was nearing closer and closer in its flight. Despite its lack of communication, it had still flown in, seemingly sensing there was in fact danger to be dealt with. It took everything in Keith not to overtake Veronica’s ship himself and fly over to join his team.

But the relief was short-lived. As if sensing the arrival of a rival, Vrelen’s massive ship suddenly shifted its position. It decided to descend completely, the ship coming down with violent force onto the desert floor. The ground trembled, and a shockwave of energy rippled out from the impact, sand blasting outward in chaotic waves.

The cockpit rattled, lights flickering as the wave hit Veronica’s ship. Keith braced himself against the wall, his eyes narrowing at the sudden turn of events. The once-quiet desert now buzzed with crackling energy and the heavy, oppressive presence of Vrelen’s ship looming like a dark omen.

Veronica cursed under her breath, steadying herself as she adjusted her rifle strap. “Well, that’s one way to make an entrance,” she muttered, her tone sharp but laced with determination.

Keith’s gaze flickered between the two ships, his mind already racing with possibilities. The Blades were here—but so was Vrelen, and now things were about to escalate in a way none of them were ready for.

“Someone get me in contact with the Blade ship!” Keith shouted, his voice rough as his eyes trained on the two ships stilled. Vrelen was eerily silent and unmoving, as if he was waiting for the first move for the Blades to pay, still hovering in air.

“Keith, don’t do anything too rash right now.” Shiro’s voice cleared through, when suddenly, a second light on the monitor flashed on, signaling another line was attempting to come through. Nadia eyed it and looked at Veronica for permission, who nodded, prompting the lines to connect as a crackle came through.

“-ey. Over, is this reaching anyone?”

The unmistakable pitch of Pidge came through, and before Keith could answer back, Sam Holt’s voice came from his line.

“Katie? Is that you?”

“Dad!?”

“Pidge! We are on a line with the Garrison right now. Rundown, the Blades have their signal messed up by Vrelen, who just landed ship at the same time the Blade ship approached. Axca and I are with Veronica and the MFE’s right now.” Keith gripped the back of the seat to steady his ticking impatience, unable to be calm and deal with this overlap right now.

“Wait, Veronica?!” Now it was Lance’s turn to comm through, his voice equally as surprised to mimic Pidge’s.

“Lance! Where are you guys? Are you safe?” Veronica leaned over, her nerves buzzing from the adrenaline.

“Yah, we’re ok. Keeping a low profile but it’s good on our end. Keith, are you alright?” Lance’s attention being brought to Keith momentarily warmed his chest, but the reunions were cut short as everyone was rudely interrupted by Iverson snapping over.

“Where is the Lion? Vrelen’s presence is enough to prove there is one, and I’m assuming that’s where the rest of you are. Send us the coordinates.”

“If Vrelen is targeting it, it’s imperative we secure it before they do. The Garrison can provide the resources necessary to keep it safe.” Sam Holt backed up the point.

“On it. We are currently–” Pidge’s voice came in steady.

“We aren’t allowed to send you the coordinates.” Axca finally spoke up, leaning in between Keith and Veronica. Veronica bristled, glancing over to Axca as her brows furrowed.

“What? We’re trying to help here and that’s sorta important to this whole thing.”

“That is beyond the rights you have at the Garrison.The Blades already made it clear—no military faction, including the Garrison, is to lay claim to the Lion. It was our agreement.” Axca narrowed her eyes, unwavering from Veronica’s offense. She glanced at Keith, drawing him into the argument, which made his jaw grind. Veronica followed the look to Keith, her eyes a mix of a question and a plea.

Kolivan’s words echoed in his head, a reminder of the Blades main goal and purpose here, how they were the ones in chage of this entire mission, and mainly, the distrust still bubbling in his chest over all things Garrison.

“Axca’s right. Kolivan made it clear about what the Garrison is allowed know. Us alerting about its location not only puts the Lion in danger of being found out from Vrelen, but also our call can be intercepted by anyone. The Lion stays out of anyone’s hands until the Blades can retrieve and decide what to do. Not the Garrison”

“Keith, you can’t be serious right now.” Lance’s voice came through with a strain, which made Keith’s stomach twist as he continued, “Do you even hear yourself? This isn’t about politics or some Blade rule—this is about protecting Blue!”

Keith flinched, his body tensing as Axca’s eyes widened, catching the fact that Lance had just admitted which Lion it was.

“You think I don’t know that?” he said, his voice dangerously low, like the rumble of a storm on the horizon. He was so close to blowing up completely from all of this, let alone the repercussions that was going to come from Lance’s lose lips. After all that he had done trying to keep this private, away from the Garrison.

But Lance wasn’t done. His voice rose, filled with the kind of raw emotion that kept the others quiet.

“She’s in danger, Keith! Right now! And we’re just standing here, arguing over who gets to hold her leash while Vrelen’s out there, ready to destroy her! Forget the Blades for a second and think about what matters!”

Keith’s jaw tightened, his teeth grinding audibly. He nearly wanted to laugh at the statement, the battling pull of loyalty to the Blades nearly suffocating his want to agree with Lance and the Paladins. The others in the cockpit held their breath as his gaze turned into a glare sharp enough to cut steel.

“You think I don’t care about the Lions?” Keith said, his voice louder now, the frustration boiling over. He took a step closer to Lance, their faces inches apart. “About Blue? About any of this? I’m doing this for all of us!” Keith shouted, his voice cracking under the weight of his emotions. “If we don’t stop Vrelen now, there won’t

be

a Lion to protect! He’ll keep coming, and he’ll keep winning if we don’t deal with him here and now!”

The cockpit fell into a stunned silence, including the comms on the other ends, the weight of Keith’s words pressing down on everyone like an invisible force.

Before anyone could speak, Shiro’s voice came through the comms, sharp and commanding.

“Enough!”

The single word echoed through the comm, freezing everyone in place. Keith let out a shaky breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, feeling his fingers ache with how tight he was gripping the seat.

“I don’t care who’s right or wrong right now,” Shiro continued, his tone softening but still firm. “We don’t have time for this. You’re both arguing for the same thing in different ways. So stop wasting energy fighting each other and focus on the real enemy. We’ll find a way to protect the Lion

and

stop Vrelen. Together. But not if we’re divided like this.”

The comm went quiet, and for a moment, no one spoke. Then, Keith exhaled sharply and turned back to the group.

“We help the Blades first,” he said, his tone calmer but still firm. “We get us to Kolivan and deal with Vrelen’s ship. After that, we figure out who takes Blue.”

The silence coming from Lance’s side twisted another gut punch into Keith, but nothing came. No fight.

“I’ll have more officials sent out to Vrelen’s location to help assist where needed for the Blades. But I will not have a loss on my men’s end.” Iverson spoke coldly. Keith gritted his molars.

“Duly noted.” He muttered, refusing to look at the icy glare Veronica was giving him at his side as if she had been slapped.

“If anyone is trying to fire on the ship, it’s setting our a boundary to dismantle and ward off any attacks.” A quiet monotone voice chirped from behind Keith. Keith turned wildly to see the blonde MFE with freckles he also recognized, her small bulltcut and carefree expression reminding him of her character.

“What do you mean Ina?” James cocked his head at the girl. Ina let out a huff through her nose, stilling before continuing as she held up a scanner, rhythmic beeping of the system filled the silence until she finally spoke, her voice calm but laced with urgency.

"I've been able to get a clearer reading on Vrelen's ship," she said, glancing back at the group. "And now I understand why the Blades haven’t fired any shots. They’ve engaged a protective barrier around it, preventing outside attacks like blasts or firearms."

Veronica cursed under her breath that Keith nearly followed suit in until he saw she wasn’t cursing at Ina. As if the universe wanted to rub salt in the wound, the ship released a new wave of drones into the air. The machines floated like predators, scanning and tracking the terrain with unsettling precision.

“Great,” she muttered, her tone bitter. “More of those damn things. Because this wasn’t hard enough already.”

Keith stood near the edge of the group, his arms crossed and his eyes fixed on the screen. His jaw was set, tension rippling through him as he exhaled sharply. The faint growl in his voice when he spoke made everyone turn toward him.

“We don’t have time for this,” he snapped. “If the Blade ship can’t take the barrier down, I will. I’m getting onto Vrelen’s ship.”

The room went still for a moment, the weight of his words sinking in. Veronica narrowed her eyes at him, stepping forward with a skeptical glare. “Are you out of your mind? That ship is crawling with who knows what. The drones alone will tear you apart before you get close.”

Keith met her gaze evenly, his voice cold and resolute. “It’s the only way. As long as that barrier is up, no one can get a shot in, not the Blades, not us. If we don’t disable their disruption tech, we’re sitting ducks.”

Shiro’s voice came through, torn between concern and frustration. “Keith, you can’t just charge in there like that. Even if you manage to get past the drones, what’s your plan once you’re onboard?”

“I’ll improvise,” Keith said flatly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Veronica threw up her hands, exasperated. “That’s not a plan! That’s a suicide mission!”

“Do you have a better idea?” Keith shot back, his voice sharp.

The tension in the room was palpable, everyone exchanging uncertain glances. Finally, Nadia broke the silence, her voice cutting through like a calm breeze amidst the storm.

“If anyone is going to infiltrate Vrelen’s ship, they’ll need a distraction,” she said, frowning to the world outside their ship. “The drones will have to be drawn away long enough for someone to slip through undetected. Otherwise, it’s impossible.”

Keith gave a small nod, his mind already calculating. “Then we make a distraction.”

“And how do you expect we do that?” Veronica scoffed, eyeing Keith. Keith gave her an equally annoyed glare back, shrugging at the ship they were in.

“You got a ship and a bunch of eager pilots if I remember right. Do what you do best and distract some flight patterns.”

Veronica stayed glaring, but Nadia and James let out small scoffs of disbelief, despite the slight fire in their eyes at the challenge.

“You’re determined to get yourself killed, aren’t you?” Lance blared over, also in just as much annoyance as his sister, his voice sharp and bitter. Keith felt hardened from the anger expereinced from Lance today.

“Not if we do this right,” Keith said, his voice quieter but no less intense. “I’m not doing this because I want to. I’m doing it because we don’t have another choice.”

The room fell into a heavy silence, the weight of Keith’s words hanging in the air.

“You’d better know what you’re doing,” Shiro said, his voice breaking into a gentle calm. Keith didn’t respond. He didn’t need to. His resolve was clear, and though the team didn’t like it, they knew he was determined and commanding. A fire to be dealt with. Someone who was not about to back down or argue with.

And no one argued with the leader of the Blades.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

5 months since forming Voltron:

The Castle settled with a low hum against the rough, rocky terrain, its gleaming exterior stark against the rugged landscape of the mountain range. The alien species here had long lived hidden within the cavernous depths of their planet, their call for help sent out decades ago unanswered until now. The paladins had arrived prepared for battle and potentially catching up to Lotor, who they had long been chasing, but instead found a people who had survived on their own ingenuity, their distress signal an ancient plea for aid that had long since faded into an echo. The aliens were wary but kind, their gratitude evident as they offered to replenish the Castle’s energy reserves and clean its exterior as thanks for the paladins’ reassurance of safety.

Allura had accepted the offer with gracious diplomacy, her poise unwavering even as Keith argued they should move on quickly to avoid being tracked by Lotor. The tension between them was palpable, the fire of their differing views flaring into the open. There was a clear struggle with Keith taking over Shiro’s position as the Black Paladin, and everyone was always a little on edge the moment Keith tried to take control and share his own opinionated strategies that tended to battle Allura’s more peaceful and thoughtful diplomacies. His reckless decisions had gotten them into tricky situations in the past, and it was clear that he did not have the same steady head on him as Shiro did. Shiro was also the closest to Keith, arguably by far, and always seemed to know the right thing to say when Keith was a little too fiery or unpredictable. When he let his smart mouth fire before his brain could stop him. Shiro was like Keith’s buffer for the rest of the team, safeguarding him or talking him down when he wasn’t exactly seeing eye to eye with everyone. He was Keith’s voice of reason, and now with him gone, Keith was a lot more rabid and slowly uncoiling. It was seemingly impossible to calm Keith down when he had his mind set on something, leaving most of them to shut down or combat head to head with him. Unfortunately, Lance was the second latter, arguing a bit more whenever Keith was fired up towards Allura especially, coming to her defense. You would have to be blind to not see it, especially with how much more on edge and snappier he was being with the team when they disagreed with him, causing the air around the Castle to be more prickly. Safe to say, everyone was a little on edge lately, so having a small rest stop was something hopefully that could calm the uneasy tides between the team.

Lance, Pidge, and Hunk exchanged uneasy glances, but no one dared to interject as Allura gave the final look at Keith that kept him from snapping at her in front of the alien leader. It was only when Allura gave her firm command that the Castle would remain for the night to honor the bond of trust they’d begun with the aliens that the discussion ended. Keith fell silent, his jaw tight, but he didn’t argue further.

The aliens, mountain dwellers with wide, luminous eyes and skin that shimmered faintly like minerals, had invited the paladins to a meal before departing back into the depths of their caverns. The group had set up camp near the mouth of the caves, close enough to the Castle for comfort but far enough to respect their hosts’ territory. A fire crackled at the center of their makeshift camp, its warmth spreading through the cool, dry air of the alien night.

Lance was the first to break the quiet that followed the alien leader’s departure. He held up his bowl of alien stew, a grimace plastered across his face. "Okay, I know we’re supposed to be polite and all, but—" With an exaggerated gag, he tilted the bowl over the fire, the contents sizzling and hissing as they hit the flames.

Pidge didn’t waste a moment following suit, her bowl already tipped as she groaned loudly. "That was like… eating swamp sludge mixed with old boots. No thanks."

Coran, who had been eyeing the two with increasing irritation, gasped. "How dare you insult the culinary marvels of a culture older than your planet’s written history! This is authentic, handcrafted cuisine!"

Keith, seated quietly at the edge of the group with his back to the fire, slid his untouched bowl toward Coran without a word. His expression was blank, but the slight wrinkle in his nose betrayed his distaste. Coran, oblivious or unconcerned, brightened as he took Keith’s portion with delight.

"This is why I like you, Keith," Coran said cheerfully. "You appreciate the finer things."

"Not really," Keith muttered, but Coran didn’t seem to hear him. Lance stifled a laugh, nudging Pidge with his elbow.

The quiet camaraderie grew as the group settled in for the night, the earlier tension fading with the crackling of the fire and the distant hum of nocturnal cave life. Hunk leaned back against a rock, his hands behind his head as he gazed up at the unfamiliar constellations inching just in sight from their spot inside the cave mouth. "You gotta admit, even after all that chasing we’ve been doing and seeing the expense of space, this place is kind of beautiful," he said softly.

"It is," Allura agreed, her voice calm as she joined them near the fire. Her earlier frustration had dulled, her regal composure back in place as she took a seat. She looked beautiful, her eyes flickering back the reflection of the dancing fire.

Lance, sprawled across the ground near Keith, shifted to look up at her. "Sure, it’s beautiful. But I’m pretty sure I saw one of those glow-eyed alien kids sneeze rocks earlier, so… beauty’s subjective."

Pidge snorted besides Lance, rambling on about taking back some rock samples when they left, but Lance’s eyes drifted to the stilled position Keith had been in the entire time. He was a lot more reserved, if that was even possible, now that Shiro was missing. It was like this gaping hole in all of their hearts had taken an even larger effect on Keith, steeling him into an icy fire that burned cold and sharp. He was a lot more explosive and defiant in his decisions, as if now that he was forced to make them, he was going to be heard. He stared into the fire, his thoughts unreadable as the flickering light danced across his features. Lance’s gaze lingered on him, his heart tightening at the subtle lines of weariness etched into Keith’s face. The earlier argument still hung in the air between them, unresolved but pushed aside for the sake of the moment.

The laughter and chatter of the group ebbed and flowed, their voices blending with the hum of the planet’s life. Keith remained quiet, his shoulders tense even as he seemed to relax at the edges and the group’s quiet chatter. Lance noticed, of course he did, and the urge to reach out, to shoulder some of that burden, gnawed at him. He hadn’t been the best guy lately to Keith, on his ass a lot about how wild he was in his command, but still, he was just a teenager trying to fill the shoes of someone grand. He had been so tortuous, watching as the weight of leadership clawed at his very expression half the time, and it was a scary look to see on him, even if Lance couldn’t stand the guy half the time. Hell, Shiro was practically a brother to him, and now he was gone a second time???

Ok, maybe Keith was getting better to be around and maybe understand, but still, just because he found the guy sometimes annoying and ridiculously impulsive, Black had chosen him. That had to mean something, and Lance was going to respect it.

But instead, he stretched his arms out and feigned a yawn, cracking a grin at Pidge. "Bet you fifty dollars I can tell a scarier ghost story than you."

"You’re on," Pidge said with a smirk, cracking her knuckles in front of her. Allura’s eyes widened in childlike wonder, glancing between the two troublemakers.

“Ghost story? Is that an earth tradition?” Her voice chimed sweetly.

“You’re gonna want to snuggle up to someone brave, princess. Prepare to have your mind blown on a simple human tradition that we like to do around campfires.” Lance threw her his classic charming grin, shifting to pat the seat next to him as an invitation be her her brave and shinning Knight.

“Is that someone brave in the circle with us right now?” Hunk absentmindedly stated, to which Pidge snorted loudly at Lance’s expense.

The fire crackled low as the group huddled closer around it, the cool night pressing in. Lance was mid-sentence, his voice low and dramatic as he leaned forward. “...and when the traveler turned around, they saw the glowing eyes staring back at them—closer than before. The breathing was louder, hot, like it was right at their neck—"

“Boo!” Pidge shouted suddenly, her hands shooting out.

Allura and Coran yelped in unison, their eyes wide as they instinctively leaned into each other.

Pidge grinned triumphantly, raising her arms in victory. "And that’s how it’s done."

Lance stared at her, unamused, as he crossed his arms. “Oh, come on! That wasn’t even part of your story. You just screamed ‘boo’ like an amateur!”

“Worked, didn’t it?” Pidge replied smugly.

“It didn’t work on me,” Lance retorted, lifting his chin. “If anything, my story gave everyone the shivers. Admit it. Mine was way scarier.”

“Yeah, no,” Hunk said, shaking his head. “Pidge’s got me with that last scream. That was genius.”

Lance gasped, clutching his chest dramatically. “Et tu, Hunk? How could you betray me like this?”

Keith scoffed from where he sat at the edge of the group, his arms crossed, the firelight casting shadows on his brooding face. The sound made Lance whip his head around, narrowing his eyes.

“Oh, so he

speaks

! What’s the matter, Mullet? Too cool for a little scary story?”

Keith shrugged, his expression unreadable. “None of them were scary.”

Lance looked personally offended, his hand flying to his heart. “Excuse me? Do you even know what fun is? Or are you just allergic to joy?”

Hunk, sensing an incoming storm, quickly interjected. “Well, for the record, Pidge’s story was scarier than Lance’s. Sorry, dude.”

Another gasp. “Traitor!” Lance pointed an accusatory finger at Hunk, but before he could launch into another tirade, Allura chimed in with a radiant smile.

“On Altea, we had a similar tradition,” she said, her voice melodic and calm. “We told children stories of the Yelfor—massive, ghostly creatures that roamed during the silver moons. It was said if one were to enter their herd, they’d be trampled to death, their bodies reduced to ash by morning.”

The group stared at her, wide-eyed and horrified as she continued, detailing the Yelfor’s haunting cries and the agonizing toll they took on their victims. Even Coran looked slightly pale, nodding solemnly as she spoke as if he was remembering the very story.

Pidge broke the silence with a nervous laugh. “Well. Allura wins for the scariest story.”

“No kidding,” Hunk muttered, shivering slightly.

Lance, however, was still laser-focused on Keith, narrowing his eyes. “Alright, Mr. Not-Scared-of-Anything, you’re telling me you’ve

never

been scared? Not even as a kid?”

Keith didn’t even blink, his voice flat. “I’m not a kid. And I’m not scared.”

“That’s not an answer,” Lance sing-songed, leaning closer. “Come on, Keith. You have to be afraid of something. Spiders? The dark? Overcooked spaghetti?”

Keith’s expression tightened, his jaw set as he looked away. “I told you, I’m not scared of anything.”

Lance, undeterred, pressed on, his nagging relentless. “Oh, come on! You’re telling me you’re not scared of ghosts, or heights, or—”

A sudden crack of thunder rolled through the air, loud and sharp, cutting through Lance’s words. Keith visibly flinched, his shoulders jerking slightly. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for everyone to notice. The group blinked, momentarily stunned by Keith’s reaction. Lance, however, didn’t jump on the opportunity to tease. His attention had been pulled elsewhere—to the cave’s entrance, where a soft pattering sound drew his gaze. Outside, rain poured down in a steady sheet, darkening the jagged rocks and creating a shimmering cascade against the firelight. It was mesmerizing, the kind of sight that felt like a distant memory.

Rain. He hadn’t seen it in months.

The rhythmic sound of droplets hitting the ground filled the silence, a serene counterpoint to the earlier crack of thunder. Lance’s heart swelled as he stared, his annoyance with Keith momentarily forgotten. The sight tugged at something deep within him—a longing for home, for simplicity, for the earth’s embrace. The moment he saw the rain, it was like a magnet pulling him out into the storm. Without a second thought, he shot up and sprinted toward the cave entrance, the firelight flickering behind him as the cool downpour greeted him with open arms. He skidded to a halt just outside its shelter, tilting his head back and letting the rain wash over his face, soaking through his clothes in seconds. A massive grin broke across his face, his eyes wide with awe as he reached out, trying to catch the droplets in his hands, opening his mouth to let them roll down his tongue.

The sensation was overwhelming—the cold bite of the water, the steady rhythm as it pelted against his skin, the soft hiss of it meeting the warm rocks. It felt alive, familiar, and for the first time in months, Lance felt like he was standing on Earth again. He let out a giddy laugh, spinning slightly in place. The sound of rain had been absent for so long, its memory tucked away in the corners of his mind. Now it was here, and it was everything.

From inside the cave, Allura’s voice rang out, startled. “Lance! What are you doing?”

But Lance couldn’t stop. He didn’t care how wet he was getting or how ridiculous he must have looked. He turned back toward the group, water dripping from his chin, his grin as wide as it could possibly stretch. “Guys!” he called, his voice loud with laughter. “It’s

rain

! Come on!”

Hunk stood at the edge of the cave, his brow furrowed in concern as he crossed his arms. “Lance, you’re gonna catch a cold! You’re drenched already!”

“Oh, come on, Hunk!” Lance protested, his grin mischievous as he darted toward his best friend. Before Hunk could stop him, Lance grabbed his arm and tugged him out into the rain. Hunk yelped in surprise, his face scrunching up as the cold water hit him, but Lance’s infectious laughter quickly broke through his resistance.

“Lance!” Hunk exclaimed, half-annoyed and half-laughing as Lance spun him around. “What are you—?”

“It’s

rain

, Hunk! Rain!” Lance shouted joyfully, his voice echoing against the rocks. “Do you know how long it’s been since we’ve seen it?”

Hunk finally let his arms drop to his sides, his initial annoyance giving way to a reluctant smile. He turned his palms up, letting the rain hit them, his expression softening as he felt the droplets. “Okay, fine,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. “It’s kinda nice.”

From under the safety of the cave, Pidge stuck a hand out tentatively, her eyes wide as she felt the water hit her fingers. A huge smile spread across her face, one of pure disbelief and wonder. “No way,” she muttered, stepping closer to the edge. “I didn’t think I’d miss this, but... it’s amazing.”

Lance turned, his grin softening into something warmer as he saw her smile. He gestured dramatically toward the rain, like he was inviting her into something magical. “See? Isn’t it the best?”

Inside the cave, Allura and Coran stood watching, warm smiles on their faces as they observed the humans’ antics. Allura’s hands were clasped in front of her, her expression one of quiet delight. Coran, his mustache twitching in amusement, leaned against the cave wall, clearly entertained by the scene.

“You humans truly are strange creatures too easily delighted,” Coran remarked, though his tone carried no judgment, only affection.

Lance was too caught up in the moment to notice any of it—or to realize that someone wasn’t joining in. Keith remained where he’d been, sitting at the edge of the firelight, his figure still as a statue. His dark eyes lingered on Lance, flickering back with something deep and pensive that Lance failed to notice. His jaw tightened, and he stood abruptly, brushing past the fire and heading deeper into the cave without a word. Lance didn’t see him leave. He was too caught up in the rain and feeling it on his skin, washing away the sweat and dirt from the day, feeling the way it reminded him of dancing in his backyard with his siblings before getting scolded by his mother, his laughter filling the air as the drops continued to fall around him.

The cave was dark, the firelight barely reaching the jagged walls that stretched into the deep recesses. Lance shuffled quietly, his boots scraping softly against the stone floor. The Paladins finally had been ushered back in from the rain, to Allura’s gentle pleas, bringing them back around the fire to settle in for the night. The rain was oh so comforting, the relaxing rhythmic sound calming all worries about the doom of Shiro’s absence, Lotor’s presence, and the endless chase they seemed to find themselves in. Hunk and Lance cuddled in close together, shivering a bit from their drenched clothes, all while Pidge poked teases at them for going out there and they deserved a cold. Hunk hummed how he wished he was tucked under a warm blanket watching a good movie drinking hot chocolate, making the three of them lost in their own thoughts of the weather and home. They had soon all settled around the campfire, wishing each other goodnights as Hunk and Lance opted to snuggle pressed with each other to avoid being colder. The sound of the rain outside had grown louder, heavier, like a symphony of memories washing over him. It was comforting, relaxing—almost enough to draw him back to the warmth of the fire and the steady presence of Hunk asleep beside it. As Lance’s eyes felt heavier by the second watching the rain, he turned back to face the fire, the lull of the sounds outside bringing him closesr and closer to sleep when his eyes drifted counting the heads around him, preparing to knock out any second. But something tugged at him, an itch he couldn’t ignore.

Keith wasn’t there.

Lance frowned, letting his eyes fall shut, but that fact struck him even colder than the rain had been. All of them had cuddled around the fire, nodding off to a gentle sleep, yet their team leader was missing.

It’s fine, he’s probably still in a mood.

Lance rolled back to look at the rain, opting that this would get his mind off the nagging pull to face the violet eyed boy, but sleep failed to greet him. Cursing himself under his breath, Lance sat up, careful to step around Hunk, who stirred for a moment but stayed sound asleep. Exactly what HE should be doing. Curse his mother for giving him a good conscious. He stepped farther into the cave, his arms wrapping around himself against the chill.

“You’re an idiot, Lance,” he muttered. “Just stay by the fire, cuddle with Hunk, sleep like a normal person.” Yet, he kept walking, the shadows stretching long and twisting eerily under the occasional flashes of light from the storm outside. What was he even planning to search for? Find the dumb guy and lecture him about team bonding? Tell him to rejoin like a loser and stay with everyone because it felt right? Goosebumps prickled his skin, and he couldn’t tell if it was the cold or the creeping unease of the unknown. The sound of Lance’s boots echoed softly in the cavern, the warmth of the fire behind him fading with every step. Shadows flickered and stretched along the jagged walls, his unease growing the farther he went. He wasn’t entirely sure why he’d gotten up—Keith disappearing into the depths of the cave wasn’t exactly new behavior. But something about tonight felt different, heavier, like there was something just out of reach he couldn’t quite name.

Just as he was about to give up and turn back, another crack of thunder echoed through the cavern. It was louder this time, reverberating off the walls and making the air feel heavy. Lance stopped in his tracks, his breath caught, as he caught movement out of the corner of his eye.

There, tucked against a large rock deeper inside, was Keith.

Lance’s breath hitched. Keith looked smaller than he’d ever seen him before, hunched up with his knees pulled close to his chest, his arms wrapped tightly around them, one hand lazily twirling his Blade around in his hand. His dark brows were furrowed, his jaw tight, and his usually sharp eyes were heavy, tired, as if the weight of the storm mirrored something inside him. For a moment, they just stared at each other, Lance frozen in surprise and Keith caught like a deer in headlights. Keith looked... off. His head tilted downward as if trying to block out the world. It was a rare, unguarded moment, and Lance didn’t know what to do with it.

Another loud rumble of thunder cracked through the air, making Keith flinch visibly, his shoulders tensing as he turned his face away from Lance, hiding his face under his bangs.

It hit Lance then, a pang of something raw and unexpected. Keith—stoic, strong, fearless, stubborn Keith—looked... vulnerable. Small, even. It was such a sharp contrast to the person Lance was so used to sparring with, to the boy who could take down a Galra soldier without blinking.

Lance’s mouth opened, but no words came out. He wasn’t sure what he could say. Keith shifted slightly, his body pressed even tighter against the rock, as if trying to disappear into it.

“What are you doing here?” Keith’s voice cut through the silence, sharp and cold, startling Lance out of his thoughts.

Any softness Lance might have been feeling evaporated, replaced by his usual bristle. “What am

I

doing here? What are

you

doing all the way back here?” He folded his arms, trying to sound annoyed but unable to shake the odd pang in his chest.

Keith shrugged, still not looking at him. “Couldn’t sleep,” he muttered, his tone clipped.

Lance sighed, exasperated. “Okay, but that doesn’t explain why you’re sitting back here like some kind of brooding bat in a cave. There’s a fire. And people. You know, warmth? Civilization?”

Keith’s jaw tightened, his tired eyes flicking toward Lance for a fraction of a second before darting away. “Why does it matter where I am?” he shot back, his voice low and defensive. “Everyone seems to want space from me anyway.”

That shut Lance up. He stood there for a moment, his arms falling to his sides as Keith’s words settled uncomfortably in his chest. It was true, in a way. The last few days hadn’t been easy—not for Keith, and not for any of them. Having Keith as their new Black Paladin had created tension within the team, and it felt like every conversation either ended in an argument or in brimming silence. Keith’s sharp edges didn’t make things easier, but Lance couldn’t deny that everyone, including himself, had been on his case lately.

Lance huffed out a breath, shifting his weight. “Fine. Have fun brooding, Batman,” he muttered, turning on his heel. But before he could take more than a step, a crack of lightning lit up the cave entrance, followed almost instantly by a thunderclap so loud it made Lance jump.

He wasn’t the only one.

Keith’s entire body tensed, his grip on his blade tightening as his eyes went wide with something Lance didn’t expect—fear. It wasn’t the stoic, battle-hardened Keith he was used to. This was something raw, something... unknown to Lance.

Lance froze mid-step, turning slowly back to Keith, his own annoyance melting away as realization started to dawn. He stared at Keith, his lips parting as his mind pieced it together.

“Wait a second...” Lance’s voice was softer now, almost hesitant. “Are you—” He stopped himself, blinking as Keith refused to meet his gaze, his body rigid and bristled, like a cornered animal. “...Are you scared of the storm?”

Keith’s head snapped up, his eyes narrowing. “No,” he said quickly, his tone flat and defiant. Too defiant.

Another rumble of thunder rolled through, quieter this time, but enough to make Keith wince again, his shoulders rising slightly as if trying to shield himself from the sound.

Lance stared, dumbfounded. “You

are

scared,” he said, his voice almost a whisper. He didn’t mean it mockingly—he couldn’t, not when Keith looked so... caught.

“Shut up,” Keith snapped, his voice tight, still refusing to look at Lance. His knuckles were white against the hilt of his blade, his entire posture screaming defiance even as another flash of lightning illuminated the cave and made him flinch.

Lance softened immediately, unsure of how to move or what to say. His heart twisted in a way he didn’t expect, watching Keith—this boy who was fearless in battle, who would charge headfirst into danger without a second thought—look so shaken. Vulnerable. Human. Like the 19 year old infuriating teenager he really was.

The silence between them was heavy, filled with the sound of the storm raging outside. Lance took a cautious step closer, his voice gentle now. “Keith...”

Keith didn’t respond, his gaze fixed firmly on the ground, his jaw tight. Lance’s hand twitched at his side, the urge to reach out and do... something—anything—welling up inside him. But he stayed where he was, not wanting to push Keith any further. The realization hung between them, unspoken but loud, the storm outside echoing the one in Lance’s chest.

“You happy now?” Keith’s sharp voice broke through Lance, catching him offguard. His voice died in his throat, unsure of this new uncharted territory. Keith sighed, shifting in his guarded curled up position as his eyes still failed to meet Lance.

“You wanted to know what I was scared of. Go ahead, tell everyone.”

Lance frowned, the guilt of earlier panging in his chest.

“I’m not gonna do that.”

“Why not?”

Lance couldn’t get the proper words out, unsure himself, but this all felt wrong. This wasn’t a
win, not when Keith was like this, regardless of his own emotional whirlwind he felt around him usually. Keith’s wariness hadn’t faded, his eyes still locked onto Lance with that same guarded look, his body taut as if expecting an attack—or worse, pity. It made something deep in Lance’s chest twist painfully. He hated seeing Keith like this. He hated even more how Keith looked at

him

—as if unsure whether to trust him or push him away.

An idea sparked in Lance’s mind, sudden and almost reckless in its clarity. He spun on his heel without a word, sprinting back toward the campfire, his boots crunching softly on the rocky floor. His heart pounded in time with the storm outside as he crouched low, careful not to wake the others. Hunk was snoring softly, and Pidge was curled into her and Lance’s dry jacket, her face barely visible beneath her mop of hair. Lance sifted quietly through Pidge’s bag, holding his breath each time the contents rustled. Finally, his fingers closed around what he was looking for, and he pulled it free with a triumphant grin. Pidge always carried these and sometimes lent them to Lance, probably for the same reason Keith needed them now.

When Lance returned, Keith was still exactly where he’d left him, his posture stiff and his eyes flickering with uncertainty as he watched Lance approach.

The wariness in Keith’s expression hit Lance harder than he expected, sending a churn through his stomach.

Man, does he really think I’d mess with him right now?

He forced a soft grin onto his face, trying to look as non-threatening as possible as he plopped down cross-legged in front of Keith.

“Here,” Lance said, holding out the headphones.

Keith stared at the headphones like they were some kind of alien artifact, his brows furrowing. His eyes darted between Lance and the offered item, clearly confused. “What...?”

“They’re noise-canceling,” Lance said, his voice quieter now, trying to keep the moment from feeling too heavy. “Not perfect, and definitely not connected to any radio signal, but better than nothing.”

Keith’s confused look didn’t falter, so Lance sighed, unsure of whether or not to stangle the guy, leaning back a little. “When we were kids and I still shared a room with her, my twin sister used to be

terrified

of storms. Like, I’m talking full-on shaking and crying every time thunder rolled in.”

Keith’s expression shifted slightly, the guarded wall cracking just enough for intrigue to slip through. He didn’t say anything, but Lance could tell he was listening.

“She used to climb into bed with me whenever it got bad,” Lance continued, his tone softening. “At first, I was

pissed

. I mean, come on, I was trying to sleep! I told her to go bother my parents, but she just looked so... scared.” His voice faltered for a second, his throat tightening as he remembered her little face buried in his blankets. “I never understood it—how anyone could be scared of rain. It’s just water, right? And we loved the ocean and all things aquatic! But... I don’t know. Something about the thunder got to her.”

Keith’s grip on his blade loosened slightly, his eyes flicking down to the headphones again, his expression unreadable in the dim light.

“Anyway,” Lance said, trying to keep the mood light despite the knot in his chest, “one winter, the storms were so bad, and she wouldn’t leave me alone. I was so tired of her keeping me up, I finally gave her my good headphones and put on her favorite music. Just to shut her up, you know?” He grinned a little, the memory warming him despite everything. “And it worked. She passed out right there, and after that, she always asked for them when storms came around.”

Keith’s face softened, just barely. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make Lance’s heart stutter.

“I mean, we don’t exactly have music right now,” Lance added, holding the headphones out a little farther. “But they should still help.”

Keith hesitated. His hand twitched, his fingers brushing the edge of the headphones, but he didn’t take them. His gaze flicked up to meet Lance’s, and for a moment, Lance was struck still by what he saw there. Fear, yes, but also something hesitant, something that looked almost like... awe. Like Keith was looking at him for the first time, unsure whether to trust or pull back.

Lance’s chest tightened painfully, heat rising up his neck. He was suddenly, acutely aware of how close they were, how Keith’s wide eyes caught the faint glow of the fire in the distance, making them look impossibly deep. He felt like he was staring at a wild animal—one that might bolt if he made the wrong move.

“It’s okay,” Lance said quietly, his voice softer than he’d ever thought he could manage. “I’m not gonna push you, but... they’re here if you want them.”

For a long moment, Keith didn’t move, the storm outside echoing in the silence between them. Then, slowly, tentatively, Keith reached out and took the headphones. Lance felt himself holding his breath, as if any sudden movement would make Keith suddenly reject the olive branch. Instead, Keith just slipped them over his head, testing as it settled over his hair. His lips formed a pout as he shut his eyes, and Lance waited in their stilled silence falling between them. Another thunder struck as if on cue, making Lance jump at the sound, but Keith failed to be startled.

Lance tapped nervously at his thighs, glancing back toward the fire where the others were still bundled up and sleeping. The moment between him and Keith had shifted into something fragile, and Lance wasn’t sure if he’d just helped or crossed a line.

“Alright, well... I’ll just, uh... head back,” he muttered awkwardly, motioning vaguely toward the fire. His legs felt like jelly as he pushed himself to stand. Keith, still holding the headphones tightly, muttered a soft, almost inaudible, “Thanks.”

Lance froze for a beat, caught off guard by the rare vulnerability in Keith’s voice. He nodded quickly, trying to downplay the way his chest felt like it might burst. “Yeah, no problem,” he mumbled, turning on his heel and rushing back to his spot near Hunk.

He slid under the blankets beside his friend, careful not to wake him, his heart pounding like the rain outside. He closed his eyes, but the last thing he saw before sleep claimed him was Keith leaning back against the rock, eyes closed, looking more peaceful than Lance had ever seen him. The image stayed with him, no matter how hard he tried to push it away.

By morning, the storm had passed, leaving the air crisp and the rocky terrain glistening under soft light. The team worked quickly to load supplies onto the castle ship, saying their goodbyes to the alien inhabitants who had generously restocked their energy reserves. Lance was hauling the last crate when his eyes instinctively sought out Keith. He found him standing near the ramp of the castle, the headphones still clutched in his hand, but held behind his back like a secret he didn’t want anyone to see.

Their gazes met briefly, and Keith gave him a subtle nod, the barest flicker of gratitude passing between them. Lance’s heart skipped, but before he could process where the hell that came from, Pidge’s sharp voice rang out from behind him.

“Hey! Has anyone seen my headphones?” she called, rummaging furiously through her bag.

Lance startled, his brain screeching to a halt as he spun back toward her. “Uh—what? Your headphones?”

“Yes, my

headphones

! The ones I always keep in here!” She waved her hand at her bag, looking exasperated.

Lance whipped around to Keith, panic flashing in his eyes. Keith raised an eyebrow, amused despite himself, and with a subtle smirk, handed the headphones over. Lance grabbed them so fast it was almost comical, spinning back to Pidge with a nervous grin.

“Uh, yeah, here you go!” he said, thrusting them into her hands. “I, uh, borrowed them last night. The rain was just so loud, you know? Couldn’t sleep.”

Pidge narrowed her eyes suspiciously but shrugged. “Fine, just ask next time. You’re getting a little too comfortable taking them!”

Hunk snorted from where he was loading another crate. “Big talk coming from the guy who couldn’t stop gushing about how much he

loved

the rain yesterday.”

“Hey!” Lance shot back, his tone defensive but light. “I

do

love the rain! It’s just... loud, okay?”

Hunk laughed, and Pidge rolled her eyes, muttering something under her breath as she wandered back to her bag. Lance let out a relieved sigh, glancing toward Keith again. Keith was already standing beside Allura, who was gesturing toward the ramp and giving him a rundown of their next steps. They both looked more rested and at ease than they had the night before, their previous argument seemingly a thought of the past. Keith nodded at her instructions, his usual determination back in his posture as he turned to address the team.

“We need to get moving,” Keith said firmly, his tone commanding but not harsh. “Lotor won’t stay still, and we’ve already lost enough time.”

No one argued. Instead, they moved with practiced efficiency, even Lance, who was fast to jump after Keith’s words as if to prove a point. As the team boarded the castle and prepared to take off, Lance caught one last look at Keith. His shoulders were straighter, his steps steadier, but there was a glance—just a fleeting one—that Keith shot over his shoulder toward Lance as Lance fell into step at his right hand side. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to send a warmth through Lance’s chest that lingered long after they left the planet behind.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Lance knew Keith was a pain in the ass his entire life, and despite the fact that he was in love with the guy, he still wanted to throttle the dumbass for the way he lived.

It was hard to stay quiet on their side of the comms already when he found out Keith had somehow ended up with Veronica, and that they were in fact way closer to Vrelen’s ship than he was, and it was even harder for him to stomach that Keith was going to attempt to infiltrate the ship by HIMSELF. Like a crazy lunatic.

Now he understood why Shiro seemingly aged twice as fast being close to Keith. He knew he didn’t have to think twice before giving his heart away to somebody like him, and that his devotion for him was strong, but COME ON!

Lance would be lucky if he lasted a year into their relationship.

A relationship that, despite all the disagreement and tension with this mission, Lance very desperately wanted to get into, because in the end, Keith was worth it.

Annoyingly, painstakingly, aggressively, chaotically worth it.

The barn itself was a storm of chaos, every member of the team moving with their own flavor of frustration and anxiety from the call. Lance paced near the center, his boots scraping against the old wooden floor covered in hay, his arms crossing and uncrossing as he huffed in irritation, his mind a nonstop ticking timebomb of the fact that Veronica was suddenly in the picture, flying around doing god knows what with Keith. And it wasn’t that he didn’t trust Keith, it was just the fact his own sister was now in this world of war again. That, and the fact there was no way to get to them other than the fact that they were told to wait for backup to retrieve them, Keith’s orders. The others weren’t much better: Pidge darted from one end of the space to the other, muttering what could only be picked up as curses under her breath and swiping aggressively at her tablet, searching for any form of a signal, while Hunk stood watch by the boarded-up windows, his bulky frame hunched in worry.

"We

have

to do something," Lance barked, his voice sharp and echoing in the confined space. “We can’t just sit here while my sister’s out there—with

him!

”

“Agreed,” Pidge shot back, not looking up from her work. “But we can’t just run out guns blazing. We have to wait for the Garrison. Without them, we’re practically sitting ducks!” She spun on her heel, flinging an arm out to point at Ezor, who sat propped up against a stack of hay bales, Zethrid standing protectively by her side. Ezor’s injuries were evident in the tightness of her pained expression, and Zethrid’s fierce glare dared anyone to come closer.

“

They

look like they’re sitting ducks!” Lance groaned, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “This whole situation is—

ugh!

—

Keith!

I swear, if he—”

He didn’t have time to finish his sentence. The world spun violently for a split second, a roaring sound filling his ears, and suddenly, Blue’s cockpit flashed vividly in front of his eyes in his mind, the glowing cool comfort making the hairs on his arm stand at end. Her controls glowed with a fierce, familiar light, and her deep, guttural roar sent a shockwave through his chest.

The vision was gone as quickly as it came, leaving him dizzy and disoriented. His knees buckled, and he dropped to the floor with a heavy thud.

“Lance!” Pidge was at his side in an instant, her tablet forgotten as she knelt beside him. Her hazel eyes scanned him nervously, her voice sharp with concern. “Was it another one? Another vision?”

Lance blinked hard, his head clearing as if rinsed in ice water. He nodded, gulping down a breath. “Yeah. It was Blue. She’s—she’s calling for me. I

have

to get to her.”

The barn went silent as everyone stared at him, confused and uncertain. Pidge’s brow furrowed as she studied him, searching his face for answers.

“What do you mean?” she asked cautiously.

Lance pushed himself up, the urgency in his chest rising like a tidal wave. He looked around the room, his voice steady but commanding in a way he wasn’t used to hearing from himself.

“The cave,” he said firmly. “We have to get to the cave. It’s the key to everything—helping Keith, my sister,

everyone.

”

Zethrid’s face darkened, her arms crossing defensively over her chest. “Axca told us to stay put,” she growled. “You’re not in charge here.”

“Yes, I am,” Lance shot back, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. “Axca put me in charge, and I’m telling you—we have to go. Now.”

The barn was still for a moment, everyone exchanging uncertain glances. There was something in Lance’s posture, a quiet but undeniable confidence, that made even Zethrid hesitate.

Hunk shifted uneasily by the window, his gaze flicking between Lance and the storm outside. “Are you sure about this, man? Like,

really

sure?”

Lance met his eyes, his voice unwavering. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

Pidge stayed silent, her eyes inspecting Lance like she was piecing together a puzzle long picked and prodded at, before finally nodding slowly, standing and grabbing her tablet again. “All right. If you say Blue’s the key, then we’ll follow your lead.”

Lance gave her a small grin, his insides turning and his skin feeling on fire despite his goosebumps from the coolines sensation Blue gave. She returned it with an equally nervous grin, but her eyes flashed back something more deeper. Trust.

“Ezor can’t walk. We’ll stay here to make sure our backup arrives, I don’t want the Garrison to think they can just interfere more than they already did.” Zethrid huffed from her corner.

“We’ll have fun with ‘em when they show. Don’t mess up, Blue.” Ezor threw him a dirty grin, but still winced when she shifted her position.

Lance just nodded, already heading for the barn door with Hunk and Pidge loyally in tow. She stopped Lance in his quick pace, blocking the door with her larger built body. Lance glanced up, confused, when she reached down and placed her heavy laser rifle in Lance’s arms, the heavy weight of it making his legs wobble from impact. His eyes widened, taking in the size of it, but Zethrid just nodded, expression blank and hard, removing her hands and stepping away. Lance felt his mouth dry at the unspoken respect passing between them, now in possession of the strong woman’s dear weapon.

“Looks like its Team Garrison Trio?” Hunk nervously laughed, patting Lance’s back at his side, bringing him out of his momentary trance.

“Then we have this in the bag. Easy.” Lance returned a smirk, to which Hunk visibly relaxed to.

The team began to gather their things, the air in the barn shifting from chaotic tension to focused determination. Lance took a steadying breath, his mind clearer than it had been in days.

The desert stretched endlessly ahead of them, its harsh winds whipping sand into their eyes and mouths as Lance, Pidge, and Hunk pushed forward in a desperate sprint. Every breath felt like fire in Lance’s lungs, his arms screaming in protest as he clutched Zethrid’s heavy gun against his chest, but he didn’t dare slow down. The stakes were too high. Keith and Axca had done good with their crazy horse escapade and drawn the attention of Vrelen’s ship far away from here, their attacks keeping the enemy’s firepower focused elsewhere, but that only bought the trio precious seconds to find the cave. Behind him, Hunk’s labored gasps filled the air as he lagged slightly behind.

“You know I really miss those bikes right about now.” Hunk shouted, his pace not as fast as Lance and Pidge.

“Catch up, big guy!” Lance yelled over his shoulder, his voice sharp with urgency.

Pidge was a blur of motion beside him, her smaller frame darting nimbly over the uneven terrain as her tablet beeped insistently in her hand. Lance’s boots hit the sand harder, the weight of responsibility bearing down on him as they finally reached the crumbling entrance of the cave.

The sight of it stopped them in their tracks. The opening looked like it had been blasted in long ago, jagged edges of rock hanging precariously above their heads, the structure visibly weakened and ready to collapse with the slightest provocation. The three stood with labored breathing, each trying to catch their breaths while standing above the nearly collapsing hole in front of them, unsure and taking it in. Lance’s chest heaved as he scanned the area, dread settling in his stomach. They couldn’t turn back now.

A thunderous blast echoed behind them, snapping them out of their brief hesitation. The three of them whipped around, eyes wide as they watched Vrelen’s ship now descending to the ground, the hull splitting open to release a fresh swarm of drones. The sky above them turned chaotic, drones streaking through the air in tight, precise formations. But their attention was drawn to a small jet slicing through the skies, firing at the drones with a precision that made Lance’s heart clench. His throat tightened as he realized who had to be piloting that jet—Veronica.

His eyes darted between the battle in the skies and the ground below, where the Blade ship had docked nearby. The two massive vessels loomed over the desert, both lying in wait for their opportunity to strike. There was a mention of how Vrelen’s ship was untouchable, momentarily having some sort of shield defense system, which was stopping the Blades from being able to launch any form of attack. He wondered how the hell Keith and Axca were going to be able to get inside. Well, certainly not without whatever Blue had planned. Every muscle in Lance’s body felt like a coiled spring, his grip on Zethrid’s gun as tight as the knot in his throat.

“This is it,” he muttered, his voice hoarse but resolute. “We don’t have time to wait.” He turned to his friends, his gaze steady despite the chaos around them. “Get inside the cave. Now.”

Without another word, they moved, the gravity of the moment pressing down on them as they entered the fragile, shadowy maw of the cave, leaving the battle to rage on behind them.

The air inside the cave was thick and still, dust particles dancing in the faint light filtering through the jagged ceiling. Large mounds of sand lay on the floor and scattered around the deepening tunnel from the past explosions it endured, causing the journey to be similar to scaling the dunes outside, except in a downward way. Lance, Pidge, and Hunk moved with cautious urgency, their footsteps echoing faintly as they descended deeper into the cavern. Every shift of their weight made the unstable walls shift softly, a grim reminder of how dangerous this place was. How one wrong move or loud noise could bring it all down from inside.

“Man, if I didn’t know better,” Hunk muttered nervously, his voice just above a whisper, “I’d say this cave is alive and

mad

we’re in here.” His hands ran over the jagged edges of the walls, careful not to touch anything too precarious or loose.

“Yeah, well, don’t make it any angrier,” Pidge hissed, throwing a sharp glance over her shoulder. “One wrong move, and this whole place comes down on us.”

Hunk opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, a low, rumbling growl echoed through the cave. It took a moment for Lance and Pidge to realize it wasn’t the cave at all—it was Hunk’s stomach.

The sound was so loud and unexpected that both of them froze before snapping their heads toward him, eyes wide in disbelief.

“

Seriously?

” Pidge whisper shouted, her voice strained as she slapped Hunk lightly on the arm. “Your stomach is about to take us out!”

“It’s not my fault!” Hunk whispered defensively, holding up his hands. “We’ve been running all day, and unlike some people, I need actual calories to survive! What was I supposed to do? Eat desert rocks?”

“Shut it, both of you!” Lance snapped, though the corners of his mouth twitched upward despite himself at the unfortunate comedy of it all. He was only so weak when around the two. “You’re gonna argue us straight into a landslide!”

As they ventured deeper, the air grew cooler and thinner, and the walls seemed to close in around them. The faint, rhythmic drip of water somewhere in the distance only heightened their unease. Lance led the way, his grip tightening on the gun slung over his shoulder, his mind sharp with the urgency of reaching Blue.

Then, without warning, pain like a jagged lightning bolt shot through his skull. Lance staggered, clutching his head as he cried out.

The vision came fast and overwhelming: Blue. Her core—her very essence—being torn apart inside Vrelen’s ship, her energy dimming as if blowing out the snub of a candle. Lance could feel the Lion’s desperation and his own helplessness as if they were one and the same. An icy chill ran down his back as if something was peeling away at his skin like an orange peel, the searing sensation of a burning energy suddenly being ripped from his chest at the visual of a blue shinning core being destroyed in seconds in front of his eyes. His knees buckled, and his cry reverberated through the cave, clutching at his temple. It felt so real.

Pidge spun around instantly, eyes wide with alarm. She slapped a hand over Lance’s mouth, wincing as she whispered, “I’m sorry, Lance, but

shut up

! You’re gonna bring this whole place down!” Her gaze darted nervously to the ceiling, where tiny fragments of rock crumbled loose and fell around them.

Lance gasped through the pain, his eyes wide and frantic as he pushed Pidge’s hand away. “It’s Blue!” he rasped, his voice low but trembling with urgency. “She’s—Vrelen had her. Somehow. Her core is... he was tearing her apart.”

Pidge’s eyes flickered back in confusion, trying to read Lance’s expression.

“Like, currently?”

“No, I can still feel her in the cave, but I don’t really understand whatever that was, if it was the future or the past. But I don’t really care right now, we have to get to her

now

!”

Pidge placed a steadying hand on his shoulder, her hazel eyes scanning his face. “We’ll get to her,” she said firmly, though her voice was soft with understanding. “I promise, Lance. But we have to stay calm and not rush this. Vrelen doesn’t even know we’re here. We have the advantage.”

“Pidge is right,” Hunk chimed in, his voice low but comforting. “We’re gonna save her, Lance. We just gotta keep it together long enough to make it happen.”

Lance swallowed hard, the pounding in his head easing slightly as he forced himself to nod. Their reassurances steadied him just enough to keep moving forward, all in agreement for silence and proceeding cautiously further in.

But just as they started again, a new sound cut through the cave. A strange, high-pitched whizzing, faint at first but growing louder and sharper as it echoed toward them.

The trio froze, their eyes widening in confusion and fear. The sound seemed to come from outside, bouncing and amplifying in the tight space of the cave.

“What is that?” Pidge whispered, gripping her scanner tightly.

“I don’t know,” Lance muttered, his grip tightening on the gun as his heart pounded in his chest. “But it doesn’t sound like Hunk’s stomach.”

They stood motionless, breaths shallow, as the eerie sound grew louder and closer, enveloping the cave in an oppressive, unidentifiable tension. The buzzing sound swelled to an unbearable pitch, echoing through the narrow cave like an ominous warning. Sand trickled from the ceiling with every vibration, the cave groaning as if on the brink of collapse.

“Run!” Lance shouted, his voice cracking with urgency.

Without another word, the trio took off, sprinting down the unstable path. Each step sent small avalanches of sand and rock tumbling around them, the walls trembling with their frantic escape. Hunk panted heavily, barely keeping up, his muttered complaints drowned out by the chaos.

“Faster!” Pidge yelled, her tablet clutched tightly in her hands as she kept pace.

“I’m trying! I didn’t exactly stay up to date on our strict Paladin work outs!” Hunk wheezed, his boots kicking up clouds of dust behind him.

The buzzing grew deafening, like an angry hive of hornets bearing down on them. Then, in an almost comedic twist of fate just as Lance did the first time, all three tripped over a sudden dip in the uneven ground. With a collective yelp, they tumbled forward, arms flailing, and landed in a graceless heap at the bottom of the cavern.

“Ow,” Hunk groaned, rubbing his elbow. “Is it too much to ask for one smooth landing?”

Lance ignored him, his gaze snapping upward. His heart skipped a beat as he saw her—Blue. The Lion was partially buried under piles of sand and debris, her once-majestic form diminished by the cave’s destruction. The cavern around her was smaller, more unstable than Lance remembered, but she was still there, still waiting.

“Blue,” he breathed, a wave of relief crashing over him.

But the respite was short-lived. The relentless buzzing persisted, echoing louder and louder above them.

“What

is

that?” Hunk asked, his voice tinged with both curiosity and fear.

“I don’t know,” Lance admitted, his eyes scanning the ceiling. More debris of sand rumbled and fell in small mounds around them, fighting the urge to come down completely.

Pidge, already fiddling with her tablet, held it up to scan. Her face paled as the screen filled with data. “Oh, quiznak,” she muttered, her voice tight with panic.

“What?” Lance pressed, gripping his gun tightly.

“Drones,” Pidge hissed, the word dripping with frustration. “Several of them. They’re swarming right above us.”

Hunk groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “I thought Keith and everyone were distracting them!”

“Yeah, well, clearly they’re faster at finding us than we are at stopping them!” Pidge snapped, her fingers flying over the tablet in a desperate attempt to gather more intel.

Lance didn’t hesitate. He scrambled to his feet, planting himself firmly in front of his friends and aiming his gun toward the sound. “Whatever they are, they’re not getting through. Not to Blue.”

Pidge and Hunk exchanged a nervous glance but followed suit, positioning themselves defensively.

The buzzing was nearly unbearable now, vibrating through their bones as it reverberated through the cavern. Lance’s finger hovered over the trigger, his jaw set in determination as the sound grew louder, closer.

Then, like a black cloud of chaos, the swarm of drones burst through the opening above them, whizzing into the cavern faster than the trio could react. They swarmed in automated circles above their heads, swirling around the circumference of the cavern’s curved ceiling, whirring up a noise that sounded like they were preparing to shoot. Lance couldn’t take it any more.

“Here they come!” Lance shouted, hoisting his gun higher and pointing it above.

But before he could fire, Pidge lunged at him, her small hands yanking the barrel downward. “

Don’t!

” she screamed. “If you shoot up, you’ll bring the roof down on all of us!”

The drones didn’t wait for them to regroup. Small but deadly, they opened fire below, sending streams of bright energy bolts down at the trio.

“Scatter!” Lance yelled, diving to the side as the blasts pelted the ground where he had been standing.

Pidge and Hunk followed suit, scrambling for cover behind the fallen debris. The cavern was filled with the sharp whine of blasters and the furious hum of the drones as they darted through the air like a school of vicious fish. The three rolled and scampered to find a large rock to hide behind, barely missing getting their heads blasted or skin singed off.

“Any other bright ideas, Lance?!” Hunk shouted, ducking as a bolt sizzled past his head.

“Working on it!” Lance snapped, rolling to his feet and firing a shot at one of the drones. The bolt hit its mark thankfully, sending the machine spiraling into the ground with a metallic crash.

“We need to disable them, not just pick them off one by one!” Pidge called, her voice strained as she ducked another shot. “I need a way to disrupt their signal!”

“Then get to it!” Lance barked, his gun firing again as he covered her. “We’ve got your back!”

“WE?” Hunk screeched, his eyes wide as he clearly lacked any form of weapon.

The trio braced themselves, the chaos intensifying around them as they fought to hold their ground against the unrelenting swarm.

“GET ME ONE WITHOUT KILLING IT.” Pidge shouted over another sucessful shot from Lance. Lance turned to gawk at her.

“How the hell do you expect them to get close enough like that?”

Pidge groaned as she muttered under her breath about needing to do everything herself before reaching into her waistband, pulling out a small seed. Lance’s eyes focused on it, the familiar sight reminding him of the crazy stunt she pulled on Vrelen’s ship a while ago. She handed it firmly in Lance’s hand, giving him a narrowed glare.

“Throw this at one of them. It should momentarily disengage its direction and drop it down for me to grab. You’re an accurate shot.”

Lance would have taken the compliment if she hadn’t been glaring annoyed daggers at him. Hunk reached for the gun in the moment, hoistering it on his shoulders to point up, nodding back.

“I’ll cover. I’m not as good a shot as you but you need to focus.”

Lance’s hands trembled as he crouched low behind a jagged piece of debris, his chest rising and falling with sharp, shallow breaths, his eyes scanning the drones above wildly. The chaos around him was deafening—the high-pitched whir of the drones, the sizzling sound of blaster fire ricocheting off the cavern walls, and Hunk’s panicked muttering. It all pressed against his skull like a vice, his heartbeat pounding in his ears so loud it drowned out everything else. He flexed his other hand, the energy radiating from his energy almost unmanageable, forcing himself to inhale deeply through his nose. His fingers tightened around the small, seed-like trap Pidge had thrust into his hands. The surface was rough but cool, grounding him just enough to steady his rising panic.

“Just breathe,” he muttered under his breath, his voice barely audible over the cacophony.

The world around him seemed to blur and tilt, but he focused on the one thing that mattered: the drone he had to hit. It floated erratically in the air, one of many firing down at them, its sleek, metallic body flashing with deadly precision. Lance locked his eyes on it, everything else in his periphery fading away. The sound of blaster fire dulled, replaced by a strange, eerie calm. His grip on the seed tightened, his knuckles white as he steadied his hand. His mind cleared, the adrenaline sharpening his senses. It was just like the firing range back on the Castle—one shot, one target. The hours he spent perfecting his shots to try and be better, to push to be the sharpshooter the team had trusted him as. To prove his spot on the team despite knowing his role. He still fought hard to prove he belonged even after earning it.

He exhaled slowly, feeling the adrenaline burn through his veins, and threw the seed with all the force he could muster. It cut through the air like a bullet, fierce and unwavering. The world seemed to hold its breath alongside him.

The seed struck the drone with a sharp

click

, and for a split second, nothing happened. Then, as if ignited by magic, vines exploded from the seed, shooting outward and wrapping around the drone in an intricate weave of green tendrils. The machine stuttered mid-air, its lights flickering, before plummeting to the ground with a metallic

clang

.

“Yes!” Hunk’s voice cut through the tension, his relief palpable. “Way to go, buddy!”

Lance barely had a moment to savor the victory before Pidge darted out from cover like a shot, her small frame moving with surprising speed. “I’ve got it!” she called, making a beeline for the fallen drone.

“Pidge, no!” Lance’s stomach twisted, his heart seizing in panic as the other drones instantly redirected their fire toward her.

She moved like a blur, her nimble steps and small form dodging the blaster bolts by inches. Lance’s breath caught in his throat, trembling as he tried to track the firing pattern. Pidge snatched the drone off the ground, cradling it against her chest, and turned to sprint back. Lance didn’t even think—he lunged forward, grabbing her arm and yanking her back into cover just as a searing bolt of energy grazed her ankle.

Pidge let out a sharp gasp, her body crumpling slightly forward into Lance’s chest as her leg buckled.

“Pidge!” Lance’s voice cracked, his hands gripping her shoulders tightly as he scanned her face and then her injury. His heart was racing faster now, his panic threatening to overwhelm him. “You got

shot

! Are you—are you okay?! Hunk, she’s hurt!”

“I’m fine!” Pidge snapped, wincing but forcing a tight-lipped grin. Her voice was strained, but her hands were already moving to hook the captured drone up to her tablet. “I just—ow—need to get this thing working. Stop babying me, Lance.”

“But—”

“Shut up and cover me!” she barked, her determination overriding her pain as she began tapping furiously on her screen.

Lance’s throat tightened, but he nodded, reluctantly releasing her to focus on defending their position. Above them, the drones swarmed like a storm of locusts, their erratic movements punctuated by the whine of blaster fire.

Hunk’s voice trembled as he fired off another shot, hitting one drone but narrowly missing another. “I—I don’t want to hit the ceiling!” he stammered, the growing instability of the cave evident in the falling sand and ominous groans from above.

“Here, give me!” Lance shouted, his own voice shaky as Hunk happily turned over the firearm. Lance fired at a cluster of drones swooping dangerously low. The blaster’s recoil jarred him, and he bit back a curse as the bolt barely grazed its target.

The cavern seemed to shrink with every passing second, the walls threatening to collapse under the relentless assault. Lance tightened his grip on his gun, his mind a whirlwind of panic and resolve. The stakes were higher than ever, and failure wasn’t an option.

“Come on, Pidge,” he muttered under his breath, his eyes darting between her focused figure and the approaching swarm. “Hurry up.”

“You wanna do this?!” Pidge bit back sharper, venom and stress on her tongue. Lance shut up immediately, firing off another couple drones, but more small blasts came down, forcing all of them to duck further down to the floor and Lance to retract his firing position. The cave groaned again, and Hunk let out a whimper as he mumbled that the drones were closing tighter around their positon, when suddenly, Pidge gasped out a loud

HA

!

The loud whirring of the drones zipping wildly around and the ringing sound of the shots were soon replaced in silence. Lance and Hunk both stared wide eyed upwards to see one by one the drones stopping and dropping. The clanking of the drones hitting the ground echoed through the cavern like a strange metallic rain, each thud adding to the growing quiet. The chaotic buzz of the battle was replaced by an eerie stillness, broken only by their ragged breathing. Lance’s hands trembled as he lowered his gun, letting out a shaky breath that felt like it had been trapped in his chest for hours.

“Brilliant! Absolutely brilliant!” Hunk’s voice was a burst of warmth and relief, and before Lance could turn, he saw Hunk throw his arms around Pidge in a tight hug.

Pidge grinned, though it was more a cocky smirk than a true smile. “Yeah, yeah, I’m a genius,” she muttered, her voice tinged with satisfaction but also pain.

Lance’s relief was short-lived when his eyes dropped to Pidge’s ankle. The fabric of her pant leg had been burned away, exposing raw, red skin that glistened with fresh blood. The wound was seared and angry, the unmistakable mark of a direct hit.

“Pidge…” His voice was tight, his throat constricting as he crouched beside her. She winced but waved him off.

“I’m fine,” she said through gritted teeth, though her pale face and the slight tremor in her voice betrayed her.

“You’re not fine,” Hunk countered, already pulling his headband off. “This is gonna hurt, okay?”

Pidge hissed a stream of colorful profanities as Hunk wrapped the makeshift bandage tightly around her ankle, her hands digging into the nearest piece of rubble for support.

“Thanks for the heads-up,” she muttered, her voice strained.

Lance stood, his body heavy with tension as he turned his attention to Blue. The sight of her, partially buried under sand and debris, made his chest tighten further. He reached out a hesitant hand, brushing the surface of her armor.

She was silent. Still. Such a crazy difference to the headaches and noise she had been causing all day.

“What’s wrong, girl?” Lance whispered, his voice barely audible over the lingering hum of his own heartbeat. “It’s me.”

He leaned his weight against her, his forehead pressing against the cool metal as he closed his eyes. He felt no pull, no warmth, no connection. Just an oppressive void where their bond should be. A thousand thoughts stormed through his mind, each one more suffocating than the last. What if she didn’t want to connect after all? Was she disappointed that the calls were hitting him instead of Allura? Was she expecting Allura? What if she couldn’t reach him anymore after all that energy from all the other visions? What if he wasn’t the right paladin? The one she wanted—the one she truly trusted—was dead.

Lance swallowed hard, his throat dry and tight. His palms pressed harder against her surface, as if sheer desperation could bridge the gap between them. “I want to help,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “I just… I need to know how. Please.”

The silence stretched on, unbearable and heavy. The weight of it settled on his shoulders, twisting his stomach into knots. His thoughts spiraled further, each one cutting deeper.

What if I can’t do this? What if I’m not enough?

His forehead stayed pressed against her, his breath uneven. He tried to steady himself, taking long, slow exhales that did nothing to ease the tightness in his chest.

“Lance,” Hunk called softly, breaking through his haze.

He didn’t turn, his voice distant as he murmured, “She’s not answering me.”

Hunk exchanged a glance with Pidge, who gave a subtle shake of her head, unsure what to say.

“Maybe she’s just…” Hunk hesitated, the usual gentleness of his voice dulled by fatigue. “Maybe she’s waiting for you to figure something out. It doesn’t mean you’re not the one she trusts. You’re here, right? That’s gotta count for something.”

Lance’s hands tightened against Blue’s hull, but he nodded faintly. Her words gave him no comfort, but he held onto them anyway. He leaned in closer, his mind pleading with Blue, trying to will her to respond.

Please, girl. I need you. We need you.

But all he felt was silence.

The oppressive silence of the cavern shattered with the ominous sound of grinding metal echoing down the tunnel. Lance froze, his hand pressed hard against Blue, the chill of her silent armor seeping into his palm.

“What

now

?” Pidge groaned, her voice strained, still shaky from the pain in her ankle.

Lance turned his head sharply, his eyes narrowing toward the noise, but he didn’t move his hand from Blue. Whatever was coming, he wasn’t letting go of her. The sound grew louder, a mechanical cacophony that reverberated through the tight space, vibrating the walls. All three of them flinched as the noise suddenly crescendoed. Their breath caught in unison as three massive spinning droids—sharp-edged, snarling monstrosities of metal and fury—forced their way into the cavern.

Their whirring blades carved through the narrow entrance, their mechanical arms slamming against the walls and floor with wild aggression. Each impact sent tremors rippling through the cave, dislodging sand and chunks of rock from the ceiling. The debris rained down, and the trio huddled tighter under Blue’s protective shadow, barely avoiding the deadly cascade.

“What the hell

are

those things?!” Hunk stammered, his voice an octave higher than usual, his hands gripping the edge of Blue’s plating as if it could shield him further.

Lance’s breath hitched as Pidge’s eyes flew to Lance, both recognizing the spinning monstrosities, memories of their relentless assault on Vrelen’s ship flashing through his mind. The vicious whir of their blades. The sharp, metallic arms that swung with deadly precision. His stomach dropped, and his pulse spiked.

“They’re Vrelen’s,” he muttered, his voice barely audible over the sound of metal grinding against stone.

The droids surged further into the cavern, their arms swinging wildly, smashing against the walls. Each impact brought a fresh wave of shaking, more sand and rocks dislodging and falling. The entrance behind the droids crumbled further with every hit until, with one final blow, the entire passage caved in, sealing them inside.

“No!” Lance shouted, his voice cracking. They were trapped.

Pidge winced, her hand gripping the edge of Blue for balance as she hissed, “Don’t shoot, Lance!”

“What?!” he snapped, his fingers already curling tighter around the gun in his grip.

“You can’t fire in here!” Pidge shouted, her voice sharp and panicked. “One more blast and the whole cave will come down on us!”

“Well, what are we supposed to do?!” Hunk yelled, his voice trembling as his wide eyes darted between the droids and the unstable ceiling.

Lance’s mind raced as the spinning droids crept closer, their blades glinting in the faint light filtering through the sand-covered cavern. Their movements were erratic, their arms swinging with enough force to tear through the stone walls. The ground trembled with every step they took.

“Lance!” Hunk’s voice was desperate. “Can you take them all out in one shot?!”

Lance’s eyes darted to the three droids, calculating their positions. His chest heaved, his breaths shallow and quick. His fingers twitched against the trigger, but his heart sank. There was no way he could hit them all at once without destabilizing the entire cave.

“I…” he started, his voice shaky. “I can’t—”

His back pressed hard against Blue’s surface, and he felt Pidge trembling beside him. Her glasses caught the faint light, and behind them, her wide eyes were blown with fear, her small frame frozen in place.

“Pidge?” Lance whispered, his voice barely audible, but she didn’t respond.

The droids inched closer, the noise of their blades deafening, each swing a countdown to their end. The walls shook, sand cascading like a relentless timer, rocks groaning under the strain.

Lance’s hand trembled against the gun, his breaths shallow and fast.

“What do we do?” he muttered, his voice cracking as he turned to the brain of their group, his last hope. Pidge didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Her gaze was fixed on the droids, her mind seemingly stuck in place.

Time felt like it was slipping through his fingers. The pressure bore down on him, the heat of anxiety curling in his chest. They were running out of options. They were out of time.

All he could think about in that one moment was how bad he wanted Allura to knock some sense into him.

He leaned his head back against Blue, a shaky sigh out as he gripped his gun tighter, moving the barrel between the three robots in front. Maybe if he shot at one of them it would bring the entire cave down and block them out? If they stayed under Blue, maybe that provided enough protection and shelter from everything falling down? But that would put everyone at too much of a risk, and he didn’t trust the instability of it all.

The sound of grinding metal and mechanical snarls gave way to a sudden lurch forward from the droids. Their bladed arms swung wildly, slicing through the air with deadly precision. The three of them pressed further back, their bodies pressing into the curved walls beneath Blue. The sound of Pidge and Hunk’s panicked cries barely registered in Lance’s mind as his finger jerked down on the trigger as a final instinct, firing off in fear as the robots neared hitting range.

But instead of the familiar crackle of his blaster, a deafening

roar

surged through the cavern.

A curved force of brilliant, surging energy exploded above their heads, searing the air with blinding heat. It tore through the droids in an instant, their metal bodies sparking and screeching as they were ripped apart. The force slammed into the walls of the cave, sending shockwaves reverberating through the unstable structure.

Lance barely had a moment to register what happened before the cave began to collapse in on itself. The walls groaned, dirt and sand cascading in torrents as the ground quaked beneath them. More chunks of rock fell, each crash ringing louder in Lance’s ears, drowning out Hunk and Pidge’s frantic shouts. His ears buzzed with the overwhelming sound of destruction.

“WHAT THE–?!” Pidge’s voice broke through the chaos, high-pitched and trembling, but was cut off as she stared up slack jawed.

Lance blinked, his vision swimming as he tried to comprehend what had just occurred. His gaze followed theirs, his neck straining to tilt upward—and his breath caught in his throat.

Blue.

Her jaw was open, glowing faintly with the remnants of that powerful blast. The Lion’s massive form shifted as if alive again, everything around them shaking at her towering presence both awe-inspiring and terrifying in the crumbling cavern.

The moment of awe was short-lived.

With a deafening

snap

, Blue’s jaw clamped shut, and in a swift, precise motion, she lunged forward. Her head tilted downward, engulfing all three of them inside her maw.

“WHAT—” Lance managed to cry out before his world flipped upside down.

Their bodies were thrown against the smooth, cold walls of Blue’s interior as she surged forward. Lance’s shoulder hit hard against the metal, knocking the air from his lungs. The sensation of weightlessness overtook him, but it was quickly replaced by crushing pressure as he was slammed to the floor, then hurled sideways again.

The sound of earth crumbling and shaking surrounded them, each rumble and crack magnified in the enclosed space. Lance couldn’t tell up from down, his stomach lurching as the g-forces coming from Blue moving pinned him. His chest heaved, struggling for breath, his mind spinning too fast to think.

His back struck another surface, sending pain radiating through his body. Stars danced in his vision, and for a terrifying moment, he thought he’d black out.

The roar of collapsing earth grew distant as Blue propelled them upward through the earth at a speed that defied comprehension. Lance’s body slumped against the floor, his limbs trembling as the sudden momentum ceased.

Everything fell silent.

Lance groaned, blinking dazedly as his vision slowly cleared. He was sprawled across Blue’s interior, his body aching from the sheer force of their escape.

“Lance!” Hunk’s panicked voice cut through the haze.

He turned his head, his breath hitching at the sight of Hunk and Pidge, both equally disoriented and battered. Hunk’s arms were braced against the walls, his face pale and queasy and wide-eyed, while Pidge clutched her ankle, her glasses askew, her chest heaving with quick, shallow breaths.

“What just happened?” Lance rasped, his throat dry and voice barely audible.

The three of them exchanged stunned looks, their expressions a mixture of disbelief and sheer exhaustion. Then, as if struck with the same realization, they all hauled up and went for a mad dash to Blue’s cockpit, familiar with the interior like the back of their hand. Hunk helped a limping Pidge as Lance took off faster, his mind racing and almost unable to comprehend where exactly he was. The insides glowed a gentle blue glow, and he came to a still as he made it to the cockpit, the air knocked out of him again at the sight. They were staring out the windows of Blue’s eyes at the desert before them, successfully removed from the cave and at the surface above. Blue had sat stilled, seemingly waiting at attention.

And it was raining.

Brilliant, cascading, storming. The sound echoed in small plinks on Blue’s surface, streaming down in a relaxing rhythm all around the mechanical beast, making the inside feel like you were inside the storm. Lance felt overwhelmed with emotion, his eyes brimming with tears at the rain before him and the fact he was inside Blue, who had just saved their lives.

“I’m gonna pass out. Is it safe to pass out now? Because I really think I’m going to.” Hunk gasped out, clutching at the wall in support.

Lance let out an unbelieving laugh at the situation, unsure of how to even properly let this all sink in.

Blue had responded to him. She was still there, maybe still considered him a Paladin for her.

“DAD? Dad do you copy?” Pidge was fast to comm over, suddenly remembering they had a form of communication to the others. The comm crackled with static, roughed up from their fight, before finally, Sam Holt’s voice came through, a little rough but there.

“Katie? What happened? Is everything alright? You weren’t with the others when we got to the barn.”

“We, uh, kinda found something.” Pidge gave Lance a shy grin, her eyes sparkling. Lance was too much at a lost for words to be able to have a say in the conversation, his entire body buzzing with energy.

“Are you guys ok? Zethrid told us you went for the Lion.” Shiro’s calming voice came over, and Hunk cracked first.

“WE’RE IN HER!” He blurted out.

“What?” Shiro spoke after a beat of shocked silence. The three of them giggled madly, as if they were the crazy ones spewing magical thoughts.

“Blue got herself out of the cave, and we are kinda in her cockpit right now.” Lance grinned wildly back, just picturing what Shiro’s face would look like. Lance’s mind spun.

They’d found Blue. They’d done the impossible, bringing her back to life in the most dire of circumstances. Hunk and Pidge were practically glowing with relief and pride, their exhausted faces alight with giddy excitement.

But as Iverson’s sharp voice cut through the air—commanding them to bring the Lion to the Garrison for safety—Lance felt his elation slam to a halt.

“Vrelen is distracted,” Iverson barked, his tone clipped and authoritative. “His forces are locked on the MFE pilots and whatever Keith and those… Blades are doing. If we move quickly, we can secure the Lion before he realizes what’s happening.”

The mention of Keith jolted Lance back into the present. His stomach twisted painfully as his thoughts shifted sharply. Keith and Axca. His sister.

“What’s happened with Keith?” Lance blurted, cutting through the noise. His voice was higher than he intended, laced with panic. “And Veronica? What’s happening out there?”

Iverson’s voice hardened, his tone turning colder. “We haven’t been able to establish contact with the Blades. Vrelen’s disruption tech is still jamming communications. But we’ve been getting updates from the MFE pilots. Veronica and her team are holding their own—sniping drones, covering the skies. She told us that Keith and Axca managed to board the Blade ship with the help of that alien wolf.”

There was a beat of silence.

“We don’t know what’s happening inside, nor are we able to provide any help or support from what that Kolivan is planning, probably happy to not be able to inform us,” Iverson finished with a sour mutter, and Lance caught the edge of his next words: “Not that I trust those Galra to—”

“Stop.” Shiro’s voice was firm, cutting Iverson off mid-sentence. The older man’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t argue. Thank god it was Shiro who stopped that tangent because Lance was a second away from lashing out in defense.

“The Blades are doing everything they can,” Shiro said, his voice steady, almost soothing, btu the undeniable hitn of protectiveness came through, “Keith is with Kolivan, Veronica assured her eyes were on the case when Kosmo teleported them in before getting hit by Vrelen’s forces. With all the leadership and power inside the Blade ship alone, they always has a plan. We have to trust him and the others to see this through, while we stay ready when needed.”

Lance swallowed hard, the sour taste of fear crawling up his throat. His hands twitched at his sides, fists clenching and unclenching as he tried to process everything. The thought of Keith—reckless, stubborn Keith—inside the Blade ship with no backup from them, no communication, was like a stone pressing on his chest. The rain hammered harder against Blue, a constant reminder of the storm outside—and the storm within him.

He turned to see Hunk and Pidge watching him. Their faces, though exhausted, carried an unspoken question. They were looking at him, waiting for his word. As if he were in charge. Lance’s stomach twisted again. The weight of their trust pressed heavily on him, so unfamiliar and foreign that it nearly knocked the breath out of him.

“Bring the Lion to the Garrison,” Iverson ordered again, his tone final, dismissive. “We’ll protect it there. That’s the priority.”

Lance’s eyes drifted to the horizon, where distant flashes of light illuminated the battle raging on. The Blade ship was just a speck in the chaos, lost among the rain and clouds.

Keith was in there. Veronica was out there.

His heart hammered painfully in his chest, his pulse a wild rhythm. No visions came to guide him now. No flashes of certainty. Just the overwhelming noise of his own racing thoughts—and the deep, unshakable pull of his heart. Lance’s grip tightened on the edge of Blue’s surface, his fingers digging into the metal as if seeking strength. He didn’t know what the right call was. But the idea of leaving Keith—of leaving his sister—out there felt like a betrayal he couldn’t bear.

“Lance?” Hunk’s voice was softer now, hesitant.

Lance drew in a shaky breath, the rain blurring the edges of his vision. His throat felt dry, his stomach a tangled mess of nerves. He met their eyes, his own burning with unspoken resolve. Right as we was about to speak, a large blast shook the earth around them. Their eyes all whipped out to follow the noise, peering through the rain to make out the light from the blast.

The Blade ship was open firing at Vrelen’s ship, and it was actually hitting.

“Are their force fields down?” Pidge gasped out before anyone else could react. They waited on the other end as the Garrison call crackled with a pause, clearly gaining insight on their end of what had just happened.

“Veronica said their force field dropped. Something happened from inside to override its forces and shut it down. She didn’t see when the Blades made entry, but that’s the only way it could have been dismantled from the inside.” Shiro came over, tension in his voice.

“Which means the Blade ship can land hits.” Pidge muttered, but Lance’s eyes were trained to the skies as Veronica’s ship zipped around the surface of Vrelen’s, before suddenly two smaller fighter jets were dropped and released in the air, zooming out quicker yet smaller, dropping more attacks along the surface.

“And so can the MFE’s!” Hunk cheered, his eyes wide at the sight.

All seemed well as the group stayed entranced watching the jets and plane zip around and fire on Vrelen’s ship, openly getting the hits it wanted but not enough to necessarily lay good damage on a ship its size. The Blade ship began whirring with a large light of energy again, its large gun trained on Vrelen’s ship, when Vrelen’s ship sent out a huge blast at the Blade in retaliation, striking it hard and knocking the Blade ship to bulge in the sand.

That hit was all Lance needed for his body to light with fire, his adrenaline kick in and for him to hop into the chair. Pidge and Hunk watched with wide eyes but stayed silent.

“We’re not taking her to the Garrison,” he said, his voice low but firm.

“What did you say, Mcclain?” Iverson shouted back, his voice shrill from defiance. Lance leaned forward and grabbed at Blue’s controls, his fingers tightening around it and feeling that familiar pull, that initial calming connection he felt the first time.

Lance sucked in an even breath, his head stilling and his heart hammering in his chest, pulsing and fighting to reunite with the person it beat for. His body reacted on instinct, as if it was screaming that enough was enough. All he cared about was being there, was making sure he was ok, to slap him and shake and then kiss him silly. He pulled at her control, and like magic tied to his body, Blue shifted up in the sand and obeyed his command.

Alright, just like riding a bike.

“We’re bringing Blue to Keith.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

The whir of the engines hummed through the cabin as Veronica expertly piloted the jet closer to the chaotic battlefield at play in front of them. Vrlen’s docked hip lay menacingly in front of the Blade ship, both at bay and waiting for the other to strike first. They knew that there was a huge forcefield surrounding Vrelen’s ship, stopping anyone from landing pliable shots that could damage it and weaken their systems. From the outside point, there was no good hit, and the Blade ship did not have nearly the technology as advanced as Vrelen to be able to combat large hits if Vrelen decided to open fire. But Vrelen didn’t know that.

The two were at silent crossroads, both docked apart and waiting. If Keith could somehow get his way into the Blade ship, recuperate with the Blades inside, and somehow find a way to break into Vrelen’s ship and dismantle his protection shields, they could stand a good chance in combat. Keith stood near the hatch of Veronica’s small fighter jet, his stance tense, fingers gripping a steel handhold as the world outside the small window blurred. The Blade ship loomed closer now, a dark and battered silhouette locked in a desperate dance with Vrelen’s monstrous craft. His heart pounded at the thought of what he might find—or not find—once they landed.

“Dropping you in as close as I can get,” Veronica’s voice shouted over, steady but with an unmistakable undertone of concern. “But you better move fast. I’ll cover you from here, but if Vrelen starts firing at me, I can’t stick around for long. This bird wasn’t built to take that kind of heat.”

Keith ground his molars, his jaw tight as his gaze scanned the ships through the viewport. Every instinct screamed at him to move faster, but his calculated side forced him to take a breath and focus. The Blade ship had been silent for too long, its defensive maneuvers growing slower, more unsure. They were running out of time.

He turned toward Veronica, her hands deftly flying over the controls, her focus razor-sharp. Axca was squat besides him, her eyes trained on the outside port just as meticulously. He barley caught her quick glimp at him, her face hardened and trained to follow. He felt a weight lift in his chest just knowing she was there with him. He scratched behind Kosmo’s ear soothingly, the anticipation buzzing like static in his veins, and the wolf not used to being thrown around such small aircrafts in a small amount of time. Kosmo huffed through his nose deeply, leaning into his touch for comfort.

Good boy

.

“You better be as good at covering us as your brother,” he said, his voice clipped but edged with something he hoped sounded like faith. He couldn’t afford for Veronica to falter—not when so much was riding on her precision.

Veronica paused for a second, glancing back at him over her shoulder with a lopsided smirk. “Please,” she shot back, her tone a mix of playful sarcasm and reassurance. “Where do you think he learned how to shoot? Mcclain’s aren’t just born with natural talent like that, he had to learn it from somewhere.”

Keith let the faintest hint of a smile tug at his lips before schooling his expression back into something resolute. He needed to believe her because there was no other choice.

The Blade ship grew closer, its damaged hull glinting in the harsh light of the climbing morning sun. Veronica’s ship tilted slightly as she maneuvered them into position. Keith could feel the tension in the air, the weight of unspoken stakes pressing down on all of them.

“Almost there,” Veronica muttered, her voice focused. She hovered the ship just long enough to find a safe approach, the hum of the engines dipping lower as the distance between their ship and the Blade craft closed.

Keith felt the subtle click and hiss of the hatch door unlocking, a rush of cold wind biting at his exposed skin as the cabin filled with the sound of roaring air. The open hatch yawned before him, revealing the vast expanse of desert below and the towering ships locked in combat above.

“You’ve got one clean drop,” Veronica said, her voice suddenly more commanding. “I’ll keep them off you as long as I can, but don’t make me regret this.”

The tension in the cockpit was palpable, amplified by the constant vibration of the jet as Veronica maneuvered it with precision closer and closer to the ground, not quite wanting to dock just in case.

James’s voice crackled over the comms, cutting through the heavy atmosphere. “We’ve got about ninety seconds before we need to pull back—Vrelen’s scanners are sweeping wider. They’re gonna see us if we stick around too long.” His voice was clipped, professional, but Keith could hear the urgency bubbling just underneath.

Keith tightened his grip on the handhold, his jaw setting as he stared out at the Blade ship in the distance. Every second wasted up here felt like a lifetime. He shifted, readying himself to jump, but James wasn’t done.

“Altitude’s stable, but we’re sitting ducks if they fire. You better make this quick.” There was a pause, and then, quieter, almost like he was speaking directly to Keith, James added, “You’re pushing it, Kogane.”

Keith’s shoulders stiffened at the sound of his name in that tone—low, cautious, weighted with something unspoken. He could feel James’s eyes on him from across the cockpit, sharp and assessing, like he was measuring every inch of him. Keith fought the instinct to glance back, to meet his gaze, but he didn’t. What was James doing, caring now? It wasn’t like they were anything anymore—hell, they never really were. Just two people trying to survive their chaotic worlds, crossing paths when the stars aligned. One a lot more aggressive as a Garrison cadet and making sure to get under Keith’s skin, and then being just as cold and distant when he became a loyal MFE to the Atlas with Voltron. There was never a chance to reconcile, to discuss their previous meet as children. So why did that one look, that one inflection in his voice, dig under Keith’s skin?

Veronica’s voice cut through the moment, sharp and commanding. “Focus, people! Keith, Axca, you’re up.”

Keith’s head snapped up, pushing any errant thoughts of James aside. He glanced at Axca, who was already shifting her weight forward, preparing to jump. Veronica’s hands danced over the controls, steadying the jet as she tilted it closer to their drop point.

But then Veronica turned slightly, throwing Axca a playful smirk, her voice dropping into something smoother, almost teasing. “Don’t get yourself killed out there, Axca. I’d hate to lose someone with such… humor.”

Axca froze, her hand tightening briefly on the edge of the hatch as her face went beet red in an instant, a violent flush spreading up to her ears. Keith blinked, momentarily taken aback. Axca—stoic, razor-sharp, unflappable Axca—was

blushing

.

“Go,” Axca grunted, her voice low and hurried as she tried to mask her reaction, but the redness gave her away. “Jump already, Keith.”

Keith couldn’t help but glance between the two of them. Veronica was biting back a shy smile, her expression softer than Keith had ever seen, but her eyes still twinkled with that same boldness he recognized when Lance attempted a lame joke or pickup line to someone. Keith felt the corner of his mouth twitch upward in faint amusement before he caught himself. It wasn’t like Axca to get flustered, but whatever this was, it was the least of his concerns right now.

Still, he filed the moment away, because if they made it out of this alive, he wasn’t going to let Axca forget it.

“Alright, let’s go,” Keith muttered, more to himself than anyone else, and stepped closer to the hatch. The roar of the wind hit him instantly, loud and biting against his skin. Axca followed, her face set back into its usual sharp determination, though the faint blush still lingered.

“Hold tight,” Veronica called over the noise, her voice steady now, all business again. “I’ll cover you from here, but you better move fast. No second chances out there.”

Keith nodded, steeling himself. He took one last glance back at the cockpit, his eyes briefly meeting James’s. James’s gaze was steady, still watching him like he was waiting for something—like there was something unsaid lingering between them. He tightened his grip on his blade and adjusted the harness on his waist, his breaths steady and deliberate as he stepped closer to the edge.

But Keith didn’t linger. The wind whipped around them, tugging at his jacket and making every inch of him feel alive with anticipation. Keith glanced at Axca one last time, their silent understanding passing between them before they both leaped from the hatch, the rush of wind swallowing him whole as he and Axca barreled down toward the desert sands below. The rush of air screamed in his ears as they plummeted, the ground rushing up to meet them. Keith’s heart pounded, not in fear but in determination. He would get to the Blade ship. He would find Kolivan. And he would stop Vrelen.

The wind howled louder as Veronica’s ship veered away, positioning itself to provide cover. Keith didn’t look back. His focus was on the Blade ship, its broken hull looming larger and larger. This wasn’t just about survival. This was about winning. And it was damn near time they started.

They landed with a rough roll, both Keith and Axca expertly trained on a drop landing, dipping down to let their shoulder spin and roll with them as they quickly popped back to their feet, seemingly untouched. Kosmo popped in right after them at Keith’s side, tongue lolling out and wide eyed, just happy to be back on solid land. Veronica’s ship lifted up and took off to a gentle hover higher in the sky, certain their eyes were trained on any firearms that could be pointed in their direction, taking down a couple more drones that would randomly be deployed around Vrelen’s ship.

The desert stretched endlessly before them, the heat shimmering in the air as Keith and Axca sprinted full force toward the Blade ship. The sound of drones filled the skies above them, mechanical whirrs slicing through the tension. Shots from the drones streaked past them, leaving sizzling craters in the sand. The force of each blast sent tremors up Keith's legs, but he kept pushing, his breath burning in his lungs.

Beside him, Axca's strides matched his, though the loose sand beneath their boots dragged at their momentum. Her expression was sharp, focused, even as her chest heaved with effort. A blast struck the ground just behind them, sending a plume of sand and heat into the air. Keith’s lungs burned to cough, but that would be a waste of energy. He knew Veronica was covering them from above, the promise that she would watch out for the three of them running full speed.

Above them, her jet whizzed, firing sharp, precise shots that took down drones with deadly efficiency.

Axca turned her head, casting a glance over her shoulder to assess the chaos behind them. Keith spotted her movement and barked out, "Don’t look—just focus on running!"

But before he could snap further, Axca lunged toward him. Her shoulder collided with his side, shoving him out of the path of a laser blast that seared past his arm, narrowly missing him by inches. Keith stumbled, nearly losing his footing, his heart hammering in his chest as adrenaline spiked, blinking at the blind realization she had momentarily saved him from being fried.

A moment later, Veronica’s jet roared overhead, a precise shot slicing through the offending drone. Axca’s voice was cutting, though breathless. “Still think it was a bad idea for me to look?”

Keith ground his teeth, resisting the urge to snap. His nerves were fraying, the tension pulling taut against his every thought. “Just keep moving,” he muttered, the words more for himself than her.

The Blade ship loomed closer now, the dark, sharp lines of its hull cutting starkly against the horizon. But the sound of something heavier drew Keith’s attention—something slower, more deliberate. His gaze shot over his shoulder, and his stomach plummeted.

Vrelen's main ship was adjusting, its large gun swiveling slowly toward them. The ominous barrel began to glow faintly, charging with deadly precision as it locked onto its fleeing targets.

"Axca—" Keith’s voice broke, the urgency palpable as he tried to calculate the impossible. He could see it happening in agonizing slow motion, the light growing brighter, the whir of the cannon building. Axca didn’t hesitate, her stride quickening even as her boots sank into the shifting sand, stumbling a bit at the loose footing it provided. But Keith could feel the seconds slipping through his fingers. His body moved before his mind caught up, his legs burning with one final burst of energy.

"Hang on!" Keith yelled, voice breaking with desperation as he threw his arms around Axca’s waist. With his other hand, he grabbed onto Kosmo’s thick fur, his mind reaching out in a silent, frantic plea to the wolf. In an instant, the air shimmered around them as Kosmo did what he did best; teleport. His portal materialized, blue and electric, cutting through the very fabric of space, leaving a tickling sensation of time warp and a bright light to blind in its wake. The cannon’s blast screamed toward them, the light of it scorching the desert floor as Kosmo’s power enveloped them, pulling them through.

The world spun in a chaotic blur, and then they landed with a bone-jarring thud on a cold, metallic floor. Keith barely registered the dim, narrow corridor of the Blade ship before he groaned, his lungs fighting for air. He groaned out, his arms shaking as he leaned up, Axca coughing from under his body. Axca lay under him, her breath hitching as she pushed herself upright, her face pale but determined. Kosmo whined softly, shaking out his fur before collapsing next to them in exhaustion. For a moment, there was only the sound of their ragged breathing, the adrenaline coursing through Keith’s veins making his entire body tremble. He stared up at the dark ceiling of the Blade ship, trying to piece together the fact that they were still alive.

Axca let out a rough snort, half-disbelieving, half-exhausted. “Next time,” she muttered, her voice hoarse, “warn me before you tackle me like that.”

Keith let out a shaky breath, sitting up and bracing his arms on his knees. “Next time,” he rasped, “don’t wait for me to yell.”

There was no time to process—no time to acknowledge how close they had come to death. Somewhere deeper in the Blade ship, Keith knew the answers they needed were waiting. He pushed himself to his feet, his legs still shaky, before helping Axca up in one swift pull.

“Let’s move,” he said, his voice steadier than he felt. Axca nodded, her usual composure slipping back into place.

Keith gave Kosmo a quick scratch behind the ears, murmuring a quiet, “Good boy,” before turning toward the corridor ahead.

They ran with a purpose, their heavy boots clanking along the metal of the ship, the equal heaviness of their uniforms blending back in with the heavy darkness of the ship so familiar to the two of them. Navigating it was like the back of their hands, twisting and turning to reach the command room, where they both hoped to find everyone they were hoping for. It was uncharacteristically empty and quiet throughout the ship, which set alarms through Keith’s skin, but they pushed on, time being of the essence.

Keith and Axca burst into the Blade ship’s command room, the heavy doors clanging shut behind them as they skidded to a halt. The room was dim, bathed in the soft, cool glow of Galra consoles glowing softly behind large soldiered bodies towering over. But the stillness didn’t last. In a heartbeat, weapons were drawn—firearms, blades, and the unmistakable hum of a few energy weapons powering up.

Keith instinctively reached for his own blade, his hand twitching at his side, his chest rising and falling in quick bursts. Axca was already beside him, poised in position and alert, her own weapon halfway out of its holster.

“Stand down!” The familiar voice cracked the tension, its relief undeniable. Keith’s head snapped toward it, and his breath caught.

Krolia stepped forward, her firearm still in hand but slowly lowering as her sharp eyes took him in. “It’s him,” she said, her voice trembling just enough to betray the storm of emotions beneath her composed exterior. “It’s Keith.”

The defenses wavered. Weapons hesitated. And then Keith surged forward, storming into the room with an urgency that pushed past his own exhaustion.

“Are you all okay?” he demanded, his voice cutting through the room like a blade. His gaze swept over the faces of the Blades present, lingering on his mother. “We couldn’t get in contact with anyone. What happened to your communications?”

Before Krolia could answer, she moved toward him, her weapon forgotten entirely. Her hands gripped his arms with a strength that surprised him, pulling him into a desperate hold. For a moment, Keith stiffened, the weight of everything—his exhaustion, his fear, the unrelenting tension of the day—pressing against his chest. But then his body relaxed, melting into the familiar comfort of her embrace. Of a desperate, worried mother hugging her found son.

“I thought—” Krolia began, her voice dropping before she stopped herself. She pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, her hands still clutching his arms, her sharp nails barely pressing a pinch out of intensity into his sides. “I thought something had happened to you.”

Kosmo barked, circling them with his tail wagging furiously, brushing against their legs as if to say,

We made it. We’re here.

Keith gave his mother a slight nod, his voice soft but steady. “We’re fine. But things are bad out there.”

Kolivan’s voice, stern and unyielding, cut through the reunion. “We were aware. The moment our communications were severed, we knew Vrelen was taking steps to isolate us. We suspected something had gone wrong when we could no longer reach your team.”

Axca stepped forward, brushing some of the sand off her gear as she spoke. “Keith and I left the rest of the team at a barn when they were unable to provide adequate assistance or help due to injuries or other issues that could not be worthy of what needed to be done. We found the Blue Lion.”

The room tensed at those words, the weight of their significance sinking in. Kolivan’s sharp gaze fixed on her. “And the Garrison?”

Axca’s expression hardened, her voice cold but unregretful. “They know. We didn’t tell them directly, but they found out. It was unavoidable.”

Kolivan’s jaw clenched, his presence suddenly more foreboding as his frustration simmered beneath the surface. His eyes flicked to Keith, who was already bracing himself for the blow.

“You let the Garrison discover the lion?” Kolivan’s voice was low, icy, each word like a knife.

Keith stepped forward, his fists tight at his sides. “We didn’t

let

them discover it. We had no choice. Communications were down, and we couldn’t reach you. We kept the location hidden as long as we could.”

Kolivan’s glare darkened, his tone sharp and cutting. “If the Paladins revealed that information, do you understand the consequences? The agreements we’ve made to keep the Lions out of human hands—”

Keith snapped his jaw shut, his glare matching Kolivan’s as silence fell heavy over the room. His silence was an answer in itself, and the weight of it pressed on his shoulders like an iron vice.

Krolia’s hand lingered briefly on Keith’s arm, but even her presence couldn’t lift the crushing tension between the two leaders. Axca shifted uncomfortably, glancing between the two, but it was Keith who finally spoke again, his voice low and bitter.

“I know the stakes. I know what’s at risk. But we didn’t have time to debate this. Right now, we need to figure out how to take Vrelen down before he does more damage.”

Kolivan held his gaze for a long, tense moment. Keith fought off the cold, demanding shiver it was forcing. He was tired. He was over this overbearing expectations and certain way that Kolivan expected the Blades to be run. If he was given this command, if he was expected so highly to take on this world and be the next Kolivan, than Kolivan needed to back the fuck off on his certain ideals before Keith snapped compeltelty. Finally, Kolvian let out a sharp exhale. He turned away, his fists clenching briefly at his sides before motioning toward the central console.

“Fine,” Kolivan bit out. “We’ll discuss this later. For now, we need to focus on the fight in front of us.”

Keith nodded tightly, his heart pounding as the weight of Kolivan’s words lingered. The crushing tension didn’t dissipate, but at least now they had a direction

The room fell into a tense silence, the gravity of Kolivan's announcement pulling everyone’s focus. Keith grinded his molars and took a steady breath as he finally scanned the room with clipping glances. A couple high ranking Blade officials. Many trusted Galra who Kolivan brought in for serious battle enforcements. Strong soldiers Keith had dealt alongside with on past humanitarian efforts and missions. Overall, it was a solid, trusted amount of operatives that made the situation seem more doable. The Blade leader stepped to the center of the room, his presence commanding as his sharp eyes scanned the group.

“We’ve been covertly analyzing Vrelen’s ship using what scanners remain operational,” Kolivan began, his voice cold and precise. The holographic display behind him shifted, showing a jagged, wireframe schematic of the massive enemy vessel. “The ship is heavily fortified, with layers of defensive systems. However, we’ve detected a central core disruption device here.” He pointed to the heart of the schematic, a glowing node that pulsed ominously. “This technology is what’s been jamming our communications and scattering our operational systems. It’s also likely responsible for the localized atmospheric disturbances and signal interference.”

Kolivan straightened, his piercing gaze sweeping over the room. “This is the key. If we disable or destroy it, Vrelen’s advantage will crumble. His systems will weaken, and we can strike back with full force, especially when it disables its apparent forcefield.”

A low murmur rippled through the Blades in the room, the tension rising as Kolivan continued. “But infiltrating that core will be a high-risk operation. The area is heavily guarded, and the internal defenses of the ship are... formidable.” He hesitated, then spoke firmly. “This is, without question, a near-suicide mission.”

Keith stepped forward immediately, his jaw tight and his voice steady. “Then I’ll go.”

Kolivan’s gaze snapped to him, sharp and unwavering. “This isn’t a mission for impulsive heroics, Keith. I won’t send anyone into this without full understanding of the risk that I wouldn’t be the first to take myself.”

“And I’m not asking for your permission,” Keith bit back, his voice harder than he intended. “You can warn me all you want, but I’m not sitting back while someone else goes in my place. If anyone’s going, I’m going first.”

Kolivan’s expression darkened, his eyes narrowing as he stepped closer. The years of command etched into his face bore down on Keith like a weight, but Keith didn’t flinch. He met Kolivan’s gaze head-on, his stance unwavering.

“I taught you to be strategic, to act with precision and discipline, not to let pride or emotion cloud your judgment,” Kolivan said, his tone sharp and unyielding. “This isn’t about proving yourself, Keith. This is about survival—of the mission, of the Blades.”

Keith’s fists clenched at his sides, his voice lowering but losing none of its intensity. “This isn’t about proving myself. This is about doing what needs to be done. You taught me to fight for what matters, and I’m telling you, I’m not standing down. I’ve fought tooth and nail to get here, Kolivan. I’ve taken risks you didn’t approve of because I believed they’d make a difference.”

Keith thought about all the exhausted arguments he had with his mother about Kolivan not trusting him or believing him and his command for a mission layout, of him fighting to do his own solo missions under Kolivans nose becuase he knew it was against Blade protocol but wanting to make a difference with the privlidge he had, of him knowing the weight of his selected future and clawing to form his own path and design of it if forced on him anyway. Kolivan’s eyes narrowed further, searching Keith’s face, the weight of years of experience and command pressing down like a silent challenge. Keith didn’t back down. He could feel the room watching, feel the tension in Axca’s stare, the unspoken colorful history between him and Kolivan hanging in the air.

Keith stepped closer, his voice lowering but with an edge that cut through the tension. “You taught me to be a Blade. You taught me what it means to fight, to make hard choices, to be more than just a soldier. And right now, I’m telling you, I need to do this. Not because I’m reckless or proud, but because it’s where I’m best needed. You know that as well as I do.”

For a moment, Kolivan’s expression didn’t shift. His stone-hard face remained unreadable, his searching gaze piercing through Keith like a blade. Then, finally, Kolivan’s chest rose and fell in a sharp breath.

“Load up,” he commanded abruptly, his voice snapping through the room like a whip. The Blades in the room sprang into action, preparing gear and weapons as Kolivan barked out more orders. “Prepare for infiltration. Get the backup systems online and ensure secondary teams are ready to cover the perimeter. Krolia and Axca, I want you manning the scanners from the outside to heat track our exact location and render a 3D scan of where we are headed and confirm the map we have is 100% correct to bring us to its central core. I want us in and out as quick and seamless as possible. We aren’t going in there for a fight, just the bare scrapes of opening it up to be defenseless. Once dismantled, we get out fast and back to the Blade ship, or anywhere that isn’t Vrelen’s. Got it?”

Keith felt a flicker of relief, though it was buried under the weight of what was to come. Kolivan turned back to him, his voice lower but no less firm. “You’ll follow my orders to the letter, Keith. No deviations. If you disobey me out there, you’ll answer for it.”

Keith gave a single nod, his expression steeled. “Duly noted.”

Kolivan didn’t reply, but there was a flicker—just a flicker—of something in his gaze that Keith couldn’t quite place. Then the Blade leader turned away, already issuing further commands to the room.

As the tension eased slightly and the preparations continued, Axca stepped closer to Keith, her voice low. “If you don’t come back out of there, I’ll singlehandedly make sure they don’t put up statues of you.”

Keith glanced at her with a small smirk, the weight of his choice settling fully on his shoulders. “I’ll try not to haunt you for that decision, besides,” he said quietly. “This is where I’m supposed to be.”

Axca didn’t reply, her eyes scanning his face as if picking out every minor thought and fear, able to piece together the broken readings he rarely let out, but the subtle nod she gave him was enough. They both turned back to the preparations, the tension between them unspoken but understood.

The dim light of the Blade ship cast long shadows as Keith adjusted the straps on his waist to the new firearm he had loaded there, along with his trusty Blade dagger that never left his side. Across from him, Krolia stood, her arms folded tightly but her expression softening despite her usual stoic demeanor, her sharp gazd trained on watching Keith until the moment he left the ship. The concern etched into her face was something Keith rarely saw, and it only made his chest tighten further.

“Are you sure about this?” she asked, her voice low but steady, betraying the worry she was trying to contain.

Keith gave a sharp nod, his jaw set as he avoided her eyes for a moment. “I have to be,” he muttered, his hands tightening on the strap at his shoulder. “We don’t have a choice.”

Krolia let out a slow, measured breath, stepping closer to place a hand on his shoulder. Her gaze softened even more, and Keith finally met her eyes. “You’ll be fine,” she said, her voice quiet but resolute. “You’ve always been a natural-born fighter and leader, Keith. Someone who’s never been content to be defined by limits or those who placed them on you.” She gave him a faint, careful smile. “Remember that. It’s what you do best.”

Keith’s chest tightened further at her words, but he nodded, unable to find the words to respond. For a moment, Keith remembered what it felt like to be 12 years old, just shy of barely meeting Shiro for the first time and being taken over to his house every other weekend as Shiro respectfully and kindly argued with his foster home to be taken off their hands for a weekend. While there, he got treated with kindness for the first time in his young life, though he was initially very untrusting and cold. He refused to eat food unless he watched Shiro’s fiancé at the time make it, who grew a soft liking to Keith as well. Keith was honestly surprised Shiro’s fiancé was fine with unofficially semi adopting this dirty roughened runt who looked like he was either going to steal half their belongings or hotwire both their cars, but he watched Keith with genuine silent interest. Let Keith huff and glare at him while Adam moved slowly in the same room Keith would be in. Watched as Adam quietly played their radio as he sat with music that Keith had never listened to, because he grew up not being able to have his own music or radio in his shared communal homes. Snort to himself softly when Keith would kick and try to tune out the music, not liking it. It took a couple weeks until finally, Adam offered him an olive branch, a CD with a bright yellow covering that screamed in harsh black lettering,

NEVER MIND THE BOLLOCKS.

Keith didn’t have time to memorize the rest after Adam handed it to him, saying off handedly it seemed more his vibe than the folk country music he played. Keith snatched it with silent gratitude, but he should have known the first rule of owning something personal at a communal home was that it was going to be found out and taken. He never got the chance to listen to what Adam had gifted him because his foster parent had snatched it right up, lit it on fire in the backyard for him to watch while lecturing how he was listening to ‘devils music’, and gave him his harsh realization of reality. Someone was always going to try to control any sense of direction or purpose you want in life before you had the autonamy to choose if you even wanted something. It was then and there that Keith refused anyone to take something from him or let someone be bigger than he was, even if size was a factor.

Because Keith knew he could fight back, and he wished he had in that moment.

Instead, he let the weight of her hand on his shoulder ground him for a moment before Kolivan’s voice cut through the room.

“Time to move. Once we get inside and destruct their system, we have exactly two minutes before I urged our ship to open direct fire on Vrelen, with or without us out of it. We can’t afford to waste time.” Kolivan commanded, his voice clipped and no-nonsense. Keith straightened immediately, pulling away from Krolia as Kolivan motioned for him to follow. The Blade leader’s eyes were sharp and unreadable, his focus entirely on the mission.

Keith whistled softly for Kosmo, the wolf bounding over with a low huff. Kolivan cast a disapproving glance at the wolf but didn’t say a word. Whatever argument might have risen about bringing Kosmo along seemed to evaporate under the weight of the moment, and Keith felt a flicker of silent gratitude for that. The group moved quickly through the winding halls of the Blade ship, descending to the deployment bay where a sleek, pod-like containment vessel waited for them. Keith’s eyes flicked over the small craft, noting its design. It reminded him of something from the Green Lion’s arsenal—lightweight, agile, and equipped with a temporary shielding system to deflect detection.

Kolivan began explaining as they climbed in, his voice as even and precise as ever. “The pod will deploy us across the desert floor, using the ship’s shadow as cover. It’s cloaked and equipped to avoid detection, but the moment it stops, you’ll have seconds to get out, climb into position under the hull, and use Kosmo to teleport inside.”

Keith gave a curt nod, strapping himself into the cramped seat beside Kolivan. Kosmo settled between them, his large body pressed against Keith’s legs. The wolf let out a soft huff, sensing the tension in the air. Keith placed a hand on Kosmo’s fur, grounding himself as Kolivan continued to adjust settings on the control panel. He hoped Kosmo would telepathically forgive him for being shoved into another cramped predicament. When this was all over, he pictured bringing the wolf to Lance’s farm, where he could stretch and run and leap to his hearts content.

Keith warmed at the thought of being able to think he could bring his animal to Lance’s farm unprompted.

The silence between them was heavy as they prepared for launch. Keith focused on his breathing, letting the familiar rhythm of Shiro’s mantra echo in his mind:

Patience yields focus. Patience yields focus.

The words repeated like a heartbeat, steadying him as his pulse raced.

Finally, the pod sealed with a sharp hiss, and Kolivan’s voice cut through the quiet. “Brace yourself.”

Keith felt the lurch before he heard the sound—the sharp, mechanical click, followed by the deafening boom of their launch. The pod shot out into the desert, skimming low and fast across the sands, its cloaking shield shimmering faintly in the harsh sunlight. The impact rattled through his body, but Keith kept his focus, his hands gripping the harness tightly as the pod hurtled toward Vrelen’s ship. Through the small viewport, Keith could see the massive underbelly of the enemy vessel looming closer. The scale of it was overwhelming, the sharp angles and pulsing lights a constant reminder of the danger ahead.

“Hold steady,” Kolivan muttered, his hands moving deftly over the controls. The pod veered slightly, adjusting its course to align perfectly with the ship’s hull. They skimmed along the length of the vessel, the shadows casting fleeting glimpses of the underside.

Finally, with a jarring skid, the pod came to a halt, its mechanisms hissing as the hatch began to open. The hot desert air rushed in, carrying with it the sound of distant shots and the hum of Vrelen’s massive engines. Keith unstrapped himself quickly, his movements sharp and practiced as he turned to Kosmo.

“Let’s go,” he said firmly, his voice low. Kosmo growled softly in understanding, his fur bristling with energy. Keith grabbed his blade, his grip steady despite the adrenaline coursing through him.

Kolivan shot him a look as he prepared to disembark, his tone sharp and commanding. “No mistakes, Keith.”

“Not planning on it.” Keith grunted back. With a final breath, he stepped out onto the sands, the wind whipping around him as the pod’s invisibility cloak shimmered faintly behind him.

The two sprinted toward the massive hull above them, their feet sinking slightly into the sand as they moved. Keith could feel his heart pounding in his chest, the sound of his breathing drowned out by the roar of the engines and the distant hum of drones.

The moment they reached the hull of their ship, seemingly unseen, Kosmo growled low, his body tense as Keith placed a hand on his fur, the energy crackling between them as Kolivan followed, placing a heavy hand on Kosmo’s weight. In an instant, the world warped around them, the sound and heat of the desert vanishing as they teleported into the shadowy interior of Vrelen’s ship.

They landed roughly in a darkened hallway, the cold metal beneath them a stark contrast to the heat of the desert. Keith’s breathing was heavy, his heart racing as he quickly scanned their surroundings. They were in. Now, the real challenge began.

The labyrinthine corridors of Vrelen’s ship twisted endlessly, the dim lighting casting eerie shadows against the jagged walls. Every step Keith took echoed faintly, the sound amplified by the suffocating silence that enveloped the vessel. His eyes stayed locked on Kolivan’s broad back as the Blade leader took the lead, his movements sharp and calculated, his massive figure dominating the narrow hallways. The tension between them was suffocating, made worse by the looming threat of discovery and the weight of their precarious mission. Kolivan’s cold, calculating demeanor felt sharper than usual, and Keith could feel the annoyance bubbling beneath his skin. Every snapped direction Kolivan gave only grated more, yet Keith bit his tongue, focusing instead on the swirling emotions coursing through him—desperation, exhaustion, and the ever-present need to prove himself.

They reached a junction, and Kolivan raised a large hand, signaling for Keith to halt. Without looking back, Kolivan tapped into his comms, his voice a low growl as he relayed their position and received directions from Blade command. Keith, meanwhile, tried to still the frustration building within him, gnawing the inside of his cheek as his burning gaze remained fixed on Kolivan’s back.

"Stop staring, Keith," Kolivan growled, his voice low but sharp, cutting through the silence like a blade. "If you’ve got something to say, say it. Otherwise, save your focus for what’s ahead before your muddled thoughts get us both killed."

Keith’s chest tightened at the rebuke, his face heating in embarrassment and irritation. He hadn’t realized how obvious he was being. Clearing his throat, he muttered, "I didn’t realize you noticed."

Kolivan paused mid-step, his head tilting slightly as though considering Keith’s words. With a tired grunt, he turned his head just enough for Keith to catch the edge of his profile. "I notice troubled minds," he said, his tone gruff but with a rare flicker of honesty. "Why else would I know you so well?"

Keith froze for a moment, caught off guard by the statement. Kolivan wasn’t exactly known for emotional openness, and the admission hung heavy in the air between them. Keith’s thoughts raced as he tried to process the unexpected honesty. It wasn’t praise, not exactly, but it wasn’t the cold indifference he was used to either.

Kolivan turned away before Keith could respond, his focus snapping back to the hallway ahead. He motioned for Keith to follow, and they continued forward in silence. Despite himself, Keith felt a strange knot in his chest loosen ever so slightly. The moment of honesty, however brief, stuck with him, lingering as they moved deeper into the ship.

The silence didn’t last long. Krolia’s voice crackled over the comms, low and urgent. "Kolivan, Keith—there are several machines stationed around the next corner. Be cautious. They’re alert-class drones. If they detect movement, they’ll send out a signal to Vrelen’s command systems. Be alert after for more similar traps and mechanics."

Kolivan’s jaw tightened, his teeth grinding audibly as he processed the information. Without a word, he raised a hand, motioning for Keith to stop again. His sharp, commanding gaze locked on Keith, assessing him before he spoke.

"We’ll need to disable them before they detect us," Kolivan said, his voice low and clipped. "Stay close, and do exactly as I say. No deviations. Understood?"

Keith bristled slightly at the tone but nodded, his jaw set tight. "Understood."

Kolivan moved first, his steps impossibly silent for someone his size. Keith followed closely, his hand instinctively resting on the hilt of his blade as they approached the corner. His heart thudded in his chest, adrenaline coursing through him as they peeked around the edge.

The drones were sleek and metallic, their sharp edges catching the faint light as they hovered in place. Their sensors pulsed rhythmically, casting faint red glows across the walls as they scanned the area. Keith counted three of them, each positioned strategically to cover the entire hallway.

Kolivan’s eyes narrowed as he studied their movements. He clicked to the side of his head, materializing the Blade mask into place and shielding any emotions from being seen, if there was proof of the man having emotions. Keith followed the same. After a moment, he leaned back, his voice barely above a whisper. "On my mark, we’ll take them down silently. Aim for the control nodes at their base. One clean strike. No noise, no mistakes."

Keith nodded, gripping his blade tightly as he steadied his breathing. He could feel the weight of Kolivan’s presence beside him, the unspoken tension between them still lingering. This was his moment to prove himself—to Kolivan, to the Blades, to himself.

Kolivan counted down with his fingers, and on three, they moved. Keith darted forward, his steps light and quick as he closed the distance between himself and the nearest drone. The red sensor pulsed dangerously close to his position, but he struck before it could detect him, his blade slicing cleanly through the control node. The drone fell with a faint hiss, its lights flickering out as it crumpled to the ground. Kolivan moved with the precision of a seasoned warrior, dispatching his target with a single, brutal strike. His movements were smooth and efficient, every motion deliberate and calculated. Keith couldn’t help but watch out of the corner of his eye, the years of training and experience evident in every move Kolivan made.

The third drone turned slightly, its sensor beginning to shift toward Keith’s position. His breath caught as he realized it was seconds away from detecting him. Before he could react, Kolivan’s blade shot past him, embedding itself in the drone’s core with a sharp metallic clang. The machine sputtered and collapsed, its signal cutting off before it could activate.

Kolivan retrieved his blade without a word, his body langauge unreadable as he turned to face Keith. For a moment, the two stared at each other, the tension between them palpable. Keith opened his mouth to speak, but Kolivan cut him off with a curt nod.

"Good work," Kolivan said gruffly, his tone betraying no emotion.

Keith swallowed hard, the weight of the moment settling over him as he fell back into step behind Kolivan. The cold mentorship he’d always known was still there, but beneath it, Keith thought he caught a flicker of something else—recognition, maybe even respect, and for the first time in a long time, Keith felt like he was standing on equal footing. He wasn’t just a soldier following orders; he was a Blade, a leader in his own right.

The corridors seemed alive, pulsating with an ominous hum that resonated in Keith’s chest. The walls, sleek and metallic, reflected faint red glows from the warning lights embedded in the ceiling. Every shadow felt like a threat, every corner a potential deathtrap. Keith’s breaths were controlled but sharp, his heart pounding loud enough to rival the buzzing tension in his ears. His grip on his blade was ironclad, the weight of its hilt grounding him as he moved in perfect synchronicity with Kolivan. Kolivan led with a feral focus, his every step deliberate and heavy. His looming figure seemed to command the space, his broad shoulders cutting a path through the dim, oppressive corridors. Keith followed close behind, his smaller frame weaving like a shadow in the veteran’s wake. But while Kolivan exuded measured power, Keith was fire incarnate—quick, sharp, and relentless.

The corner came swiftly with a trap—drones hovering into view with a faint whir, their sharp, angular designs gleaming in the low light. Keith didn’t hesitate. He darted forward, his blade slicing cleanly through one of the machines before it could fully charge its weapon. The drone sparked and crumpled, but not before two more appeared, their sleek forms bearing down on him.

Keith moved with precision, his muscles taut and honed from years of battle. His blade danced in his hands, each strike clean and purposeful. A larger drone barreled toward him, its hulking frame reminiscent of the robot gladiators he’d fought in the past. Keith’s mind flickered with memories of the past battle on Vrelen’s ship the last time and the last planet they had inhabited, the thrill of battle and the desperation to survive. He channeled that energy now, his movements fluid and powerful as he ducked under its swing and drove his blade into its core. Kosmo, trained as ever, followed along fighting sequences that worked in partnership with his owner, zapping and materializing for the perfect hit and bite, ripping apart machines and being a weight for Keith to bounce over and off of. The machine shuddered before collapsing in a heap of sparks and smoke.

Behind him, Kolivan was a force of nature. His strikes were slower but devastatingly precise, each one landing with bone-crushing power. Watching him fight was like watching a master craftsman—every movement deliberate, every blow calculated. He didn’t waste energy on unnecessary flourishes, relying instead on sheer strength and technique. A single swing of his blade cleaved through two drones at once, their pieces clattering to the floor in a cacophony of metal. Keith couldn’t help but steal glances at the Blade leader, his mind torn between admiration and irritation. Kolivan’s presence was overwhelming, his skill and experience undeniable, but his sharp gaze seemed to follow Keith even in the heat of battle. It wasn’t just the oppressive weight of the mission bearing down on Keith—it was the feeling of being judged, assessed with every move he made.

"Keep moving," Kolivan barked, his deep voice cutting through Keith’s thoughts. The leader’s gaze lingered on Keith for a fraction longer than necessary before he turned away, his thoughts unreadable. Keith bit the inside of his cheek, forcing himself to swallow the surge of frustration rising in his chest. He could feel Kolivan’s scrutiny like a physical weight, and it only fueled his determination to prove himself.

The two pressed on, the atmosphere thick with danger as they navigated deeper into the labyrinthine ship. Krolia’s voice crackled over the comms, her tone low and steady despite the tension. "You’re close to the core disruptor. Two corridors ahead, then down a flight of stairs. Be careful—there’s a cluster of heavier machines stationed there. They’ll attack on sight."

Keith tightened his grip on his blade, his blood pumping hard and fast. His body was alive with adrenaline, his senses sharp and hyper-aware. He trailed just behind Kolivan, his eyes trained on the massive form ahead of him. Kolivan moved with the confidence of a seasoned warrior, his broad back a wall of unshakable resolve. But Keith wasn’t a follower—not anymore. He burned to show Kolivan that he wasn’t just a reckless youth anymore, that he had earned his place beside the Blades' best.

Hell, as its best.

When they reached the designated corridor, a low mechanical growl reverberated through the walls. The cluster of machines emerged from the shadows, their glowing eyes locking onto the intruders. They were larger than the previous drones, their armored frames bristling with weaponry. Keith’s heartbeat quickened, his body coiling like a spring as he prepared to strike. Kolivan didn’t wait for instructions. He charged forward, his blade a flash of deadly precision as he engaged the nearest machine. His strikes were brutal and efficient, each one landing with a resounding clang that echoed through the corridor. Keith followed suit, his movements faster and more agile as he darted between the machines, striking at their vulnerable points with razor-sharp accuracy.

The battle was chaos—a blur of metal and sparks, the air thick with the acrid smell of burning circuits. Keith’s world narrowed to the machines in front of him, his every move driven by instinct and training. He could feel Kolivan’s presence beside him, the older warrior’s strikes reverberating through the ground with each devastating blow. At one point, Keith caught Kolivan watching him out of the corner of his eye, his sharp gaze cutting through the chaos like a blade. The intensity of that look made Keith’s skin crawl, a mix of discomfort and defiance bubbling within him. He wanted to snap, to demand what Kolivan was thinking, but there was no time.

Keith’s jaw tightened, his teeth grinding as he channeled his frustration into his strikes. With a final, powerful blow, he disabled the last machine, its metal frame collapsing with a deafening crash. The corridor fell silent, save for the faint hum of the ship around them. Kolivan straightened, his chest rising and falling with deep, controlled breaths. He cast a glance at Keith, his expression unreadable. For a moment, the two stood in the wreckage of their battle, the unspoken tension between them hanging heavy in the air.

"Move," Kolivan said finally, his voice low but firm. He turned and began walking, his steps steady and deliberate. Keith hesitated for a moment, his own breathing uneven as he watched Kolivan’s retreating figure, struggling to catch his breath.

The two listened to Krolia’s careful navigation of her clear scans of the skeleton of the corridors. The corridor leading to the core disruptor chamber stretched long and eerie, the metallic walls faintly humming with an almost living energy. Keith and Kolivan moved in tense silence, their movements measured, boots clicking softly on the sleek floor. The closer they got, the more Kosmo bristled, his thick fur spiking along his back. His ears stood rigid, his snout wrinkling into a low, warning growl.

Keith crouched down for a moment, running a calming hand over Kosmo’s head, but the wolf's tension didn’t ease. Instead, his tail swished anxiously, his glowing eyes fixed on the opened entryway ahead leading to a room they were about to enter. No large chamber door sealing it in, no guards standing at attention, not even something heavy to block it off. Just an open entryway.

“I don’t like this,” Keith muttered, his voice low but sharp, his eyes flicking up to Kolivan’s towering form ahead.

Kolivan didn’t respond, his pace unwavering as they reached the final entry to the chamber room. Both men paused, exchanging a wary glance as they both unmasked their faces.

“No security?” Keith muttered, tightening his grip on his blade.

Kolivan’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “No visible security.”

They stepped inside, the chamber opening up into a vast room with a curved ceiling that arched high above them. It was starkly illuminated, the bright, sterile light bouncing off gleaming walls and the centerpiece of the room—a massive machine pulsing with energy. Thick cables snaked in and out of it, like veins feeding a living organism, and at its core, a glowing blue orb thrummed with quiet menace.

The metallic hissing and faint buzzing of the machine filled the room, almost drowning out Kosmo’s growling. The wolf paced uneasily near Keith, his fur bristling even further, his sharp ears pivoting toward every subtle sound.

Keith’s jaw tightened as he watched Kosmo. “We should hurry. This place feels wrong.”

Kolivan, unbothered by the oppressive energy in the room, marched toward the machine with purpose. Keith stayed back, scanning their surroundings for any sign of movement, his muscles coiled, blade in hand. Kolivan circled the device slowly, his sharp eyes taking in every detail. The machine loomed over them like an alien monolith, its glow casting long, strange shadows across the room. Keith’s gaze locked on the orb in the center, its pulse hypnotic and unnerving. His grip on his blade tightened, fingers twitching as he anticipated the moment he’d swing, shatter the glowing core, and end this.

He took a step forward, his blade beginning to rise.

“

Don’t.

”

Kolivan’s voice boomed across the room like a thunderclap, sharp and commanding. Keith froze mid-step, his eyes snapping up to meet Kolivan’s cold, piercing glare from across the device.

“What the hell?” Keith snapped, lowering his blade but glaring back with heat.

Kolivan didn’t break his stare, his expression severe. “Do you want to blow us all to pieces? This device powers the energy to the entire ship. One reckless swing and you could ignite a chain reaction.”

Keith’s stomach curled at the words, irritation bubbling beneath his skin. “So what are we supposed to do? Stand here and admire it?”

Kolivan’s gaze didn’t waver, his tone cutting. “You wanted to prove you were patient, didn’t you?”

The snide remark hit Keith like a sharp jab, making his jaw clench as he fought the urge to snap back. His shoulders stiffened, and he huffed through his nose, gripping his blade tightly but lowering it completely. Kolivan returned his attention to the device, his eyes scanning the intricate wires and conduits that sprawled across it like a mechanical spiderweb. His sharp, experienced gaze traced their paths until it landed on a small console, barely visible, jutting out like a hidden panel.

“There,” Kolivan said gruffly, moving toward the console.

Keith followed, his eyes darting back to the glowing orb in the center. The faint pulse of the machine seemed to thrum in time with his own heartbeat, the oppressive energy making his skin crawl. Kolivan bent slightly to inspect the console, his large hands hovering over the controls, not yet touching them. The screen flickered faintly, displaying streams of text and a series of cryptic symbols.

“What is it?” Keith asked, his voice still edged with irritation but quieter now. God, the things he would do to have Pidge with him. Obviously, in a less intense danger environment, but still here for this.

Kolivan frowned deeply, his expression darkening. “A control panel. If we’re going to disable this without destroying the ship, this is our way in.”

Keith’s eyes flicked between Kolivan and the console. “Can you do it?”

Kolivan’s lip curled faintly, an expression Keith couldn’t quite place. “If we’re lucky.”

The unspoken weight of those words settled between them like a heavy stone. Kosmo let out a low whine, circling their legs nervously as the machine continued its ominous hum.

Keith stood tense, his blade still in his hand, watching as Kolivan began to work on the console. His fingers moved deftly over the controls, but there was a tightness in his shoulders that betrayed his own unease.

“Keep your eyes open,” Kolivan muttered without looking up, his voice low but firm.

Keith didn’t need to be told twice. He turned, scanning the room and the corridors beyond, every nerve in his body alight with tension. The oppressive hum of the machine felt louder now, like it was pressing against his eardrums, drowning out his thoughts.

His grip on his blade tightened.

The hum of the machine filled the chamber, an oppressive white noise that seemed to wrap around them, thickening the already tense air. Kolivan worked in silence, his large fingers moving aggressively but with practiced precision over the console. The screen flickered with streams of text, its glow casting sharp shadows across his angular features. Every wrinkle, every crevice of his face seemed etched deeper by the light, his lavender skin catching a faint, ghostly hue. Keith stood on edge, his sharp eyes darting from corner to corner, scanning the room with a focused intensity. He felt it—the wrongness of the place. His chest tightened with unease as Kosmo paced back and forth near his legs, the wolf’s fur still bristled, his ears swiveling at every faint hiss and hum.

Keith crouched down for a moment, rubbing a hand through Kosmo’s thick fur, the wolf leaning into the touch but still uneasy. “It’s alright, buddy,” Keith murmured, though the words felt hollow, even to himself. His gaze flicked to Kolivan, who suddenly let out a deep, guttural hum, a sound that made Keith’s heart skip a beat.

“What is it?” Keith asked, standing and snapping his attention to Kolivan, his tone edged with urgency.

Kolivan’s golden eyes stayed locked on the screen, his face unreadable, but his voice carried a weight that sent a chill down Keith’s spine. “I found a locked file,” he said gruffly, his claws clicking over the keys. “It’s encrypted, but I overrode it by attaching a Blade hard drive to the system. The file... it’s not what I expected.”

Keith moved closer, his shoulders tense. “What do you mean?”

Kolivan’s claws tapped faster, the file opening with a sudden flare of light. The screen filled with images and data—hundreds of scans and articles spanning the last four years. Kolivan’s face darkened, the light catching the swirling storm in his eyes as he looked up at Keith.

“It’s scans of Voltron,” Kolivan said slowly, his voice low and deliberate. “Articles, reports... sightings from when Voltron was still active. From when you were still a paladin.”

When you were still a paladin.

Keith pushed down the crude reminder that he was not considered what his friends still currently hold. Hell, look at his current position now.

Keith’s stomach twisted, his breath catching as he leaned over Kolivan’s shoulder to get a better look. His exasperation bled into his voice. “What are you talking about?”

Kolivan didn’t answer immediately, instead clicking through the file. The images shifted—schematics of the Lions, their towering sizes, readings of their quintessence levels. Keith’s pulse quickened, his eyes scanning the data as if trying to absorb it all at once.

“Why would Vrelen want this?” Keith muttered, his voice sharp and breathless. “Everyone in the universe knows this stuff already. It’s not exactly secret.”

Kolivan hummed low, a sound that sent a cold shiver through Keith. The older Galran continued scrolling, his sharp eyes narrowing as he sifted through the endless streams of data. And then, he stopped.

The screen shifted again, revealing a detailed star chart spanning multiple galaxies. Keith’s breath hitched as he saw the overlay of quintessence readings, the patterns eerily familiar. His eyes widened, his mouth going dry as Kolivan pointed with one sharp claw at the labeled map.

“Here,” Kolivan said, his voice heavy and grim. “These are quintessence readings. Strong ones. The kind that match the Lions’ energy levels.”

Keith’s blood ran cold. His eyes darted across the map, the dates of the readings burning into his vision. The label “last sightings” hovered above the chart, the dates recent—just months ago. His heart pounded as he recognized the names of the planets.

One of them was Earth. Another, Cartheron. Just as hypothesized.

Keith’s breath left him in a sharp exhale, his body going rigid as the realization slammed into him like a blow to the chest. His voice came out dry and hollow. “No... no way.”

Kolivan’s expression hardened, his golden eyes locking onto Keith’s as he spoke the truth neither of them wanted to hear. “He’s been tracking them,” Kolivan said, his voice like steel. “The Lions. He knows where they are and has clear information for every single one to be tracked.”

Keith felt his legs go numb, his mind reeling as Kolivan’s sharp claw tapped the screen. Five planets glowed faintly on the map, their locations circled in a cold, calculated precision.

“Two found,” Kolivan said, his voice a dark growl, his finger hovering over the glowing points. “Five Lions. Five planets. He has the data saved right here.”

Keith’s mouth moved, but no words came out. His chest felt tight, his heart hammering painfully in his ribs. The weight of the revelation pressed down on him like a suffocating force, the enormity of what it meant clawing at his mind.

Kosmo whined softly at his side, pressing against Keith’s leg as if sensing his turmoil. Keith’s hands clenched into fists, his knuckles white, his breath shallow.

“We have to stop him,” Keith finally managed, his voice low but fierce, his eyes burning as they met Kolivan’s. “We can’t let him get to the rest of the Lions.”

Kolivan’s jaw tightened, his face a mask of determination. “Agreed. But if he’s been tracking them this closely, then we’ve already lost time.”

Keith’s head swam with the implications, but his resolve hardened. There was no room for hesitation now. This wasn’t just about the Blades or the mission. This was about the Lions. About Voltron. About everything they’d fought for.

“Then we make him lose,” Keith said, his voice sharp and unwavering. “Hope that this is his only copy of the data and strip it from him.”

Kolivan gave him a grim nod, his gaze steady. “I’ll do a clean sweep of the rest of the files in the system and make sure there are no other copies. I’ll move the file to the Blade harddrive and delete it fully from his system. Hopefully, he doesn’t have the specific coordinates memorized and this puts him at a disadvantage while we get the upper hand here.”

Kolivan’s fingered claws moved with sharp precision as he worked to scrub the file from the system, his gaze never leaving the screen. The glow reflected off his hardened face, giving his expression a ghostly edge. Keith stood nearby, his chest still tight with the weight of their discovery. As Kolivan transferred the last of the data to the Blade hard drive, he pulled it free, holding it out without a word. Keith took it swiftly, his fingers brushing against the cool metal of the drive. His jaw clenched as he turned toward Kosmo, whistling low and sharp. The wolf’s ears perked, his pacing halting as he trotted toward them, his fur still bristling with unease.

Keith crouched, his gaze locking with Kosmo’s. There was an unspoken understanding between them, a bond forged through countless missions and impossible moments, across literal time and space itself. “Take this to Krolia,” Keith murmured, his voice steady but low, every word deliberate. Kosmo’s ears twitched at the name. “No matter what, get it to her.”

Kosmo’s tail wagged once, his sharp eyes focused on Keith. With careful hands, Keith slipped the drive into Kosmo’s jaw, the wolf clamping down firmly. He stroked the side of Kosmo’s neck, his touch lingering.

Another whistle, sharper this time, and Keith pointed toward the doorway. “Go,” he said firmly.

Kosmo let out a huff, his tail giving another wag before he bolted, his claws clicking against the metallic floor. In a blink, his form shimmered and vanished, leaving a faint trace of light in his wake.

The room fell silent for a moment, save for the hum of the machine and Kolivan’s quiet grumbling. Keith stood, brushing off his hands, expecting some sarcastic remark about trusting Kosmo with such an important task. Instead, Kolivan muttered, his tone surprisingly neutral, “Remind me to restock the treats we keep in the control room.”

Keith blinked, caught off guard. He turned to Kolivan, his brow furrowing. “You have treats for him?”

Kolivan’s stoic expression didn’t change, but he shrugged slightly, his voice dropping an octave. “The wolf is as much a Blade as you are. You made sure of it.”

Keith’s chest warmed unexpectedly at the subtle kindness hidden in Kolivan’s gruff words. For all the cold mentorship and harsh lessons, moments like these revealed a softer, more caring side that Keith rarely saw.

He nodded, his voice quieter now. “Thanks for that.”

Kolivan didn’t respond, his attention shifting back to the console.

Keith felt a momentary lightness, the tension in his chest loosening slightly. But it didn’t last.

A sudden hiss echoed through the chamber, the sound of metal grinding against metal as a door on the far side of the room slid open. Both men snapped their attention toward it. Out zipped one of Vrelen’s slashing razor machines, its sleek, insect-like form darting forward with unnerving speed. Its blade-like appendages gleamed under the harsh light, its single red sensor locking onto them like a predator spotting prey.

Keith’s hand flew to his hilt, his muscles tensing, his eyes sharp. “Kolivan,” he muttered, his voice low but urgent.

Kolivan didn’t look up, his attention still fixed on the screen as he dismantled the system. His tone was calm but edged with steel. “Don’t let that thing near me.” He glanced up briefly, his gaze locking with Keith’s. “I know you won’t.”

The quiet confidence in Kolivan’s voice struck something deep within Keith, igniting a new fire. The weight of his trust, his expectation, and his challenge surged through Keith like a shot of adrenaline. Keith’s grip tightened around his blade as he stepped forward, placing himself firmly between Kolivan and the machine. His eyes burned with determination, his body coiled and ready to strike.

The machine whirred, its razor-sharp limbs slashing through the air with deadly precision as it charged. Keith’s breath steadied, his focus narrowing, the words of Shiro’s mantra echoing in his mind:

Patience yields focus.

And then, with explosive speed, Keith moved.

The chamber felt alive, vibrating with tension as Keith’s blade extended into its full sword form, its edge glowing faintly. The razor machine lunged at him with terrifying speed, its blade-like limbs whirring. Keith met it head-on, his movements sharp and deliberate, honed through countless hours of training and battle. The clash of metal against metal echoed violently, the sound sharp and ringing as Keith parried a blow with precision. He spun, his blade arcing in a controlled sweep that severed one of the machine's limbs in a clean cut. Sparks exploded from the wound, the machine’s balance faltering. Keith didn’t hesitate, stepping in and thrusting his sword into its core with a grunt of effort.

The machine spasmed violently, its limbs jerking before it collapsed, lifeless, to the ground. Keith yanked his blade free, breathing hard, his chest rising and falling as he straightened.

“Too easy,” he muttered under his breath, a sinking feeling gnawing at the edges of his relief.

The room agreed with him.

The chamber lit up with blaring red lights, the sound of a warning alarm splitting the air. The metallic walls seemed to pulse with the alarm, casting long, threatening shadows that danced with each flash. Keith’s head snapped toward Kolivan, his voice sharp. “What’s happening?”

Kolivan didn’t flinch, still working methodically on the terminal, his claws clicking against the controls with a grim sort of focus. “The defense systems are on alert,” he grunted, his deep voice steady despite the rising chaos.

Keith took a step closer, his urgency clear. “Should we blow the room now and get out of here?”

Kolivan finally glanced up, his golden eyes locking onto Keith’s. “The moment I cut the defense power, our ship will begin firing openly at this one. It’s automated. Once I’m done, we

run.

”

Keith nodded, his muscles coiling in preparation. His thighs flexed, his grip tightening on his blade, every nerve in his body primed for a mad dash.

But then, a sound broke through the chaos.

The doors on the far side of the room slid open with a slow, menacing scrape, the noise reverberating through the chamber like a predator announcing its arrival. Keith’s head snapped toward the sound, his heart already racing, the adrenaline in his veins shifting to something colder, sharper. The scrape of metal dragging against the floor followed, accompanied by a deliberate, slow clicking—the sound of sharp talons tapping against metal. A low, shivering voice echoed through the chamber, the sound slithering into Keith’s ears and wrapping itself around his mind like a vice.

“Ah, Keith,” the voice crooned, a sickening familiarity in its tone. “I was hoping to meet you again. We never got to properly say goodbye.”

Keith froze.

The chamber seemed to shrink around him as his breathing hitched, the sound of his heart pounding in his ears. His body reacted before his mind could catch up—a sharp shiver ran down his spine, his muscles locking as if his entire being was rejecting the sound of Vrelen’s voice. He turned slowly, his blade lowering slightly, his movements stiff. His violet eyes met Vrelen’s, and it was as though the air was sucked out of the room.

Vrelen stood tall, his form as imposing as ever. His long limbs moved with a sickening grace, his multiple hands holding rods that crackled with blue electricity. In one hand, he dragged a sharper rod along the floor, the tip sparking and leaving a faint trail of smoke. His eyes gleamed with a predatory hunger, his expression twisted with smug satisfaction. Keith’s throat felt tight, his body cold despite the heat of the moment. His heart hammered against his ribs, his breathing shallow and quick. Memories clawed their way to the surface—flashes of pain, fear, and helplessness. His palms grew clammy, his grip on his blade faltering for a fraction of a second.

Vrelen’s gaze bore into him, unrelenting. “You look tense,” he said with mock concern, his voice dripping with malice. “Didn’t think I’d let you walk away from our last meeting so easily, did you?”

Keith swallowed hard, his mouth dry. His body screamed at him to move, to react, but he felt trapped in place, the edges of his vision blurring as the weight of his PTSD bore down on him. “Keith!” Kolivan’s sharp voice cut through the fog, grounding him. Keith blinked, his vision snapping back into focus. Kolivan’s gaze was sharp and assessing, his tone firm. Keith was reminding with a striking blow this was the first time Kolivan was seeing the villain he had learned about, heard horrors from the past missions, gathered data and could only imagine the terror of who they were actually dealing with.

Keith’s grip tightened on his blade, his knuckles white. He took a deep breath, forcing the panic down, burying it beneath the fire of his determination. He straightened, his eyes narrowing as he locked back onto Vrelen.

“I’m here,” he muttered, his voice steady despite the storm raging inside him.

Vrelen smiled, his expression a twisted mockery of warmth. “Good,” he said, his voice low and menacing. “Because this time, you won’t leave. I’ve been missing your anger and could care for some more memories of yours to warm me from your lack of presence.”

The air in the room crackled with tension, the distance between them feeling both vast and suffocatingly close. Keith’s pulse raced, but his resolve burned brighter, his blade lifting once more as he prepared to face the nightmare standing before him.

Keith swung his blade in small, controlled arcs close to his body with his wrist, the subtle movement a channel for his simmering fury. His eyes locked onto Vrelen, pinning the monster down with an intensity that could cut through steel. His voice was steady but low, carrying a weight that made each word land like a blow.

“We’ve done this dance enough times,” Keith said, his tone razor-sharp. “You know what you’ve done to me. You know exactly how this ends. I’ve seen everything I need to see. There’s nothing else you can get out of me.”

Vrelen let out a laugh that crawled under Keith’s skin, a sound so cold and jagged it felt like shards of glass digging into his psyche. The dictator twirled one of his sparking rods idly, as if Keith’s words were nothing more than a passing breeze.

“Oh, Keith,” Vrelen drawled, his voice a venomous mix of mockery and glee. “Always so defiant. So... predictable.” He chuckled again, the sound reverberating through the chamber like a phantom whisper. “You wear your emotions like armor, but I see what’s underneath. I’ve been inside your mind, remember? I know what lies beneath all that fire.”

The words felt like claws scraping against Keith’s soul. His grip on his blade tightened, his knuckles white, his jaw clenched so hard it ached. Vrelen’s gaze was a scalpel, slicing through every layer of Keith’s resolve, peeling him apart in a way that made him feel exposed, raw, and vulnerable. Keith wanted to crawl out of his skin. The memory of Vrelen’s invasive grip on his mind flashed before him—how it felt to be utterly powerless, stripped of every defense. His muscles tensed, his chest tightening with anger and something darker, harder to name.

Vrelen’s grin widened as he twirled another rod, the crackling sparks casting sharp shadows across his twisted features. “I can feel it, you know. Your energy,” he murmured, his voice a serpentine whisper. “It’s brimming just beneath the surface. Fighting to be released. Just like last time. It’s intoxicating, really.”

Keith’s breath hitched, his chest rising and falling with each deep inhale as he forced himself to stay grounded. His voice came out in a low growl, his words deliberate and cutting. “You don’t know a damn thing about me. And you sure as hell don’t get to tell me how I feel.”

Vrelen tilted his head, his eyes narrowing in mock curiosity, the glow of the rods reflecting off his irises. “Don’t I?” he replied, his tone light and teasing, but with an edge that sent a shiver down Keith’s spine.

Keith snapped his jaw shut, grinding his teeth as his breathing quickened. His body was taut, every muscle coiled and ready to strike. His frustration boiled over, and he muttered through clenched teeth, “Can we just fight already?”

Vrelen chuckled darkly, spinning the rods in his hands with the grace of a predator toying with its prey. “Oh, Keith,” he said, his voice dropping to a chilling whisper. “You really are eager, aren’t you? Tell me, though... would you like the same fate as last time? How do you think you’ll be saved now that your little blue friend is gone?”

The mention of Lance sent a jolt through Keith, a sharp stab of pain that fueled his anger. His grip on his blade tightened as his mind raced, his emotions threatening to spill over. But before Vrelen could utter another word, Keith lunged. His blade came down in a swift, powerful arc, the force of his swing slicing through the air with a sharp whistle. Vrelen’s rods snapped up, blocking the blow with a resounding clash that echoed through the chamber. Sparks flew, lighting the space between them in a brief but brilliant burst.

Keith moved with precision and raw power, each swing of his blade carrying the weight of his rage about to boil blindly over and determination. His muscles burned as he pushed himself harder, his movements fluid yet relentless. Vrelen twirled his rods, deflecting Keith’s strikes with practiced ease, the sparks from their clashes dancing like fireflies in the charged air.

Vrelen lunged, one of his rods crackling as it jabbed toward Keith’s side. Keith twisted, narrowly dodging the strike, his reflexes sharp. He retaliated with a swift upward slash, forcing Vrelen to step back, his grin never faltering.

“You’ve improved,” Vrelen taunted, his voice calm and infuriating. “But it won’t be enough.”

Keith didn’t reply. His focus was absolute, his breathing steady despite the adrenaline coursing through him. He parried another blow, the force of the impact reverberating up his arm, and countered with a quick, precise strike that nicked Vrelen’s arm, drawing a thin line of purple blood. Vrelen hissed, his grin faltering for the first time. His eyes darkened, the playful mockery in his expression replaced with something colder, more dangerous.

Keith’s blade moved in a blur, each strike faster and more powerful than the last. Vrelen met him blow for blow, his rods a flurry of sparks and electricity. The room became a storm of clashing metal, glowing sparks, and labored breathing.

Keith hesitated for a second, his focus wavering in nerves as he spared a quick glance to Kolivan, still hunched over the terminal. Keith lunged, his blade singing as it slashed through the air, but Vrelen caught the movement with a calculated twist of his body, just shy of being skewered. His sharp grin cut through the tension like a blade itself, teeth bared in a twisted mockery of triumph. As Keith’s strike fell short, Vrelen moved with terrifying speed, one of his sparking rods sweeping low at Keith’s legs. Keith barely managed to leap back, the crackling edge of the rod grazing his legs as he stumbled, bracing himself for the attack that he was certain would follow. But instead of pressing the advantage against him, Vrelen shifted his focus. Keith’s stomach dropped as he realized the monster was rushing at Kolivan, his jagged, sparking weapons slicing through the charged air with deadly intent.

“No!” Keith shouted, scrambling to his feet, his blade slashing upward in a desperate attempt to intercept. Vrelen’s sheer speed outmatched Keith's desperate lunge.

Kolivan, however, was not unprepared. The older Galra sprang back with an agility that belied his size and age, his heavy blade coming to life in a blur of motion. Sparks erupted as his weapon met Vrelen’s, the clang of metal reverberating through the chamber like a thunderclap.

Keith surged forward again, his movements quick and sharp, his heart hammering in his chest. But Vrelen’s other arms were already in motion, rods spinning and crackling as they fended Keith off with brutal precision. Every step Keith took was met with a swinging rod aimed to maim or kill, forcing him to dodge and twist, his muscles straining with effort. Kolivan, meanwhile, matched Vrelen blow for blow, their blades clanging in a brutal symphony of power and skill. Despite his size, Kolivan moved with calculated precision, each swing of his blade heavy and deliberate, forcing Vrelen to block and recalibrate. The tension in the room was suffocating, the sound of sparking rods, clashing blades, and labored breathing filling the air. Keith’s body burned with exertion as he pressed forward, searching for an opening in Vrelen’s whirlwind of attacks. His blade connected with one of the rods, disarming it with a violent swipe. The weapon clattered to the floor with a metallic thud.

Keith’s eyes instinctively followed the dropped rod, the moment of distraction costing him dearly. Vrelen’s free hand shot out with sickening speed, claws reaching for Keith’s face. Keith reacted on impulse, stepping back with a gasp, but not quickly enough. Vrelen’s crooked fingers brushed against Keith’s forehead, the lightest of touches, and it was enough to send a shockwave through his entire being.

The sensation was immediate and horrifying—a tidal wave of emptiness, of suffocating loss. Keith felt his stomach lurch as the scent of burning firewood filled his nostrils, a smell that twisted into the acrid stench of ash. His vision blurred, his eyes stinging as phantom air brushed against his face, the exact sensation of the night his father died.

He stumbled back, choking on a breath that wouldn’t come, his throat constricting as his body betrayed him. The memory Vrelen had dragged to the surface was raw and searing, the ache of it so vivid Keith felt as though he were drowning.

Vrelen’s sickening smile widened, his voice dripping with mockery as he tutted softly. “You really think you do a good job hiding your anger, boy? You have limitless needles in your neck, yet don’t even flinch every time the pain presses in as if you are accustomed to. You try to mute the pain with cotton balls and pretend you aren’t choking,” he murmured, his tone like poisoned honey. “It’s always there, simmering just beneath the surface. You are a warrior with fire in your veins and iron in your lungs, breathing in that toxicity that you crave. That’s why you’re my favorite.”

The words twisted like a dagger in Keith’s chest, but they didn’t register fully. His body was still shaking, his lungs struggling to draw in air. The momentary paralysis of his mind left him exposed.

Kolivan’s roar shattered the fog.

A guttural, primal scream tore from the older Galra’s throat as he brought his blade down with such force it sent sparks skittering across the floor. Vrelen barely deflected the blow, his rods trembling from the unexpected power. Kolivan’s eyes burned with a fury Keith had never seen before, his strikes relentless as he bore down on Vrelen with brutal strength.

The sheer ferocity of Kolivan’s assault forced Vrelen onto the defensive, his confident grin faltering as he scrambled to block each thunderous blow.

Keith sucked in a shallow breath, then another, forcing himself to steady his body and his mind. His fingers twitched around the hilt of his blade as he pushed the terror down, replacing it with a searing focus. His vision cleared, and his muscles steadied. Keith’s chest heaved as he exhaled, his grip tightening on his weapon. The clang of metal reverberated through the chamber as Keith and Kolivan moved in tandem, their strikes fierce and unrelenting. Keith's blade slashed through the air with fiery precision, each swing driven by raw anger and a relentless need to end this. Beside him, Kolivan's heavy blade cleaved with a calculated force, his grunts echoing with each powerful strike. The room felt suffocating, the heat of their combined fury palpable as sparks flew with every collision of weapons.

Vrelen danced between them, his arms a whirlwind of crackling rods that lashed out with terrifying speed. His sharp, biting words cut deeper than his weapons. “And who is this new friend of yours, Keith?” he hissed, dodging a particularly vicious swing from Kolivan. “I don’t remember seeing him in your life before. Not in past battles. Is he another secret you tried to hide?”

Kolivan let out a low, guttural grunt, his blade swinging in a deadly arc that Vrelen narrowly avoided, his breath ragged from exertion, though his strikes didn’t falter.

Keith’s eyes burned with fury as he thrust forward, his blade narrowly missing Vrelen’s side. “I thought you knew everything about my life, Vrelen!” Keith spat, his voice dripping with venom. “Guess you’re not as powerful as you think.”

Vrelen’s lips curled into a slow, sinister grin, his dark chuckle rumbling through the chamber. “Oh, getting testy now, are we?” he teased, his voice laced with mockery. He deflected Kolivan’s next swing with ease, his focus shifting back to Keith. “I can train you with that anger, you know. Shape it. Mold it. Don’t you feel exhausted holding it all in?”

Keith’s grip on his blade tightened as Vrelen’s words slithered into his mind.

“You grow exhausted. Restless. Blamed for the way you were raised and how you battled clawing to adapt in life. That anger is one of the most beautiful things I see in you, tainted by the morsel of fear that pilots it. Fear will stain your fingers and mouth like a dyed fruit. It will swallow you whole and spit you out, wine dark and wanting. You will reach for it again and again, the greedy human fingers clutching at everything you can reach. Anger however will curl its way through your veins and take you over, and it will not leave you quietly. I feel anger in your bones like aching; like fire. We have lived like this, you and I. We want to be controlled, have dominance over what fear prickles at us. I believe I can do this, along with controlling the rest that haunts my people. My people can see the way a single emotion can control you. You don’t want to be manipulated by it. You are weak to it, disciplined by something that you have to excuse as yourself.”

“Shut up.” Keith snarled, the ringing of his voice clanging over the bite of each sword swing, but Vrelen wasn’t done. He never was with Keith.

“I saw it, Keith,” Vrelen continued, his tone dropping to a menacing murmur. “The weight of your leadership. The constant ache of responsibility. The pain of loss. The uncertainty of the people you surround yourself with. You’re scared, aren’t you? Scared of failing them. Scared of losing them. Because in the end, you know your biggest folly will be those regretful emotions tearing you down piece by piece.”

Keith’s breath hitched, his body momentarily freezing as if struck by an invisible force. His mind felt like it was unraveling, the memory of Vrelen’s invasive grip on his thoughts clawing at him. He felt the cold, suffocating wave of loss, the crushing weight of every death, every failure, pressing down on him all at once.

Vrelen saw his hesitation and lunged. The sparking edge of his rod slammed into Keith’s side, sending him sprawling backward with a guttural cry. The air was knocked from Keith’s lungs as he hit the floor, his blade clattering from his grip.

“Keith!” Kolivan’s voice cut through the fog of pain, sharp and commanding.

Keith’s hand instinctively clutched at his side, the cold, lingering tendrils of Vrelen’s memory exposure prickling through his mind. His breathing came in short, panicked gasps as the overwhelming chill spread, dredging up the faces of those he had lost, the weight of their absence suffocating him. Kolivan’s figure loomed above him suddenly, a broad shadow blocking out the red warning lights flashing in the room. With a guttural grunt, Kolivan scooped Keith up in one fluid motion, his muscles straining as he hauled the younger man to his feet.

“Hold on,” Kolivan barked, his voice a sharp anchor.

Keith barely had time to register the movement before Kolivan twisted, narrowly dodging a sparking rod that whizzed past them, its crackling energy scorching the air. Kolivan’s grip tightened as he sprinted, his boots pounding against the metallic floor as he carried Keith across the chamber. The sound of Vrelen’s mocking laughter followed them, but Kolivan didn’t slow. In one swift, practiced motion, he unholstered a heavy gun from his side, the weapon gleaming menacingly in the chaotic light.

Keith didn’t hesitate now. He turned in Kolivan’s grip and snatched to unhook the gun at his holster, his aim sharp, and fired towards the machine’s core.

The shot landed with wavering direction, striking the side of the central device. The machine let out a deafening whine, a surge of blinding blue energy bursting outward. The explosion rocked the chamber, a violent shockwave tearing through the space and hurling both Kolivan and Keith across the room.

Keith’s world spun as he tumbled across the floor, his body colliding with the cold metal in a rough roll. The sharp ringing in his ears drowned out everything else, leaving him disoriented and gasping for air. His chest heaved, his breath coming in short, ragged bursts as he fought to steady himself.

He felt cold. And hot. And nauseous all at once. His head swam with dizziness, his vision blurring as every dark emotion he had been suppressing seemed to drain out of him in one excruciating wave.

Keith’s body trembled as he pushed himself up on unsteady arms, his breath shallow and fast. His ears rang with the aftershock of the explosion, but as the world began to clear around him, a sinking, horrible feeling spread through his chest. He blinked, focusing through the haze of smoke and light, only to see Kolivan standing tall, already on his feet.

Something was wrong.

Keith’s brows furrowed as he stared, the confusion in his expression deepening. Kolivan gave him a look that Keith didn’t recognize, one he didn’t like—a quiet, resolute intensity that made his stomach twist. He dragged himself to his knees, his legs shaking beneath him, and took in the scene.

The room came into horrifying focus. Keith kneeled in the corridor, just outside the chamber, while Kolivan was still inside. A jagged wound seeped dark red from Kolivan’s side, the stain spreading across his armor. Keith’s breath hitched as the realization crashed over him, and his body tensed.

Kolivan wouldn’t.

He wouldn’t.

Keith’s breaths quickened, his chest rising and falling in a rapid panic as his mind raced. His eyes darted up to Kolivan, searching, desperate for some kind of reassurance.

“Wait...” Keith muttered, his throat horse and shaking as he realized what Kolivan was about to do.

Kolivan stared down at him, his expression unreadable. There was a heaviness to his gaze, something ancient and weary, but also unyielding. Then, with a sudden, violent motion, Kolivan slammed his fist against the wall. Keith barely had time to react before a bright, shimmering pink force field materialized inches from his face, sealing the chamber.

“No!” Keith screamed, the sound tearing from his throat as he scrambled to his feet and threw his entire weight against the barrier. His fists pounded on the unyielding surface, his blade clattering to the floor in his desperation after his failed attempts to slash through. “Kolivan! Open it! Open it now!”

Keith’s fists struck the force field with relentless fury, his knuckles already raw and bleeding. The sharp hum of the energy barrier resonated with each hit, mocking his efforts to break through. His throat was hoarse, the echoes of his screams bouncing off the cold, metallic walls of the corridor. Kolivan stood within the chamber, his stance steady despite the blood pooling at his feet from the wound in his side, not seeming to care. His face was calm, unreadable, but the exhaustion was evident in the droop of his shoulders, the slight wavering of his breaths. He didn’t turn to look at Keith immediately, his attention momentarily locked on Vrelen.

He then turned to Keith, his voice a deep, distorted rumble through the force field. “Keith,” he said, his tone as steady as the mountains, yet laced with something heartbreakingly gentle, “Stand down. This isn’t your fight anymore.”

Keith’s chest heaved, his breath ragged as his hands trembled against the barrier. “Like hell it’s not! Let me in! I can help you! We can finish this

together!

”

“You’ve always been the best Blade leader. You didn’t need my approval for that. You never did.

The words hit Keith like a blow, and his frustration boiled over. He slammed his fists against the shield again, his voice rising in anger and desperation. “You’ve always seen me as expendable, haven’t you?” he snapped, his eyes burning with unshed tears. “A tool. A weapon. A…a timebomb! Someone you could throw into the fire whenever it got too hot for you to handle while you did what you thought was best!”

Kolivan’s expression didn’t waver, but something flickered in his eyes—an unspoken pain, perhaps even regret. “You think I see you as expendable?” he said quietly, his voice soft but firm. “You’re wrong.”

“Am I?” Keith shouted, his voice cracking with the weight of years of pent-up frustration. “You’ve always kept me at arm’s length,” Keith yelled, banging harder on the shield. “Stop shutting me out! Stop acting like I’m just some stupid kid who doesn’t—”

“You were

never

just some kid to me,” Kolivan interrupted, his voice booming. His breathing was labored now, and Keith could see the blood seeping faster from his side, but his eyes burned with an intensity that silenced Keith. “You’ve always been more than you realized, Keith. More than you

let

yourself see. I didn’t keep you at arm’s length because you weren’t enough. I did it because you’re more than I could ever teach you to be.”

Keith froze, his body trembling as the weight of Kolivan’s words sank in. His fists lowered, his breath hitching. “Then

why

—”

“Because this,” Kolivan gestured around him, the chamber, the shield, Vrelen looming behind him, “isn’t your destiny. You have a future, Keith. You’re a leader. A

Blade.

The best one we’ll ever have.”

Keith’s fists slammed harder against the shield, his screams echoing through the corridor. “Shut up! Shut up and open it! Kolivan, don’t you dare—”

Kolivan’s lips curled into a faint, bittersweet smile as his gaze swept over the chamber, taking in the destruction. At the way Vrelen’s singed body was straightening up, locking in on the two speaking. Then he looked back at Keith, his eyes soft with a strange mixture of pride and sorrow.

“I’ve watched you,” Kolivan said, his voice breaking ever so slightly. “You were always doing it right. Always. You’ll carry the Blade forward, Keith. Better than I ever could. You don’t need my approval. You never did. I was just too stubborn to see someone rise as fast and strong as you were way beyond my abilities in a shorter amount of time, but you and I both knew you would be the Blade’s savior. The leader of the broken desperate spirits wanting to do good. You do good. That’s always been your biggest drive. Whether masked as a Paladin or doing your own missions or at the Blade.”

Kolivan turned back toward Vrelen, who was advancing again. The monstrous figure hissed with glee, his rods sparking wildly.

“Kolivan!” Keith screamed, banging harder against the barrier as panic overtook him. “Don’t you dare—DON’T YOU DARE!”

Kolivan sidestepped another strike from Vrelen, his movements slower now but still precise. With a sudden, powerful swing, he knocked one of Vrelen’s rods away and aimed his blaster at the machine in the chamber’s center. Kolivan smirked faintly, glancing at the still-whirring machine in the center of the room, at the way Vrelen was slinking closer to him, arms raised in another attack.

“You’re lucky,” he rumbled, his voice dipping lower, quieter. “Your shot wasn’t as good as that boyfriend of yours. But I am.”

Keith froze. The air left his lungs in an icy rush as those words hit him like a blow. For a moment, everything stopped—the banging, the screaming, the panic. He stood still, his heart pounding painfully in his chest as Kolivan lifted his weapon.

The older man’s aim was steady, his movements precise. He turned, pointing the barrel of his gun directly at the core of the machine.

“Kolivan,” Keith rasped, his voice cracking with anguish.

Kolivan didn’t look back. He simply held up two fingers. Two minutes. Vrelen swung hard at Kolivan, driving his rod down hard.

He fired.

The chamber exploded in a blinding flash of white light, a deafening roar ripping through the corridor. The force field definitely stopped the full force of the explosion from clearing Keith clean into ash, but the force of the blast still hit Keith like a freight train, flinging his body backward with nauseating speed.

He slammed into the far wall with a sickening crunch, the impact stealing the breath from his lungs. The corridor spun around him, a blur of light and sound, and he crumpled to the floor, dazed and gasping.

For a long moment, there was nothing but ringing silence and the faint, acrid smell of smoke. Keith’s vision blurred, tears streaming down his face as the realization of what had just happened consumed him. His body felt cold, hollow, as if the explosion had ripped something vital from him along with his mentor.

The chamber was gone. Swallowed entirely by the explosion.

And with it, Kolivan.

Until suddenly, the entire ship began erupting and shaking more with the Blade ships open fire now that all systems were down.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

“I AM BEGGING YOU TO SLOW DOWN!”

“Aw, come on Hunk! Doesn’t this remind you at least a little of the three of us back at the Garrison being my flight crew!” Lance threw a cheeky grin over his shoulder as he thrusted the controls into a slow dip, easing the front of the Lion down as it flew strongly over the desert towards the Blade and Vrelen’s ship.

“Yah, except those training flights ended up with Hunk throwing up everywhere in the cockpit, you being an AWFUL steerer sending me flying across the floor from every bump, and… I don’t know… the fact we survived after you crashed us facefirst into mountains and ice glaciers because it was a simulation!” Pidge yelled, scrunching her eyes shut as she gripped at the headrest of Lance’s seat as the entire Lion shook and drove all three of their bodies back with the speed they were flying at, receiving unwanted screams of terror and fear drowned out over Lance’s very excited whoops and cheers.

“Hmm, fair point. Hunk, if you throw up this time, please make sure its directed anywhere but my steering!” Lance frowned, earning an unceremonious gag from Hunk over his shoulder as he gripped white knuckling the other side of the headrest right as Blue did a jagged dip.

Rain cascaded hard on the metallic surface, echoing in loud little plinks all. It was such a rush being able to do this again, and Blue moved just as easy with pliant understanding through Lance’s control. The Blade ship was reigning down hit after hit, striking at its surface and blowing at the sides and surfaces of Vrelen’s ship. The cascading rain snuffed out any fires that could have caught from the constant blows to its surface, but that didn’t steer away the Blade’s from constant firing too.

Veronica’s small ship with her MFE’s zipped around its surface, launching small attacks like a pestering fly, zooming around, dropping bombs and smaller shots, doing anythign to cause damage to the exposed surface now that it was there.

Vrelen’s own ship was taking the blows, the sound of the entire ship groaning and shaking and echoing deep. It still was consistently letting out small hoards of drones to go out to combat Veronica’s annoyance of a jet, shooting out to zap, but the Blade’s had Vrelen’s drones overpowered and oversized a million to one.

It was hard to look away from the battle performing in front of their very eyes, and a little satisfying to finally witness Vrelen’s ship being struck so hard and fast and consistent for once. Lance barley had a moment to realize how close they had traveled in distance to near the Blade ship before there was a static noise.

Lance's grip on the controls tightened in surprise as several crackling came over the intercom, growing more coherent as finally, a screen digitalized in front of their faces, glowing back a dark purple gleam, and with it the stark shadowed face of an even darker, purple woman, as striking as the image she casted.

“-ance? Come over Paladins in the Blue Lion.” Krolia’s voice came through, cutting into his adrenaline-fueled excitement.

The smile on his face faltered at her sharp, focused tone. The flickering image of her furrowed brows brought an edge of seriousness to the moment that even Lance couldn’t ignore.

“It really is you in that Lion. How did–?” Krolia’s voice came, tight and controlled, though there was a flicker of surprise behind her words.

Lance opened his mouth, his instinct to crack a joke on the tip of his tongue, but the intensity in her expression pulled him back. “Look! Oh man, I don’t think I’ve evr been happier to see some Galra face right about now! It’s good to see you too, by the way! Not that I’m not always glad to hear from you, I just—”

“Lance!” Krolia snapped, cutting through his ramble. Her sharp tone made him straighten in his seat. “Focus. What’s your status? Why are you in the Lion, and more important bringing it

towards

Vrelen?”

Her sharp features pulled forward as her brows furrowed in the middle, her yellow eyes flickering between the three Paladin faces. Lance tried for a moment to focus, honest to Allura he did, but the moment Krolia made that confused face, as if she was stuck on a puzzling question she couldn’t quite get, Lance was struck hard with how similar her facial expressions was a copy of Keith. How cute Keith looked when Lance made a joke and Keith couldn’t quite catch on to the punchline. How Lance would make a reference to a movie that

totally

made since with their predicament like Star Wars or Gladiator, and his dark brows would just pull a bit just so like…

Jesus,

focus

Lance.

Just the mere thought of Keith sent him into a spiraling mindfluffle. Lance’s chest tightened at the thought of Keith’s name again, realizing where they were and the last time he saw him, his pulse quickening. He glanced at the flickering screen, and his eyes caught the sight of Kosmo pacing in the background behind her. For a fleeting moment, relief washed over him—Keith had to be okay if Kosmo was there. They guy was so protective over the sweet creature that he would never leave him alone like this, and vice versa. Keith had to be somewhere in that room with Krolia making big leader plans.

Pidge leaned over from her console, her voice rising with urgency. “What’s going on? We haven’t been able to get in contact with anyone from the Blade. Why is everything so quiet?”

Krolia’s expression darkened, the weight of the situation settling over her features. “Vrelen’s ship intercepted our communications and locked down all offensive systems. We haven’t been able to get in contact with anyone outside of our own systems, or been able to get previous hits on Vrelen’s ship seconds before you showed up here. It’s previous protection by a shielding mechanism that renders our attacks ineffective slowed us down significantly.”

Lance frowned, a sinking feeling settling in his stomach as Krolia continued.

“That’s why Keith and Kolivan went inside,” she said, her voice sharpening with steel-like resolve. “To dismantle its core and bring down the shields so we can take better shots.”

Lance froze, his chest constricting at her words. “Wait—what?” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Krolia’s eyes bore into his through the crackling comms, her tone clipped and firm. “They’re taking care of the defenses. They were able to make the shields drop, giving us an open window to fire on Vrelen’s ship and put an end to this.”

Lance swallowed hard, his knuckles white on the controls. His mind spun, picturing Keith and Kolivan deep inside enemy territory, fighting their way through whatever horrors Vrelen had in store. The thought of Keith out there, facing that monster, sent a wave of cold fear washing over him.

“You let him go in there?” Lance’s voice cracked, his usual lighthearted demeanor replaced with raw emotion.

Krolia paused, her eyes steel and her jaw clicking, her thoughts lost in worlds Lance could never compete to understand, and right as she was about to open her lips again to retrot back to Lance, Axca popped herself into frame, training her eyes to pin back at Lance, nearly making him want to flinch from the contact.

“He insisted,” Axca replied, her voice softening for just a moment, though her expression didn’t waver. “You know Keith. He wouldn’t have stayed behind.”

Lance’s breathing hitched, his fingers trembling slightly. Pidge and Hunk exchanged worried glances, their own fear evident as they watched Lance struggle to process the information.

“What’s the plan?” Pidge asked, trying to bring the focus back. “Now that the shields are down, what do we do?”

Krolia’s voice hardened again, her resolve unshakable. “We stay constant firing. The Blade ship is standing by to take rounds of shots since the moment shield fell. They told us to give them two minutes to escape, and fire regardless if we see them or not. So I suggest be ready to extract them as soon as we see signs they are out. Keith and Kolivan know what to do, and I trust they are doing what they can right now to get out without being in lines of fire.”

Lance nodded automatically, but his mind was still on Keith. “He’s going to make it out,” he muttered to himself, almost as if trying to convince himself more than anyone else.

Krolia’s gaze softened for a brief moment, her voice quieter now. “He always does, Lance. That I don’t doubt.”

Lance sat in Blue’s cockpit, the glow of the monitors reflecting off his face as he stared at Vrelen's massive ship. The enemy vessel loomed like a shadow against the stars, still horrifyingly intact despite the relentless bombardment it was taking from their forces. Lance could feel the pressure of the moment in every tense line of his body, but he refused to let it show. He inhaled deeply through his nose and exhaled slowly, letting the air ground him. His hands, steady now, gripped the controls, cool and metallic under his skin, as if molded to his very grip. His voice cut through the comms, firm and commanding.

“Blades, keep constant fire on that ship. Don’t let up. I’m taking Blue for circling shots, just like Veronica and the MFE pilots are doing. Keep your eyes peeled for any sign of Keith and Kolivan making their way out.”

There was a brief pause before Krolia’s voice broke in, sharp but measured. “We’ve tracked their hypothermic signals to a last-known location inside the ship before the explosion went off. Whatever they did scrambled the tracking—it generated a massive heat signal that’s interfering with live monitoring.”

Lance’s jaw tightened at her words, but he nodded. “Send it over. Blueprints, scans—everything you’ve got. We’ll find them.”

The data came in almost immediately, and Pidge slid closer into the cockpit, her quick fingers already pulling up holographic displays and overlays. Blueprints of Vrelen's ship materialized in front of her, glowing faintly in the dim light. Her eyes darted over the information, processing it at lightning speed as she clicked through tabs and highlighted key areas. Lance heard her make a small hum, as if satisfied with processing everything she was looking at, like a final indicator that she

got

it.

And Lance always trusted she did.

“Okay,” Pidge said, her voice calm and assured. She tapped a few commands, pinpointing the general area where the explosion had originated. “This is where the signal cut off. It’s not exact, but if Keith and Kolivan are still in there, it’s our best bet.”

Lance glanced at her, their eyes meeting for a brief moment. Pidge gave him a small, confident nod.

Lance returned the nod with a tight smile, feeling a surge of determination rise within him. He turned back to the comms, Krolia’s face still visible on the interface. “Got it. Keep the hits coming, Krolia. We need to make sure Vrelen’s ship doesn’t take off. Keep it grounded no matter what.”

Krolia’s steely gaze softened just slightly, a flicker of respect in her eyes. “Understood. We’ll handle it. Find them.”

Before Lance could respond, Axca’s voice cut through the comms. “Leadership looks good on you, McClain.”

Her smirk was curling at her lips, even if her narrow bites weren’t always the nicest, this one felt earned, softened, a little respected. Lance felt his ears burn, heat creeping up his neck, but he couldn’t help the crooked grin that spread across his face. A laugh bubbled up in his chest, easing some of the tension.

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, throwing a sloppy salute toward the screen. “Don’t get used to it. I’ve gotta go get your real leaders before you think about replacing them with yours truly.”

A faint scoff from Axca and a small quirk of Krolia’s lips were all the response he got before the comms clicked off. Lance leaned back in his seat, exhaling again as he gripped the controls. He glanced at Pidge and Hunk, who were both watching him intently, their own fear hidden beneath layers of trust.

“All right, team,” Lance said, his voice steady now. “Look alive. We’ve got a job to do.”

With a firm pull on the controls, Blue roared to life, her powerful frame cutting through the void of space. Lance felt a renewed sense of energy surge through him, not just from adrenaline, but from the certainty that they would get through this—together. He pushed Blue into an upward arc, circling Vrelen’s ship. The Lion’s systems hummed in perfect sync with his commands, energy coursing through her like an extension of himself. He kept his focus sharp, eyes scanning every crevice of the enemy vessel, every faint flicker of movement that might be Keith and Kolivan.

Hold on, Keith

Lance took a quick birds eye view of the situation in front of him, his determination burning as brightly as the stars around them. Veronica’s sleek jet streaked across the surface of Vrelen’s ship, a trail of bombs erupting behind her in sharp bursts of fire and shrapnel. The explosions left jagged scars in the ship's hull, but the behemoth remained ominously intact. Small drones zipped out from hidden compartments in Vrelen's vessel, weaving intricate patterns as they honed in on Veronica’s ship like predators on a hunt. Above, the Blade's ship let loose another massive blast, its cannons lighting up the dark void of space. The shot slammed into the hull, sending a deafening groan reverberating through the battlefield as the enemy ship buckled under the strain. Lance watched it all unfold from Blue's cockpit, his jaw tightening with focus.

Hunk’s nervous laugh came over his shoulder. “Uh, Lance… maybe… maybe we could, I don’t know,

do this gently

?”

Lance turned his head with exaggerated slowness, throwing Hunk a wide-eyed look of mock disbelief. That look alone seemed to be Hunk’s answer without Lance actually having to speak, knowing his best friend too well, along with his old ambitions being re-flamed back to life before his eyes.

Hunk groaned, his face dropping into his hands in exaggerated despair. “Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he muttered, pressing his hands together in prayer.

Lance grinned, the excitement of the moment thrumming through him as he grabbed Blue’s controls. “Hold on to your lunch, buddy.”

“As if we even had any…”

He yanked the controls forward, and Blue plunged into a steep nosedive, the Lion’s powerful body cutting through the void like a blade. Pidge yelped as the cockpit pitched forward, her hands gripping the sides of her seat, while Hunk muttered something Samoan sounding. Lance pciekd up on familiar phrases when Hunk used to pray out of fear for a test grade or when the Garrison announced they would be serving…questionable meatballs.

As the ground of Vrelen’s ship loomed closer, Lance pulled back sharply, leveling Blue out just above the surface. The Lion’s jaw opened, and a searing blast of energy erupted from her mouth, carving glowing, molten lines across the enemy ship’s exterior.

“

That’s what I’m talking about!

” Lance whooped, his voice crackling with adrenaline. He banked hard, sending Blue into a tight arc to assess the damage. Beneath them, the hull of Vrelen’s ship was a mess of twisted metal, the glowing remains of Blue’s energy blast still sparking in the void.

Pidge let out an excited laugh. “Do it again, Lance! That was amazing!”

“Already on it!” Lance called back, his grin widening. He pulled Blue into another dive, this time flying closer to the surface, the Lion’s body skimming just above the jagged hull. The speed was exhilarating, the force of the maneuver pressing him back against his seat. He flicked the controls, and Blue unleashed another devastating blast, the energy roaring out in a blinding stream. The impact ripped through the surface, sending shards of metal spinning into the void. Lance tilted the controls again, banking hard to avoid the debris as Pidge cheered beside him.

He spun Blue back around to the side, shifting his gears and pulling back to tighten his grip on the controls again, eyeing the fresh surface that awaited more blasting. But just as he prepared for another run, Hunk’s panicked scream shattered the moment.

“

WAIT!

”

The sound was so sudden and sharp that Lance’s hand froze on the controls, his heart lurching in his chest. “

What?!

” he groaned, throwing a quick glance over his shoulder. “Hunk, if you’re gonna blow chunks—”

“It’s not that!” Hunk interrupted, his breath shaking as he pointed frantically at the data on Blue’s console. He leaned forward, his brown eyes narrowing with a rare mix of precision and nerves as he pointed toward the shimmering surface of Vrelen's massive ship, his finger trailing as a pointer as he mapped out its surface with something imaginary only he could see in his mind. Lance frowned, turning to look between Hunk’s pointed finger and Hunk’s twisted face. As he dropped his mouth to snap back something, Hunk’s eyes found him, shutting him up immediately.

“Wait, wait, just, look here,” he said, his voice shaky but growing steadier with every word. His heavy finger hovered over the ship's hull, tracing the design as Lance and Pidge followed his line of sight, adrenaline buzzing through the cockpit. His finger traced along Blue’s window, ending as it finished pointing up the size of the ship and going back to point at the diaphragm scans that Pidge had momentarily minimized on Blue’s screens.

“What am I looking at?” Lance asked, still riding high on the thrill of Blue’s power, his knuckles white against the controls itching to launch out.

Hunk frowned, his eyes flicking between the ship in the distance and the floating blueprints Krolia had sent over. He brought up and expanded a series of scans on the console, their glowing lines overlaying the ship’s structure. “These blueprints lay out the design and shape of the ship, and these parts right here reflect the outer armor of the ship right there if we line these up correctly…” Hunk pointed at the scanned data and back to the spot on the ship he was pointing at, as if marveling at the brilliant design and wonder of it all. He then let out a steadying breath again and pushed on, his voice deepening in confidence the more he got to explain.

“Now look at the way it’s built,” Hunk began, tapping the screen. “Yeah, we’ve got the corridors and rooms mapped out—but look here.” He gestured to the overlapping decks, the levels mounted one on top of another, an architect's wild playground of rendering and detailing. “The infrastructure isn’t just stacked; it’s

reinforced

. See these connecting mounts? They hold the entire ship’s levels together. Usually, a ship this size in engineering wouldn’t have to worry about brittleness…”

“Buddy, not the time to show off that engineering degree, I’m begging.” Lance felt like he was losing braincells, but Pidge made a sharp inhale, the slow clogs clicking together at Hunk’s explanation, but Hunk continued on.

“That’s basically
a mechanical property of an object that measures the degree to which a material will fracture without significant deformation when subjected to stress. We wouldn’t have to worry about that on normal situations, but here we are blasting at it wildly. I mean, thats basic design rules 101.”

Pidge’s brows furrowed as she leaned in, quickly catching on. “So you’re saying…”

Hunk nodded grimly, the weight of his explanation starting to settle. “If we blast blindly in certain sections, we could take out those mounts. Brittleness is no longer a factor from the deformation stress we force upon it in great amounts. And if

that

happens…” He hesitated, his voice dropping slightly. “...the walls and ceilings could collapse on themselves. Heated metal warps, folds inward—it’d act like a death trap. Keith and Kolivan could get trapped under twisted debris, or worse…”

Lance’s chest tightened, his breath catching as the words sank in. “

Worse

?” he asked, his voice quieter, almost afraid of the answer.

Hunk met his gaze, his own face pale but determined. “If we hit the wrong spot, the heat and pressure could seal off entire sections. They wouldn’t just be stuck—they’d be crushed, or burned alive.”

The cockpit fell into a tense silence, the weight of Hunk’s words pressing down on all of them. Sometimes, Lance felt like he could kiss Hunk’s brain. But now, Lance’s pulse pounded in his ears, his excitement draining away as the stark reality set in.

Pidge exhaled slowly, leaning back in her seat and rubbing her temples. “So, in simple terms, if we’re not careful, we could accidentally kill them with Lance’s crazy blasts.”

Lance’s hands shot away from Blue’s controls as if the console had burned him. His gut twisted painfully at the thought, his mind flashing to Keith. Of that brilliant smile and radiating eyes. He had almost

doomed

them.

“I…” Lance’s voice faltered, his breath shaky. He swallowed hard, his grip tightening on the edge of his seat as his adrenaline turned to dread.

The heavy silence was broken by a sudden, ominous sound—a deep, mechanical grinding that sent vibrations through the cockpit.

“Uh, guys…” Pidge’s voice was sharp, her fingers flying over the controls as she pointed out a blind side.

From the rear of Vrelen’s ship, a massive cannon slowly rotated into position. Its sleek barrel glinted menacingly in the light of the distant stars, aimed directly at their blind spot. The sound of its mounting gears locked into place was unmistakable.

“Still operational,” Pidge muttered, her voice taut with tension.

Hunk’s hands shot out, bracing himself against the seat as he let out a shaky breath. “Oh, come on!”

The cannon roared to life, a deep hum building as energy charged within its core. The glow brightened ominously, a deadly pulse of light growing at its center. Lance’s instincts kicked in.

“Hold on!” he shouted, slamming his hands back on Blue’s controls. The Lion roared in response, the cockpit shaking as Lance yanked them into a sharp barrel roll. The cannon fired a massive energy blast, narrowly missing Blue as Lance spun them out of its trajectory.

The force of the dodge slammed them all back in their seats. “You’ve gotta be kidding me!” Lance shouted, his hands gripping the controls tightly as the cannon adjusted its aim, preparing for another shot.

“Lance, get us out of its line of fire!” Pidge yelled, her fingers flying as she tried to assess the damage and pull up a counter-strategy.

“What do you think I’m trying to do?!” Lance snapped back, his heart pounding as he maneuvered Blue through a series of evasive maneuvers.

The cannon’s blasts followed them, each shot coming closer than the last. Lance twisted Blue sharply to dodge another cannon blast, his heart pounding and adrenaline surging through his veins. A whoop of relief escaped his lips as they narrowly avoided the hit, but his elation was short-lived.

His stomach plummeted as the blast seared through the air and struck the wing of Veronica’s jet, which had been zipping behind them in tight formation. The jet was immediately engulfed in flames, smoke billowing from the wounded wing like a trailing cape.

“

No!

” Lance screamed, his voice cracking as he shoved the controls forward. Blue roared in response, thrusting ahead at breakneck speed, her claws clawing against the atmosphere as if she was an extension of Lance’s fear as he raced after the spiraling aircraft.

Veronica’s jet careened downward in wide, erratic circles, the flames licking higher as it descended toward the desert floor. Lance’s hands trembled on the controls, his teeth gritting hard enough to hurt. His blood pounded in his ears, his chest tightening with panic as the seconds stretched into an eternity. He growled under his breath, his body vibrating with fear and determination. His eyes stung, sweat dripping into them, but he didn’t dare blink. His vision locked onto the falling jet, the ground rushing up too fast for comfort.

At the last possible second, Blue’s jaws snapped open, and with a resounding

clamp

, her teeth locked onto the remaining wing of Veronica’s jet. Lance yanked hard on the controls, his entire body straining as Blue dug in, halting the jet’s deadly spiral. Blue roared in protest, her engines whining under the strain as Lance pulled up and eased the aircraft toward the ground. Smoke and flame trailed behind them as Blue’s paws landed heavily on the desert floor. With a soft rumble, the Lion crouched low, cradling the jet gently in her jaws before releasing it onto the sand.

Lance sagged back in his seat, his breath coming in ragged gasps. His body buzzed with the aftershocks of adrenaline, his heart slamming against his ribcage. He could hear Hunk beside him, slumped against his seat, his breathing uneven as he clutched his chest.

“Okay,” Hunk wheezed, his voice shaking but full of relief. “Okay, we’re alive. They’re alive. That was—that was something.”

Pidge let out a shaky exhale, leaning her head back against the seat. “Yeah, that

something

almost killed us all. Nice save, Lance.”

Lance didn’t reply. His eyes stayed fixed on the window, where he saw Veronica and a couple of the MFE pilots stumbling out of the jet. Smoke still rose from the damaged wing, but the pilots were alive and intact. Veronica, her hair wild and her face smudged with soot, looked up at Blue. Her wide eyes locked with Lance’s, and despite everything, she threw him a shaky thumbs-up, her brilliant smirk flashing up at him, as if she could sense her younger brother’s own anxiety raking through his body. Lance’s throat tightened as a thousand emotions threatened to overwhelm him. Relief, pride, terror, and guilt all swirled in his chest. He didn’t know whether to smile or cry.

But the moment shattered as a sudden, deafening

blast

rocked Blue from behind. The cockpit jolted violently, alarms blaring as the Lion’s systems flared red.

“

What now?!

” Pidge shouted, gripping the edges of her seat as the entire Lion shook.

Lance barely had time to process before another burst of heat and force slammed into Blue’s back. The cannon. It had fired again, this time hitting them directly. The air inside the cockpit grew stiflingly hot as the Lion groaned under the strain.

“Blue’s armor—she’s holding!” Hunk yelled, his voice both awed and frantic, ducking to cover his head.

The three of them screamed as the final tremor subsided, leaving the Lion standing but battered. Blue’s core—stronger and more advanced than any other metal in the galaxy—had absorbed the brunt of the blast, but even she was not invincible. Lance’s hands tightened on the controls as he struggled to steady his breathing. He looked down at the desert floor, where the MFE’s and his sister had gotten up from their dropped and ducked positions, hunching back up from shielding under the protection of Blue’s frame. Veronica helped one of the pilots to her feet and stood frozen, her wide eyes staring up at Blue with a mix of fear and awe. When she caught Lance’s gaze through the cockpit window, her lips curled into a small, crooked smirk. She mouthed something to him, her hand gesturing forward.

Go.

It was all the reassurance Lance needed. He turned his attention back to the massive ship, his jaw clenching as his fear morphed into fiery determination.

Hunk’s voice cut through the tense silence, sharp and brimming with annoyance. “Alright, Lance.

Blow that stupid cannon up already.

”

A grin tugged at the corners of Lance’s lips, a flicker of his usual bravado returning as he gripped the controls. “You don’t have to tell me twice.”

Blue roared, her engines flaring as Lance shot them back into the fray. The cannon wouldn’t stand a chance.

Lance gritted his teeth as another fiery blast from the cannon tore through the air, narrowly missing Blue. He yanked the controls hard, sending the Lion into a sharp barrel roll, dodging the strike by mere inches. His breath hissed out through his nose, frustration clawing at his chest as the cannon’s barrel swiveled to lock on them again.

“Come on, girl, you’ve never failed me before,” Lance muttered under his breath, his voice laced with soft desperate affection. His mind raced as he maneuvered Blue with almost supernatural precision, diving nose-first and twisting in a spiral to avoid the incoming shots. His muscles screamed, but the rhythm of piloting, the electric buzz of survival, was second nature now. He gripped the controls tighter, his body practically on fire with the need to end this, to destroy the cannon and get to Keith and Kolivan. His vision narrowed, every detail of the battlefield sharpening. Lance yanked back sharply, twisting Blue into a breathtaking maneuver that sent her soaring above the ship before diving back down in a deadly arc. The move came to him like instinct. Blue’s maw opened, releasing a searing blast of ice that shot out with stunning artistry, freezing the cannon in place. The frost bite spread rapidly, creeping along the cannon’s neck and barrel, its surface cracking and splintering with sharp, crystalline beauty.

Lance didn’t pause to admire his handiwork. With a growl, he slammed Blue forward, her claws slashing out in a wide arc. The cannon tore clean off Vrelen’s ship, the metal screeching as it crumbled and fell to the desert floor. Lance pulled back, spinning Blue gracefully to survey the damage, satisfaction flickering in his chest as he saw the smoldering stump where the cannon once stood.

“And that’s why they call me the tailor, for how I

thread the needle

.” he muttered, a small, exhausted grin tugging at his lips.

But his moment of triumph and peace was short-lived. Another thunderous blast from the Blade’s ship echoed across the battlefield, the relentless assault chipping away at Vrelen’s exterior. Lance’s smile faded, his breaths coming hard and fast as the adrenaline continued to surge through him. Behind him, Pidge leaned forward in her seat, her sharp eyes locked on the floating data displays. Her fingers danced across the holograms as she analyzed the heat signatures from Krolia’s scans.

“Lance, wait,” she said, her voice urgent but steady. “We can’t keep shooting blindly like Hunk said. We’re wasting time and resources, and—” She paused, her voice dropping slightly. “Keith and Kolivan still haven’t been spotted. If they’re trapped inside, we could be doing more harm than good.”

Lance’s chest tightened at her words, his hands briefly loosening on the controls. “What are you saying, Pidge?”

She tilted her head, her expression hardening. “The last heat signature Krolia sent us—that’s our best lead. The ship’s main systems are down, except for those drones and the cannon, which must be on a separate energy grid. If Keith and Kolivan are anywhere, it’s near that last signal.”

Lance stared at the display, his mind ablaze. A heavy silence fell over the cockpit as the three of them processed the implications. Finally, Lance inhaled deeply, his decision clear.

“Then that’s where we’re going,” he said firmly. He pushed Blue’s controls forward, the Lion roaring to life as they surged toward the coordinates of the last heat signature. Blue hovered low over the surface, her sensors scanning every inch of the area. Lance’s sharp blue eyes flicked across the ground below and back to the bent up and twisted surfaces of the ship, searching for anything—

anything

—that would point to Keith or Kolivan. Pidge and Hunk leaned in beside him, their expressions equally tense as they analyzed the data.

After a long, agonizing pause, Lance broke the silence. “I’m going in.”

The words hit the air like a thunderclap.

“What?” Hunk screeched, his voice jumping an octave as he scrambled to grab at Lance’s arm. “No! You can’t just—what do you mean you’re going in?”

Lance shrugged away from Hunk’s grip, his movements casual but his eyes blazing with determination. “Blue knows you guys too. She’ll be fine without me for a few minutes. Aren’t you, girl?”

Hunk sputtered, his hands flailing as he tried to form a coherent argument. “I—Blue—

I can’t pilot Blue!

”

Lance shot him a teasing grin over his shoulder. “Sure you can, big guy. Just don’t push any buttons that look blue, shiny and dangerous.”

“

All of the buttons look blue, shiny and dangerous!

” Hunk yelled, his voice cracking with panic.

“Would you both

shut up?!

” Pidge snapped, her voice cutting through their bickering like a whip. She glared at them, her expression a mixture of exasperation and concern. “You can’t just rush in there without a plan, Lance. You have no armor, plus we have no idea what the environment is like actually inside there. All we know is that a huge explosion came from directly below this area, meaning that the entire place could be engulfed in flames and smoke. The air alone could burn your bare skin alive and sear up your lungs. Give me a second to—”

Lance's jaw clenched, his voice snapping with raw emotion as he barked, "

Keith might not have a second!

" Without waiting for another argument, he rushed out of Blue's main controls and into the storage compartments. His head whipped around, his chest heaving as his brain fired on all cylinders, desperate for any idea,

anything faster

to get to Keith and Kolivan. His fingers twitched at his sides, jittering with restless energy as he yanked open one drawer after another in a frantic blur.

“Come on, girl, give me

something

,” he muttered through gritted teeth, the sound barely audible over his own pounding heartbeat. Each drawer was a failure, filled with tools, rations, or other supplies that felt infuriatingly useless.

His frustration built as he shoved open another panel with more force than he intended, his grip tightening until his knuckles turned white. The sharp crack of a fingernail snapping echoed in the small space, a brief flash of pain biting through his focus. Lance clenched his hands in, fighting back an internal scream of pain and loss, about to shriek in vanity and annoyance. But the force worked. The closet door flew open, and a loud metallic

clang

rattled through the cockpit as something heavy tumbled to the floor. Lance barely leapt back in time, stumbling over his own feet with a startled yelp as the gleaming object hit the ground. His chest heaved, his hands instinctively flying up as he stared at it in shock.

“What the—” he began, his words trailing off as Pidge and Hunk rushed in behind him. They stopped short, skidding to a halt as all three froze, their wide eyes locked on the shimmering treasure lying at Lance’s feet.

“No way,” Pidge breathed out, her voice barely a whisper.

Hunk’s voice quavered with disbelief as he muttered, “Is that…?”

The cockpit seemed to glow in a surreal, almost ethereal light as Lance stepped forward, his hand trembling slightly as he reached for the object. He crouched down, his fingers wrapping around the hilt of an

Altean broadsword

. It was sleek and masterfully crafted, its intricate designs gleaming in the soft blue light of the Lion. Silver-blue etchings twisted and curled across the blade like waves, the craftsmanship impossibly elegant, as though the sword itself had been carved from starlight.

Lance’s breath caught in his throat as he slowly lifted the weapon. The blade was heavier than it looked, its weight solid and commanding in his hands. He turned it slightly, catching the way the light danced along its edges. Every line, every curve seemed deliberate, regal, and impossibly beautiful. His eyes darted back to the open closet, where more treasures glinted in the dark. A chestplate rested inside, its surface shining the same silver-blue as the sword. Intricate carvings of swirling patterns decorated the armor, giving it an almost celestial appearance. Beside it lay a barbute-style helmet, its design equally stunning. The silver carvings twisted along its surface in an almost hypnotic fashion, its blue accents glowing faintly in Blue’s light. It looked ancient and royal, as if it had belonged to a figure of great significance—a warrior or a ruler.

Lance’s breath hitched as the realization hit him like a wave. These weren’t just random artifacts. They were

Allura’s

. The Altean princess had spent her last fighting moments as Blue’s pilot, and it seemed she had left more than her memory behind.

Pidge’s voice broke through the heavy silence, soft but filled with wonder. “These… these were hers? Allura’s, right?”

Hunk let out a low, disbelieving whistle, his hands on his hips as he stared at the items in awe. “Man… I always knew Alteans had secrets and crazy cool armor, but this? This is… wow.”

Lance couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sword. His fingers trembled as he traced one of the carvings on the hilt, the weight of its significance settling in his chest. He felt the history in his hands, the legacy, the heavy, bittersweet beauty of it all. Who it was wielded by last. How long it had lasted across time and space to be here. How many moons it had been on Altea itself, owned and treasured by its own people.

Allura was gone, lost in time and space, yet here was a piece of her—a tangible reminder of her courage, her grace, her sacrifice. Lance swallowed hard, his throat tightening.

“It’s like…” Lance’s voice cracked, and he cleared his throat before trying again. “It’s like she’s still here helping, you know?”

The three of them stood there, silent and reverent, as the weight of the moment pressed down on them. It wasn’t just the beauty of the artifacts; it was what they represented—strength, legacy, and the enduring will to fight for what mattered most.

“Then what are you waiting for?” Pidge’s voice sliced through the reverent silence, sharp but encouraging, as she gestured to the gleaming broadsword in Lance’s grip. Her tone was brisk, but the small smile tugging at her lips betrayed her teasing and instilled confidence in him.

Hunk crossed his arms, giving Lance a nod, his brown eyes steady despite the worry creasing his brow. “You’ve got this, man. Go on, loverboy.”

Lance’s gaze flicked between his two friends, and their glowing confidence in him ignited something deep in his chest. He straightened up, his grip tightening on the sword as a grin—cocky and determined—spread across his face. “Don’t miss me too much. Gotta go win the award for best boyfriend.” he said with a wink, throwing the weight of his usual bravado behind it.

“Wait,

boyfriend

?!” Pidge froze, eyes widening in shock, though the corner of her mouth twitched in amusement as Hunk nearly choked out a gasp.

Lance threw them back a satisfied smirk, shrugging playfully before he turned toward Blue’s hatch, the comforting hum of the Lion’s energy reverberating through him. The weight of the Altean chestplate felt heavier now, but not from fatigue—it was the gravity of the moment, the purpose behind it. This wasn’t just for Keith or Kolivan. It was for all of them, for the mission, for Allura’s legacy.

At the Lion’s mouth, the rain greeted him like a roaring audience, slamming down relentlessly on the surface of Vrelen’s ship below. The downpour was deafening, a chaotic symphony of pattering and crashing that dulled everything else. He stood under Blue’s protective hover, taking one last deep breath before leaping down into the storm.

The hit was rough. He landed with a thud, far from the heroic pose he’d pictured in his head, his knees buckling as his body skidded across the rain-slicked surface. The torrential rain made everything worse, the metal underfoot like ice. Lance grunted as he slammed the broadsword down into the surface, carving a streak through the sleek metal as he slid, finally anchoring himself with a jarring halt.

His chest heaved and battled to breathe under the heavy chestplate as he caught his breath, his knuckles white around the hilt. "

Okay, that was… not graceful,

" he muttered to himself, glancing up at Blue hovering overhead like a guardian angel. The sight of her steadied him, the bond between them humming like a lifeline.

Pushing himself upright, Lance planted his boots firmly against the slick surface, gripping the sword tighter as he scanned for an entry point. His heart pounded, both from exertion and the sheer adrenaline coursing through him. Finally, his eyes caught on a vent cover, its edges partially rusted, a potential weakness in the otherwise impenetrable exterior.

“Bingo,” Lance muttered, fighting against the battering rain as he maneuvered toward it. His muscles burned from the weight of the armor and the sword, but he pressed on, gritting his teeth as he reached the vent.

The rain dripped into his eyes and banged around his helmet, blurring his vision as he raised the broadsword. With a grunt, he slammed it down, the sharp blade cutting through the vent cover like butter. It shrieked under the force of his broad strikes, the sound of tearing metal echoing against the storm. The final kick sent the vent cover clattering down into the dark depths below, leaving an opening just wide enough for him to slip through.

“Alright, Lancey Lance, time to save the day,” he muttered to himself, his voice trembling slightly despite his bravado.

Gripping the edges of the vent, he hoisted himself in, his body immediately struck by the suffocating heat radiating from the ship’s interior. The contrast was staggering; the cool sting of rain was gone, replaced by an oppressive, stifling warmth that made his armor feel like a furnace. The vent was narrow, the walls almost scraping against his shoulders as he crawled forward, his drenched Garrison uniform clinging to him uncomfortably. The air was thick and humid, making each breath feel like he was sucking in steam. His skin prickled, his lungs straining as he fought the heat and the claustrophobic space. The metal was slick beneath him, the rain still dripping from his armor making every movement precarious. Lance cursed under his breath as he slipped, sliding faster than he liked. The tight space made it impossible to control his descent, and with a loud

clatter

, he tumbled out of the vent and into a corridor, landing with a graceless heap on the metal floor.

Groaning, Lance pushed himself up, the weight of the armor and sword making every movement feel like a Herculean effort. His arms burned, his legs ached, and his chest heaved as he struggled to his feet.

The heat in the corridor was even worse. It wrapped around him like a suffocating blanket, the air thick and barely breathable. His skin felt too warm, and his eyes stung, his body screaming for relief.

But Lance gritted his teeth, gripping the broadsword like it was the only thing keeping him standing. He glanced around, taking in the dimly lit corridor and the ominous hum of machinery all around him. The sharp sting of the intoxicated air burned his lungs with each shaky breath he drew, feeling the warmed heat intensify the longer he walked down the corridor. The metal making of the ship was a heat catalyst, everything hot and burning around him, with heavy smoke drifting down from further down the corridor. The smoke and air was beginning to burn Lance’s eyes, his tear ducts watering as he squinted to peer through the heavy blanket of smoke.

The corridor felt like it was closing in on him, heat pressing against Lance’s skin, suffocating and relentless. Every breath burned as if he were inhaling fire, the stinging heat scratching at his throat and lungs. His armor chestplate and helmet was an oven, searing against his body, and his drenched clothing clung to him like a second skin. The metal walls glowed faintly from the oppressive heat, and the smoke, thick and acrid, coiled like a living thing, slithering into his nose and stinging his eyes. His vision blurred with sweat and smoke, every step feeling heavier, his legs like lead. He turned a corner, wiping at his eyes with a trembling hand, and froze.

There, crumpled on the floor, was Keith.

He’d recognize that mullet anywhere.

The sight hit Lance like a physical blow, knocking the air from his lungs. Keith’s body was unnaturally still, folded into himself like a ragdoll discarded by fate. He was curled over sitting back on his knees, his bangs hanging over his face as he faced downwards to the floor, his arms shaking splayed out in front of his knees to hold himself up. His pale skin was smeared with soot, blood glistening from a cut on his temple, stark against the dark, matted mess of his hair.

Not this again. Anything but this again.

Lance barely registered the broadsword slipping from his grasp, the heavy clang drowned out by the pounding in his ears. His body moved on its own, his chest tightening, stomach twisting as he stumbled forward, dropping to his knees beside Keith. His hands trembled violently as he reached out, fingers ghosting over Keith's face before finally cupping it, his touch desperate and featherlight.

“Baby,” Lance choked out, his voice rasping and strained, almost unrecognizable. It escaped him like a broken prayer, raw and full of aching affection. His thumbs stroked Keith’s cheeks, brushing away smudges of soot, though his hands shook so badly that his touch faltered.

Keith flinched faintly under his touch, his head tilting up into Lance’s hold, and Lance nearly broke at the sight of his face. His eyes were wide, blown with shock and fear, their usual fire extinguished, replaced by something hollow and frozen. They stared back at Lance, not with recognition, but with a vacant, distant terror that twisted Lance’s gut with a nauseating wrench.

“Keith,” Lance whispered again, his voice cracking under the weight of his fear. His heart hammered against his ribcage as he felt and saw Keith’s jaw chattering uncontrollably, as though his body couldn’t decide if it was burning alive or freezing to death.

Keith didn’t speak. His gaze was wild, flickering past Lance toward the corridor behind him, where the smoke billowed darker and denser, obscuring everything in its path.

“Keith,” Lance pleaded, coughing harshly as the smoke clawed at his throat. His vision swam, his eyes watering and stinging as he fought to stay focused on the man in his arms. “Baby, we have to go. Please.”

He shifted, forcing his screaming muscles to obey as he slid to his knees, his arms wrapping around Keith to help him up. But Keith didn’t move. His body was stiff, unresponsive, his breathing shallow and quick like a trapped animal. His eyes kept darting past Lance, back down the corridor, as though something terrible lay waiting there.

“Keith,” Lance croaked, his voice breaking as his hands gripped tighter, trying to ground him. He stroked Keith’s face again, his thumb brushing over his cheekbone as if to remind him he was real, that they were both real. “Hey, look at me. Look at me.”

But Keith’s gaze didn’t waver, still fixed on something unseen, his expression locked in that awful, frozen fear. Lance’s own eyes burned too much to follow where Keith was looking, the smoke making his vision a watery blur. He coughed again, harder this time, his lungs rebelling against the unbreathable air. His desperation mounted with every second of Keith’s silence, every flicker of his wild eyes back toward the smoke-filled corridor. They had to get out of here, or else the two would be burned and eaten alive.

Lance gave himself half a second to rationalize that 1. Keith was in no place to be alright on his own and was suffering from some sort of explosion and heat exhaust and or intense amounts of ash and smoke in his lungs and had to leave right now. 2. If he was with Kolivan, the guy was equally as smart and skilled as Keith was, and could survive such a blow the same way Keith was battling his life right now. If they were to find Kolivan, it would not be in the middle of this mess right now. 3. If Lance was ever to marry Keith, it would certainly mean they had to get the hell out right NOW.

Lance gritted his teeth, the weight of Keith pressing down on him like the burden of a crumbling world. Keith’s silence was louder than any explosion, louder than the roar of the smoke and fire swallowing them whole. His chest rose and fell unevenly, breaths ragged and weak, his usually vibrant and fiery features hollow and pale, the sickly dullness in his eyes an image Lance would never be able to forget.

“Come on, Keith,” Lance muttered under his breath, his tone both a plea and a promise as he grunted with effort, lifting Keith’s limp arm over his shoulder. “We’re getting out of here. You’re safe now. I’m not leaving you. I’ll never leave you, even if it kills me.”

The words spilled out in a low, broken rhythm as they stumbled forward. Lance’s legs were screaming in agony, his lungs burning with every shallow gasp he managed to drag into his body. The oppressive heat clawed at him, digging under his armor, sinking into his skin, his brain swimming in the suffocating air. Keith leaned heavily against him, his steps sluggish and uneven, his weight a constant reminder of how fragile this moment was. Lance clenched his jaw, his vision blurring, his throat raw and scratched from the relentless smoke. He kept moving, the determination to get Keith out overriding the fiery protests of his body.

They reached a wall, Keith barely standing as Lance gently leaned him against the metal, his form crumpled, his head tilting forward as if gravity alone was too much to fight. Lance stepped back, panting, coughing hard into his arm as his body screamed in protest. Keith’s silence—his broken stillness—was a stab to Lance’s heart, but there was no time to stop.

“I’ve got you,” Lance murmured hoarsely, scooping up the sword that had fallen beside them. He glanced back at Keith, his form small and fragile against the unyielding surface. “I promise, Keith. Just hold on a little longer.”

Turning to face the wall at the end of the corridor, Lance’s vision swam again, his breath coming in short, erratic gasps. His mind felt like it was spinning out of control—was it the smoke? The exhaustion? Or the sheer panic eating away at his resolve?

It didn’t matter. All that mattered was getting out.

He let out a guttural growl, tightening his grip on the sword as he swung it with every ounce of strength he could muster. The blade connected with the wall, a harsh screech of metal against metal ringing out, reverberating through his arms and down his spine. He struck again, and again, his muscles screaming, his back twitching with the strain. The wall didn’t give easily, but the Altean craftsmanship of the sword was relentless. Slowly, painfully, the metal began to curl and peel back, shrieking in protest under the sharp, unyielding blade. Smoke rushed past him, rushing to escape through the widening crack in the wall, mingling with the rain-soaked air outside.

Lance’s breaths came in heaving gasps, his arms trembling as he struck one final time. With a deafening clang, the sword sliced through, and Lance reared back, driving a powerful kick into the weakened wall. The metal buckled, the hole giving way as it tore open to the outside world. Rain poured outside the gap, clean and cool against the blistering heat. The glorious sound of it striking alongside the metal surface of the ship was music to Lance’s ears. The smoke billowed out in waves, dispersing into the stormy air, and the sounds of battle—a distant hum of blasts and roaring engines—sounded almost serene compared to the inferno inside.

Lance staggered back, gasping for the first rush of breathable air as he leaned heavily against the corridor wall. His chest burned, his lungs ablaze, but the cool rain beyond the breach was a lifeline. Lance coughed heavy and deep again, his lungs fighting and arguing with him that he was still inside the corridor. Lance leaned heavy against the sharp edges of the peeled back wall, careful o not cut himself as he let his head dangle forward, feeling the clean air as if he had been void of it for years, the constant stream of rain splattering against his face and ringing his ears as it melodically clung and pittered on his helmet. He blinked hard for a moment as he let the rain flush out his sight before pinpointing Blue, hovering gently around the side, unmoving and patient. Lance hoped that the smoke signal from the opened up wall could give his friends an indication that it was time to be picked up.

Turning back to Keith, Lance stumbled toward him, his legs unsteady but his resolve unwavering. He crouched, his trembling hands cupping Keith’s face again. If there was anyone who could give all the love and gentleness Keith deserved in this world, it was going to be him. “Hey, we’re out,” he rasped, his voice broken but filled with desperate hope. “Just a little more, okay? We’re almost there.”

Keith didn’t respond, his eyes fluttering faintly as if caught between worlds, but Lance wouldn’t give up. Wrapping an arm around Keith’s waist, he pulled him close, leaning his weight against himself as he guided them both toward the hole he’d carved into salvation. They were inching closer to the outside, just a couple more steps and they would squeeze and duck to fresh air and step onto a slanted side of the ship and be free of this all. Lance’s heart skipped a beat as Keith froze, his body going rigid and unyielding under Lance’s arm. They were so close to the opening, the rain cascading down in sheets just beyond their reach, but Keith wasn’t moving.

“Keith?” Lance rasped, his voice cracking against the dryness in his throat, his lungs still heaving against the suffocating air. He turned to see Keith’s face, his wide eyes trained on the outside world, pupils dilated and trembling, his breath shallow and uneven. Lance’s stomach twisted painfully.

“What’s—” The words died in his throat as something clicked, hitting him harder than the smoke swirling around them. A memory surfaced, unbidden but vivid, of Keith’s quiet confession long ago—how storms had always shaken him, the way the relentless rain and thunder made him seem small, unsteady, trapped. The image of him in that cave years ago remained burned in the deepest parts of Lance's memory, it being too sad to want to be remembered.

“Oh…” The word fell from Lance’s lips, soft and full of understanding, his realization as heavy as the oppressive heat around them. He could see it now, the storm’s chaotic rhythm mirrored in Keith’s shattered expression, the rain hammering against the ship’s metal exterior like the loudest, cruelest reminder of his fear.

Lance swallowed hard, his own chest tightening—not from the smoke, but from the ache of knowing that he had pushed Keith toward something he wasn’t ready to face. He wanted to know everything about Keith, every sharp edge and hidden crevice, but even now, there were depths he hadn’t yet touched.

Gently, Lance shifted his hand to Keith’s wrist, his fingers tracing slow, soothing circles before dropping down to intertwine their hands. His touch was careful, grounding, as he tried to anchor Keith back to him. Keith’s haunted, fear-stricken eyes met Lance’s soft, understanding gaze, the storm in his expression crashing against the calm assurance Lance was trying so desperately to give.

“I know,” Lance whispered, his voice barely audible over the relentless pounding of rain and the creaking of the ship. “I know this is scary. But we have to go. We can’t stay here.” His voice cracked, but he kept his tone as steady as he could, coaxing, pleading.

Keith’s chest rose and fell in shallow, panicked breaths, his jaw clattering so hard it sounded like he was freezing despite the heat around them. He took a step back, his body trembling as he rasped out, “I… I can’t…” The words were broken, jagged, spilling out like pieces of something fractured deep inside him. The words seemed so foreign on his lips, a phrase Lance never thought he would ever say.

Lance’s heart ached at the sound, but he didn’t let go. He squeezed Keith’s hand tighter, a firm but gentle pressure, grounding them both. Slowly, he reached up with his free hand, undoing the clasps of his helmet and lifting it off his head. His sweat-drenched hair clung to his forehead, his face flushed and streaked with soot, but his blue eyes stayed locked on Keith’s.

“Here,” he said softly, leaning closer. His movements were deliberate, unhurried, as he gently lowered the helmet onto Keith’s head for Keith to watch with large, blown out eyes. Timid, skittish, defensive. He turned it so the back enclosed Keith’s face, covering his eyes from the sight of the storm. “Just keep your eyes closed,” Lance murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “And hold on to me. Do you trust me?”

Keith didn’t answer immediately, his silence pressing against Lance’s fraying nerves. The smoke and heat were growing, Lance’s chest heaving with another violent cough as his vision blurred at the edges. He was about to speak again, to plead, when he felt it—a squeeze.

Keith’s trembling hand squeezed his twice, faint but deliberate, a quiet confirmation that shot through Lance like a lifeline.

Lance let out a shaky breath, relief flooding through him as he nodded. “Okay,” he rasped, his throat raw but his tone steady. “Just hold on to me, okay? I’ve got you.”

Gently, he tugged at Keith’s hand, guiding him forward one cautious step at a time. Keith’s grip on him was weak but present, and Lance held on tighter, his fingers threading securely through Keith’s as he led him toward the opening.

The rain poured down just outside, relentless and deafening, but it was clean, fresh—a stark contrast to the choking heat and smoke that still clawed at them from inside. Lance stepped out first, the rain drenching him instantly, but he didn’t care. He turned, pulling Keith carefully through the hole and into the storm onto the slanted side of the ship, his hand never leaving Keith’s.

The wind howled like a feral beast, rain pelting down in relentless sheets as Lance carefully guided Keith across the slanted, rain-slicked surface of the ship. Every step was a battle, the metal beneath them treacherous and unforgiving. Lance winced as the rain pounded against his face and neck, cold and heavy. For a moment, he tried to imagine how Keith must feel, the storm that had always unsettled him now bearing down with unrelenting force. What had once been a comfort to Lance felt alien and cruel, his heart twisting painfully at the thought of what Keith must be enduring. They moved inch by painstaking inch, Lance's hand gripping Keith's like a lifeline. His own boots skidded dangerously on the wet surface, his balance threatening to betray him. Keith’s fingers tightened around his, squeezing so hard it nearly crushed Lance’s heart more than his hand.

"Just a little more," Lance muttered, though whether it was meant for Keith or himself, he couldn’t tell. His focus was sharp, narrowed completely on Keith as he cursed the storm and the way it turned their escape into a nightmare.

Then, through the cacophony of rain and wind, a gentle roar echoed across the stormy sky, like the first warm breath of a hearth in the middle of winter. Lance’s head snapped up, rain blurring his vision as he spotted Blue. She was a streak of royal and cerulean against the darkened clouds, circling in a wide, deliberate arc before diving down fast. Her presence washed over him like a balm, cooling his fraying nerves. A realization struck him then, absurd and almost laughable despite the chaos. A half-smile tugged at his lips, though he couldn’t resist muttering, "Keith, don’t take this the wrong way, but, uh… please don’t reconsider trusting me." His voice was light, an attempt at humor, but his grip on Keith’s hand remained firm, steady, unyielding. Keith didn’t respond—not verbally. His silence burned Lance more than the rain ever could. But there was no time to dwell. Lance shifted closer, pulling Keith gently but firmly against his chest, wrapping his arms securely around Keith’s waist. "Don’t be mad," Lance murmured, his tone soft but laced with nervous energy.

Then, with a tug that was both apologetic and resolute, he pushed them into motion. They slid down the slanted surface of the ship, rain whipping violently against them. Lance’s heart hammered as they picked up speed, the slick metal turning their descent into a rapid, uncontrollable plunge. Keith’s fingers dug into Lance’s arms, hard enough to leave marks, but he didn’t scream. The silence was deafening, the air electric as they slid faster and faster, rain soaking them to their cores. Lance’s hair stuck to his forehead, water dripping down his neck and blurring his vision, but he didn’t care. He held Keith close, shielding him as much as he could.

The edge of the ship loomed closer, and for a moment, they were weightless. Lance’s stomach lurched as they flew off the side, the brief sensation of freefalling making his breath catch.

But Blue was there. She swept in with perfect precision, her jaws opening wide and catching them mid-air. The impact of landing in her engine room was rough, jarring, but Lance never let go of Keith. They tumbled onto the floor in a tangle of limbs, both of them breathing hard, their chests heaving as if they’d been holding their breaths for hours.

Lance sat up slowly, his arms still wrapped protectively around Keith. The rainwater clung to his skin, cold against the heat of his exertion. He reached up with shaking hands, unfastening the helmet from Keith’s head and lifting it away.

Keith let out a shaky, ragged breath, his eyes fluttering open. For a moment, they were still wild, distant, as if he wasn’t truly there. But then they flickered, focusing, and Lance saw the smallest glimmer of life behind them. Keith’s eyes were huge, still blown wide with lingering shock, but they weren’t empty anymore. They weren’t staring through Lance; they were staring at him. The faintest trace of recognition shimmered in their depths, like the first spark of a fire after a long, cold night.

Lance exhaled a trembling breath, his lips curving into a soft, relieved smile. "Hey," he whispered, his voice hoarse but tender.

Keith’s lips parted as if to respond, but no words came out. Instead, his eyes stayed locked on Lance’s, their usual stormy depth now filled with something raw, fragile, and achingly alive. And for Lance, that was more than enough to know he was still in there.

The moment of relief was short-lived. Before Lance could take a breath, Hunk and Pidge rushed into the engine room, their voices cutting through the tense air like a sharp blade.

“Keith!” Pidge shouted, scrambling forward. Hunk was right behind her, his face twisted with worry, hands already reaching out.

But Lance instinctively threw out an arm, shielding Keith from their approach. “Wait,” he rasped, his voice rougher than he’d realized.

His body angled protectively, already sensing Keith’s flinch before it happened. Keith’s trembling form seemed to shrink further, curling inward at the sudden commotion. Pidge and Hunk froze mid-step, their wide eyes flickering between Lance and Keith. Pidge’s mouth opened as if to say something but quickly snapped shut, her expression caught between confusion and guilt. Hunk, ever the gentle soul, pointed over his shoulder hesitantly.

“You should, uh, maybe… check on Blue?” he suggested softly, his voice dipping into that honey-sweet tone only Hunk could muster. “She wouldn’t respond when I tried piloting her earlier, but she flew on her own to get you guys.”

Lance hesitated, his gaze dropping back to Keith. His heart wrenched at the sight of him—still so pale and shaken, his chest rising and falling in uneven rhythms. The thought of leaving Keith now, even for a second, felt unbearable.

But then Hunk crouched down in front of them, his massive frame somehow radiating gentleness. His eyes locked on Lance’s, silent understanding passing between them. “I’ve got him,” Hunk said quietly, a reassuring warmth in his tone that made Lance feel like he might actually cry.

Lance glanced at Keith again, his movements slow and deliberate. Keith’s eyes flickered up to meet his, still glassy and haunted, but there was a faint recognition in them now. Keith shifted slightly, leaning away from Lance’s touch—not with rejection but with absent-minded acceptance, as if he was allowing himself to let go. Lance exhaled deeply, his throat tight as he pulled away. He rose quickly, his legs aching as he rushed to Blue’s main controls, Pidge following close behind.

“We caught up with the Blades while you were in there,” she mumbled, her voice quick and low, her words rushing to catch up with her thoughts. “Veronica and the MFE’s are alright and dealing with fixing their taken down jet, but they are away enough and I think requesting backup from the Garrision. The Blade ship has been relentless though. They’ve been hitting the ship constantly, waiting for updates from us. Especially Krolia. But… what

happened

in there?”

The fear in her tone made Lance’s fingers hover mid-air over the console. Her question was delicate, like a hand brushing against a bruise. He didn’t meet her gaze, but he could feel it, sharp and pressing. Instead of answering, he sighed—a long, tired breath—and pressed the button to pull up the Blade’s communication feed. Krolia’s face filled the screen, her features taut and shadowed in the dim lighting of the Blade ship. Her sharp eyes immediately zeroed in on him, taking in his roughed-up state.

Her expression shifted fast, sharp worry slicing through her features. “Where’s Keith? Is he alive? What happened?”

“He’s safe,” Lance assured her quickly, though his voice cracked under the weight of exhaustion. He pictured the nauseous reality of Keith’s hollowed and far away eyes, the lack of life behind him as if he was a living corpse. “Alive. He’s… he’s okay.”

Krolia’s shoulders fell slightly, tension draining from her frame as she let out a quiet breath of relief. But her sharp focus returned almost immediately. “And Kolivan?” she asked, her brow furrowing deeply. “Was he with Keith?”

Lance froze for a split second, exchanging a quick glance with Pidge. The unspoken question passed between them—

what did happen to Kolivan?

“I—I assumed he had another way out,” Lance stammered, though the uncertainty in his tone was obvious. “He wasn’t in there with Keith.”

Krolia’s expression darkened, her sharp brows knitting together as she processed his words. “There’s nothing on our scanners,” she admitted, her voice tense and low.

Another glance passed between Lance and Pidge, but this time, Pidge’s hazel eyes were practically screaming, filled with unspoken questions Lance didn’t have the energy to answer. His stomach twisted uncomfortably under Krolia’s piercing gaze, her confusion and growing concern like weights pressing down on him. The silence that followed was heavy, filled only by the faint hum of the Blade ship on Krolia’s end and the quiet sound of Keith’s shallow breaths in the background. Lance swallowed hard, unsure of how to respond, the unanswered questions hanging heavily in the air.

“We have data we believe Vrelen was using to track the lions, however.”

Lance and Pidge snapped their heads up to look at her. She was a trained leader, pushing through the uncertain and anxiety swirling on the call. She pressed on, not waiting for them to question her, “We mapped out the planets where we believe the other three Lions are located. In our perfect scenario, we bring each of you Paladins separately and split up to the planets in coordination to your Lion to awaken or connect with them, and get them to us before any one else gets to them. Who knows how many allies Vrelen may have shared these plans to.”

“But, hopefully that means Vrelen is still in this ship if you haven’t seen any signs, so the Lions are still hidden and not known to anyone else?” Lance asked weakly. Krolia’s sharp eyes glared back, her mind clearly set otherwise.

“Wait, you know where the others are…?” Pidge mumbled low, almost unsure. Her face looked pale, as if the rug was going to be pulled from under her legs.

“Keith and Kolivan sent that data back to us with Kosmo right before we lost all communication and signal of them. It was important to have.”

Lance sat rigid in Blue’s cockpit, Krolia’s sharp voice silent. For the first time, her usually stoic demeanor cracked. She looked a little lost and dazed, a sight Lance had never thought he’d witness. The Blade’s most feared and respected warrior leader… casting shadows with her eyes.

A shrill beep interrupted the moment, the call redirecting to an incoming signal. Both Lance and Krolia exchanged glances, caught off guard.

“Who would—” Lance began, but the words died in his throat as the display split to reveal Iverson’s face, tense and drawn tight with uncharacteristic nerves.

Iverson looked just as startled to be on the line. His mouth twitched, and his single visible eye darted uneasily between the faces staring back at him. “Paladins. Commander Krolia,” he started, clearing his throat awkwardly. “I—We didn’t expect this call to go through, but we need to speak immediately.”

Lance frowned fast at his face, a small disdain that had been planted by Keith already growing. “What’s going on? We’re kind of in the middle of something here.”

Iverson straightened, but his discomfort remained evident. “We’ve detected an unusual energy signature leaving Earth’s atmosphere,” he said. “It appeared to be a small emergency aircraft.”

Krolia’s eyes widened, her expression darkening like a storm brewing. Her voice was a growl, her sharp fangs briefly visible. “Impossible. The Blade ship has been firing and monitoring the area the entire time. No vessel could’ve escaped undetected.”

Iverson flinched visibly at the venom in her tone, his eye twitching, but he pressed on. “Commander Krolia, while your telecommunication systems may have been disrupted during the engagement, our scanners and sensors are positioned far beyond the interference zone. The energy signature was unmistakable—it’s already breaking through Earth’s upper atmosphere.”

Lance instinctively grabbed for Blue’s controls, his hands trembling. His chest tightened as if a heavy weight had settled over him. Krolia didn’t even pause, already springing to action, her movements sharp and purposeful.

“Wait!” Iverson’s voice shot through the comm. “The Garrison has already dispatched pursuit ships. We’re tracking it.”

“Who?” Pidge snapped, leaning forward in the cockpit, her sharp green eyes narrowing. “All the MFEs are out there with Veronica and their squads! Who do you even have left to send?”

Iverson hesitated for a fraction too long, and his jaw tightened. When he finally spoke, it was with a steely edge of authority that barely masked his unease. “Shiro is leading the pursuit. He volunteered.”

Time froze.

Lance’s blood ran cold. He could feel it drain from his face, leaving him pale and shaky. For a second, he thought he might have misheard. “Shiro?” he croaked, voice breaking.

“That’s impossible,” Pidge cut in before Iverson could reply, her voice fierce, bordering on fury. “He wouldn’t make that call—not when he’s been through

everything

. He wouldn’t go into something like this!”

Iverson looked like he wanted to say something, but the screen shifted again, and Sam Holt pushed his way into view. The smaller man had to strain to stand tall against Iverson’s looming form, but his apologetic eyes locked onto his daughter.

“Pidge,” Sam began softly, his tone heavy with regret. “Takash–Shiro made the decision himself. We… we’re desperate. Communication with the Blades went silent, and we had no way of knowing what was happening on the ground. When the energy signature appeared—” He paused, his face tightening. “We had to act fast.”

“No,” Lance said, his voice barely above a whisper. His hands trembled as they gripped the controls tighter. He could feel panic rising in him, suffocating and overwhelming. “You let

Shiro

go? With none of us as backup?”

“Lance—” Sam started, but Lance was already shaking his head, his chest heaving as if the air was suddenly too thin.

“No, you don’t understand!” Lance snapped, his voice cracking as panic swelled in him. “He’s already pushed himself so far—too far! What if—” He stopped, unable to finish the thought, the worst possibilities swarming his mind.

Krolia’s voice cut through, sharp and commanding. “Iverson, give me your coordinates. We’re pursuing.”

Iverson nodded quickly, but his grim face did little to reassure them. “I’ll patch through our tracking data. Whatever that ship is, it’s moving fast. You’ll need to be quicker.”

“Don’t you think we

know that

?” Lance barked, his voice sharp and full of frustration.

The signal flickered, Krolia barking commands to her team, while Lance sat frozen for a heartbeat longer. His mind was racing. Shiro. Back being a captain of a ship. In pursuit of an unidentified craft. After everything they’d been through, everything they’d fought to protect.

“Lance,” Pidge said softly, snapping him back to reality. Her hand touched his shoulder, grounding him. “We’ll find him. But we have to move

now

.”

Lance’s knuckles whitened around Blue’s controls, his breath coming in short, uneven bursts. He couldn’t stop thinking about Keith—Keith, still trembling and broken in the back, fighting battles Lance couldn’t even begin to comprehend. And now, this? Shiro’s reckless decision, the unknown ship, the Blades scrambling… It all felt like too much, too fast.

“When Keith finds out…” Lance whispered hoarsely, breaking the silence. His eyes flicked over to Pidge, who was leaning against the console, her face tight with worry.

Pidge’s lips pressed into a thin line, her fingers tapping anxiously at her side. She anxious bit at her lip, glancing toward the back of the ship where Keith was. Her pained silence was enough of an understanding for Lance. The two of them knew how crazed and protective Keith could get over Shiro. The pain and loss Keith had gone through twice already over the man being lost to space. This would utterly break him, unsure of how he would react fully.

Lance swallowed hard, his chest tightening at the thought. Keith was barely holding himself together as it was. Knowing that Shiro, the one constant in his life, had thrown himself into danger? It would shatter him.

The sharp tone of Krolia’s voice cut through their thoughts. “Let me see him.”

Lance froze, his gaze snapping back to the screen where Krolia’s image flickered, her gold eyes intense and unrelenting. Her jaw was set, her expression steely, but there was something distant in her gaze. Something haunted.

“He…” Lance hesitated, his voice faltering. “He’s… distant. Something happened in there, and I—I don’t feel good about it. And Kolivan…” He trailed off, a sinking feeling settling in his stomach. “I think Keith knows something about him. Something he hasn’t said yet.”

Krolia’s jaw clenched tighter, her sharp features hardening even more. But her eyes—Lance caught it, just for a moment. A flicker of pain, of worry. A mother’s heart, breaking quietly as she heard the state of her son.

Her voice came low, deliberate, and coldly focused. “We don’t have time to waste.” She snapped her head to the side, barking orders to those offscreen. “Axca, do you have the coordinates? Good. Begin launch procedures immediately. Dispatch a ground team to secure Vrelen’s ship—chains, tanks, I want it immobile and monitored at all times. No one leaves. No one gets in. Understood?”

A flurry of movement erupted behind her, Blade soldiers scrambling to obey. Krolia’s commands came swift and sharp, each one executed with precision, as if the universe itself bent to her will. Lance watched in silence, torn between awe and anxiety. The way Krolia commanded—it was like watching a force of nature. But then her eyes snapped back to him, piercing through the screen.

“Are you following?” she demanded, her brow raised in expectation.

Lance flinched, glancing at Pidge. She met his gaze, her expression firm, her hand reaching out to grab his arm in silent reassurance, nodding.

He turned back to the screen, his voice steadying. “We’ll be right behind the Blades.”

But Krolia shook her head firmly, her expression unreadable. “No. You go now. You’re smaller and faster, with a lot more power than you probably remember having with the Lion. You’ll catch up way before our takeoff.” She paused, her gaze softening, something unspoken flickering in her eyes. Her voice cracked, ever so slightly, as she added, “Be careful with Keith.”

Lance’s heart clenched at the sudden vulnerability in her tone. “Should I… should I bring him back to the Blade ship?” he asked hesitantly.

Krolia’s eyes narrowed, her expression hardening once more. “No,” she said firmly. “He will do better with you.”

The words hit Lance like a weight, heavy with responsibility. He nodded, swallowing hard as Krolia’s image disappeared from the screen. Lance’s hands tightened around the controls, his mind racing. Keith needed him. Shiro needed him. The team needed him. He felt the pressure pressing down on his chest, but Pidge’s steady grip on his arm grounded him.

“We’ve got this,” Pidge said, her voice calm and steady, a stark contrast to the chaos around them.

Lance nodded, taking a deep breath and pushing forward. Blue roared to life beneath him, the cockpit humming with energy as they launched into the storm.

In the back of his mind, Lance couldn’t shake Krolia’s words—or the quiet, unspoken plea in her eyes.

Be careful with Keith.

As if she even had to ask that. Lance would treat him like a worshiped prize. And as they soared into the unknown, Lance silently vowed to protect him, no matter the cost.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Keith was 8 years old when the men at the fire station showed up to his house to tell him his father had been killed in a burning building coming down. He had been so small back then, a shadow of the man he was today, yet told the facts of a weight that most grown adults struggle to carry. He had been told his father was a hero, a fighter, someone who put others lives first before his, and had bravely charged back into the burning building that was on the verge of crashing down to make sure everyone had gotten out.

Keith was 8 years old when he had been brought to the morgue to identify his father’s body, since he was the only known relative to Mr. Kogane and legally, he had to be there to state it was his father lying before him.

Keith was 8 years old when he dressed himself in his favorite red tee that his father had gotten him and stared dully at the grey tombstone in front of him, where his father’s name was engraved, his own thoughts drowned out by the roar of the downpour around him.

Keith was 8 years old when it was pouring rain down his neck and soaking his socks in his shoes as he was led away from the grave and into the back of a van where he was brought to the foster center, now that he was a parentless child.

It was raining so hard that he couldn’t tell the difference between his own tears or the rain on his own cheeks, he couldn’t tell if he was shivering because he was drenched from the storm or the trauma of the only known person who had ever cared for him and shown him love was now gone. The sky had opened up, crying as he stood there frozen, a tiny boy who was forced to understand what it meant to lose

Keith was 12 years old when he woke up to the news flashing in the living room of his fostercare’s house, the stark images flashing across in dulled color pictures and words. Red flashes of alerts and breaking news came from the broken down television set that was worn from many children hitting and kicking at it over the years. Words of ‘Pilot error’ and ‘Lost in space’ and ‘Garrison Crew’ flashing before Keith’s eyes.

Keith was 12 years old when he stormed out of the foster house and marched his way over to Shiro’s house that he had memorized instead of heading to another day at the Garrison, his fist balled so tightly it should have been cutting circulation, his eyes wild and stinging. He had banged hard on the door and nearly kicked it down before realizing there was no one on the other side.

Keith was 12 years old raging as he threw a rock through the window in defiance and shattered the glass, leaving in a hurry, but it was raining so hard that he couldn’t tell the difference between his own tears or the rain on his own cheeks, he couldn’t tell if he was shivering because he was drenched from the storm or the trauma of the second known person who had ever cared for him and shown him love was now gone. The thunder had swallowed his cries whole, leaving him empty. The rain had drenched him to the bone, cold and unforgiving, but nothing compared to the chill that had settled deep in his chest.

Keith knew that rain did not mean rebirth. It didn’t mean cleansing or healing or calmness or something to be washed over by. It was something to be drowned in, loud and aggressive and vexing in your ears and invasive to your body. The rain wasn’t just water—it was a manifestation of Keith’s grief. It carried the echoes of everyone he’d ever lost, every soul that had slipped through his fingers, every moment he had been too weak to save them. His father. Shiro. The rain was always there to bear witness to his failures, a silent reminder of what he couldn’t hold onto, slipping away as easy as droplets through your fingers.

Keith was 23 years old, his mind stilling as he sat with a couple lingering shakes in the gentle hum of Blue’s cargo. The steady, warm hand of Hunk sat rubbing slow circles on his back, unsure but grounding that he was there, and not leaving his side until he was ok. He didn’t speak at first, his large hands resting on his back as he studied Keith with quiet concern. Keith had been through the wringer, that was pretty damn clear, but somehow Keith knew that Hunk wasn’t going to push. Keith was like a wild animal when cornered; you had to approach slowly, with care, or he’d snap under pressure.

Keith was 23 years old breathing out heavy through his nose as he felt the remaining water droplets run down the back of his neck and into his battered suit. His face was pale, his lips slightly parted as he took slow, shallow breaths. The drenched locks of his black hair stuck to his forehead, water droplets occasionally slipping down the side of his face, but he made no move to brush them away.

Keith was 23 years old when he watched the third person in his life who had treated him as if he was their own, brought them in under a watchful eye and believed the best for, just to get ripped away, slipping through fingers as easy as droplets. The rain clung to Keith like a second skin, cold and relentless. It seeped into his very bones, dragging him back into the depths of memories he wished he could forget. His whole body was taut, like a bowstring pulled too tight, ready to snap. The armor he wore felt too heavy, the air in the cockpit too thin, and his breaths too uneven. He was shaking—not from the cold, but from the memories clawing their way back into his mind. Rain was always there, a cruel spectator to the worst moments of his life. And now, here it was once more, crashing against the metal hull of the ship and slithering down his neck, an icy reminder of Kolivan being blasted from his grasp. The explosion rang in his ears, his mind replaying the vivid image of Kolivan’s body disappearing in the blast as his own body hurtled backward, engulfed in fire and debris. He’d tried to reach him, his hand outstretched in desperation, but he’d been too late. Always too late.

The rain outside Blue’s cockpit mocked him, an endless symphony of grief. It was almost poetic, he thought bitterly. As if the universe delighted in making sure he never forgot the rain’s significance. Loss. Failure. Abandonment.

Keith clenched his jaw, staring blankly ahead, the wetness on his skin refusing to evaporate. It lingered like a ghost, a phantom of the storm outside and the storm within. His breath was shallow, his chest rising and falling erratically as his thoughts spiraled into chaos.

Why Kolivan? Why now?

The mission had gone sideways, and the one person who could have led them out of this disaster was gone. And Keith had been powerless to stop it.

A soft clearing of a throat snapped him back to the present. His head jerked up, his sharp gaze locking onto Hunk, who sat nearby, radiating a kind of warmth Keith didn’t think he deserved. Hunk’s expression was soft and careful, his brow furrowed in concern but not in judgment.

“You good, man?” he asked gently, his voice as warm and grounding as a sunbeam piercing through storm clouds.

Keith blinked, momentarily stunned by the question. His first instinct was to brush it off, to bury everything and keep moving forward like always. But Hunk’s smile—the gentle curve of his lips, the way his eyes crinkled just enough to show genuine care and the smile lines dancing across his face—made it impossible to put up his walls entirely. Keith swallowed hard, dragging himself back to reality. This wasn’t the time to drown in the rain or his own mind. They had a mission to finish. He was surrounded by his team, his family. He wasn’t alone. Not this time. The glow Blue’s interrior cast a dim light over the room, accentuating the faint tension still lingering in the air.

“I’m fine,” Keith finally managed, though his voice came out rough and strained. His eyes darted to Hunk’s, expecting worry, but instead, Hunk just tilted his head slightly, as if to say,

Stop lying.

Keith grimaced, his expression caught somewhere between gratitude and discomfort. “We should... go see what Lance and Pidge are doing,” he muttered, averting his gaze to the Blue’s cockpit, where he heard several voices all speaking. He wasn’t ready to unpack everything—not here, not now. But as Hunk gave a small, understanding nod and didn’t seem to press further, Keith felt a sliver of warmth pierce the icy grip of his thoughts.

“Man, that’s what you’re deciding to say to me?” Hunk finally said, his tone light, casual, the kind of voice you’d use to coax someone out of their head.

Keith blinked but didn’t respond, his red-rimmed eyes still staring off at something invisible.

“I mean, not to brag or anything,” Hunk continued, his lips pulling into a small smile, “but I think I lost like five pounds in sweat just waiting around to see if you’re alright. Seriously, I’m basically a puddle now from stressing about how you were doing when you left us back at the barn. Like, I’m more drenched than you are from sweating alone. I’m probably the first pilot in history to evaporate in real time.”

Keith’s lips twitched. Just barely. If Hunk hadn’t been watching him so closely, he might have missed it. Encouraged, Hunk shifted to sit cross-legged, leaning forward slightly. “You’re probably thinking, ‘Wow, Hunk, what an incredible survival skill.’ And you’d be right. Maybe even the first case of Altean second wave puberty like Coran got that one time.”

That got him a faint huff from Keith. Not quite a laugh, but close enough. He looked down at his hands, his fingers twitching slightly as if considering what to say. The storm still echoed in his mind—the rain hammering down, the suffocating heat, the helplessness.

Hunk seemed to sense the shift, his tone softening. “Hey,” he said, leaning in just enough to catch Keith’s eye. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. I just... thought you might need someone to sit with you. You know, in case you feel like throwing me one of those cryptic brooding liners you’re so good at.”

Keith’s lips quirked upward, faint but real this time. “I don’t... do cryptic.”

Hunk raised a brow, gesturing dramatically. “Dude, I know I’m not one to do impressions here, but Pidge does a killer reenactment of you.’” He counted them off on his fingers, his voice dropping to mimic Keith’s serious tone. “

Ugh. No. Go away. Whatever. Knock it off Lance. Dully noted

.”

Keith shook his head again, but the tension in his shoulders seemed to ease, if only slightly. He glanced at Hunk, his voice quieter now. “Thanks... for staying. And for being here involved in all of this.”

Hunk’s smile softened, his usual boisterousness dimming to something more sincere. “Anytime, man. That’s what friends are for, right?” He patted the floor next to him. “You don’t have to figure everything out right now. Just... one thing at a time. And if you ever need someone to talk to—or, you know, just someone to sit with—I’m your guy. I always will be, Keith. Don’t forget that, ‘kay?”

Keith nodded, his gaze dropping to the floor, but for the first time since they’d gotten back to Blue, his breathing seemed to steady. The storm inside him wasn’t gone, but maybe, with Hunk’s steady presence beside him, it felt just a little less suffocating.

Hunk offered a warm hand for Keith to take, helping him to his feet. Between Hunk and Blue’s gentle force filling his body and mind, it was easy to push everything down and have it wrapped up in a little bow and dealt with. He flinched as he took a step, his body sore and banged up pretty hard, but it would be manageable. As the two made their way to the cockpit with Keith’s mangled limps, the unmistakable sound of a call ending bleeped through as they entered. Before Keith could ask who Lance had called, Lance quickly pushed down on the controls, lurching Blue heavily as she was quick to respond to Lance’s touch, launching forward with an alarming speed as the entire cockpit shook. Hunk and Keith scrambled and let out surprised gasps, Hunk falling back against the side as Keith toppled forward to grab at the other side of Lance’s chair, gripping hard as their bodies were being forced back from g force alone.

“What’s going on now!?” Keith shouted over the sound of the rain splattering hard against Blue’s windows. Lance and Pidge both let out a yelp, their eyes bulging out of their heads as Lance pulled back on the controls, slowing Blue’s sporadic burst of energy and launch.

Blue came to a slow pause in the air, causing all of them to fall forward and relax in their holds. As Keith was able to stand straight and let go of Lance’s headrest, he caught the nervous look Pidge and Lance immediately exchanged with each other, their faces paling as they took in sharp breaths as if prepping for a blow.

“Heyy, why the secretive looks? We were gone for like five minutes. How did so much happen already?” Hunk pouted, his eyes glancing between his friends. Lance avoided eye contact with Hunk, hands flexing and regripping the controls to avoid looking at his best friend, while Pidge braved a glance up at the larger man, fixing her glasses while chewing at her lip.

“We, uh, just got off a call with Krolia and Iverson with the Garrison. Everything is fine on the Blade end, but the Garrison let us know that there was an unidentified flying object leaving Earth’s surface and heading straight for space.”

“What?” Hunk froze, his face paleing in comparison.

“They found a ship.” Pidge bit her lip, her nervous eyes glancing quickly at Keith before dropping away back to Hunk.

Keith bristled at that. His sharp gaze flicked between Lance and Pidge, suspicion growing. He straightened, his fingers tightening around the back of Lance’s chair as if grounding himself. “What ship?” he asked again, his voice firmer, cutting through the tense air like a blade.

Lance flinched, his shoulders rising as he exhaled shakily. He still didn’t look back at Keith. Instead, his fingers drummed faster against Blue’s controls, his knee bouncing like it had a life of its own. “See, here’s the crazy part that we’ve been trying to get to. Which, is kind of revolutionary and inspiring if we think about it. Nothing to—”

“Don’t,” Keith interrupted, his voice low but filled with warning. He hated when people danced around the truth, especially when it was something involving him or the team.

Pidge groaned, pushing up her glasses and muttering under her breath. “This is why I didn’t want to be here for this part.”

Hunk, always the peacekeeper, stepped forward, putting a hand on Keith’s shoulder. “Okay, let’s all take a deep breath. Clearly, something’s up. But let’s not explode here, yeah?” He gave a gentle smile at Keith, then turning to look at Lance, his warm brown eyes silently pleading. “Just... tell us what’s going on, Lance. We’re all in this together.”

Keith glanced sideways at Hunk. The calm reassurance in his tone felt like a tether in the chaos that was quickly unraveling in his mind. It reminded him of the countless times Hunk had been the one to steady the team when everything felt like it was falling apart. Keith’s chest tightened with gratitude, but it was fleeting as his focus returned to Lance.

Finally, Lance sighed, his shoulders dropping. “Fine! Okay.” He turned his head slightly to glance at Keith, his expression conflicted, a mix of guilt and worry. “So the Garrison picked up a weird energy signature leaving Earth, right? At first, we thought it was some fluke since the Blade had been watching the entire time, but it’s not. And... Shiro’s tracking it.”

The words hit Keith like a punch to the gut. His grip on the back of Lance’s seat tightened, his knuckles going white. “Shiro?” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

“Yeah,” Pidge muttered, rubbing the back of her neck awkwardly. “Apparently, he volunteered. The Garrison didn’t ask him to, but he just... went. They said he made the call himself.”

Keith’s heart sank. His mind raced, piecing together everything he’d just heard, but it didn’t make sense. Shiro wouldn’t just leave like that. Not without telling him. Not without discussing it. “Why?” he asked, his voice trembling slightly despite the edge in it. “Why would he do that?”

Lance finally turned in his seat to face Keith fully, his eyes wide and apologetic. “Keith... we don’t know. We just found out, and we’re going after him. Okay? We’ll catch up to him, and we’ll figure it out. We got this.”

Keith didn’t respond immediately. His mind was spinning, memories and emotions crashing over him like waves in a storm. Rain. The sound of it against the roof, the way it blurred his vision as he stood there, fists clenched, helpless. His father had died with a storm. Shiro had vanished in one, too, during his first disappearance. If they hadn’t been in the void of space, it would have been raining the second time Shiro had disappeared, he’s sure of it. Now, it felt like history was repeating itself. The rain outside was still raging on, and the chill of it remained, wrapping around his chest and pulling tight.

“Keith,” Hunk’s voice cut through the haze, grounding him again. He turned to see Hunk watching him closely, concern etched into his features. “Are you okay? You look like you’re gonna... I dunno, implode or something.”

Implode was an understatement. The weight of it all pressed on Keith like an unrelenting tide, the echoes of rain against Blue’s cockpit amplifying the chaos in his head. Now, Kolivan’s face haunted his mind, the memory of him so vivid it felt like a knife twisting with every breath. His throat tightened, his body seizing up like it was bracing for another blow. The rain had always taken something from him. Always. He tried to form words, but his throat was too tight. Instead, his head dropped, his jaw tight and grinding and his fists clenched tightly at his side as his entire body stung and rang with the pounding sound of the rain outside, although that was miles away from the torment raking his every thought. The storm in his mind was too loud, too consuming, and it felt like he was caught in its relentless vortex, spiraling deeper into the memories that refused to loosen their grip.

The warmth of hands closed around his trembling fists. Keith’s gaze snapped up, meeting soft, familiar blue eyes. Lance was leaning forward beside him, his fingers carefully wrapping around Keith’s balled-up hand, his touch deliberate and gentle. He didn’t say anything right away, just stayed there, patiently waiting for Keith to untangle himself. Keith’s chest hitched as he let out a shaky breath. Slowly, he uncurled his fingers, his muscles loosening as he allowed Lance’s hand to slip between his own, their fingers intertwining. The warmth of Lance’s palm against his was grounding, pulling him out of the storm and back into the present. Keith blinked, the haze lifting just enough to see the concern etched into Lance’s expression.

Lance gave a small, encouraging smile, his voice calm and steady. "Hey... I know this is a lot," he said softly. "But have we

ever

let Shiro fend for himself? Like, come on. The guy probably has a bigger ‘lost and found’ record than I do."

Keith blinked at him, the words cutting through the noise in his mind. The corners of his lips twitched upward, just barely, but enough for Lance to notice. Before Keith could respond, Hunk gave his shoulder a firm squeeze, his steady presence a quiet reassurance. "Keith," Hunk said, his tone as warm as it was solid, "you’ve got us. Whatever’s going on in your head? You don’t have to carry it alone. We’ve got you."

Pidge, leaning casually against the control panel but keeping a watchful eye on Keith, chimed in with her usual sharp wit. "Don’t forget we’re painfully annoying," she said, crossing her arms, "and, somehow,

really

good at tracking people down. He’s not going to get rid of us that easily, and neither will you."

Keith exhaled, his gaze shifting to each of them. He still felt the weight of the memories pressing down on him, but it was easier to breathe now. His hand tightened slightly around Lance’s, anchoring himself to the warmth and patience radiating from him. He glanced back at Lance, meeting his soft, determined gaze. Those beautifully alive blue eyes. Calm, gentle, loving. Lance gave his hand another gentle squeeze, his voice dropping to a near whisper.

"We’ve got this, Keith. You’ve got us. And we’ve got you."

Blue’s cockpit hummed gently, the flickering lights casting a soft glow on the four of them. Keith leaned back slightly, the weight of his armor pressing into him, but his lips tugged into the smallest smile as his gaze rested on Lance, who was practically buzzing with subdued energy before him.

"Show me proof you still know how to pilot her, then." Keith said softly, his voice dry but laced with a tease.

Lance’s eyes snapped to Keith, wide and glinting in excitement, a playful grin spreading across his face. "Oh-ho, you doubt me? You wound me, Keith." He placed a hand over his chest dramatically before his fingers snapped back to the controls. "Alright, babe. Hang tight—actually, all of you might want to hang on. Blue and I are about to show you how it’s done."

Pidge rolled her eyes but instinctively tightened her grip on the back of Lance’s chair. "Lance, I swear, if you—"

Before she could finish, Blue roared to life, the cockpit vibrating with a low rumble as Lance gripped the controls. With a sudden surge, the lion launched upward, climbing through Earth’s atmosphere at an exhilarating speed.

"Whooooo!" Lance cheered, leaning forward into the controls like he was riding a wave. "That’s what I’m talking about! Still got it, baby!"

The force of the acceleration had all of them gasping, Pidge letting out a startled yelp as she clung to a nearby handle, her bangs whipping into her face. Hunk groaned loudly, gripping his seat with both hands, his eyes shut tight.

"I—can’t believe—he’s still this reckless!" Hunk shouted over the hum of the engines.

Lance turned his head slightly, smirking. "Reckless? Or brilliant? There’s a fine line, my man."

"Yeah, and you’re dangling right off the edge of it!" Pidge snapped, but there was no real anger behind her words, just exasperation.

Keith, meanwhile, sat silently, his eyes scanning the cockpit as Blue soared higher and higher. The earth began to blur beneath them, a swirl of blue and white, and he could feel the familiar weightless pull of space nearing. For a moment, he couldn’t help but let the nostalgia creep in. The team—this team—together again in a lion. It wasn’t the same, not quite. The years had left their mark on all of them, carving lines of wear and wisdom, but something about this moment... it felt like slipping on an old jacket that still fit just right.

As they broke through the planet’s atmosphere, the stars revealed themselves all at once, an endless expanse of shimmering light wrapping around them. Blue slowed for a moment, hovering gracefully in the vacuum of space, her engines humming softly. The shift in speed made them all lurch slightly forward, and there was a collective gasp from the crew.

"Whoa," Hunk breathed, his wide eyes glued to the view outside the cockpit. "I forgot how... quick it takes the Lion’s to breach Earth’s atmosphere."

Pidge leaned forward, her expression equally stunned, though her hands were already busy fiddling with the counsel in tront of them. "Alright, Lance, don’t just sit there gawking—run a perimeter scan for a 100-mile radius. We’ve got to make sure that energy signature isn’t nearby. And track for a Garrision ship as well, we have those scans in my tablet here."

Lance huffed, pretending to be offended. "Yeah yeah, go pilot your own lion," He shot back playfully, shoving Pidge’s hovering body away from his controls.

Pidge scoffed, swatting at him while shoving a tablet in his face, as small bickering ensued of the proper way of tracking down a spacecraft.

Keith watched the exchange, his smile soft but fleeting. His eyes drifted to the stars outside, the expanse of space feeling both vast and suffocating. He couldn’t ignore the pang in his chest, the memories flooding in uninvited. Every major loss in his life... it had been storming. The day his father died, the rain had come down in sheets, chilling him to the bone. When Shiro had disappeared the first time, it had been the same—a downpour, relentless and cold. Now, even though the rain was gone, the ache lingered, and it was replaced by the hum of distant uncertainty. The stars seemed quieter than they should, and the shadows of the past loomed larger in his mind. The weight of it was unbearable sometimes, threatening to suffocate him if he lingered too long.

He felt Lance’s voice cut through his thoughts, that characteristic enthusiasm snapping him back to the present.

"Aha! Blue’s scans were always the best. OW! Ok, fine, second best to Green of course. Time to save the day again," Lance said with a chuckle, dodging at Pidge’s swat.

“It looks like the ships are passing Saturn, turning around that way. The Lions have a much faster mileage, we could catch them in a couple minutes.” Hunk pointed to the data popped up on the screen, earning a wink from Lance.

“Right you are, buddy. We’ll get there pronto, zoom in, hone in on Shiro and see what the heck they are even tracking, and stop whatever UFO thing that’s causing this whole issue and wrap it up and head back to earth and make some arrests from Vrelen’s ship. Safe to say, I think we got this all under control right now.” Lance flashed a brilliantly handsome smile, earning some reassured grins back from Pidge and Hunk.

Keith’s lips twitched, his earlier thoughts momentarily pushed aside. And yet, here was Lance, in the center of it all. Radiating a spark Keith hadn’t seen in what felt like ages. That carefree charm, the self-assured determination that had been dulled by time and hardship, now finally creeping back into him. His hands moved over the controls, purposeful but natural, and Keith couldn’t help but watch him—really watch him. There was something about Lance’s energy, that infectious optimism, that had always been grounding for him. Keith watched Lance as if he were witnessing the sun rising after an endless, starless night. His voice carried that bright, confident lilt Keith had come to love—the natural charisma that Lance seemed born with but had momentarily lost over the last year and a half, but was regaining once again. It had been agonizing watching him struggle, watching the light dim from his eyes. But now?

Now, Lance sat tall, his shoulders squared, his every word laced with conviction. The spark had returned, and it wasn’t just in his words but in his entire presence—like an electric storm charging the air around him. He radiated something so painfully beautiful that Keith felt his chest constrict, his heart aching in ways he hadn’t fully allowed himself to understand until this moment. It wasn’t fair, really. Keith crossed his arms tightly over his chest as if trying to hold himself together. His eyes stayed fixed on Lance, though he tried to pretend he wasn’t staring. He couldn’t help it. Lance looked… incredible. Confident. Alive. He had no right to look this good while Keith felt like a crumpled mess of shattered memories and suffocating doubts.

He leaned back, letting out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Lance snapped his attention like a magnet back to him, pausing right as he was about to push forward on Blue’s controls.

“What?” Lance’s voice jolted him out of his thoughts, the warmth of it cutting through the haze in Keith’s mind. “Did I miss something?” His smile faltered slightly as his eyes were trained solely on Keith.

Keith squirmed, feeling the radiating intensity of the man he loved looking right at him with all his charism and confidence that had once been missing, lost and waiting to crawl back to fill the body it was used to calling home just over 2 months ago. Crazy how life could change in such a small amount of time. He felt raw under his gaze, as if Lance could see all the jagged edges Keith tried so hard to keep hidden.

“Nothing,” he said quickly, his voice sounding rougher than intended. He hesitated, the words bubbling up before he could stop them. “Just… being a leader looks good on you.”

As soon as the sentence left his mouth, Keith wanted to curl into himself and disappear. His brain screamed at him, realizing far too late what he’d just said. His entire body went stiff, his hands gripping his arms so tightly it almost hurt. He was sure his face was burning, but he didn’t dare move, too terrified to see the expression on Lance’s face.

Lance froze for a moment, his eyes wide in genuine surprise, his mouth slightly open as if he hadn’t expected those words to ever come from Keith’s lips, before recovering quick as his lips formed the brightest grin. You would have thought he was told he had won jackpot. It was dazzling.

“You blush easy, yknow.” Lance smirked, his voice softening into that familiar teasing tone, though there was a gentleness to it that was slowly reappearing each time he spoke to him. He reached up to tug at the end of Keith’s hair. Keith’s breath caught in his throat as he took a quick step back, swatting at Lance’s hand before he could actually make contact.

“No, I don’t,” he shot back, his voice sharp but lacking its usual bite. It sounded more like a panicked protest than an actual rebuttal.

“Ha! You do.” Hunk jeered, earning a groan from Pidge.

“Oh my god I thought this was

saving Shiro

time, not

watch two hopeless gay idiots edge each other

time.”

“PIDGE!” Lance and Hunk both whipped their heads to look at the youngest girl, as Keith let his hands cover the bridge of his nose in embarrassment. His face burned hotter, and he turned away, pretending to focus on something—anything—other than Lance’s stupid, beautiful face. His heart was pounding so hard he was sure Lance could hear it.

“Hey, don’t worry. It’s cute.” Keith peeked back through his bangs to see Lance’s full attention on him, the same gentle face pulled and reserved just for him.

Then he snapped his attention forward to Blue’s controls, throwing on a different look, one that burned fiery with determination and grit.

Keith hesitated, glancing back over his shoulder. Lance was still smiling, but there was something more vulnerable in his eyes now, something raw and genuine. It made Keith’s throat tighten, and he nodded once, unable to find the words to respond.

As he looked at Lance, standing there so confidently, Keith felt a warmth spread through his chest, chasing away the cold shadows that had taken up residence there for far too long. Lance was… Lance. Bright, infuriating, and impossibly radiant. And Keith loved him for it—every damn part of him.

The tension in Blue’s cockpit was palpable after a few minutes of flying throuhg space, barreling forward to the unknown, a mix of adrenaline and raw nerves. Lance gripped Blue’s controls tightly, his knuckles white as he pushed her engines harder to catch up to the sleek Garrison ship ahead.

Pidge sat beside him, furiously typing into her console, her glasses reflecting the blinking screens as she worked to override the radio chatter and excess of space discrepancies blocking their communication. She bit her lip in concentration, the faint sound of her muttered calculations filling the cabin.

“Anytime soon, Pidge,” Lance muttered through clenched teeth, his voice sharp with both stress and impatience.

“I

know

,” Pidge snapped back without looking at him, her fingers flying across the keys. “I’m trying, Lance! The Garrison must’ve reinforced their comm systems—this isn’t exactly a walk in the park!”

Hunk leaned forward pushing between Pidge and Lance, pointing out the window, his voice low but urgent. “Uh, guys? I think that’s it. The Garrison ship. White and orange, right there.”

Keith’s eyes darted to where Hunk was pointing, and sure enough, the unmistakable shape of a Garrison-class ship loomed ahead, sleek and angular, its engines burning brightly against the blackness of space. Just beyond it, another smaller craft—a pod, judging by its size—zigzagged in an erratic flight pattern.

“There’s the escape pod,” Keith muttered, sensing the way Lance tensed besides him as he pushed Blue into a sharper angle to close the gap.

“Come on, girl, let’s catch up.” Lance gritted out.

Blue roared in response, her engines flaring brighter as she surged forward. The cockpit shook slightly under the strain, and Lance steadied his grip, his eyes flickering to Keith in the corner of his vision. Pidge let out a frustrated groan from her console, jolting everyone’s attention.

“Come

on,

” she hissed, smacking the side of the screen as if it would help. “Their comms are layered with static and encryption—it’s like they

don’t

want us to talk to them.”

Before Lance could retort, Keith suddenly moved. His fist slammed down hard on Blue’s control panel with a loud

thud

, the sharp sound startling everyone in the cockpit.

“Keith!” Lance barked, whipping his head toward him, his voice a mix of annoyance and concern.

But Keith didn’t look at him. His chest was heaving, his eyes wild and dark as he stared out at the ship ahead. The room fell into an uneasy silence, tension crackling in the air. Before Lance could press more, the sound of a crackling buzz filled the cockpit, followed by a faint voice cutting through the static.

“—repeat, this is Captain Takashi Shirogane of the Garrison vessel

Vanguard

. Who is attempting to contact this ship?”

Pidge’s head snapped up, her hands flying to the controls as she leaned forward. “Shiro! It’s us—Team Voltron. What are you doing out there? We’re tracking your ship and the pod ahead of you. What’s going on?”

A moment of silence followed before Shiro’s voice came through again, more audible this time but laced with tension. “Pidge? Is that you? What are you doing out here? This isn’t your fight—turn around and wait for backup!”

Lance leaned forward, his hands clenching at his hold of Blue’s controls. “What do you mean, ‘this isn’t our fight,’ Shiro? You’re out there chasing after something alone, and you expect us to just sit back? Not happening!”

Another pause, and then Shiro’s voice softened slightly, though the tension was still evident. “Lance, I understand. But, that pod—it’s not just an escape craft. It’s carrying something—or someone—extremely dangerous. I can’t risk it getting away.”

“Then let us help!” Hunk shot back, his voice cracking slightly with the weight of his emotions. “You’re not doing this alone, Shiro. We are here as a team.”

Keith, who had been silent throughout the exchange, suddenly leaned forward, his voice low and sharp as he spoke for the first time. “Who’s in the pod, Shiro?”

The question hung heavy in the air, and for a moment, the comm line was silent. Then, Shiro’s voice returned, grim and strained.

“I don’t know for sure. My best bet is Vrelen, but I don’t want to assume anything until we get eyes and a scan of whoever is in there and how many personnel its carrying. But whatever—or whoever—it is, it’s strong enough to escape the Blade ship undetected and evade both the Blades and the Garrison scanners before we were able to detect movement leaving our atmosphere. I’m not taking any chances.”

Keith felt like he was just kicked hard in the chest, the words of that name ringing in his ear as an alarm. There’s no way he could have escaped, not after everything he and Kolivan just did on that ship. Not after Kolivan…..

Pidge’s eyes widened as she processed Shiro’s words, her fingers flying over her console. “I’m pulling up scans now, but if it’s—wait. There’s… there’s a faint energy signature coming from the pod. It’s… oh, quiznak.”

“What is it?” Lance demanded, his heart pounding as he glanced between Pidge and the view ahead.

“I- its a similar heat signature to the ones Krolia sent over. Shiro’s right about assuming it’s Vrelen..” Pidge muttered out, catching Keith’s eye.

“Bullshit.” Keith muttered out, his tone ice and his throat venom. The sharp stab of his tone rippled through the cockpit, shutting everyone up momentarily to whip their faces to Keith in surprise.

The air in the cockpit hung heavy, thick with tension as Pidge’s screen flickered with the data. Her voice broke the silence, careful yet firm. “It’s a match. The scans your mom sent and this heat signature—it’s identical.”

Keith’s face hardened, his jaw tightening like a vice. His chest felt constricted, lungs burning not just from residual exhaustion but from a new, boiling anger. “No way,” he muttered, his tone low and venomous. “That’s impossible.”

Pidge blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the sharpness in his tone. “Keith, it’s right here—science doesn’t lie,” she countered, holding the scanner up defensively, her fingers white-knuckling the device. “This is real, Keith. It matches exactly what your mom—”

“That’s

enough!

” Keith snapped, his voice louder than intended, sharper than he wanted. Pidge visibly flinched, her eyebrows knitting together in surprise and hurt. He glared, the intensity in his eyes cutting like daggers, but beneath it was something far more raw. Something fragile.

Hunk, ever the steadying force, raised his hands cautiously, stepping between them with his deep, calming voice. “Hey, hey, okay. Let’s all just…breathe for a second. It’s better that we know, right? At least now we have an idea what we’re up against.”

But Keith wasn’t hearing it. His ears rang with a phantom roaring, a cacophony of the storm and the echo of his own memories. The taste of smoke, the sharp sting of rain on his face—it all came rushing back, disorienting and maddening.

“There’s no way those scans are right,” Keith growled, his voice trembling with a mix of fury and something far more vulnerable. “Because I

watched

it happen, Pidge. I watched Kolivan

blow himself up.

” His fists clenched at his sides as he stepped forward, his breath coming short and uneven, like he was running out of air. “I watched him take Vrelen down with him, making sure there was

no

way that bastard could escape! So unless this is some twisted, deranged miracle, there’s no way Vrelen survived! Kolivan’s sacrifice wasn’t for

nothing!

”

The final word ripped out of him, raw and guttural. His voice cracked at the edges, like it hurt to say it. His chest heaved as the echoes of his outburst filled the cockpit, leaving a chilling silence in its wake. Hunk, Lance, and Pidge stared, wide-eyed and stunned into silence. Hunk’s comforting smile had faded, replaced with pure shock and loss. Pidge gripped the scanner in her hands tightly, as though it might anchor her amidst the storm that was Keith’s fury. Lance just looked stuck, his face a sickly pale and his eyes washing over Keith as if trying very hard to enter his tortured soul.

The shame of his outburst burned in his chest alongside the anger and hurt, but he couldn’t face them. He staggered back abruptly, bracing himself against the cold metal wall of the Blue’s cockpit, their shocked stares of the revelation and truth of Kolivan’s disappearance stricking Keith. His chest rose and fell in ragged breaths, his body trembling. Keith closed his eyes, the storm in his mind swirling violently, threatening to drag him under. His fists clenched against the wall as if he could fight the memory away, but it stuck like tar. The image of Kolivan’s final stand, his face resolute, and the explosion swallowing him whole—it all played over and over, the rain pounding in his ears, a relentless reminder. He stopped abruptly, bracing himself against the cold metal wall of the ship. His chest rose and fell in ragged breaths, his body trembling. Keith closed his eyes, the storm in his mind swirling violently, threatening to drag him under. His fists clenched against the wall as if he could fight the memory away, but it stuck like tar, his teeth grinding so hard his jaw threatened to pop out of its form. The image of Kolivan’s final stand, his face resolute, and the explosion swallowing him whole—it all played over and over, the rain pounding in his ears, a relentless reminder.

He felt like he was falling again. Spiraling into that endless, dark abyss where the storm swallowed him whole.

He flinched when Lance’s hands cupped over his ears, the sudden silence startling him. Lance had leapt out of his seat and was in front of him in seconds, his hands covering Keith’s ringing ears and his body so close and radiating comfort centimeters from his own. For a moment, he blinked, confused, before his vision locked onto those bright blue eyes. Lance’s face was soft, his usual teasing grin replaced with an expression so full of understanding and concern that Keith felt his throat close up. Lance just shook his head gently, offering no words. There were no words, and that was okay.

Without hesitation, Lance pulled him into a tight embrace. Keith froze for a second, his body rigid, but the warmth of Lance’s arms seeped into him like sunlight cutting through the darkest clouds. It was a quiet, unspoken promise:

I’m here. You’re not alone.

Keith crumbled. He sank into Lance’s chest, burying his face into the crook of his neck, gripping the back of Lance’s jacket with trembling hands. He wanted to crawl into this moment, disappear into Lance’s warmth, and never face the storm again. Lance smelled like rain too, but in the gentlest way—fresh, clean, and grounding. Keith wanted to live in that scent, to press himself closer until he was stitched into Lance’s skin, into his heartbeat, into the way he always seemed to pull Keith back from the brink.

“Keith,” Lance whispered, his voice cracking like he’d been holding back tears himself. But instead of saying anything more, he just held him tighter, letting his presence do the talking. Keith barely registered it when the others joined in. Pidge was the first, her arms small but steady as they wrapped around both of them, her forehead pressed to Keith’s shoulder. Then Hunk, his embrace massive and secure, as if he could shield them all from the world. The silence wasn’t heavy; it wasn’t awkward. It was exactly what Keith needed.

No one said anything. They didn’t have to. There was no trying to make it better because they couldn’t. What mattered was the weight of their arms, the solid warmth of their bodies anchoring Keith in place when he felt like he was moments away from shattering. Their collective heartbeat felt like it aligned with his, calming the erratic rhythm of his chest. Keith let himself melt further into Lance, who hadn’t loosened his grip once. His arms were a vise, but not suffocating—secure, protective, and understanding. He felt Lance’s hand stroke gently along his back, a quiet reassurance that he was still here, still breathing, still alive. Keith’s pulse thundered in his ears, drowning out the hum of the controls, the distant beeping of the Lion’s systems, the subtle shifting of his team around him. His breath was shallow, uneven, the weight of his own thoughts pressing down on his chest like a vice. His hands clenched into fists, nails digging half-moons into his palms. He couldn’t shake it. The feeling was too deep, too raw, like an open wound left to fester. He had felt it before.

Losing Shiro. Finding him again—only to possibly lose him all over. His mother once. His father. Kolivan. The people he dared to let in, only for them to be ripped away. It was like a cycle, endless and merciless, playing out over and over, and no matter how hard he fought, how fast he ran, how much he bled—he could never stop it. He had told himself he didn’t care. That it was

easier

this way, to keep his distance, to stay sharp, focused. Unshakable

.

But now, with his team standing so close—

with them still here

—the weight of that fear felt unbearable.

It curled in his gut, deep and dark and clawing at his ribs. Because what if—

What if this was the last time?

What if all of this was just another battle, another moment before the inevitable?

What if they were all just seconds away from being another name on the growing list of people he had failed to keep?

Keith clenched his jaw, staring hard at the floor, willing the burning behind his eyes to stop.

Get it together. Get it together. Get it—

“Keith?” Shiro’s voice came through the comms, steady and grounding, the way it always had been. Steady. Grounding. The way it always was. Keith’s breath hitched, bracing against the sheer force of emotion that swept through him at the sound of it. He swallowed hard, shaking himself from his spiraling thoughts. He hesitated before answering, swallowing hard, the lump in his throat nearly choking him.

"Yeah," he rasped after a beat, his voice quieter than he meant. His throat was raw. His chest felt like it was still caving in from the weight of everything. Everything

.

But Shiro was here. Even through the distance, even through the vast blackness of space that separated them, Shiro was here.

Shiro exhaled softly on the other end, like he could hear everything Keith wasn’t saying. "Glad to hear you’re alright. All of you."

Keith opened his mouth to respond, but stopped at the way Shiro said it. There was something underneath those words, something thick and heavy and—

Worry

.

Not the kind that wavered or hesitated—not the kind that second-guessed or feared Keith wouldn’t make it.

No.

This was the kind of worry that ached. That lingered. Learned ache from experience, of knowing how Keith could get, of experiencing the lowest points and deeply understanding the torments that the younger man faced. That pressed down like a storm rolling in, relentless and unmoving, not because he thought Keith couldn’t handle himself—but because Shiro wanted to be there. The kind that made Keith’s fingers tighten at his sides, because he knew that feeling too well.

Shiro wasn’t just worried—he was hurting

.

Because he wasn’t here. Because he wasn’t beside them. Because

he couldn’t be

.

Because, just like Keith, he was terrified of losing more people he loved. Keith’s jaw clenched, his throat threatening to tighten again. Sometimes, he swore that when Shiro did look at him, he saw the 12 year old reckless orphan staring back up at him.

"I'm fine," Keith muttered, forcing the words out, because if he didn't say it first, Shiro would keep pressing. He knew how this went. Shiro hummed, unconvinced. Keith felt a muscle in his jaw twitch as he exhaled sharply, frustrated—not at Shiro, but at the fact that he could

always tell.

Silence stretched for a moment from his end. Then, Shiro exhaled again, softer this time, like he was letting out something that had been pressing against his ribs. "I wish I was there," he admitted, voice barely above a breath. Keith’s grip on Lance’s arms tightened.

"You are," Keith murmured.

It wasn’t a lie. Shiro might not be physically standing next to him, might not be within reach, but Keith could feel him there. In the weight of his voice. In the way his words had always been an anchor—pulling Keith back from the edge, from himself, from the constant fear of loss. In the weight of his voice. In the way his presence alone was enough to cut through Keith’s spiraling thoughts like a knife. In the way he had always been the thing to pull Keith back—when he was lost, when he was breaking, when the world felt too cruel and unbearable to hold onto.

The team might have been the ones physically holding him just minutes ago, but it was Shiro’s voice now that felt like a steadying hand on his back, pressing between his shoulder blades, grounding him like he had when Keith was younger. Like he always had.

Shiro let out a quiet, breathy chuckle, the kind that carried an ache, something bittersweet. Something fond

,

"Still terrible at lying, huh?"

Keith huffed, shaking his head, but he could feel the smallest tug of a smirk at his lips.

"I'm not lying," Keith said. "Not this time."

Another pause. Then, softer, like he was pulling from the past—pulling from a memory Keith didn’t realize he needed—Shiro spoke.

"You remember what I used to tell you?"

Keith blinked, caught off guard, his lips parting slightly before closing again. He did. Of course he did. There was not a moment where Shiro said something that Keith didn’t lock it up tight in a golden safe in the back of his mind. But it wasn’t something he had thought about in a

long

time.

Back then, it was always at night. When the stars were just starting to glow outside the Garrison dorm windows, when the world had gone too quiet, and Keith’s mind had refused to do the same. The ones where the silence had been too loud, where his thoughts had been too much, where he had sat awake, hands clenched tight, shaking with frustration and grief. When his emotions had felt like an untamed wildfire in his chest, burning too fast, too much, too

everything

. Memories clawing back. The cold creeping back in his bones. The feeling of being fully alone.

Shiro would always find him. Always sit beside him.

And he'd always say it.

"Find your center," Keith murmured, almost without realizing it.

Shiro made a noise of approval. "Good. You know where that is right now?"

Keith exhaled slowly, letting the words settle in him, letting himself breathe. He squeezed his eyes shut, head tilting back against the cockpit wall. Yeah.

He did.

His center was here.

His center was

them

.

The team. The fight. The people he had given everything for.

And Shiro—

Shiro, who had pulled him out of darkness so many times, was still here, still reminding him of who he was. Keith’s fingers slowly unfurled from their death grip on Lance’s arm. Lance the entire time never made a sound, never indicated he was grabbing on too tight. He waited patiently, watchful. His heartbeat evened out. Shiro hummed, content, like he knew exactly what just happened on the other end of the line.

The moment stretched, timeless, as if the universe had paused just for them. Keith wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, but he didn’t care. For the first time in what felt like forever, the storm didn’t feel so overwhelming. It wasn’t gone, not entirely—it never would be—but the people around him made it bearable. And yet, standing here now, surrounded by his team, the oppressive weight of those memories felt… different. Not gone, but softer, like someone had cracked a window to let the suffocating air out. His body still thrummed with tension, the phantom weight of arms around him—their arms, his

team

—grounding him only moments ago. Opening his eyes, Keith found his team watching him. Not pity, though—that wasn’t what he saw in their gazes. It was love, pure and unshakable. He wasn’t used to it, but it was there, in the way Pidge gave him a small nod of solidarity, in the way Hunk’s gentle presence seemed to radiate calmness. And especially in the way Lance stayed close him, his thumb brushing softly along Keith’s jaw. The pressure of Lance’s thumb pressed firmly against the sharp corner, grounding.

“Unclench, Samurai,” Lance muttered, his voice teasing but warm.

Keith blinked at him, and realized his teeth had been clenched so tightly that his jaw ached. With a deep breath, he let it go, the tension easing ever so slightly, listening to Lance’s wishes immediately. Lance didn’t say another word, just offered one of those annoyingly endearing grins before standing and sliding into his pilot seat.

“Alright, Shiro,” Lance said, his tone shifting to serious but not losing its usual charm. “What’s the plan? How are we stopping Vrelen’s pod? We’re right behind you.”

Shiro’s hesitation was palpable, but after a moment, he let out a resigned sigh. “Alright. Stay close. And Lance—be careful. We don’t know what we’re dealing with yet.”

Lance nodded, more to himself than anyone else, as he gripped the controls tighter. “Blue and I were built for careful.”

Keith’s hand twitched at his side, his eyes dark and trainned on Shiro’s ship as he muttered under his breath, “Careful doesn’t mean safe.”

Lance glanced at him briefly, something sharp and unspoken passing between them, before focusing back on the chase.

Shiro’s voice crackled through the comms.

“Lance, listen to me.” His tone was firm, urgent, but carrying that steady anchor that had always guided them in their worst moments. “We don’t have time to wait for the Blades. Vrelen’s ship is breaking orbit of our solar system, and if we don’t intercept it now, we might lose him for good if he has access to wormholes.”

Keith watched Lance lick his lips, barely aware of the rain dripping from his brow, mixing with sweat. “Blue’s fast,” he murmured, glancing at the display that tracked the escaping aircraft. “Faster than the Blades’ ships. We have that on our side to catch up.”

“Exactly,” Shiro confirmed. “You all in Blue and I are the only ones close enough to chase him down before he jumps to a form of hyperspace, if that’s what he’s intending.”

Lance exhaled sharply. “So what’s the play, Captain?” There was a quip in there somewhere, a shadow of his old self, one that got Hunk and Pidge to quirk their heads to in recognition. Keith’s chest fluttered.

There was a pause. Shiro was thinking, calculating. When he spoke again, his voice had shifted—there was something surgical about it, precise in a way that made Keith straighten unconsciously, aware of it’s hold on them all.

“There’s an asteroid belt in the following sector that he will either have to slow down and navigate to avoid getting hit or stop completely and change course. I want to catch him to it and force the ship to slow or stop, giving us the opportune moment to steer him into the belt on our own push with the force and strength of my ship. If we can’t disable his ship completely, we’ll force a crash landing along the belt, stopping the ship once and for all. If I hit it at full speed, we’ll take out their engines. We might not get another chance.”

Keith gritted his teeth. “Yeah? And if you miss? If he dodges at the last second? You’ll plow straight into the asteroid belt and be nothing but dust! He’s too slippery, we’ve seen that millions of times already.”

A thick silence followed. He could

feel

the tension gripping the others. Keith’s jaw thretaned to twitch at the intensity of it all as Pidge leaned forward, brows furrowed. “Force a crash—Shiro, that’s risky as hell. If we miscalculate—”

“I know,” Shiro interrupted. “But if he makes that jump, we won’t get another shot. We don’t know where he’ll go. And I don’t trust the Garrison or Blades to track him beyond this sector.”

Keith pressed his lips together, his throat tight. Shiro was right, but it didn’t make it easier. His mind flashed to Lance, eyes wide and hands hovering over his contros at attention to Shiro, to Pidge and Hunk, who were probably barely holding it together themselves. And now Shiro wanted to risk his life intercepting this ship against an asteroid belt?

Keith’s eyes danced over the controls, marking out vectors, movements, the tracking of Vrelen’s pod growing farther and farther the more they discussed. Then he exhaled, locking eyes with Lance, who rosse an eyebrow at him as if sensing Keith’s mind churning out a reckless plan. Reckless it definitely was. The idea clicked into place like a blade finding its sheath.

“We use Blue as bait.”

Lance jolted upright as Hunk coughed out a shocked “

What?!

”

“You heard me.” Keith was already leaning forward, eyes narrowed on the target leaving farther and farther on their scanner. “Vrelen

wants

Blue. He’s clearly obsessed with getting his hands on it. He won’t ignore it if we make it the perfect, vulnerable target.”

Hunk’s voice was uneasy. “Keith, Blue’s not exactly an easy thing to pretend is vulnerable. She’s a giant war lion after all…”

“We fake a malfunction,” Keith snapped. “Make it look like Blue’s thrusters are fried. Vrelen won’t be able to resist and stop in its tracks for a moment. We can catch up easy and maybe even pass and stop inside the asteroid belt. Move in fast, thinking he has a clean capture—”

Pidge caught on, her mind racing. “—and that’s when we lure him straight into the densest part of the asteroid field.”

Keith nodded. “Once he’s in, he won’t be able to maneuver. At least, not witht he same speed and agility the Lion has. Sure, Blue isn’t Red, but she’s still ten times more adaptable for a asteroid field than a stagnant pod. That’s when we hit him with everything we’ve got. We

pin

him there.”

A pause.

Then, quietly: “...Fine.”

Shiro’s voice, calm now, filled the channel. “Keith’s right. We do this with strategy, not sacrifice.”

A beat. Then, orders snapped into motion. Keith exhaled once.

Here we go.

Lance and Shiro accelerated in unison, Blue roaring to life beneath him. They were going to finish this. Shiro’s ship was visible just ahead now, sleek and cutting through the storm with precision.

Blue gained to Shiro’s ship, passing it swiftly as it continued on ahead to chase after Vrelen’s. Soon, it was spotted, a single, silvered capsule, rocketing toward the asteroid belt at breakneck speed. It tumbled slightly, spinning in the void as it cut through the darkness. No insignia, no way to see inside. Just the eerie, unshakable presence of the unknown.

Keith’s eyes locked onto it, unblinking. His fingers gripped the armrests of Lance’s chair, already feeling the anger and bitterness bubble up in his throat. “You’re gaining on it, Lance,” he said, voice steady but taut. “Keep on it.”

Lance’s breath came fast, adrenaline burning through his veins. “Oh, trust me, I

know.

” His fingers danced over the controls, pushing Blue harder, faster.

Hunk’s voice cracked as he gripped the sides of the cockpit for support, laced with worry. “Lance, be careful! That thing’s heading straight for the asteroid field, and a ton of excess comets are littering around it—”

“Wow, thanks, Hunk! Would’ve

never

noticed!” Lance shot back, eyes narrowing as Blue twisted through space, darting past a rogue cratered asteroid drifting in their path. The rock spun wildly, nearly clipping Blue’s wing as it passed.

Keith’s voice cut in, sharp and commanding. “Lance, keep your speed but don’t overcorrect. We’re threading a needle here.”

“I

know

how to thread a needle, mullet,” Lance quipped, glancing over to narrow his eyes up at Keith, but his grip on the controls was loose now as he had his full attention on him, “you would know this if you didn’t drop ou–”

“WATCH OUT!” Pidge leaned forward and yanked at Lance’s arms, ultimately causing Lance to shift the controls and dodge yet another rogue comet, causing the entire team to scream out in shock.

“No more looking at Keith.” Pidge muttered, shooting daggers at Lance and Keith, earning a solemn nod from Lance as he kept his eyes trained straight ahead.

Keith didn’t bite back a retort. His focus was trained ahead, his gaze calculating. Every second mattered. The escape pod hurtled toward the asteroid belt, tumbling violently now, caught in some unseen force. They were closing in. They neared the pod, sailing right underneath and shooting ahead, nearly about to enter the asteroid belt. Keith felt the way everyone craned their necks up to take a peek at the pilot. Tried to see through the windows. But the windows were

tinted

. No way to see who—or

what

—is inside. An uneasy silence remained in the cockpit.

Keith’s breath hitched for a second, the eerie feeling creeping along his spine, but he forced it down.

Focus. Calm. Think.

He exhaled sharply, forcing his mind into clarity. In. Out. Stay sharp. Stay in control. Patience yields focus.

“We enter the asteroid field from

below

—Vrelen won’t expect that. He’ll be tracking from above, waiting for us to take the obvious route. We go under his flight path, swing up, and cut past.” Keith ordered, “Pidge, scan the asteroid belt. Find the best entry point and a good place for Blue to

pretend

to break down.”

“On it.”

Blue zipped forward, dodging past another asteroid, the pod just within reach. The belt loomed ahead—a vast field of tumbling, jagged rock. Keith’s heart pounded.

The trap was set. Now, they just had to

survive it.

The asteroid belt loomed ahead like a beast lying in wait. Jagged rocks tumbled and spun, shifting unpredictably in the void. The escape pod hurtled forward, still tumbling, still unreadable. And tearing below it—hot ahead of its trail—was Blue, a streak of sapphire light against the abyss.

Lance gritted his teeth as he wove the Lion through the chaos. Every move was instinct, every turn a split-second decision. Blue dodged left—barely missing an asteroid that came barreling out of nowhere—then twisted right, only for another to nearly clip her side.

“--choppy when you ge—-wards the ce–” Shiro’s voice crackled over the comms, already losing connection from the heaviness of the belt they were quickly entering.

Hunk’s voice screamed over his shoulder. “Lance! I’m begging here.

Slow down!

”

Lance scoffed, yanking Blue into another sharp curve that made the whole cockpit tilt. “Oh yeah? You wanna take the wheel, buddy? ‘Cause last time I checked,

speed and agility

aren’t exactly Blue’s forte! That’s more of Red’s branding!”

Hunk groaned, gripping the sides of his seat as another asteroid spun wildly past, so close he swore he could

feel

it graze them. “Yeah, and

Blue

wasn’t built for

this

! You’re flying her like she’s Red, and I

like

being alive, thanks!”

“Then maybe stop

yelling

in my ear so I can focus!”

Another turn. Another dodge. The asteroid field thickened around them, closing in, filled with chaos and movement. The escape pod was barely visible in the mess of tumbling rock behind them, clearly in view of seeing Blue dodge around and acting a fool. The pod was playing it smart, entering slowly, drifting as asteroids slowly drifted along as well. But they were clearly being followed now.

Then—

“STOP!”

Pidge’s voice pierced through the cockpit.

Lance didn’t hesitate. His hands jerked the controls back, and Blue slammed to a near-stop. The sudden shift sent everyone lurching forward against his seat, and outside the cockpit, the asteroid belt screeched to a halt around them. For a breathless second, there was only silence.

Pidge’s breath was ragged as she scanned her monitors. Then, her voice steadied, grave and sharp. “I just finished the scan. If you thought this was bad before? This is

insanity.

”

The holo-display lit up with raw data—dozens, hundreds of asteroids shifting in an unpredictable, lethal dance. The belt wasn’t just a minefield. It was suicide flying at this rate. Pidge didn’t sugarcoat it. “Lance, you’d have to be

completely insane

or the

best pilot in the entire galaxy

to even try and navigate this at the speed you were going.”

A long pause.

Everyone turned their heads toward the cockpit window. Outside, the sight was... paralyzing

.

Massive asteroids, some the size of ships, spiraled past each other, narrowly missing collision after collision. Some pieces spun so fast they were nothing but blurs. A single wrong move and—

boom

. Gone. No one spoke for a moment, contemplating their paused moment. Keith stirred, his muscles feeling tense, his teeth grinding in his jaw despite his constant warnings from Lance. There had to be a way to get in there deeper. This plan won’t work if they stayed on the softer outskirts of it. They had to get IN. He crossed his arms tighter, feeling the inner working sof his brain calculate and compute every possible angle of attack and possibility here. If there was steam to show how hard his brain was working, it would be pouring out of his ears.

Then, softly—

Lance hummed.

Despite the deep mulling destroying Keith’s mind, that hum snapped him out of it like a spell. He turned his head, brow furrowed. “What?”

Lance didn’t look at him at first. He just stared ahead, then up at the top of the cockpit, as if something had finally clicked into place. Then he muttered, slow and almost reverent:

“...You’re both.”

Keith stiffened. His mouth opened slightly, confusion flickering over his face before realization slammed into him like a shockwave. He knew exactly what Lance was implying.

“No.” His voice was sharp, automatic. “I’m not Blue’s pilot.”

Lance turned to him now, brows raised, expression unreadable. “I dunno, man. You’re the one Red

chose

, right? But then you flew Black. And now you’re telling me you

can’t

fly Blue?”

Keith clenched his jaw, heat rising in his chest. “That’s

not

the same.”

“I’m with Keith here. The Lion’s aren’t exactly musical chairs.” Hunk rose his hand. Lance ignored him. Instead, he unbuckled his harness with a

click

and stood, stretching dramatically. “Welp. Guess Blue doesn’t have a pilot anymore. Tragic, really.”

Keith’s eye twitched. Hunk and Pidge, still gaping, turned their heads between the two of them as if watching a drama unfold live.

“Lance.” Keith’s voice was warning, low and clipped.

Lance smirked, placing a dramatic hand on his chest. “Hey, I’m just saying, if I’m not flying her, someone has to.”

Keith’s fingers curled into fists at his sides. His muscles tensed, his instincts screaming against it. Blue was

not his Lion.

She never had been. He wasn’t like Lance, the only one who had ever been accepted by both Blue and Red. He wasn’t charismatic, and adaptable, and the heart of the team and trustworthy and calming like Blue.

He would argue he was all that as the opposite really. Keith stood there, stiff as stone, tension crackling in the air around him. His fingers twitched at his sides, his shoulders coiled tight, as if ready to physically push back against the weight of Lance’s words.

“I—

No

.” His voice came sharp, defensive, as if the very idea burned his tongue. “I’m not—Blue doesn’t—” He exhaled sharply, hands clenching into fists. “I haven’t even flown a Lion in over a year, Lance. I don’t have—”

“The

charismatic charm

?” Lance cut in, smirking, leaning just slightly into Keith’s space. “The

gentle, adaptable heart

? The ability to ‘go with the flow’ or whatever Allura used to say about Blue’s pilot?” His voice dipped into a teasing lilt, mockingly thoughtful. “Yeah, okay, you’ve got about the social skills and charm of a cactus—”

Keith’s glare sharpened. “Lance—”

“—and adaptable? Pfft.

Please.

You’ve got Red’s temper down to a

science

—”

Hunk frowned. “Lance, how is this

—

”

“But,” Lance cut him off again, this time with something softer—something real

.

“You’re also the guy who stepped up when we needed a leader. When Shiro was gone. When the team needed someone to

fit

the role, even when it wasn’t what you thought you were made for.”

Keith’s breath hitched.

Lance’s smirk softened into something more genuine, eyes steady as he met Keith’s uncertain gaze. “You think you can’t fit Blue, but what’s stopping you? You weren’t ‘meant’ for Black, either. But you

adapted.

You became what the team needed. You think you can’t do that again?”

Keith’s throat worked, but no words came. His heart pounded—frustration, disbelief, something warm and unsettling all tangled together.

Lance shrugged, stepping back. “But hey, if you’re

scared

to try—”

Keith huffed sharply through his nose, face heating, the challenge igniting something stubborn inside him.

Lance

always igniting something stubborn in him.

“I am

not

scared.”

Lance grinned. “Then prove it, hotshot”

Keith hated that he fell for that. For that supid beautiful smirk and blazing eyes taunting him, sparkling with a look that danced at Keith in a way that screamed

I know this is getting you.

But even as he bristled, heat crawling up his neck, he

moved.

Begrudgingly. With the same sharp, determined energy as when he pushed himself into things he wasn’t sure he could do—just to prove that he

could.

The seat was still warm when he sat down.

His hands hovered over the controls. He looked outside. At the asteroid belt. At the impossible challenge ahead. At the escape pod, still drifting,

still waiting.

Keith growled out something low from the back of his throat as he grabbed at the controls, shutting his eyes in response as if waiting for a blow. A storm of thoughts crashed in his head.

This is stupid. This isn’t my Lion. This isn’t—

Then—

A sound.

A hum. A

pulse.

A soft, echoing

roar

that didn’t come from the cockpit, or the comms, or anywhere in the physical world. It came from

everywhere

, thrumming gently through his bones, settling into his chest. Keith’s breath caught

.

His whole body jerked as if struck by lightning, eyes snapping wide, his fingers tightening instinctively around the controls. His pulse pounded in his ears, but beneath it—

he felt it.

He felt her.

Blue.

Welcoming. Steady. Patient

.

As if she had been waiting.

Keith snapped his his head to meet six pairs of eyes staring back at him, blown wide and dropped mouths. The cockpit was

dead silent.

Hunk and Pidge were gawking at him, frozen in place. Their eyes darted from him, to the dashboard, to each other—understanding crashing over them. At the way Keith had reacted as if burned. At the way he was breathless and shaky and speechless, at the fact that Blue definitely reached him.

And Lance… Lance was staring, too. His mouth slightly open, his expression flickering between

shocked

and

so unbearably smug,

his cheeks peppered lightly with the fainest blush

.

Keith swallowed thickly, his face burning, his grip on the controls tightening. He could feel Blue’s quiet acceptance washing over him, something steady and knowing. Keith wanted to scream, his ears ringing, his muscles twitching and his brain running on empty.

Lance grinned, blowing out a sharp whistle

.

“Huh.” He leaned in, voice teasing but

soft

, just for Keith to hear.

“Told you so.”

And whether he liked it or not—

Lance was right.

Keith snorted, feeling his face heat at the look of pure amusement Lance was throwing him, turning away, hands gripping the edge of the seat. His jaw clenched as his pulse pounded in his ears.

“I hate you.”

Lance beamed, already stepping aside to make room. “You

love

me.”

Hunk groaned. Pidge just shook her head, exasperated.

And Keith?

Sure did love him, but he was sure as hell not going to announce that now.

“Alright, now that Blue has a pilot again and everything, we need to GO. That pod is nearing.” Pidge interrupted, making it apparent they had already wasted enough time. Keith exhaled sharply, gripping the controls with careful, measured strength. His fingers flexed, testing the throttle, gauging Blue’s power beneath his hands.

He pushed forward. Just a little.

Blue responded—smooth, controlled, but… slower. Not in a clunky way, but in a way that was

different.

Less immediate in her reaction time than Red. Less of a kick when he pushed her forward. But once she moved, she flowed like water, steady and fluid. Keith hummed in thought.

Alright. Not as fast to the punch, but handles tight turns like a dream. Noted.

Then he pushed harder. Blue surged forward, picking up speed, and Keith felt it—

felt her.

The movement was natural. Second nature. Flying was something he knew

,

something in his bones

.

Even after over a year out of a Lion’s seat, the rush of it came back instantly, like breathing. Keith grinned.

This feels good.

He tested her turning radius, twisting her left, then right, rolling into a sharp bank. The Lion curved effortlessly, responding to his touch, the smoothness almost like silk compared to Red’s snappy, near-violent lunges. He took it in—Blue’s movement, her handling, her reaction time—and in a way that surprised even him, he adjusted. Adapted.

And then, he pushed faster.

“KEITH!”

A chorus of yells erupted behind him—Pidge’s sharp

“What the hell?!”

, Hunk’s

“WHY ARE WE GOING THIS FAST?!”

and Lance’s whooping over his shoulder.

“Now this—” Lance called out, laughter bright in his voice. “This is the pilot I remember getting on my nerves!”

Keith snorted, rolling his eyes but pressing harder on the throttle. “Then maybe shut up and hold on.”

Lance cackled

.

Keith leaned into the controls, Blue weaving through the asteroid field with ease now, avoiding the incoming debris almost effortlessly. He could

feel

her, the way she wanted to move, the way she was meant to be flown.

Pidge’s voice cut in. “Keith! I’ve got a clearing—”

Keith barely had time to register it before two massive cratered asteroids lurched in front of them, their edges scraping against each other as they drifted dangerously close.

“Keith, we’re gonna—”

Keith didn’t hesitate. He launched Blue forward. Hunk screamed, bracing for impact—

But, they shot through the gap just before the asteroids collided, barely missing being crushed between them.
A beat of silence followed, everyone gasping out in shock at Keith’s decision.

“Oh my GOD,” Hunk wheezed. “I’m gonna throw up.”

Keith barely heard him. His muscles were on fire, adrenaline ringing through every nerve in his body. His breath came hard and fast, his pulse hammering in his ears. They had stopped, hovering in a small clearing within the asteroid belt. A perfect lull after the storm of chaos they had just sliced through.Keith exhaled, flexing his fingers, shaking out the lingering tremor of the rush.

A hand clapped onto his shoulder.

Keith startled, head snapping to the side, only to find Lance smirking down at him, his hand lingering—a soft smile ghosting his lips.

“Damn, mullet,” Lance teased, voice dripping with amusement. “Knew you had it in you since we were 12.”

Keith’s face flared instantly, warmth shooting up his neck. “Shut

up

.”
Lance grinned wider, clearly soaking in how easy it was to rile Keith up. “Nahhh, c’mon, be honest. You love proving me wrong.”
Keith scowled, but the heat on his face only deepened. He hated—

hated

—how Lance could just do that, how he could throw out a casual compliment and make Keith’s brain short-circuit.

And judging by Lance’s smug expression? He knew it. Keith huffed, rolling his eyes, but didn’t shake Lance’s hand off his shoulder.

But despite himself—despite his grumbling—his grip on the controls was firm, steady. And deep in his chest, he felt it—

felt Blue

.

Waiting. Accepting. And Keith knew, even if he’d never admit it:

She had chosen him. Keith’s grip tightened on Blue’s controls, breath slow and steady despite the fire still pulsing in his muscles. The asteroid belt stretched around them, vast and dangerous, jagged rocks tumbling in slow, chaotic motion. The plan was simple—make it

look

like Blue was down, an easy target, drawing Vrelen’s ship into the kill zone. But simple didn’t mean easy.

“Pidge,” Keith said, voice sharp, all business now. “How’s the damage scan looking?”

Pidge’s fingers flew over the controls. “I’ve patched Blue’s energy signal to flicker—should look like a power drain from maneuvering through the asteroids. Readings will show her as weak, just barely functioning.”

Keith nodded. “Good.” He glanced at Lance. “Wanna do the honors?”

Lance grinned at Keith but quickly schooled his expression into something infuriatingly confident. “I know, I know. ‘Make it convincing.’” He cleared his throat, switching to the comms, his voice suddenly panicked and desperate.

“

Mayday! Mayday! Blue’s systems are down! We’re stuck in the belt—shields failing!

”

He threw himself into the role, voice cracking with the perfect amount of fear. Even Keith had to admit—it sounded real

.

Hunk gave a low whistle. “Damn, dude. That was… kinda impressive. Way better than when you auditioned for the school play when we were kids.”

“Right?” Lance said, smug. “Told you I have range.”

Keith resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Focus. Is Vrelen taking the bait?”

Pidge squinted at the readings. “They’ve slowed. Scanners show they’re analyzing the signal… They’re considering it.”

A tense silence filled the cockpit, everyone waiting.

“They’re coming in,” Pidge confirmed, voice taut. “Flight path shows them maneuvering toward us.”

Keith exhaled sharply, body coiling tight.

Showtime.

“Stay still,” he ordered. “We don’t move until they’re locked in.”

From their position, they could see the dark, looming shape of Vrelen’s pod creeping closer, the sleek hull cutting through the asteroid belt with calculated grace. They had one chance to get Vrelen convinced that they were actually down and trap him for good. If this went

wrong

—

No. Keith shoved the thought down.

It wouldn’t

.

They couldn’t afford that.

His eyes stayed trained on the enemy ship, watching as it slowed, like a predator circling wounded prey.

Closer. Closer.

Then, Pidge whispered, “They’re locking on.”

A notification blared on the console—a targeting system locking onto Blue’s supposedly

crippled

frame. Keith smirked

.

“Now.”

In an instant, he slammed the controls forward. Blue roared to life, the faux damage dropping as Keith pushed her into a full-throttle maneuver. The Lion flipped, rocketing downward, narrowly dodging a cluster of floating debris. Vrelen’s targeting sensors scrambled, the sudden movement throwing their lock off completely.

“Yeah, didn’t see

that

coming, did you?” Lance laughed, cocky and electric.

“Hold on,” Keith snapped, voice taut as he yanked Blue under Vrelen’s pod, speeding just beneath the enemy’s belly. “Everyone grabbed on to something?”

“Ready!” Pidge and Hunk confirmed, grabbing onto the side of the cockpit. Keith felt Lance’s presence close in tighter behind his back as he gripped to the seat. Keith inhaled sharply, his breath steady and measured, threading the needle between spiraling asteroids, every nerve in his body singing with awareness. The chaos of the galaxy around him—the flickering lights from Blue’s consol, the blaring alarms of alerts as he forced Blue at lightning speed directly head first towards the target, the heavy breaths of his teammates—it all faded to background noise. His focus was singular

.

Vrelen’s escape pod. It was darting, turning through the asteroid field, already anticipating an exit the moment Blue showed signs of life again. The bastard had nearly fallen for the ploy—thinking Blue was dead in the water—but Keith had waited. Calculated. Watched

.

And now?

He struck

.

Keith yanked Blue into an upward climb, her engines roaring back to life at full power. He

launched

Blue into a dizzying ascent,

barely

dodging a massive asteroid as it drifted into their previous position. The acceleration slammed everyone back against their seats, but Keith didn’t hesitate. Didn’t slow down. The pod barely had a second to register what was happening—its scanners likely screaming an emergency warning—before Blue collided. Full force. Direct hit.

A violent boom rang through the cockpit as Blue’s armored back slammed into the pod’s hull, catching it from beneath. Metal crunched, twisted—the entire pod lurched as Keith drove it upward, ramming it into the closest asteroid with brutal force. The impact was devastating

.

The asteroid shook from the collision, sending fragments breaking off into space. Blue’s sensors shrieked in warning, the cockpit instantly bathing in a deep, angry red glow.

ALERT. ALERT. COLLISION IMMINENT.

The alarms were deafening—warnings flashing across every screen, heat sensors spiking from the sheer force of the ram. Steam burst outward from the battered remains of the escape pod, its frame mangled, wedged deep into the asteroid’s jagged surface. Inside Blue, the Paladins were thrown in every direction. Hunk let out a garbled scream as he slammed into the side wall. Pidge yelled something incomprehensible as her feet slipped out from under her to the side, hands flailing to stabilize herself. Lance’s grip on the back of the chair slipped, his head whipping back against the seat with a grunt.

And Keith?

Keith just held on.

His muscles burned from the impact, his body rattling from the sheer power of the maneuver, but he gritted through it. Finally, as the violent shaking settled, the alarms still

blaring

, Keith breathed out hard, his hands shaking slightly over the controls.

“…Is everyone okay?” he asked, voice rough.

A beat of silence—then Hunk, breathless, “Yeah. Yeah, I think so.” Then, weakly, “Huh. I guess now

Vrelen’s

stuck between a rock and a hard place.”

Keith exhaled sharply through his nose, pressing his fingers against his forehead.

Pidge groaned. “Hunk, I will throw you into space.”

Lance, still recovering, lifted a hand and lazily slapped it into Hunk’s, giving him a weak high-five. “Nah, that was some of your best work right there. Timing was perfect

.

”

Keith shook his head, exasperated, but something about the dumbassery grounded him. Brought him back from the sheer tension of the maneuver.

Lance let out a wheezy laugh. “I’ll tell you one thing, Keith—Blue is

definitely

never trusting you as her pilot again after that.”

Keith sucked his front teeth, unbuckling from his seat. “I’ll apologize later.”

He didn’t waste a second before he was moving out of his seat and towards the back of Blue. Determination burned in his veins, electric, a driving force that wouldn’t be ignored. His legs were stiff, his body singing from the crash, but it didn’t matter. He marched toward the back of Blue, every step precise, his muscles thrumming with adrenaline. Keith’s jaw was set, his breath steady as his fingers clenched into fists at his sides. His mind had already decided—his body was already moving before he could second-guess himself. He was going to break into that pod and end Vrelen once and for all.

“Uh, Keith. Where are you going now?” Pidge asked, getting up from the floor.

“I’m going out there to enter the pod. I’m making sure he stays dead this time.” Keith felt the tightness in his throat, the harsh bite of it. He knew how he sounded, like a mad villain, but hell would have to freeze over if he even thought about letting Vrelen leave a final time. The statement dropped into the cockpit like a death knell.

“Shouldn’t we wait for Shiro to–” Hunk bit his lip, but Keith turned wildly back to his friends, who all looked a little pale as they trained their eyes on Keith’s composure.

“I’m over waiting. I’m done trying to play it safe or do it the right way, because the right way has never worked. We’ve tried it that way.”

A heavy silence fell over the cockpit, either everyone worrying about Keith’s rash bold statement or the heavier realization that Keith may be right.
A cold chill crawled through the air, stiffening every muscle in his teammates’ bodies. Nobody responded immediately—no protests, no quick rebuttals. Just tense silence. They wanted to argue. Keith could

see

it in their expressions, their tight shoulders and locked jaws. Hunk’s hands twitched against his knees, fingers flexing like he wanted to grab Keith’s arms and hold him back

.

Pidge’s lips parted, but whatever she was about to say died before it could reach her tongue. Lance’s usual easy confidence was gone, replaced by something sharper, more vulnerable. Torn. Because what could they say?

They had all seen the destruction Vrelen had caused. The damage, the betrayal, the sheer pain he had inflicted on Keith

alone.

No moral debate could justify letting him live. Not this time. Keith exhaled sharply, reading the unsaid words in their hesitations. They weren’t stopping him. So he turned on his heel, ready to move.

“

Wait!

”

Keith’s feet skidded to a halt. His glare was already forming when he turned back, preparing to snap—he didn’t have time for more arguing. But Lance wasn’t fighting him.

He was scrambling over, his face tight with something unreadable. His hands clenched, but his eyes—

His eyes were so

blue.

Something shattering and understanding swirled behind them, something that made Keith’s chest feel too tight, like his lungs weren’t expanding properly.

“We started this together.” Lance’s voice was firm, not pleading, not arguing—just certain. “The safest thing is to finish this together.”

Keith let out a sharp breath, his shoulders stiff—then relaxed, ever so slightly. Lance wasn’t trying to stop him. He wasn’t telling him he was wrong. Keith swallowed hard.

“…Fine.”

Lance’s lips twitched into a small, knowing smile, one that made Keith look away quickly, as if that would stop the heat from creeping up his neck.

Hunk shifted uncomfortably. “Uh—guys, I hate to be

that

person, but—” he gestured vaguely to their bodies, “—we don’t have weapons. Or armor. Going in there with nothing?

Not

exactly a great plan.”

Lance let out an exaggerated groan. “Okay, okay. How about this. Blue had secret compartments

everywhere.

” He gestured wildly. “For all we know, Allura’s got more cool swords lying around.”

Keith frowned, watching as Lance ran past him quick to the back of Blue, emanating a loud heavy scraping sound from somewhere in the back. “Lance, that’s not—”

Keith looked up just in time to see Lance stagger back, nearly falling over something massive that he heaved up into his arms. Keith’s brain short-circuited.

Because there, in Lance’s hands, was an Altean broadsword.

“…Where the hell did you get that?!”
Lance blinked down at it, then back up at Keith, throwing him a flashy grin. “Like what you see? Now you're not the only one with a cool sword, Samurai.”
Keith blinked in utter confusion, his frown growing deeper as his eyes trailed the beautiful craftsmanship of the weapon. His throat was dry as he was truley at a loss for words.

“No seriously, when did you get that?” Keith muttered, his voice cracking. Lance’s smile wavered, but he just shifted his stance and grip on the large sword.

“I kinda found it right before running into Vrelen’s ship to save you…guess the fire really messed you up if you don’t remember me using it.”

The light in Lance’s voice died off a bit, as if he was relaizing Keith’s memory of the entire ship just moments ago. Keith frowned more, trying to rack his brain of Lance saving him in that moment, but it all was so blurred and honestly, blacked out. Crazy what trauma can do.

“Vrelen’s ship is crippled!” Pidge but in quick to change topic. “Shields are down, power fluctuating—they’re not going anywhere! If we are to do something, we all gotta go now.”

“We?” Keith glanced between Hunk and Pidge in question. Pidge rolled her eyes at Keith, but gave him a determined grin. Hunk looked like he was battling demons in his brain, but ultimately nodded, letting out a deep breath. Keith took a slow breath, his fingers tightening around the hilt of his own Blade that never left his side as he looked between his teammates. Hunk, solid as ever, his usual nervous energy tamped down by a burning determination in his eyes. Pidge, sharp and analytical, fingers twitching with anticipation as if already planning three different ways this could go wrong—and how to counteract it.

Then Lance—

Lance, who was watching Hunk and Pidge with a glint of amusement, his body leaning forward with that easy confidence that never truly faded. And just when Keith thought he was going to speak, Lance did exactly that—closing the space between them and dropping an arm onto Keith’s shoulder, leaning in just enough that Keith could feel the warmth radiating off him. That stupid, brilliant smile Lance always had in the worst situations was back in full force.

“All right, team leader,” he drawled, tilting his head in Keith’s direction, his face a mix of adoration and playful teasing. “Team Voltron awaits your call.”

Keith’s breath hitched. It wasn’t just the words, wasn’t just the way Lance was standing too close, his arm casually slung over Keith’s shoulder like it belonged there—it was the way he was looking at him. Like Keith was something worth following. Like Keith had already won before the fight even started. Had he always looked at him like that at his right hand side, awaiting his words before a battle, so trusting and at ease to Keith’s command?

A swirl of fire ignited in Keith’s chest, burning hotter, brighter. He swallowed, forcing himself to focus.

“Alright,” Keith said, stepping forward, slipping into that familiar commanding stance, gripping his sword tighter. “We don’t have time to overthink this. We get in, we take out Vrelen’s forces fast, if there are any, and we end this. No holding back.” His eyes flickered over each of them. “Hunk, you’re on defensive back. Hold our position and block off and alert of any reinforcements trying to get to us as we make our trail in.”

Hunk nodded sharply, rolling his shoulders back, his usual hesitation gone.

“Pidge, you get us into the pod’s systems. If there’s anything useful in their files, you get it. If you can sabotage their communications or weapons while you’re at it—do it. And if you are able to get through to Shiro, fill him in on this in the meantime, have him ready on standby, make sure the Blades are in route as well. He does not leave this asteroid belt.”

Pidge grinned, already flexing her fingers in preparation. “Oh, you

know

I’m gonna have fun with that.”

Keith turned to Lance last. “We have the weapons, so you and I go straight for Vrelen.”

Lance’s smile turned sharper, more serious.

Keith continued, “We don’t give him a chance to talk. No more games, no more escapes.” He lifted his sword slightly. “We take him out

permanently

.”

Lance’s eyes flickered, lighting up under Keith’s words. He didn’t hesitate. “Damn right.”

Keith nodded. “Then let’s—”

“Wait, wait, wait.”

Lance stepped forward, throwing an arm out dramatically.

“When I say ‘Vol,’ you say ‘Tron!’”

“

Lance—

”

“VOL!”

“Tron!” Hunk and Pidge chimed in instantly.

Keith huffed, exasperation laced with amusement as he crossed his arms. Lance wiggled his brows at him expectantly, waiting. Keith refused to give him the satisfaction. Lance laughed, eyes crinkling with warmth as he lifted a hand, brushing a stray curl of Keith’s hair behind his ear with a casualness that sent

every

thought screeching to a halt in Keith’s head.

Shrugging, Lance said, “Eh, worth a shot.”

Keith could only glare at him, ears burning. With no more delays, they started grabbing what they could from Blue’s storage compartments—sifting through broken tech, spare armor plates, and

somehow

an Altean spear that Pidge immediately claimed with

zero hesitation.

Hunk and Lance managed to scavenge a couple of old blasters—nothing powerful, but better than nothing. Then, tucked away in the emergency reserves, they found oxygen masks. Keith grabbed one, quickly securing it over his face before helping the others clamp theirs on. The pod’s exterior had taken a major hit, and they had no way of knowing how much of its oxygen support was intact. Better to be prepared.

With everything set, they approached Blue’s exit hatch. The glowing force field shimmered as Keith activated the override, the exterior ramp slowly descending into the open, the void of space stretching before them. The escape pod, still embedded into the asteroid’s jagged surface, hissed with escaping steam, wires sparking from the torn metal edges.
No sign of movement. No sign of life.

Yet.

Keith’s pulse pounded in his ears as he adjusted his grip on his sword. With one final glance at each other, they stepped into the void.

A final battle awaited them.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

This was so not how he thought his day would go. Hell, this entire month wasn’t quite exactly the post card you send back to your family.

Hey mama, thanks for letting me go to space to follow Keith to the Blades, but also almost get into countless near death expereinces but at least I’m helping tons of planets! And oh wait, theres more! We kinda stumbled into the evil plans of this maniacal dictator who has had it out for the Lions and kinda wants to destory them all. And also he somehow is able to hone in on people’s trauma and pain and use that against them? And in the middle of a huge galactic fight Veronica got involved and almost had to watch as my literal sister almost got blasted down from the sky. But she’s probably fine. And also remember Keith from the start? Yah so turns out I’ve been secretly in love with him this entire time (which you knew somehow. Mother intuition goes crazy) and it only took a couple more life or death type scenarios to figure that out, go figures, and now I’m quite literally following him back into the belly of the beast for one final showdown.

And I got to pilot Blue again. And talked to me ex-girlfrend who became an all powerful deity Allura. Did I die for that? Still unclear.

Still something Lance was super unsure of but hey, this was gonna make one hell of a postcard.

Lance swung his blade hard, the Altean metal sparking as it struck against the emergency exit door. The impact rattled up his arms, but he gritted his teeth, adjusted his grip, and swung again.

And again.

The stubborn thing was wedged tight, barely budging despite the repeated strikes.

"Ugh, come

on

already," he huffed, rolling his shoulders back before raising the sword once more. How the hell did Keith wield something this heavy on a daily basis as his go to?

On the next hit, the door gave the tiniest creak—barely noticeable, but enough to make his heart jump. Lance turned back, shooting a triumphant grin at Hunk. "I loosened it for you, big guy."

Hunk let out a breathy laugh, stepping up. "Yeah, sure, buddy," he muttered, but his massive hands were already clamping down on the edges of the door. With a grunt, Hunk ripped the thing clean off its hinges, the metal groaning in protest as he tossed it aside like it weighed

nothing.

And since they were quite literally hovering in space with nothing to keep them down, it practically was.

Lance couldn’t help it—his grin widened as he clapped a hand on his best friend’s shoulder. "Hunk, you absolute

beast.

Don’t tell Keith I said this, but that was

so

hot."

Hunk snorted, shaking his head as a deep flush spread across his cheeks. "

Dude.

"

Before Lance could milk the moment any longer, Keith had already leapt through the opening, his movements sharp and unrelenting. Of

course

he was the first one in. Because that was just

so

Keith. Lance followed right after, tightening his grip on his sword as the rest of the team piled in. The moment Hunk shoved the door shut behind them, sealing them inside, they all pulled off their oxygen masks with heavy exhales.

The air inside the pod was cold

.

The kind of cold that settled in your bones, that sent little pricks of unease creeping up your spine. Sparks flickered from exposed wires, the emergency lights pulsing in and out like a failing heartbeat. The damage from Blue’s assault had left the place a wreck—crushed panels, scattered debris, the occasional hiss of something leaking from busted pipes. Pidge tapped her wrist, and a soft glow emitted from her watch, illuminating the narrow hall before them. Lance bit back a smile. Of course she had some fancy wrist-tech to act as a flashlight. Classic nerd.

The air was thick with tension. None of them spoke as they squinted ahead, the only sound being the distant

drip, drip, drip

of water leaking somewhere.

Keith’s voice cut through the eerie silence, low and firm. "Stay alert. Anything could happen."

Lance sucked at his teeth, shifting his stance. "Pfft. I mean, where’s he even gonna go? The guy’s trapped for real this time."

Keith’s sharp glare snapped to him so fast it was physically chilling. Gone was the Keith who had let them comfort him mere minutes ago, who had leaned into their warmth and let himself be vulnerable. In his place was something honed

.

Steely. Eyes dark like cut obsidian, face blank with focus. Set on a mission. Lance swallowed hard.

The way Keith could go from soft to lethal in an instant?

Terrifying.

And—yeah, okay—maybe just a little attractive. Sue him for finding Anakin Skywalker hot all those years ago!

The air inside the pod was heavy—thick with tension and the stale scent of burnt wiring. Every step echoed too loud, bouncing off the damaged walls as they moved cautiously through the ruined corridors. Lance kept his grip tight on his sword, his fingers tingling from the cold bite of the air. His eyes flicked around, scanning for movement, for the inevitable ambush, for something.

But nothing came. No Vrelen. No guards. Not even the groan of the ship settling under its own broken weight. It was too quiet.

And Lance didn’t like quiet.

He stole a glance at Keith, who moved ahead like a blade—sharp, purposeful, wound tight like he was ready to strike at the first sign of trouble. Hunk was behind them, tense but steady, and Pidge—

Pidge had stopped.

Lance caught it instantly, the way she slowed mid-step, her brows furrowing as she frowned at the glowing screen of her wrist scanner. The shifting light illuminated her face, sharp with concentration, eyes darting back and forth as she muttered something under her breath.

Lance tilted his head, stepping back to her. "What, is the science not sciencing perfectly?"

Keith halted as well at his voice, turning sharply. His voice cut through the silence like a blade. "

What?

"

Pidge blew out a frustrated huff, clicking her tongue as she shook her head. "It’s stupid. It doesn’t make sense."

Lance and Hunk immediately leaned in over her shoulders, peering at the mess of data flashing across her screen. Lance squinted, brain scrambling to process the mixture of numbers and symbols—some of them in Altean script. He recognized bits and pieces from all that time spent in the Castle of Lions, watching Allura work her station, rattling off energy readings as her fingers danced over the controls to prepare for the next—

Wait.

Altean symbols?

Hunk beat him to it, his voice hitching slightly. "Uh—Pidge? Why is the ship getting readings of an

Altean

power core?"

Lance snapped his head up. "Wait—what

?!

" His grip tightened on the hilt of his sword. "Is Vrelen Altean?"

Pidge wrenched her shoulders free from their looming presence, huffing out another frustrated noise. "That’s what doesn’t make sense! There’s nothing about this ship that screams fancy Altean tech, but the energy source—" She jabbed at the scanner with a sharp motion. "It’s pulsing off the charts with energy signatures just like the ones I used to scan from the Castle every single day! I know those symbols like the back of my hand. "

Keith strode forward, towering over her as he peered down at the readings himself. His expression was tight—hard—but beneath it, Lance could see the tension in his eyes. A storm barely leashed. The energy in the room shifted.

A thick unease settled over them like a fog, wrapping around their spines, coiling tight. Lance exchanged an uneasy glance with Hunk, who looked just as rattled. Lance could only shrug at him in return, because

what the hell were they looking at?

Keith’s voice was low, a growl scraping the edges. "

No.

There’s no way." His fists clenched at his sides. "

Vrelen isn’t Altean.

It has to be stolen. There’s no way. He doesn’t look Altean, doesn’t have their morals, and even let some information about his people and their abilities out to me—" Keith’s voice wavered, but he clenched his teeth. "He stole it. He had to have stolen it."

Pidge’s fingers twitched over her scanner, scrolling rapidly. "I mean, yeah, probably, but—" She shook her head, frustrated. "—that doesn’t explain

why

or

how

he even has something like this. And if it’s that powerful, we need to figure out if—"

Her sentence trailed off, unfinished.

Because up ahead, further into the ruined pod…

A door hissed open.

If Lance already felt cold, he was immediately hit with below freezing temperatures as the shadows shifted and a presence was soon made apparent. The sound came first. A voice that wasn’t a voice—something brittle and sharp, like glass scraping against metal. It seeped into the room like a slow-moving poison, curling around them, sinking deep. It didn’t need to be loud. The weight of it alone sent a ripple of instinctive fear down Lance’s spine, setting every nerve on edge.

They moved as one. Lance raised his Altean sword in a tight grip, his stance firm but his pulse hammering. Pidge snapped up her spear, eyes flicking wildly in search of the source. Hunk held his blaster steady, despite the slight tremor in his fingers. Every muscle in their bodies was coiled, ready, anticipating the worst—

Except Keith.

Keith wasn’t tense.

Keith was

transforming

.

His stance was rigid, too still, his body wound so tight it looked like he might snap in two. But it was his eyes that made Lance’s breath hitch. A firestorm, burning, untamed. Not just anger. Not just determination. This was something feral. A force of nature, unrelenting and consuming, like a wildfire devouring everything in its path. The sharp gleam of his blade, materializing in his hand, stretched larger than Lance had ever seen—glistening with an eerie, unforgiving shine. The shadows of the ruined hallway reflected off its deadly edge, but nothing shone brighter than Keith’s gaze.

Lance had seen those eyes before—simmering with battle focus, honed in combat. But

this

—

This was something else. It was beautiful. It was deadly. It was terrifying. Keith stood like the eye of a storm, the stillness before impact, the heartbeat before chaos. If his hair could stand on end, it would bristle like Kosmo before an attack, hackles raised and teeth bared.

And Lance knew.

Knew with gut-churning certainty of what Keith was about to do.

Lance prided himself on understanding Keith. Of watching him for so many years and being able to pick up the pieces and hints of what could possibly be his next move. It was both a blessing and a curse, and right now, it was a curse. The words were already clawing their way up his throat, desperate to break free, to stop Keith from making the first move, but—

Keith was always faster when it came to instincts and a reactionary time. Keith had never waited.

Not when it came to this. He moved—faster than thought, faster than breath. A blur of red and black and silver as he lunged, slicing through the tension in the air like his blade was cutting straight through it. The swing came

wild

—precise in its chaos, driven by pure instinct. Vrelen was there—then gone, stepping back just enough, slipping effortlessly into the darkness of the next room. The doors swiped shut in an instant, too fast, locking Keith inside before any of them could react.

"KEITH!" Lance’s scream tore out of him like something ripped from his soul. He didn’t think—just moved, slamming himself against the door so hard his shoulder cracked from the impact. His fists pounded against the metal, frantic, desperate.

"Pidge—!" His voice was raw, hoarse with panic. "

Get this door open!

"

Pidge was already scrambling, fingers flying across her wrist scanner, breaths sharp with panic. "I’m trying! I’m trying!"

Hunk was yelling, voice barely registering through the chaos. "Keith

!

Keith, can you hear us?! Come on, man, say something!"

Nothing. No response. Lance’s chest ached from how hard he was breathing, his heart pounding so loud it felt like it was about to burst through his ribs.

Keith was inside.

Alone.

With god damn Vrelen.

The weight of the moment was pressing in fast, thick like a storm cloud ready to burst. Lance could feel the sweat at the back of his neck, the grip on his sword tightening to the point his knuckles ached.

"Pidge, if you don’t crack this door open in the next ten seconds, I

swear

—" His words were sharp, his breath uneven, raising his Altean sword like he was ready to carve the door apart himself.

The intercom crackled to life before he could swing. Lance flinched at the sound, the hair at his nape standing on end as static bled through—then a voice, familiar and grounding, but laced with an urgency that only made his heart race faster.

"

—ello? Keith? Pidge? Can anyone hear me

?"

Shiro.

Pidge’s head snapped up. "Shiro

!

" she shouted, scrambling to override the connection, hitting aggressively at her intercom. "Can you hear us

?

"

A low hum of interference, then— "What’s happening? Are you all okay

?

"

For a second, a brief second, Lance almost felt the pull of relief. But then Hunk let out a panicked breath and rushed out in a frantic, garbled mess, "Keith’s trapped—Vrelen’s in there—door shut—we can’t get to him—it all went bad really fast—"

Pidge yanked the comm away before Hunk’s panic could spiral further. "Where are you

?

"

Shiro’s voice returned, calm but clipped, calculated but tight in a way that told them all he was barely holding his concern back. "Close. Too close to ignore, but my ship’s too big to navigate that asteroid field. The Blades are almost here. I’ll transfer to a smaller pod to reach you."

Lance didn’t wait. "Less talking, more breaking in!" he cut in, practically vibrating with frustration. "I don’t like the look Keith had when he went after Vrelen."

Silence.

Then Shiro, voice heavier now, as if he already knew. "What look?"

Lance swallowed hard. He didn’t answer. Because everyone already knew. Keith had blood in his eyes and murder on his hands. And Paladins didn’t kill.

Lance exhaled sharply through his nose, shaking his head, resetting his stance. "Just get the damn door open," he snapped.

Pidge bristled. "We should wait for Shiro! Keith said—"

Lance spun to her, eyes flashing. "When have

you

ever listened to what Keith said

?

"

Pidge’s mouth clamped shut, momentarily defeated and stunned. Shiro’s voice snapped through the intercom like a whip.

"

Enough

!"

Both Lance and Pidge stiffened at the sheer weight in his tone, the sharp command of it silencing them like they were bickering siblings being scolded by their dad.

"Control yourselves," Shiro ordered, voice taut with urgency. "The longer you’re out there arguing, the longer Keith is alone in there with Vrelen. Step one: get inside."

Lance clenched his jaw, breathing through his nose, body still charged with energy, unable to shake the electric panic in his limbs. But Shiro’s words grounded him.

Hunk, still tense but thinking fast, blurted out, "The ship is probably Altean!"

A beat of silence. Then, as if realizing what he just said, Hunk slapped his hand over his mouth.

Shiro’s voice cracked through the comms, confused but urgent. "What?"

Lance felt the tension in the air snap tighter, Pidge scrambling to explain, her words tumbling over each other in a mess of hurried logic and too many unknowns. The ship shouldn’t be registering Altean energy—Vrelen shouldn’t have access to something like that—none of this tracked—

Shiro, ever the soldier, pushed past the confusion. "Doesn’t matter right now," he said. "Get inside. Most importantly, keep each other safe."

Lance felt his fingers twitch at what came next.

"And make sure Keith doesn’t kill Vrelen. We won’t get any answers if he does," Shiro continued. "Take Vrelen down, sedate him if you have to, but keep him alive until I get there. Understood?"

Lance sucked in a breath, trying to force down the roiling tension in his gut. Because, honestly…He didn’t think Keith was the kind of guy to wait for orders. In fact, he knew it.
And if given the chance—

Keith wouldn’t hesitate to take the final blow. Especially after everything.

Hunk’s voice rang out, no trace of his usual warmth, no softness, just sheer command.

"Lance—slice the middle in an X and cut at the hinges!"

Lance startled, flinching at the depth of Hunk’s voice. It wasn’t the usual friendly, warm or nervous tone—this was something else. Something hardened, something determined. It set a fire in Lance’s chest, something instinctual snapping into place. But then, he looked at Hunk. At the way his best friend squared his shoulders, rolling them back, positioning himself like a battering ram about to take down a wall. His hands flexed, curling into fists before shaking them loose again. He wasn’t just standing—he was anchoring himself. And Lance knew exactly what to do. His grip on the sword tightened, his stance resetting, and without another word, he swung.

The blade sang through the air, slashing deep and sharp into the metal exactly where Hunk had instructed. Sparks flew, the resistance of the reinforced metal putting up a fight—but Lance cut through anyway. He grit his teeth, listening, moving on instinct as Hunk barked out each instruction, harder, deeper, angle left—there

!

He drove the sword through the second hinge, panting slightly at the effort, the metal glowing where the energy blade had burned through it. Hunk didn’t hesitate.

"Step back!"

Lance popped to the side like a soldier at attention. Hunk shook out his hands, exhaled deep, and took one heavy step back. Then another.

Then charged.

A human tank. A force of nature. A battering ram with sheer strength as his weapon. The impact was thunderous.

The weakened hinges screamed as they

gave out

, the X-shaped cut already destabilizing the integrity of the door—Hunk tore through it with brute force, shattering it off its frame, sending the massive slab of reinforced metal flying inward with a deafening clang. Lance and Pidge blinked.

For just a split second, they stared.

"HUNK!"

They scrambled inside, their voices a cacophony of panic as they rushed toward him, the bulk of his body sprawled on the ground from the force of his own attack.

Lance dropped to his knees beside him, hands gripping Hunk’s broad shoulders, shaking. "Buddy, are you okay?!" His voice was tight, his heart thrumming.

Hunk groaned, rolling onto his side, rubbing his head, his arms—everything probably aching from the impact. "Ugh... I really hope I don’t need any more brain power to keep up my career as a chef..."

Pidge snorted, the sound breaking through the tension like a spark in the dark. "God, don’t scare us like that."

Lance let out a breath, then he threw himself at Hunk, wrapping his arms around his best friend, ignoring the way Hunk flinched slightly from the rawness of the impact. "I’m best friends with the world’s smartest AND hunkiest engineer," Lance choked out, voice thick with relief.

Hunk let out a tired chuckle, patting Lance’s back. "And don’t you forget it."

The moment didn’t last long. Because the air hissed. The sound of metal clanging, of something shifting—hot air whooshed out from a damaged pipe, sending all three of them snapping their heads up.

Their moment of relief died. Pidge lifted her wrist, the faint glow of her watch cutting through the black darkness. The light flickered over the destruction laid bare before them. A wreckage of an engine room.

Clear slashes and attacks from a fight still fresh, still ongoing. Pipes jutted out at odd angles, leaking who knew what. Air ducts shot compressed hot air in violent bursts. The ground was uneven, torn in places where deep gashes marred the floor, the jagged remains of what used to be solid metal evidence of a brutal fight. Swords. Claws.

A battle waged in shadows, barely illuminated by the flickering, dying lights. Keith was in there.

Lance gritted his teeth, standing up, his grip tightening around his sword once more. The engine room swallowed them whole. The air was thick, heavy with the scent of burnt metal and something acrid that stung the inside of Lance’s nose. Every step forward felt like walking deeper into a nightmare—busted pipes squealed, vents spat out clouds of hot smoke that blurred their vision, and the clanging echoed.Every few seconds—another impact. Another sharp, earsplitting clash of metal-on-metal.

And the worst part?

They couldn’t see a damn thing.

Lance’s pulse was racing. His fingers clenched tighter around his sword, eyes darting around as if he could will his vision to adjust faster.

"Pidge, you got anything brighter?" he asked, voice hushed but urgent.

"Do you have a light?" she snapped back, not even looking at him. Lance shut his mouth.

…Okay, yeah. Fair. She got him there.

Hunk, just as tense, whispered, "Does this feel kinda… I don’t know… eerily familiar? Like… I dunno, ‘Empire Strikes Back’-ish?"

Lance sucked in a sharp breath. "Hunk, now is not the time for Star Wars references."

“Oh, says the guy who usually–”

BANG!

All three of them yelled as a massive pipe came falling from the dark abyss above them and slammed into the ground inches from Pidge’s feet, the impact shaking the metal flooring beneath them. They all froze. Their heads snapped upward, Pidge already craning her wrist, trying to shine the dim light of her watch as high as it would go. The smoke and shadows made it hard, but..

There.

Several feet above them, up on the highest platform in the engine room, two figures moved. The unmistakable outlined shadows of Keith and Vrelen. Locked in a deadly dance, circling each other on a narrow, treacherous strip of metal. Lance’s breath hitched. His heart dropped. He could barely see Keith’s expression, but he didn’t

need

to. He could tell just from the way Keith heaved, blade clutched in his hand like a lifeline, body wound tight as a spring. And opposite him—Vrelen, with several long rods glinting in the dim, pulsing emergency lights, stance poised and taunting. Neither of them moved. Not yet.

It was like watching two wild animals, reading each other, waiting for the other to slip first. Lance’s stomach twisted.

Keith, alone. Keith, facing off against something bigger than him. Keith, burning himself down to take out an enemy.

Lance muttered, "Fuck

.

"

Because this was exactly like

Empire Strikes Back.

Except this time, Keith was Luke. Vrelen was Vader. And they? They were just the audience. The helpless bystanders. Lance barely had time to process the horror of it before Pidge huffed and moved—fast. She lunged for one of the bars acting as a guardrail for a lower platform and pulled herself up, already scrambling. Already climbing. Lance’s heart kicked into gear.

"Pidge—!"

But she wasn’t stopping. That damn gremlin was fast. Lance and Hunk barley had a second before they leaped into action after her. The climb was brutal. Lance’s arms burned as he heaved himself up the metal railings, his boots barely catching traction on the slick steel. The whole ship shuddered with every impact above them—clanging metal, the unmistakable sound of weapons crashing together, the eerie rumble of voices just out of reach. Vrelen and Keith were talking.

No—Vrelen was talking.

Keith was holding back murder.

Lance could hear the fight in his breathing, the sharp exhale of effort between each clash. He strained his ears, trying to catch the words slipping between blows, but the distortion of smoke and altitude warped everything.

“—so

angry

, little Galran—”

The rest of Vrelen’s sentence was drowned out by the violent screech of Keith’s blade colliding with metal. Lance gritted his teeth.

Above him, Pidge was the fastest, scrambling like a damn spider, but even she had limits. There was a gap in the next platform, too wide for her to jump alone. But the defiant girl that she was refused to ask for help despite her size. She was already moving. Without hesitation, she

kicked off

from a lower bar, leaping…too short and underestimating just how much power was needing to heave up onto the platform before she grasped for nothing but air. Lance felt the air leave his stomach and his heart drop out of his ass as he watched in slow motion her fling her arms forward and fall backwards right as Lance got to her. Lance lunged, grabbing her wrist before she slipped, his other hand screaming from gripping the railing for dear life.

“Gotcha—Hunk, help me pull

—

”

Hunk was already there. With a grunt, he hoisted Pidge up, her small frame quick to scurry up and latch onto the next railing. If he wasn’t so out of breath and understood the determination Pidge had he would have yelled at her in that moment for being so careless. But the truth was, they were all running on adrenaline and fire to get to Keith climbing this stupid jungle gym. Lance sucked in a shaky breath, forcing himself not to look down. The fight above was reaching a fever pitch.

Keith’s blade sang through the air, each slash more reckless, more desperate.

Lance knew that rhythm.

Keith was running hot.

Hunk’s breath was tight as he breathed in steady to regain control, his voice strained. “He’s—gonna get himself

hurt

—”

The words had barely left her mouth before…

A sickening clang. Lance’s lungs were on fire, his heart hammering against his ribs as he looked up—just in time to see a pair of boots dangle over the edge of the highest platform. For a split second, his brain refused to understand what he was looking at. Then, Lance finally pieced two and two together to realize it was Keith scrambling, his legs kicking out wildly, his arms struggling to pull himself up, the other half of his body safely over the edge but fighting to pull himself up.

“KEITH!”

All three of them screamed in unison, the horror so sharp and immediate that Lance felt it cut into his bones. His stomach lurched, bile clawing up his throat. Keith’s boots slipped for a heart-stopping second before his muscles coiled tight, and in one last, desperate push, he threw himself back over the ledge, landing in a heaving, shaking sprawl. Lance braced, expecting the unmistakable clash of metal, expecting Vrelen to take advantage of Keith’s vulnerable moment, expecting….

…Nothing.

The room had gone silent. No attack. No movement. Nothing but the ragged sound of Keith’s breath.

Hunk’s voice cut through the quiet, booming and urgent. “

Lance!

”

Lance snapped his head around just in time to see Hunk locking his fingers together, knees bent, braced. He threw Lance one commanding look, his lips pulled tight and his eyes determined. No hesitation.

Lance understood and moved, taking two quick leaps before he stepped into Hunk’s grip, and in one swift motion, he was launched into the air, cheerleader style.

For a brief, fleeting moment, he was

weightless

—then the platform rushed to meet him, his boots slamming down hard. He rolled into the landing, pushing up fast—

And froze.

Keith and Vrelen stood locked in a deadly standoff. Keith’s blade was raised, his chest heaving, sweat dripping from his temple. His eyes—

God.

His

eyes

.

They burned. Wild and

feral

, unrelenting, alight with a fury so raw and untamed that it made Lance’s breath catch in his throat. But Vrelen—he was calm. Too calm. He paced Keith, slow, methodical. Taunting.

This wasn’t just a fight.

This was something deeper, more vicious.

Lance saw it—all of it, the history between them, the way Vrelen had wormed his way into Keith’s mind, twisted his thoughts, pushed and pushed until Keith became this. A man on the edge of himself. This wasn’t just physical.

This was war.

A battle of the mind.

And Keith—Keith was

losing

.

Lance could see the way he was sloppy. Keith was known for the way he fought, for how pounceful he was and quick on his feet he moved and how delicately yet driving his blows were. He was an artsman at his craft of the Blade, a trained warrior who Lance fought claw and tooth to keep up with, but knew when to step back from the battle. It was cooler to watch on the side line with a racing heartbeat. But now, it was the opposite. Keith was sloppy, was swinging blindly. He was letting his shoulders sag and his legs shuffle as he steered away from one of Vrelen’s rods. His eyes seemed blurred and crazed, like they weren’t exactly honed in like the robotic machine he could become. And this Keith scared Lance more. Lance took a breath, gripping his Altean sword tighter before stepping forward with an easy smirk.

“So, Vrelen, be honest, aren’t you tired yet?”

Vrelen’s attention shifted—slowly, deliberately—as if just noticing Lance was there. A feigned, lazy sort of surprise flickered in his darkened gaze, but his lips curled into something closer to amusement. And then he turned his head ever so slightly, just enough to glance back at Keith, as if the two had a silent conversation between the two that Lance could only imagine as telepathically connected, forcing his lips to frown slightly.

Keith practically snarled.

Lance felt a shiver crawl up his spine. If Keith had fangs, they’d be bared and hissing. The sheer feral way his body bristled under Vrelen’s gaze was unnatural, too visceral. Lance shook the thought away, lifting his sword with casual bravado, trying to get Vrelen’s attention off of Keith before Keith fucking snapped.

“Look, man, just give it up already. What are you even doing anymore? You’re caught. Busted up get away vehicle. Surrounded on all sides by more of our ships outside that you don’t even know about. You’re dunzo, man.”

A low chuckle. It was soft at first, then richer, silkier—a sound like metal scraping against bone, painful yet deliberate. Vrelen’s voice was a ruined, velvety thing, each syllable crafted precisely, every word measured. He spoke as if meditating on his own thoughts before releasing them like daggers.

“Oh, Lance, was it?” His voice was sharp, yet effortlessly poetic, laced with something insidious. “I should have known you would play the fool even in the face of revelation. Do you even see what’s happening here? Or are you so desperate to pretend that your dear Red Paladin isn’t already lost to me?”

Keith moved. A wild, desperate swing—too fast, too emotional.

Vrelen caught it. Effortlessly.

The clang of Keith’s blade against Vrelen’s rods rang through the room like a war drum, and then—another swing.

Deflected

.

Another.

Blocked

.

Lance felt frozen, watching as the two of them tore into each other, clashing with deadly precision. It was violent, yes—but something about it was also…elegant. A brutal, explosive dance, every move meant to draw blood, to hurt. And Keith was falling for it.

Vrelen shifted in the fight, fluid as water, his voice dripping with poisoned silk as he quipped between dodges, “I thought you knew better than to bring those you cared about into your battles, Keith. Why, after everything we have gone through alre–”

Keith screamed—a guttural, unhinged sound—and lunged. Lance’s breath hitched as Keith attacked, swinging, slashing, his fury spilling over into reckless movements. Vrelen met every strike with terrifying ease, countering with grace, feeding off Keith’s rage.

“Keith!” Lance’s voice felt swollen and raw, unable to know how to interject the wild slash of ruin and passion before him, too scared that if he did step closer, he was painfully made aware that he didn’t know who would be hitting him first.

“Keith! Stop it!” Pidge’s voice was edged, suddenly at Lance’s side, gripping at her spear she had somehow climbed with. She took another step, but Lance grabbed at her shoulder, stopping her from inching close to the trainwreck of frenzied slashing. It wasn’t even thoughtful and articulate anymore. At least, not from Keith’s end. How did Vrlen still look like he hadn’t broken a sweat after EVERYTHING?

The fight was a storm. Keith somehow was honing in more and more, moving like a force of nature, all instinct and precision, his blade a blur as it clashed, struck, and deflected against Vrelen’s rods. The sharp, metallic

clang

of their weapons rang through the air like a battle symphony, each strike executed with the skill of a warrior honed through endless fights. Lance could barely track the movements, his eyes whipping from one slash to the next. His chest was tight, anxiety bubbling up so thick it nearly choked him. It felt like a game of double dutch back home, the kind he used to play with his siblings. He used to hate double dutch, he would never be able to time it right. His legs always got caught or the rope would come and snap him sharp on his cheek. It caused him so much stress, waiting for the perfect moment to jump in without getting whipped by the ropes.

Except here, if he mistimed it, he wouldn’t just get a welt on his ankle and a kiss on the cheek from his mama.

He’d get cut in half by arguable the two most dangerous aliens out there.

Hunk muttered, voice low and tense, “What do we

do

? I don’t have a clean shot without hitting Keith. They’re both in each others space moving too fast.”

His hands trembled slightly as he held up his small blaster, fingers flexing around the grip. Lance could see it—Hunk hated this, holding a weapon, aiming it at someone. At Keith.

Pidge grunted beside him, fists tightening around the spear’s shaft, eyes darting across the fight like she was analyzing the world’s deadliest chess game.

“He’s gonna kill himself if he doesn’t slow down,” she hissed. “And we’re not gonna get any answers if we let Keith go feral. You need to calm him down somehow.”

Lance felt a pit growing in his stomach. This was bad. This was really bad. A raw, guttural growl tore from Keith’s throat as he lunged—no hesitation, no thought, just pure, visceral instinct. The two moved in a flurry of motion, striking and blocking, a deadly, intricate dance.

Vrelen wasn’t just fighting—he was weaving. Every movement calculated, precise, like a master duelist toying with an opponent just beneath his skill. His feet barely touched the ground before he pivoted again, rods deflecting, redirecting, never fully losing control. Keith was relentless. The boy moved like a

storm

, untamed, unyielding, burning with a fury that made his every strike more powerful, more forceful. The three of them stood frozen, caught in the whirlwind of the fight as Keith launched forward, slamming his blade against one of Vrelen’s rods so hard it sent a tremor through the platform.

Vrelen staggered—just a second, just a fraction—his balance shifting. Keith took it.

He doubled down, gripping his blade tight and twisting with a sharp, deadly slide—his sword arcing fast and clean through Vrelen’s wrist.

A wet sound. A thud.

A hand hit the ground.

Vrelen let out a ragged hiss, his head jerking as the three of them gasped, barely able to process the sight. But they had no time to react because Vrelen moved. In one seamless motion, his remaining rod struck out, jabbing straight into Keith’s exposed chest. A crackling, blue surge of electricity exploded through the blade, shocking Keith’s entire body. Keith screamed.

The sound was raw, torn from his throat as his knees buckled, his entire body convulsing before he crashed to the ground.

Pidge inhaled sharply. “We need to

stop this NOW

.”

Lance didn’t think. Didn’t hesitate.

“HEY, ASSHOLE!” he roared, voice ringing through the engine room. Vrelen’s head snapped toward him. Lance blanked for a moment, seeing the way Vrelen’s eyes refocued on the three of them instead of Keith below him, as if remembering there was more to the fight than the man he’s been tormenting all along.

“C’mon, man,” Hunk’s voice boomed next to him. “What even is your prerogative here? You lost control of your ship, you don’t have control of the Lions, and you’re surrounded. Can you just take the loss here?”

Before Vrelen could answer, Pidge cut in, fast and sharp. Her glare was piercing through her glasses, searing into Vrelen with accusation.

“Why do you have access to Altean energy?” she demanded, her voice like iron, unwavering. “Where did you get it?” her grip on her spear was tight enough that her knuckles had turned white. The glow of her watch illuminated her narrowed eyes, the sharp lines of her face carved with determination.

The air shifted. Lance could feel it. A new weight settled over him, but this time—it wasn’t fear. It was strength. The strength of his team standing behind him. Of Pidge, unwavering in her accusations. Of Hunk, solid and relentless. Lance lifted his chin, stepping forward with his own glare, the force of his friends filling him, making him taller, stronger.

Vrelen barely reacted. Instead, he leaned back, his arms recoiling with a smooth, practiced ease, spinning his rods in a lazy circle as if he had all the time in the universe. The movement was casual—calculated. He was toying with them. Letting the tension build.

Lance could hear his own pulse hammering in his ears, could feel the electric charge in the air thick enough to choke on. But his eyes flickered to Keith, still on the ground, clutching at his chest where the electricity had torn through him. His breathing was uneven, his fingers digging into the metal flooring, like he was trying to will himself to stand but couldn’t just yet. And Vrelen, he was satisfied.

Satisfied that Keith wasn’t an immediate threat anymore. That was when he turned his attention back to them.

"Ah," Vrelen hummed, tilting his head as he observed the trio standing before him. "So you actually are as smart as the legend claimed you to be. The Paladins of Voltron." His voice was smooth, touched with an air of amusement, but beneath it—something cutting, something patronizing. He twirled his rod again, glancing between them as if he were appraising them, not as warriors, not even as adversaries, but as figures in a story he had already written.

"My deepest apologies for not having the pleasure of addressing you sooner," he continued, his words dripping in mock courtesy. "Had I known it was you all who boarded my ship the first time we fought, I might have savored the encounter more."

Lance’s brows furrowed. There was something

off

about the way he said it. Something

familiar

in the way he regarded them now as Paladins, like he was looking at old acquaintances rather than enemies. And Lance wasn’t referring to the last few times they fought.

Vrelen let out a slow chuckle, shifting his weight as if basking in the moment. "In a way, it’s rather comedic, don’t you think? A full-circle meeting, despite you all looking much

smaller

than I remember.” His lips curled. “Yet, you are all… matching now. That is new to me."

Lance felt his breath hitch slightly. His mind raced, eyes darting to Pidge and Hunk, searching for some kind of answer in their faces, but they looked just as confused as he felt.

"Matching?" he repeated, his voice laced with forced levity, trying to keep the edge from showing. "Did—did we miss a memo? Were we supposed to wear our Paladin uniforms today?" He gestured vaguely to their casual infiltrator gear, hoping the joke would shake

something

loose, maybe unnerve Vrelen, maybe get some kind of reaction.

But Vrelen only laughed, a slow, deliberate sound, his lips curling into something almost reminiscent. Lance’s stomach turned.

Vrelen glanced down at his arm. Or rather—the absence of it. Lance felt his body lock up. The severed limb was grotesque, bone exposed beneath the mangled muscle where Keith’s blade had cut clean through the wrist. Blood dripped slowly, methodically, like time itself had slowed to watch the horror unfold. But Vrelen didn't seem pained by it. He regarded it as though it were a minor inconvenience, his expression barely shifting, before he brought his attention back up. His gaze settled directly on Pidge.

"You," he murmured, his voice lilting, teasing, like a cat toying with a mouse. "You must be the

Green

Paladin.”

Pidge stiffened.

But she didn’t flinch.

She didn’t react—not the way Vrelen clearly wanted her to. Instead, she lifted her chin slightly, shifting her grip on her spear, her fingers tensing but her expression remaining

ice-cold

.

Lance felt his own grip on his sword tighten as Hunk mimicked Lance’s freeze and shift. He, however, could feel his body shifting instinctively, his feet inching forward towards Pidge closer in the instance Vrelen decided to come closer to her. His muscles coiled, ready to spring, the protective instinct rising before he could even think twice about it.

Hunk, beside him, growled, his voice carrying an uncharacteristic sharpness. "How do you know so much about the Paladins? About the Lions? You been studying us the last couple years like a fan or something?"

Vrelen only sighed, almost disappointed, like he had been expecting more.

Lance jumped in, his voice harder now, pushing through the unease bubbling in his gut as he thought about what Krolia had told them about the flash drive. "Yeah, and why do you have a bunch of classified information about their locations? What’s your deal? You some kind of Voltron legendary collector?" His tone was edged, biting, but it was calculated. He was hoping—praying—that they could catch Vrelen off guard.

But the bastard didn’t even blink. If anything, his smile grew. ​​Vrelen let out a low, exaggerated

tut

, shaking his head as if he were deeply disappointed.

“You really need to do a better job at learning your own history,” he mused, voice dripping in condescension. “Especially for Paladins. Saviors, aren't you? Wielding the power of Lions, the legacy of Voltron, granted by the Alteans themselves?"

Lance felt his stomach clench, a sharp, acidic burn rising in his throat. He knew exactly where this was going. The venom curled deep inside him, boiling, ready to snap the moment Vrelen so much as whispered her name. If he so much as mentioned Allura…

Vrelen gave another look at Keith, which threw enough blaring emergency signs to fire off in Lance’s mind to stall whatever the hell was going on between them. Lance felt the urge to look away from Vrelen for a second, to glance down at Keith still on the floor, to study the way his fingers twitched at his sides—reflexive, controlled. The way he flexed his jaw, wincing slightly, testing something, as if assessing the damage done to his own body. But it was his eyes that unsettled Lance the most. The deep, pulsing violet glow, swirling like a barely-contained storm. Keith wasn’t just recovering—he was watching. Waiting. Studying.

Lance forced his focus back on Vrelen.

He pointed his sword forward, taking a slow step closer, enough to make a point. “You’re done,” he said, voice sharp, firm. “No more games, no more tricks—you’ve lost. So why don’t you go ahead and spill whatever it is you’re hiding? ‘Cause I know you’re hiding something about the bigger picture here.”

Vrelen’s lips curled. His eyes slid toward Lance, a slow, measured movement, as if surprised it was Lance to be the one speaking.

“You’re not as dull as I thought,” he mused, his voice a sharp knife wrapped in tortured silk. His gaze flickered between them, amused. “You’re all so desperate to know, aren’t you? What’s left unsaid will always find a way to scream after all.

His head tilted, his expression thoughtful—but his voice dripped with something heavier, something dangerous. Lance tightened his grip on his sword.

“You’re stalling,” he accused. “Trying to sound all cryptic and shit so we don’t realize you’re cornered.” He took another step, angling his sword slightly higher. “But you are. You have nothing left. No leverage. No army. No power. So what the hell are you even doing?”

Vrelen chuckled again, but this time, his expression darkened. His gaze slid over them like a predator sizing up prey, a slow, deliberate motion before finally settling—not on Lance. Not on Pidge. Not on Hunk.

On Keith.

“It is a rare thing to have so much devotion that ends up being pushed to violence. To desire for something so violently but knowing that the one key factor of power and manipulation can stem from one simple tool,” he murmured, voice a silk thread winding tightly, his lips curling into something

just

shy of a smirk. “

Fear.

”

Lance’s stomach twisted, feeling his lips frown in defense. This speech, as all they seemed to be, was back and directed towards Keith. Hunk shifted next to Lance as Pidge clicked something quick on her wrist watch, all three holding fast with their weapons still trainned. Vrelen’s voice was smooth as he continued, his words deliberate, laced with something thick and poisonous. “Fear has a way of twisting things, doesn’t it? Turning the strongest warriors into something… else.” His eyes flickered again, just barely downward. “Fear is a tool—no, a weapon, when channeled correctly. It changes people. Shapes them. Makes them into something useful.”

Keith’s shoulders tensed. His head tilted just slightly, but the violet glow of his eyes flared—his fingers curled.

Lance swallowed.

What the hell is he getting at?

Keith’s teeth bared, his body coiled like a spring, just on the edge of pouncing—

But before he could move, a sharp

beep

cut through the space. A flick of light from Pidge’s wrist. Vrelen’s attention snapped toward her. Pidge was quick to counteract her noise, stepping forward, quick to intercept whatever was about to happen with Keith, her voice cutting through before he could explode.

“You keep talking about fear, about power,” she said, her voice tight, careful, her words deliberate. She took another closer step, causing Lance to involuntary step with her, eyes trained careful on Vrelen’s own body taking in Pidge. “But what I want to know—what I can’t figure out—is why someone like you puts so much attention the Altea aspect of it all. You know

way

too much about Altea for some random warlord,” she continued, tilting her head. “Its history. Its power. The Paladins. The Lions. You’ve studied it. Hell, this is the strongest energy source reading I’ve gotten from something outside of New Altea containing Altean quintessence.”

Lance felt his breath catch at the way Vrelen narrowed his eyes for even a brief moment. Lance knew Pidge like the back of his hand, even if she was a little hard to understand fully at times. She was thoughtful. She was inquisitive. She was watchiful and took in information and studied it before coming up with a hypothesis. This question however wasn’t a hypothesis, nor the question she really seemed to be asking. In fact, it didn’t seem like a question at all. She looked like she had placed the final pieces into placed and had made up her own answer in her mind all within the milliseconds it took for her to ask. The words sent a chill down Lance’s spine—because they weren’t just a question.

They were a statement.

Pidge’s eyes were locked on Vrelen, her expression sharp and knowing. Vrelen’s expression didn’t change.But his eyes darkened.

Pidge’s voice dropped lower, each word deliberate.

“Almost like… you’ve lived through some of it before.”

The moment Pidge’s words landed, it was as if it was a shotgun going off as Vrelen moved. Vrelen moved like a phantom, his rod cutting through the space between them like a blade of light, aimed dead for Pidge’s head. It was near-instant—his rod slicing through the air like a whip. It would have been written in history books if it was ever noted how Lance was faster the moment Pidge’s life was being threatened in such a way. Lance moved faster than instinct, faster than thought—faster than Vrelen. The clang of his Altean broadsword meeting Vrelen’s rod rang through the space like a gunshot, the force of the impact vibrating through his bones and jolting up his arms in searing pain as metal screamed against metal. Sparks spat from the clash, illuminating Vrelen’s twisted grin, his eyes gleaming with something close to exhilaration. Lance barely had a second to process before Vrelen spun, flipping another rod with another hand and wacking Lance efficiently several feet backwards to land on his side as he twisted another rod in his lower hand and snapping it toward Hunk.

Hunk yelped, firing a shot from his blaster in reaction and fear, but Vrelen dodged like a shadow, fluid and impossibly fast. The bolt went wide, smacking harmlessly into the ceiling and nearly blowing at Keith still getting up from the floor.

"Dammit!" Hunk gritted out, locking his stance again right as he earned a blow from Vrelen’s rod, shocking him backwards and tripping on Lance’s fallen body, the two letting out grumbles and gasps of more pain and frustration.

Pidge didn’t waste a second, twisting her spear, using her size to slip beneath the chaos, darting in and striking—but Vrelen countered with an almost lazy flip of his rod, catching the spear mid-spin with one of his lower arms. Pidge froze, her eyes the size of saucers as she took in the realization that she was in fact caught. Vrelen stood among her like a specter from another time, his posture loose yet coiled, as if he belonged in the chaos. He was barely winded, despite the gashes along his arms, despite Keith’s relentless onslaught.

"You're fast," Vrelen admitted, his voice smooth, almost impressed. "But still so unaware of your surroundings, Green Paladin."

With a vicious jerk, he wrenched the spear from Pidge’s grip and seamlessly incorporated it into his spinning assault. She gasped, stumbling back as her mere size was easily on display before the multi armed weidling crazed lunatic before her. Pidge’s snarl of frustration cut through the air, but before she could retrieve her spear back from one of his arms, Vrelen twirled it with artful precision, seamlessly weaving it into his attack pattern as he struck at her with a wicked downward arc. Lance felt like he was about to vomit seeing Vrelen whirl his rods and now Pidge’s speare in striking distance from Pidge’s face. His eyes burned with something dangerous, something wild, something past the point of reason as he gritted his teeth. His hand shot out—grabbing Hunk’s blaster straight from his side—whipping it around with trained hands and firing a shot so fast, so sharp, it scorched the air and exploded off one of his rods, cutting it clean and half and sparking to pieces out of his hands, hitting on target. Vrelen flinched, his strike towards Pidge momentarily thrown off as he took his second of shock to swipe in with another rod.

But this was enough time for Keith to react and double down, his sword catching the rod mid-swing with an almost furious force. The impact sent a shockwave through the air, rattling through the metal platform beneath them, his own blade snapping out to block Vrelen’s next strike, inches from Pidge’s nose. Keith’s entire body tensed and shielded away from Pidge, stepping before her and taking in the rest of the blow into his blade, an extension of himself. Keith and Vrelen moved in a vicious dance of slashes, counters, and brutal parries—their weapons a storm of metal, striking and rebounding in rapid succession. Keith was relentless—his movements sharp, precise, bordering on feral, but Vrelen was still too fast, too controlled. He evaded by the thinnest margins, twisting his rod in a near-effortless arc before bringing it down hard.

Lance’s body ached, his ribs screaming with every breath as he pushed himself up, eyes blinking a little blurred to find where his sword went, but Hunk’s voice cut through the haze like a lifeline.

“Lance!” It was urgent, hoarse, but not panicked—just enough steel to snap him into focus. Lance’s head whipped toward him, following his line of sight. The blaster was still in his hands, momentarily forgotten.

The moment his fingers curled tighter around the grip, something settled into place. It was muscle memory he previously didn’t think about. How long had it been since he truly relied on it? It wasn’t just a weapon—it was an extension of him, of his precision, of his legacy as a Paladin. The weight in his hand, the familiar curve of the trigger under his finger—his heartbeat slowed, his breathing steadied, and the chaos around him blurred into the background. He didn’t need time to adjust. The second he leveled it, everything else in his mind silenced. His breathing evened. His pulse slowed. His sharp-shooting instincts, dulled by time but never forgotten, slid back into place like a key fitting a lock.

He was already observing, tracking his target. Keith and Vrelen moved like a cyclone of metal, their weapons clashing, twisting, striking, but Lance didn’t let the frantic pace shake his aim. He honed in, tracking Vrelen’s movements, waiting for the perfect opening. Not just a shot, a precise, calculated strike.

There.

Don’t hit your boyfriend don’t hit your boyfriend don’t hit your boyfriend.

Vrelen twisted mid-dodge, parrying another of Keith’s wild slashes, but Lance had already lined up the shot. A split-second calculation, the rhythm of battle telling him exactly where Vrelen would shift next. He exhaled, steady, and pulled the trigger. The shot landed square against Vrelen’s shoulder, the impact sizzling as energy seared through fabric and flesh. A direct, critical hit. The force of it whipped Vrelen backward, his breath escaping in a sharp, pained hiss.His stance wavered for the first time, but his eyes—those piercing, knowing eyes—snapped toward Lance.

A flicker of something unreadable passed over Vrelen’s face. Not anger. Not surprise. But recognition—but before he could react, Keith’s boot slammed into his back.

“Nice one buddy!” Hunk breathed out an exhale he hadn’t relalized he was holding, and the two scrambled to their feet.

Keith swung again, his arms shaking a bit as he shoved the rods back, forcing Vrelen to reswing and twirl his rods to recuperate, but instead of following up on the attack, he turned on Hunk, who was helping Lance get to his feet, gun forgotten on the ground. Hunk braced, but he wasn’t fast enough—Vrelen whipped a rod down, striking his blaster aside further towards the edge of the platform and slamming a follow-up blow into Hunk’s chest. The impact sent him skidding backward on his back, his body jerking against the floor before he rolled and groaned in pain.

Vrelen exhaled a slow, sharp breath, amusement curling the edges of his lips as his fingers flexed around the rods spinning deftly in his grip, his own flesh burning and clearly sizzling in pain from Lance’s shot.

Vrelen evaded, but his movements were slower now, his injury dragging at him. Still, the amusement in his expression didn’t fade. If anything, it deepened, as if watching something unfold exactly as he expected.

“Your fury, your blind faith,” he murmured as he dodged, steps careful, measured. “It’s exactly what they counted on.”

The words slithered from his tongue like venom, slow and deliberate, digging under the skin with razor precision. Vrelen wasn’t just fighting. He was orchestrating. Every move, every taunt—it was all a performance, meant to push, to test, to unravel. Lance caught Keith’s glaring eyes from behind Vrlen’s twisted body, a silent warrior signal. Lance read it like a priest reading scripture. He could understand Keith’s silent signals like a candle in the night. Lance breathed out shaky, fixing his eyes back on Vrelen, who stepped closer towards Lance.

"

Saviors of the universe?

"

Vrelen tsked, rolling his neck with a casual shrug. "I’ve seen stronger warriors in children's training pits. Sloppier than a pack of starved drulks. Whoever must have picked you this time around must have been as delusionally void as Alfo–"

Lance snapped.

"You don’t know a damn thing about us!" The words were raw, spat through gritted teeth, his blood roaring in his ears as he lunged, his Altean broadsword gleaming as it slashed through the air with all the weight of his fury behind it. It was reckless. It was wild. It was exactly what Vrelen had been waiting for. Lance swung hard. His grip was solid, his stance was perfect—but instead of feeling the impact of steel meeting flesh or even the expected clang of a block, his entire motion was just—stopped

.

With an almost artful efficiency, Vrelen twisted, his top two rods spinning into an intricate, seamless blur—a masterful dance of steel, an impossible weave of momentum that caught Lance’s blade mid-strike, causing the entire strike to be off guard and awkwardly stopped

.

And then he registered it.

Huh

.

Lance barely had time to register what had happened. The clash sent a violent shock up his arms, the force of it wrenching the sword in his grip and shaking the very bones in his arms from the suddenl stopped force, his inertia not knowing where to exert itself. Suddenly, Vrelen was a blur of movement as one of his free arms came in fast and gripped tight around the hilt of Lance’s sword, twisting it and snatching it out of Lance’s own grasp like iron, twisting the sword out of his hands like taking candy from a baby. Lance had never felt so humiliated so fast.

"Oh, come on—!" He breathed out quick, but it barely made it past his lips before a hard boot slammed into his chest, ripping his breath away as he was kicked back. His vision blurred with the force, his body slamming against the metal floor, his head snapping back against the cold steel. His bones rattled.

But there was no time to even begin to process any of that when he saw a flash of silver. A sharp, whistling sound. Vrelen was already bringing the sword down. Lance barely had time to register the downward arc of his own damn weapon, gleaming cruelly in the dim light, about to cut straight through him. And then….

Everything happened at once. A blur of movement—something rushed past his vision, too fast, too wild, too reckless. The crash of two bodies colliding, a forceful shove. And suddenly—Vrelen was gone.

The weight of his presence, the looming threat, the blur of silver—all of it was ripped away, his body thrown violently off the platform.

Because Keith.

Keith had launched himself straight into Vrelen, slamming into him at full force, sending them both hurtling over the ledge.

But at the same time, pain. Searing. Sharp. Wrong.

Lance choked as a burning rip tore across his wrist, white-hot agony splitting through his nerves like a lightning strike. His vision flashed white, his breath catching in his throat as a wave of shock slammed into him. It took him a heartbeat too long to realize what had happened.

The sword.

In the chaos, in the flurry of movement, Vrelen’s swing had still connected—just barely, just enough. The blade had sliced through his wrist as he was thrown, cutting deep, wet, leaving behind a bleeding gash that sent fire racing up his arm. Lance gasped, body curling inward as if he could escape the pain, his other hand instinctively clamping over the wound, but the wet warmth of blood was already soaking between his fingers, slipping down his arm in thick, hot streaks. The pain was a storm, crashing into him in waves. His breath stuttered, his ears ringing, his pulse a wild, uneven roar, but one thought roared louder than the rest. Keith. Keith was gone.

He wasn’t on the platform. He wasn’t there. Lance’s brain lagged, his vision spinning between the gap where Vrelen had stood, the still-shaking edge of the platform, the open air below—And the sound of bodies hitting metal far, far below. His stomach lurched. His pain was nothing compared to the horror locking his limbs in place, his heart slamming into his ribs as his brain finally caught up. Keith had just thrown himself into Vrelen.

Keith had just gone over the edge. Lance’s breath shattered.

"KEITH—!"

Lance’s heart was about to explode as his breath hitched, his vision blurred—he couldn’t process it fast enough. He tried to move, to lurch forward, to throw himself down after them, but before he could even breathe, a short streak of frenzied hazel hair flew past him.

She bounded towards the edge, barely hesitating, about to leap off and join the chaos toward where Keith and Vrelen had vanished. Lance’s stomach dropped. His head spun. He tried to push up, tried to

move

, try to join her, only for a pair of strong arms to yank the both of them
back down, locking around him like steel.

"No you don’t!"

Hunk’s voice was

hard

, his grip tighter than iron as he

forced

Lance to stay down, holding him firm against the platform.

"Get off me!" Pidge struggled, shoving out of Hunk’s grab as Lance was forced to sit down from the sheer strengh of Hunk’s other hand, keeping him down. Adrenaline screamed through his veins, but the second he tried to move, the world tilted. His stomach lurched, his vision swam, and his breath turned shallow.

Oh.

Oh, that was—

that was a lot of blood

.

He barely noticed before. The pain was distant, drowned beneath the panic and urgency.

Now, as Hunk wrenched his wrist up, searching through his pockets with frantic, fumbling fingers…Lance saw just how red blood could be. It poured from his wrist, slipping through Hunk’s fingers, warm and

fast

,

too

fast. His pulse pounded in his ears like a war drum, the ringing almost unbearable.

His body swayed, his head feeling light and fuzze the more he looked at it as Hunk jerked him back to keep him upright. "Nope. Nope. Stay with me, man."

Lance barely heard him. His mind was a wildfire, flickering through thoughts at a million miles an hour.

Why did Vrelen talk like they were the old Paladins? What was his whole deal with fear-mongering? Why was he so fixated on Altea? What does any of this mean? What if Keith gets hurt—no, Keith is hurt, I know he is—what if—

"Breathe, Lance."

Hunk’s voice cut through the storm, sharp with authority. His hands worked fast, too fast, his movements strong but careful as he wrapped a cloth tight around Lance’s wrist—one of his headbands, stained immediately as it soaked with blood. Lance gasped, barely able to process it, his chest too tight, his head spinning from

too much

—

too much everything

.

Hunk made a noise that brought Lance up away from his slit up wrist. He met Hunk’s eyes. The same warm, steady brown he’d known since childhood. Lance was struck with an image he remembered when he was 8 years old and had tried to over perform and climb the big tree in Hunk’s backyard, telling Hunk he was a “weenie” for not joining him on the tallest branch despite Hunk’s mother telling them not to climb it. Hunk had been the sweet and perfect child who listened to rules, while Lance had been the adventurous and determined child who climbed a little too high, slipped, and scraped his arms and knees on the way down against the bark. Hunk had immeideltly been at his side, and instad of lecturing him with a deserved “I told you so”, he had reacted fast and lovingly. Attentive. Firm in care but easy on the eyes.

Hunk’s face was tense, lips pressed in a firm, serious line, but his eyes were watching, reading him. Searching for any sign that Lance was about to pass out, or spiral, or break. Lance’s breath shuddered.

The pain burned. His arm throbbed. His heart still raced, but Hunk was here. Hunk was anchoring him. And that was enough to keep his brain from breaking apart at the seams. Lance swallowed hard, his breathing slowing, his focus returning. Hunk’s face was tight. Serious. The kind of serious Lance

hated

seeing on him, because it meant Hunk was worried. Really, really worried.

And maybe—maybe that was fair. Because the second Hunk moved his hands, letting go just slightly to readjust the makeshift bandage on Lance’s wrist, the pain flared, sharp and screaming.

"Ohhh, buddy," Lance groaned, flopping his head back. "I’m not gonna lie to you—I think I might be dying."

"You’re not dying," Hunk deadpanned, tightening the knot of the bandage.

Lance sighed, glancing over at Pidge, who was biting her lip but busy in thought and her tablet with something.

"I can still fight, you know," he muttered, tilting his head toward the blaster Hunk had brought over lying just out of reach. "If I’m not allegedly dying, let me go down there. One little scratch isn’t gonna—"

"No, you can’t."

Lance snorted, scoffing despite the pain. "Wanna bet?"

He reached out with his injured hand, extended his fingers, ready to grab the gun—ready to prove him wrong. But then, nothing. His fingers didn’t move. The command was there—his brain was screaming at his hand to grab the grip, to move, to do something—but all he got was a faint, useless twitch. Like his nerves had been severed. Like they weren’t there.

Lance blinked.

The blaster was right there. His fingers twitched, barely, but they didn’t curl. Didn’t grab. His brain sent the signal—his body did not respond. A chill ran down his spine.

What—

What the hell?

He tried again. Tried harder. His fingers twitched again, and that was it. His heart slammed against his ribs.

Why wasn’t it working?

A slow, creeping chill curled around his spine. This was..this was fine. It was fine. It was probably just the pain, or the blood loss, or—

Or maybe it wasn’t. Maybe—No.

No, no,

not now

. Not here. Not with Hunk watching. Not with Keith literally fighting for his lives below them. Lance swallowed hard, forcing down the nausea, forcing down the dizzying fear threatening to crawl up his throat. Not now.

"Lance."

Pidge’s voice snapped him out of it. His head jerked up, his whole body automatically switching gears as he met her sharp, focused gaze. And just like that, the fear was buried.

"

What?

" He grinned, forcing himself back to normal, forcing the panic out of his voice.

Pidge rolled her eyes. "Did you hear anything I just said?"

Lance exhaled, pushing the pain, the numbness, the wrongness aside. Pidge was hunched over her tablet, fingers flying, her face sharp, focused.

“No?” Lance winced right as Hunk tightened the headband on his cut for a final time. Pidge sighed, pushing her glasses up her nose as she sent a final click out on her tablet. Lance grit his teeth, trying to tune out the sound of metal clashing below, but it was impossible. Every sharp clang, every grunt and crash, it was Keith. It was Keith

going feral

while they stood here talking. He shifted, about to push himself up, but Hunk’s hand clamped down on his shoulder hard.

“

Sit.

”

“I

am

sitting—”

“

Sit harder.

”

Lance scowled but stayed put, flexing his fingers instinctively—only for another sharp jolt of panic to roll up his spine when they still didn’t move. He clenched his jaw, stuffing that panic deep down before turning back to the conversation.

Pidge was still staring at her screen, her brows furrowed so deep it was almost concerning.

“Alright, Sherlock. You gonna talk or what?” Lance struggled hard to keep his voice steady. Pidge threw him a dirty look, but opted to start.

“This ship—” she muttered, “—is practically laced with Altean energy. But it shouldn’t be. Logistically, it’s impossible. One, Altea is a bajillion years old and practically wiped from the universe outside of New Altea, so unless he had this stored somewhere for the entire time in remission just WAITING, which by the standards of the ship working, can’t be the case. Second, Coran’s security system is on New Altea, if he somehow stole it from there, is insane, and New Altea’s been peaceful in a dormant and controlled galaxy for a year and sometime now. There’s no way anything got stolen without a

galactic

notice and war being put out.”

Hunk rubbed the back of his neck. “Okay, but like, Vrelen isn’t Altean. We know that, right?”

Pidge nodded, clicking something on her screen. “Exactly. Which makes this even weirder.”

“Plus, the way he was speaking about us as Paladins was weird. You guys caught that, right? Like as if he knows us, but like, doesn’t at the same time, since I would remember us fighting him before.” Hunk frowned. The three of them sat in momentarily silence, thinking about Vrelen’s way of speaking to them, his referrals to the Paladins as if they were old friends, old partners who sparred. How it progressed in creepiness tenfold.

Lance huffed, shifting again as more metal clashing rang out below. “So what’s the plan? We just let Keith duke it out while we sit here playing detective?”

Pidge shot him a look. “Obviously not. We can’t let Keith kill him. Not now. Not with all of this. It goes deeper than just stopping him now. We gotta figure out where this all comes from, how deep this runs. Who knows, what if there’s more of him out there that’s jumping at the opportunity to steal from Altean tech and have more knowledge about the Lions?” She tapped at her screen, sending off another string of logs. “I’m sending everything to Shiro. He and the Blades are still navigating the asteroid belt. We just need to stall long enough for them to get here. From his messages, the best course of action is to wait it out for backup.”

Lance rolled his eyes. “So, what, we sit Vrelen down therapy style and ask him about his childhood traumas? Swap bedtime stories until he feels like talking?”

Pidge leveled him with the dullest expression. “Yes, Lance. That is

exactly

what I meant. Obviously we have to stop that fight down there long enough for Shiro and Krolia to show up. They will be an even bigger backup and be able to put this pod in their ship and imprison better than we can with what we got on us. ”

Hunk groaned dramatically, throwing his head back. “Great. So now we also have to babysit our favorite loose cannon and make sure he doesn’t kill his biggest enemy? I

love

my life.”

Lance exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Keith’s gonna get himself hurt. He’s not gonna hesitate down there to put an end to Vrelen you know.”

Pidge shoved her glasses up her nose. “Then we better get down there before he does.”

The descent was frantic. Metal rungs were cold under Lance’s good hand as they climbed down, boots hitting grated flooring with heavy, echoing thuds. The deeper they went, the darker it became, the air thick with the scent of scorched metal and the acrid sting of burning energy. Lance huffed at the awfully hilarious predicament they found themselves in. Scaling all this scaffolding and platforms just to have to rescale and head straight back down.

Thank you, mullet!

Lance’s wrist pulsed—an electric current of pain shooting up his arm—but he ignored it, biting the inside of his cheek and pushing forward. He didn’t miss the glances from Hunk, quick and darting, full of concern, but he refused to acknowledge them. Worry later. Find Keith now.
Then they hit the bottom.

The darkness was alive with shadows flickering with violent bursts of light as metal screamed against metal. Sparks exploded in the air, throwing frantic, golden flares across the massive engine room. Pipes groaned, some bursting, sending white-hot steam hissing through the chaos like enraged spirits. Lance’s stomach twisted.

Keith stood at the center of it all,

twin blades in hand

. The Altean broadsword, massive and elegant, burned with faint silver etchings along its surface, clashing against the raw, crackling energy of his own sword, dark and swirling, glinting in any catches of light. He dragged one along the metal floor, the scrape a warning, the sound grating through the air like a death knell.

Vrelen grinned. It was subtle, but there, a sharp, knowing thing that sent a chill slicing through Lance’s ribs.

“You really are a spectacle,” Vrelen mused, voice smooth despite the blood dripping from his ruined wrist, despite the fact that he was outnumbered. His remaining rods spun artfully in his grip, the ends still sparking from their last violent impact. “Your predecessors would have never let emotions rule them so openly. But then again…” His sharp eyes flickered, just for a moment, toward Lance, Hunk, and Pidge. “Perhaps that’s why they

failed

.”

Lance’s chest was tight. He could

see

it—Vrelen was saying all the right things to strike a nerve in all of them, pressing all the right buttons. Keith’s jaw was locked, his eyes burning, every movement a little more reckless, a little more desperate. And Vrelen? He was enjoying it.

“It’s fascinating,” he continued, his voice carrying over the sounds of combat. “How easily you all fall into place. The way you fight, the way you

follow

—just like before.” His gaze flickered to Pidge, then Hunk, then Lance. “Like pale reflections of what once was.”

He did a lazy strike as Keith deflected using both swords, the clang strong and loud to echo amongst the metal chamber. Keith pushed back as Vrelen took a step back, twirling all his rods in the arms he still had. He didn’t waver, didn’t shake despite the long constant battling with the villain. If Keith was exhausted and mentally and physcially torn down, he didn’t show it.

Keith struck again, and Vrelen parried, deflecting the blow and twisting so fast it was blurred motion. One of the rods slammed hard into Keith’s ribs, sending him skidding back. He barely caught himself, boots dragging against the metal floor. The air was thick with smoke, with tension, with the sharp scent of burning metal curling through the engine room like a vengeful specter. Lance clenched his jaw. His heart was hammering. This was getting no where in the talking department. They needed to change tactics fast.

The fight had stalled for just a fraction of a second—Keith panting, twin blades raised, Vrelen rolling his shoulders, gaze flicking with calculated ease between each of them. And in that second, Lance took his shot. He exhaled sharply, ignoring the searing fire in his wrist and lack of feeling in his hand, ignoring the dampness of his bloodied arm.

Think fast, McClain.

“Man,” Lance drawled, forcing every ounce of his exhaustion out of his voice, tilting his head just slightly, “you must be so disappointed.”

Everything stopped.

Vrelen’s expression barely flickered, but Keith hesitated—his stance shifting ever so slightly, a subtle flicker of confusion passing over his face. The rods in Vrelen’s grip spun once, twice, before slowing as he turned just slightly to face Lance. Hunk and Pidge both sucked in sharp breaths behind him, the unspoken

what the hell are you doing

practically burning into his back.

Lance grinned his signature money winner, an easy, lazy, unbothered thing, ignoring the way his ribs felt like they were tightening in anticipation. He hoped Pidge’s theories were right, because he was throwing some shots in the dark here.

“I mean, really,” he continued, shifting his stance just enough to look casual, even as his opposite fingers twitched uselessly against his leg, “all these big scary stories and memories about the past Paladins, and yet? Here you are. Stuck with us. Kind of embarrassing, don’t you think? They’re still haunting you, in a way. That’s gotta sting.”

Vrelen scoffed. But for the first time since they met him, since he’d fought them, toyed with them, manipulated them like puppets on a string—he sounded tired. Not amused. Not entertained. Not taunting. Exhausted.

Lance felt the shift deep in his gut.

“You look different,” Vrelen muttered, eyes sharp and assessing, “from the last time we saw each other. Than how I saw Keith remembering you.”

“W-What?” Lance’s heart stopped. Honestly? Not what he was expecting to come out of his mouth.

Keith went rigid. His muscles tensed so violently that even Lance felt it, despite standing several feet away. The broadsword in Keith’s hand tilted ever so slightly—uncertainty lacing through his frame before he swallowed it down. It lasted only a second. Then Keith moved.

Fast. Too fast. A wild, reckless, furious swing—one meant to

cut

first and think later. Lance’s body moved before his brain caught up.

“How did Keith remember me

?!

” He shouted, trying to WILL his voice to stop Keith.

Keith faltered
.
His body stuttered, the blades in his hands jerking mid-swing, giving Vrelen

just

enough time to step cleanly aside. Not out of fear. Not out of desperation. Evasion. Precision. Control. The way he moved was almost bored.

Vrelen regarded Lance for a long, slow moment. Then he moved—artful, smooth as a painting in motion, one of his rods etching a slow, deliberate crescent through the air before coming to a stop. Pointed at Lance. His voice, when he spoke, was like shattered, torn at glass.

“You had a similar color,” he murmured, “to Alfor.”

Lance froze rigid. The blood in his veins turned cold. Behind him, Hunk and Pidge gasped, the sound sharp and cutting through the chaos like a blade.

Keith didn’t react. Because Keith didn’t think. He moved. A vicious, unforgiving arc of his sword—no hesitation, no restraint, no mercy. And this time?

It landed.

Vrelen hissed—a sharp, shocked sound—as the blade carved a deep, jagged cut across one of his hands, severing the connection of his fingers to one of the rods. Metal clattered to the ground, sparks hissing where it hit the floor. Lance’s pulse pounded in his ears, a little too distracted with what was just said to be on the ‘control Keith’ wavelength they had going on. Color to Alfor.

What the hell was going on?

The distant hum of the ship felt drowned out under the sound of Keith’s ragged breathing, the drip-drip-drip of blood sliding from the edge of the Altean broadsword clutched tight in his grip.

Vrelen was laughing. A low, wheezing, awful sound—soaked in something that sent a violent chill up Lance’s spine.

Pidge moved first.

“What the hell do you mean?” she snapped, voice sharp and demanding, cutting clean through the smoke curling in the air. “Comparing Lance to King Alfor? What is your deal, huh? Just give it up already! You knew Alteans closely, didn’t you?”

Keith stilled. His grip on the sword was so tight his knuckles burned white, his chest heaving from the force of each breath, from the sheer fire still licking at his skin, still boiling beneath his ribcage.

Vrelen didn’t answer right away. Instead, he pulled his wounded arm close, fingers twitching like a dying thing, two hands down from Keith’s attacks, shoulder burned to a crisp and looking like it was on fire from Lance’s shot and yet—yet—his eyes were wild, still filled with something calculating. Unrelenting. Slowly, Vrelen chuckled. It was a low, almost sickly sound. A breath of amusement laced with something else. Something awful. And then, one by one—The rods clattered to the floor.

The spear dropped next. A sharp, metallic clang ringing out in the thick silence, bouncing against the walls. Lance felt his heart seize in his chest. Pidge and Hunk sucked in sharp gasps, tension spiking so high it felt like the air crackled around them. Vrelen was weaponless. He smiled.

A slow, curling thing, tight, eyes glittering as he dipped his head at Keith in some sick, taunting mimicry of a bow.

“Go on, then,” he murmured.

Keith’s breathing hitched. His fingers twitched around the hilt of his swords.

“I’ve taught you enough to unleash,” Vrelen continued, voice like silk, like a blade sliding between bone. His eyes flickered just slightly, pupils blown wide with something Lance couldn’t name, something just barely restrained. “Finish it, then.”

Keith’s shoulders squared, his arms lifted, his breath staggered. Lance saw it before Keith did. The way his chest rose and fell too fast, the way his eyes darkened, the way his expression twisted into something, something hungry. Like something inside him was feeding off of this animalistic pain the same way Vrelen had feasted from Keith’s anger. Like something was dragging him under. The weight of it sunk into Lance’s bones like ice. There was no reaching him from that.

“Keith.”

Nothing. His blade trembled just slightly, his breath came in sharp, ragged bursts, but his eyes—his eyes were somewhere far away. He was losing it.

“Keith,” Lance tried again, sharper now, firmer, stepping forward, ignoring the tremble that nearly wrecked his legs, ignoring the way the blood loss made his vision tilt for a split second—But it wasn’t enough. Keith wasn’t hearing him.

Hunk moved next.

“Fight that back, Keith!” His voice was loud, commanding, cutting through the thick, suffocating air with the kind of force that shook the room. “Paladins don’t kill! You’re a Paladin!”

Keith jerked, the sword in his grip twitching, his breath stuttering. His eyes snapped to them like he was waking up, but the look. The look in them. In those drop dead gorgeous beautifully swirling purple eyes as deep as the most sparkling galaxy…

Lance felt like something inside him had just been crushed. The sheer pain, the raw torment twisting Keith’s face—like he was fighting something he didn’t know how to win against, like something had grabbed him by the throat and yanked him so far down into himself that he could barely claw his way back out. It was…Depressing.

Lance wanted to hold him. Wanted to shake him and pull him back in and tell him—tell him he was here. He was always here. But Keith looked…Keith looked like he was still somewhere else entirely. And Vrlen knew this.

Vrelen’s body language was different now—something like amusement curling at the edge of his expression, but his eyes held something deeper. Something studying. Lance jumped in fast, voice cutting through the thick silence like a blade, trying to do ANYTHING to unfortunately keep Vrlen alive and stop Keith from doing an action he may regret later.

“So, big question here,” he snapped, ignoring the pounding in his head, the way his wrist throbbed in time with his rapid pulse, the way Keith looked like he was about to rip back each layer of Vrelen’s skin like string cheese. “What made me look so much like King Alfor, huh?”

Vrelen’s attention snapped to him, brows ticking up just slightly. Lance didn’t let himself falter. “You called him Alfor.” His voice was sharp, probing, holding something demanding beneath the casual bite. He exchanged a warning glance with Keith, to make sure he was still at bay and unmoving. Lance silently thanked Allura the man hadn’t moved and stayed at ease. “Not King Alfor. Were you close, or was he not a king at the time you knew him?”

Silence. A beat too long.

A slow, measured chuckle left Vrelen’s lips. Something dark laced beneath it.

“Smart,” Vrelen murmured, voice smooth but pointed, like he was considering something new. “You’re quick, I’ll give you that.”

Lance stiffened as Vrelen’s expression twisted.

“Alfor,” he continued, almost relishing the name, “was not my friend.” His voice dropped lower, soaked in something bitter.

“He was deceiving.” A low scoff, an exhale of disgust as his eyes flickered past the Paladins, seeing something far beyond them. “Those terrible Alteans. Full of lies and false promises, fed to the masses like grains of sand waiting to be swallowed up by the tide.”

Lance’s stomach turned. Pidge stiffened beside him, Hunk’s fingers curling into a tight grip at his sides.

“They are powerless,” Vrelen continued, voice curling around the words like venom. “And they abuse those around them—limit their abilities—for the sake of pretending they have control. Pretending they hold power in the situation.”

His smile grew sharper. A slow chuckle, curling at the edge of his mouth. His eyes cast back to Keith. Casual. Pointed.

Vrelen’s voice was too smooth, too cruel, when he said, “One moment they’re your friend…” Keith’s breath hitched.

“And the next?” Vrelen tilted his head, lips curling just slightly, “Throwing you out like weekly trash.”

Lance felt something ignite in his chest. A flash of anger, of protectiveness, of something hot clawing up his throat. His scoff was sharp, cutting through the charged air like a blade.

“I don’t know where you got that twisted fairytale of an idea, from propaganda of the Galra nation run by Zarkon or what,” he bit out, ignoring the racing of his pulse, the way Keith still looked so frozen, “but Alteans were nothing but loving and caring for the environment and those around them.” His voice rose, pointed, strong. “They’re some of the nicest species in the damn galaxy.”

Pidge jumped in, voice heated, challenging.

“No,” she said sharply, shaking her head. “That’s not how the Alteans were. They wouldn’t do something like that. King Alfor was a scientist, a visionary—he wouldn’t enslave an entire species and then discard them. They’re brilliant, and they use their knowledge for good. That’s all they ever wanted to do.”

Hunk’s voice was steadier, but no less sure, “Their biggest goal for the galaxy was peace,” he said firmly, crossing his arms, standing his ground. “King Alfor and Allura’s legacy is proof of that. Everything they did was about keeping balance in the universe.”

Vrelen smiled wider as if waiting for that. A slow tut left his lips.

“Peace,” he repeated, as if the word itself was a joke. “You think peace is given? That it simply exists?”

He took a step forward, and instinctively, Keith’s sword snapped up, blocking his path. But Vrelen barely glanced at him. His eyes were on Lance, on Pidge, on Hunk—all of them standing there, their bodies rigid, their minds desperately trying to reject what he was saying.

“That description you give, its not what we all experienced from Alteans.” ​​His eyes turned back to Keith. Keith’s breath shuddered. His fingers tensed, his shoulders tightened, his entire body language changed.
Lance wanted to throw up at the way Keith’s expression flickered, at the way his breathing picked up, at the way his head shook—small, almost involuntary—like he was physically trying to rid himself of something. Lance saw it. The way something was eating at him. The way something was clawing inside him, dragging him down into a spiral.

“So you knew King Alfor,” Pidge murmured, adjusting her glasses, voice light but carefully measured as took a slow step forward. “You don’t refer to him as ‘King Alfor’ though. Just Alfor. That’s not how most people talk about him.”

“You think Alfor was a savior,” Vrelen continued, his voice silk wrapped around steel. “A benevolent king, a protector of the weak.” He exhaled sharply through his nose. “Tell me, when has peace ever come without control? Without sacrifice?”

No one spoke. Lance hardened as he took a step to follow Pidge, reacting on her impulse to get closer, but Hunk held a slow hand out to Lance’s shoulder, lightly brushing him. Lance glanced over, where Hunk’s face was pulled tight but his eyes were blazing back at him, his jaw set. A silent memo to stop. Let Pidge do her thing. Lance shuddered back a breath, the red lights blaring off in his mind to NOT let Pidge near him, but Vrlen simply returned Pidge’s watchful and curious eyes, free of any weapons and surrounded. At arms length from Keith who was happily ready to fire off at any damn second. It was subtle—so unlike the battles they’d fought with weapons, with steel and fire and instinct-driven swings. No, this was different. Because Pidge didn’t need a weapon. She had something far sharper than any blade.

Her mind.

Vrelen hadn’t realized it yet, but he had just stepped into her battlefield. And there was no one in the universe who could match her here. The air in the engine room was thick, pulsing with the weight of battle still lingering in their bones. The scent of burnt metal and ozone filled Lance’s lungs as he stood tense, his wrist still bleeding sluggishly beneath Hunk’s hastily wrapped headband. His heart pounded in his ears, but his focus had narrowed—sharp, like a blade—to her.

Pidge. Lance had always known she was smart—brilliant, relentless—but watching her now was something entirely different. She wasn’t interrogating Vrelen. She was drawing him out. Like a craftsman carving into delicate metal, like an artist laying down the first masterful strokes of a grand masterpiece, she wove her words with precision.

Vrelen’s expression remained indifferent, but his gaze flickered. “Alfor was no king when I knew him.”

Pidge hummed softly, nodding as if she’d expected that answer, as if she was piecing it together like a puzzle she had already half-solved.

“Then he was a friend?”

A pause. A dangerous flicker in Vrelen’s gaze, like a fire barely restrained.

“No,” he said, voice like iron. “Alfor was not my friend.”

Pidge tilted her head, brows furrowing ever so slightly, her lips pursed like she was puzzling something out, adjusting her glasses in that absentminded way she always did when she was calculating something, lining up the pieces in her head before the first move was even made. Vrelen’s smile didn’t falter. His body was relaxed, almost too casual.

And yet—

There was a pause. A brief hesitation in his breath. And Pidge caught it. Like a predator catching the tiniest twitch in its prey.

Because if there’s one thing about Pidge, that girl was observant of her data and ran with it.

“Oh, I see.” She tilted her head slightly, lips quirking, voice just light enough to lull him into an easy response. “Then what was he, if you could describe for us in human terms? Dummies over here and have no deep understanding of logistical connections between other aliens.”

Her voice—softer than usual, unnervingly patient—sent a striking shock through Lance’s system. It was unnatural to hear her like this. Like she was listening. Not just calculating facts, not just spitting out sharp remarks laced with sarcasm or biting wit—no, this was deliberate. Methodical. She was building something, giving Vrelen the space to speak without him even realizing he was being dissected, piece by piece. Vrelen exhaled through his nose, giving her a look, but his eyes narrowed, just slightly, as if suddenly aware of how much she had picked up in just two sentences.

“You’re very perceptive,” he murmured.

“Yeah, I get that a lot,” Pidge said, waving a hand.

A deliberate distraction—keep the tone light, keep him engaged without making him defensive. And it worked. Vrelen chuckled, rolling his shoulders like he was shaking off the moment, playing into her game without realizing he was losing whatever she was putting down. Bingo. Pidge’s fingers twitched behind her back, drawing Lance and Hunk to hold their breaths, their eyes flicking between Pidge’s line of questioning and Vrelen’s slight reaction to her limelight.

“So what exactly did Alfor do to you?” she asked, voice even, careful. “Did he betray you? Lie to you? Or was it worse than that?” Another pause.

A longer one this time. Lance could practically hear the gears turning in Vrelen’s mind, as if deciding how much he wanted to reveal—or if he wanted to play this game at all. Then, he sighed. As if humoring her.

“You ever hear of the saying,” he mused, voice like silk, “that sometimes the worst betrayals don’t come from your enemies?”

Pidge twitched her hands again, Lance feeling Hunk’s hand tighten its touch on his arm. There. There. Lance’s stomach turned. Pidge’s eyes glowed. Not literally. But God, if Lance couldn’t see the sheer glee of a master at work.

“You were an ally,” Lance breathed out low as he caught up to Pidge’s carefully placed questions, like a statement, not a question. Keith’s eyes widened, glancing back at Lance before landing back at Vrelen, taking an uneven step backwards as if shocked by the rods again. Taking in the information. Vrelen’s expression didn’t change. But his breathing did. Just a fraction.

And that was enough for her to work overtime.

“Then what was he?”

Lance could hear Hunk holding his breath. Vrelen let out a slow, calculated exhale, shifting the weight on his feet as if debating whether or not to speak. And then, with a twisted, humorless smile—

“A liar.”

“That’s a strong word,” she mused, adjusting her grip on her tablet. “Most people remember him as a noble leader. A good king. Someone who dedicated everything to the galaxy’s peace.”

Vrelen let out a quiet, bitter chuckle. “That’s the version of him you were told.”

“And you knew another one,” Pidge continued, stepping closer, her tone shifting, pressing like a scalpel against an open wound. “You trusted them. And something happened.”

A sharp inhale from him. Lance felt it. The moment Pidge struck gold.

“You weren’t just betrayed,” Pidge murmured, voice going low, smooth, dangerously sharp. “You were discarded.”

His eyes narrowed, something dangerous, something warning, something cracking at the seams of his carefully placed armor.

A second too late, he scoffed. “You’re good at reading between the lines.”

“Yeah,” Pidge said simply, the glint in her eyes impossibly bright. “I’m also really good at solving a problem.”

Vrelen was silent. And for the first time, he looked unsettled. Silence.

Pidge wasn’t pushing—not quite—but she wasn’t letting go, either. She was steering him, guiding him along like a fisherman carefully reeling in a massive beast lurking just beneath the surface. Lance swallowed, a deep unease twisting in his gut. Because Vrelen was talking. And it wasn’t just empty words, crafted to execute pain and manipulation tactics. It was real. It was dangerous. It was something that had festered inside him for years, something that had turned into this—this warpath, this raging storm of vengeance.

“We were not soldiers,” Vrelen said, voice quiet now, a whisper of something bitter, something venomous. “We were their tools. And the Alteans, their hands and power, used us as instruments to mold the world as they saw fit.”

Lance stiffened. Pidge nodded slowly, like she was simply listening. Like she was letting him come to his own inevitable unraveling.

“Your people,” she murmured, “they had a gift the Alteans liked, didn’t they?”

Vrelen’s eyes snapped to her.

“Not a gift,” he said, low and sharp. “A purpose. One that they stole from us. One that they deemed too dangerous when it no longer suited them.”

Lance felt the air shift. Hunk inhaled, slow and steady, gaze flickering between Pidge and Vrelen like he wasn’t sure if he should intervene. And Keith—

Keith was staring. Not at Pidge. Not at them. At Vrelen. At the words coming out of his mouth. At the hatred twisting itself into something tangible, something real and lived-in, something that wasn’t just a delusion but a history carved into the fabric of the past.

“That’s what you’ve been using on me, huh?” Keith’s voice was all sharp edges, twisting the knife back at Vrelen, “using your fucked up excuse of a gift to what, target bad memories? Resurface repressed nightmares so we can relive it all over again?”

Vrelen just glanced lightly over Keith, his eyes stroking a fire in Keith’s spirit that was already on a tipping iceberg. He tilted his head at Keith’s snarl, his lips curling into something too smug, too knowing.

“You say that as if it’s my fault you feel this way,” he murmured, his voice like silk over a blade. “I don’t create your pain, Black Paladin. I only bring it to the surface.”

Keith sucked in a sharp breath, his stance faltering for the briefest second. His grip on his sword tightened as if it were the only thing keeping him together.

Lance’s stomach twisted at the sheer torment flickering across Keith’s face—too raw, too familiar. He saw the way Keith’s shoulders bunched, his chest rising and falling in uneven breaths, the storm behind his eyes ready to swallow him whole. If Vrelen had been trying to provoke him into attacking blindly, into giving in to whatever emotional chaos he was stirring, then…

“Keith, step back,” Lance cut in, voice sharp and warning.

“Do you not feel more at peace, Keith?” Vrelen’s eyes bore into Keith, watching the way his chest rose and fell in alarming rate.

“PEACE? You infiltrated my fucking mind! Made me remember all the shit that I had to deal with, all the things I never thought I would ever have to live through again. You made me–”

“KEITH. BACK.” Lance urged his voice to cut through Keith’s mangled thoughts and emotions. Keith’s jaw flexed, his breath coming out heavy, turning his head sharp and fast away to face the wall, but he obeyed, physically forcing himself to take a step back as if shaking something off. Lance and Hunk both let out huge sighs that were being held, but Lance was not done here.

“What exactly makes your power a gift, man? Don’t you see the pain it causes?” Lance interjected, his heart hammering in his chest as he kept his eyes careful on Keith retracting from the situation to do what he assumed was a cool down lap inches away. Vrelen’s expression flickered—just for a second, something unreadable crossed his face. A ghost of something bitter.

“Our abilities were never meant to cause harm,” he said, his tone dipping into something that almost sounded… tired. “Our connection to emotion, to the very essence of fear, of pain, of grief—it was a gift. We were healers once, in the truest sense of the word. And when the Alteans got to us, we were a means to an end. A tool for their so-called ‘balance.’ My people’s abilities were used to temper enemies, to pacify conflicts before they even began. But then they realized—if you can control fear, you can control war. If you can subdue aggression, you decide who holds power.”

Lance furrowed his brows, exchanging a glance with Hunk and Pidge.

“We helped people face what they buried,” Vrelen went on. “When a warrior lost their nerve in battle, we eased their fear, tempered it with understanding. When someone was drowning in grief, we absorbed their sorrow just enough to allow them to breathe. When minds were fractured by war, we guided them back to clarity. You think emotions make you weak—our people knew they made you stronger, but only if you learned to wield them.”

A chill crawled up Lance’s spine at the conviction in his voice.

Hunk frowned. “Then what changed?”

Vrelen let out a breath that was almost a laugh. “Alfor.”

The name landed in the air like a weight. Vrelen’s eyes darkened, his fingers twitching at his sides. “He welcomed us, yes,” he admitted. “Found and rescued our people when our planet was dying, gave us a home on Altea. We were grateful. We served. We believed in his vision of peace.” His voice dipped, cold and sharp. “But then, he changed the rules.”

Lance swallowed.

“He saw what we could do, saw how powerful it was. And for a time, he called it noble. But power is only noble when it’s convenient. A natural gift becomes a threat to those who fight to create their own false sense of power.” Vrelen’s gaze flicked over the Paladins, then landed squarely on Keith, watching him like he knew something the rest of them didn’t. “He didn’t like what it meant to hold so much control over emotion. Didn’t like that we were able to stir up emotions that previously had been pushed down, attempted to erase. Did not like that in the end, us finding someone’s deeper emotions gave them more strength and solitude in themselves and their morals than it did to the rest of the Alteans who refused to be touched by us in case we were able to read and feel them. It unsettled the Council, made them wary. And so, we became dangerous.”

His heartbeat hammered in his ears, but his glare felt unfcertain now, like the foundation beneath his feet had cracked, and he wasn’t sure where to stand anymore. Because this wasn’t just some twisted villain monologuing. This was something deeper, something that cut into the very idea of who the Alteans were, of what they stood for. And none of them were ready for that.

Lance’s stomach twisted. “That’s not—”

“Not what Alfor stood for?” Vrelen finished for him, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips. “Tell me, Blue Paladin, do you know what it’s like to be useful, but only until you’re not? To be necessary, only until you become a threat? To be judged before you are truly understood and appreciated for being different?”

Lance’s breath caught. Vrelen tilted his head, watching the way Lance’s expression flickered, the wariness in Hunk’s eyes, the flicker of doubt in Pidge’s clenched jaw.

“Oh, but they wouldn’t, would they?” he mocked, voice thick with sarcasm. “Not the merciful Alteans, the beacon of diplomacy and morality.” He bared his teeth in something too sharp to be a grin. “It was never about peace. It was about control. The moment my people became an inconvenience—when they realized we could suppress

them

just as easily as their enemies—they cast us aside.”

A sick feeling settled in Lance’s stomach.

Vrelen exhaled slowly, his expression eerily calm. “He called us deceivers,” he said. “Manipulators. He told us our gift was too powerful, too uncontrollable. And so, we were cast out.” His eyes flashed. “And for what? Because we were too good at what we were forced to do?”

Lance’s fingers curled into fists at his sides. His chest felt tight, his thoughts racing too fast to catch up.

Alteans wouldn’t…

The air in the room felt heavier now, thick with something neither smoke nor heat, but memory—a history clawing its way out of the shadows, piece by piece, threading itself into the present with every slow, deliberate word Vrelen spoke.

Lance and Hunk exchanged a look, their stomachs twisting, something deep and ugly gnawing at their insides. Vrelen saw it. And he smiled.

“Oh, don’t tell me the famous Paladins are feeling guilt already,” he mused, his voice light but sharp. “You’re Altean sympathizers, aren’t you? You think of them as this beacon of peace and wisdom—uncorruptible, flawless. Beautiful, even.”

His eyes flicked toward the four of them—briefly, lazily, almost as if he already knew what kind of wound he was pressing into. Hunk sucked in sharply. Lance bit his lip, his jaw clenched so tightly that Hunk could hear the tension in his breath. Neither of them spoke. Because they knew. Alteans, along with their original planet were beautiful. They all heard stories and saw holograms and leftover artifacts around the Castle of Lions that Allura and Coran shared so fondly. They were stuck in space with nothing else to busy themselves with. They saw how intricate and millions of years ahead in technology they were, how the planet thrived with brilliant and vibrant colors and smells and people that were always spoken with such love and admiration from the Alteans onboard the Castle and from many planets they met along the years. Alteans were valued and sought after. Alteans were the charms of the galaxy. Hell, Lance had fallen in love with one as they became his closest confidants in life. It had always been said, always admired, always upheld. Their grace, their features, their radiant glow—Lance had admired it openly, still spoke of Allura’s beauty, of the elegance of Altean culture. Even Hunk and Pidge had marveled at their intelligence, their advanced technology, their sheer perfection.

But there was never a question of others who did not see it on the same page. Lance’s shoulders were tight, his fingers twitching at his side, the tension radiating off of him. He couldn’t look at Hunk, couldn’t meet his eyes, so instead, his gaze flicked elsewhere. To Keith.

Who was standing like a statue, his body taut with something unreadable, his jaw set, his brows furrowed as though caught in a memory he didn’t want to have. But Vrelen wasn’t looking at any of them anymore. His gaze was locked dead on Keith. Like he was silently speaking to him. Lance’s chest curdled.

His eyes darkened.

“And for a while, it was perfect. We truly were helping Alteans keep peace in the galaxy, stop other planets from ending in the same fate my people’s planet had. It was rehabilitation, of sorts. We would come visit the prisoners of villains attempting to overthrow governments and enslave species, and simply, revert their pain back into them, make them see what they were doing was awful. Find the deep seated root in them and draw that back up for them to be able to feel, and make them discovery empathy. Until one day they decided we were too uncontrollable, that we were the ones going against morality. They saw us as a threat, and therefore, threw us to the curb to fend for ourselves. Alfor quite literally took us on a fieldtrip and left us on another planet to fend for ourselves. We mostly died off. ”

“They would never—” Lance started, his voice cracking as the words clawed their way up his throat. “They would never do that.”

Vrelen’s laughter was hollow. “Oh, wouldn’t they?” His gaze flicked to Keith, something dark and knowing behind his eyes. “Tell me, Paladins, how quickly did they throw away the Galra when a few bad eggs hatched?”

Keith flinched, his jaw tightening. Lance’s breath caught, and he shot a glance at Keith—who was stock-still, his expression unreadable, but his hands had curled into fists, white-knuckled. “You still don’t get it,” Vrelen said, shaking his head, his voice quieter now, but no less venomous. “Alfor didn’t just

abandon

us. He erased us. Locked us away in the depths of history. He made sure no one would ever remember us. That we would never matter.”

Hunk’s voice was barely above a whisper. “What happened to your people after?”

Vrelen stilled. For a moment, his expression was unreadable—his lips parted slightly, something too raw flickering across his face. Then, it vanished, replaced with something darker.

“They left us to rot.”

The words were simple, but they hit like a blade through the ribs.

“They gathered us under the guise of ‘protection.’ Took us in, locked us within their city walls. But the moment they decided we were too dangerous, they turned their backs on us. The Council ruled we could no longer be trusted. We were sent away—cast out onto a rogue planet with no resources, no way to sustain ourselves. A slow, quiet death sentence.” A silence hung in the air, thick and suffocating.

Vrelen exhaled, something hollow in his chest. “I only survived because I fought,” he murmured. “I survived because I refused to let them take my name, my history, my people’s legacy.”

The weight of Vrelen’s words hung in the air like a storm cloud, suffocating, unshakable. But Lance wasn’t watching Vrelen anymore. He was watching Keith. Keith’s face was unreadable, but only on the surface. Beneath the stillness, Lance could see it—the war behind his eyes, the tension locking his jaw so tight it could snap. His fingers twitched against the hilt of his sword, shoulders drawn in too tightly, his breaths too controlled, too measured, like he was barely keeping something caged. And Lance knew that look. He’d seen it in Keith when he first learned what being Galra really meant. That kind of pain—the kind that rattled your bones, that made you question your place in the universe—it never really left. Lance’s stomach twisted.

Keith understands him.

“I tracked down an Altean pod, found it on a distant outpost. Its pilots barely had time to realize what was happening before I took them out.” Vrelen laughed out coldly, but there was no humor in it. “I took their ship. Their technology. And I made sure I or the galaxy would never

need

anything Altean again.”

Lance swallowed, his throat dry, speaking the words before he could really grasp the implications, the realization hitting him like a punch to the gut.

“The lions,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. His stomach dropped. “You want them gone. As what, one last fuck you to King Alfor who isn’t even around to see it anymore?”

Vrelen’s smirk was razor-sharp. “That’s only the start.”

Lance’s fingers curled tighter around his blaster. “You think destroying them erases the past?”

“No,” Vrelen said, tilting his head slightly. “But it prevents a future.”

Silence. And then Pidge inhaled sharply, the sound brittle and ragged as if she’d just been winded. Lance turned his head, watching as her wide, sharp eyes shot up to Vrelen, her face drained of all color.

Her voice, when it came, was hollow. “You’re going to form Voltron.”

Lance blinked, his breath hitching. Pidge swallowed, her mouth slightly open like she was struggling to force the words out. “You’re not just destroying the lions. You’re—”

Her throat bobbed as the realization settled into her bones. She exhaled, the breath leaving her in a broken whisper.

“You’re going to destroy

New Altea

with Voltron

.

”

No one moved. The words hung in the air like a death sentence, ringing between them all. Vrelen said nothing. He didn’t need to. The lack of response

was

his answer. Lance could hear his own pulse in his ears, the way Hunk’s breath hitched slightly beside him. Even Keith, who had been so still before, sucked in a sharp, barely controlled breath. Vrelen watched them, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then, slowly, his lips parted, his voice a whisper, almost reverent.

“I’m going to erase the last remnants of their existence.”

No anger. No fury. Just certainty.

“With their own forced attempt at power.”

“That’s inhumane!” Hunk let out, stuttering the utter shock and dismay in the room. Vrelen regarded Hunk for the first time solely, tutting out low.

“What does humanity mean to a creature cursed to never experience it? The end justifies the means.”

“But what if there never is an end? All we have is means.” Hunk argued back, his own eyes blinking back tears. Lance’s heart felt shattered as Vrelen scoffed back at Hunk’s morality plea.

The three of them were forced into shocked silence, unable to digest any of this.

Vrelen’s gaze flicked to Keith instead. “Tell me, Black Paladin,” he said, voice quieter now, almost coaxing. “When did you first learn that being loyal to something doesn’t mean it’ll be loyal back?”

Lance heard it before he saw it—the sharp inhale, the crushing silence, the sound of something breaking apart at the seams. It wasn’t just the words. It was the weight behind them, the way they slid into Keith’s ribs like a dagger, like something that had already been carved into him before, but this time, twisted deeper. Keith’s fingers twitched at his side, his breath shaky, uneven. But his face—his face was locked down, set like stone, only his eyes betraying him. And Vrelen saw it. Of course he did. A slow, knowing smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he took a step closer, his voice softer now, almost thoughtful.

“Well?” he murmured, tilting his head. “You know what to do, don’t you?”

Keith’s grip on his sword tightened.

“Take me out.”

Keith’s shoulders stiffened.

“That’s what you’re here for, isn’t it? To stop me? To finish your mission?” Vrelen exhaled, a short, brittle laugh that sounded more tired than anything else. His breathing had grown raspier, shorter, like the weight of everything was finally dragging him down. “Then do it.”

No one moved. All pleas and waits fell on silent tongues as the three loyal Paladins stood frozen and hands tied to Keith, weapons in his hands before a vulnerable Vrelen. Keith, who lost his mentor. Keith, who had been constantly berated and tormented throughout this entire experience, getting exposed to dark and twisted memories only the rest of them could imagine. Keith’s chest rose and fell, heavy, labored. His sword was still in his hands, but his arms had started to lower, his grip trembling just slightly. Vrelen’s gaze lingered on him, his eyes dark, unreadable.

“You’re exhausted,” he murmured. It wasn’t a taunt. It wasn’t a challenge. Just a statement. Keith swallowed hard, his throat bobbing as his breaths came quicker, sharp and uneven. Vrelen’s expression shifted—just slightly, just enough for something quieter to settle into his features.

“I see it now,” he continued. “You’ve fought so hard against everything that tried to erase you. The universe has done its best to swallow you whole, hasn’t it?” Keith’s fingers twitched.

“But you never let it.” Vrelen took another step closer, his voice dropping lower.

“You clawed your way out. Fought tooth and nail to keep yourself standing. Flesh that struggled to stay fresh and alive. Because that’s what you are, isn’t it? A fighter.” His lips parted, the words almost reverent. “A survivor. But all flesh rots at some point.”

Keith’s breathing hitched. Lance could see it—the way Keith’s body was fraying at the edges, his arms hanging lower, the weight of every battle, every fight, every loss pressing into him like gravity had doubled. He was tired.

God

, he was tired.

And Vrelen saw it all. He exhaled through his nose, something almost like amusement flickering in his tired gaze.

“I wonder,” he mused, voice laced with something thick, heavy, and bitter. “If you had been in my place, would you have done the same?”

Keith’s head jerked up, his eyes flashing. Vrelen let his lips curl, stepping closer, slow and deliberate. Lance felt himself step forward, his brows furrowing as the words bubbled back into his mouth.

“Hey, what are you–”

“You say you fight for peace,” he murmured. “For justice. But tell me, Keith. Do you even

know

what you’re fighting for?”

Keith inhaled sharply, the sound cracking at the edges. His grip on his sword slackened just slightly. Vrelen’s gaze flickered over him, taking in the tension in his stance, the way his chest heaved, the way something raw was burning behind his eyes.

“You’re just like me,” Vrelen whispered.

Then, in a voice drenched in bitter satisfaction, he said it.

“You want revenge. Revenge for yout friend on my ship, revenge for your emotions being brought back to you, revenge and anger being the sole reason why you have always fought, and won.”

Keith sucked in a breath as his eyes flashed red at the mere mention fo Kolivan, his whole body trembling. Keith wasn’t fighting it. He wasn’t arguing. He wasn’t denying it. He just stood there, shaking under the weight of something none of them could see. Keith’s hands trembled around his swords, the metal shaking in his grip as he raised them high, his body a prickling explosion of an atomic bomb about to detonate. His eyes tinged yellow around the corneas, his grimacing scowl revealed canines that were as sharp as his wolfs.

Lance, Hunk, and Pidge stood frozen, their voices stuck in their throats, their pleas to stop lost in the suffocating static between Keith and Vrelen. Keith’s eyes burned with something wild, something frenzied—anger, revenge, raw pain, the edges of his irises flickering with yellow. His teeth were bared in a snarl so sharp that Lance swore he could see his canines poking out, his entire body drawn so taut that it looked like he might snap. Vrelen, still slumped on the floor, barely had the strength to lift his head, but his lips curled, a ghost of a smirk tugging at the edge of his mouth.

“Avenge him then. Make me a corpse to rot, just as you have become already.”

Keith roared. The swords came down. But at the last second—before the killing blow could land—his fingers went slack. The metal clattered to the ground, the sound deafening in the silence.

Keith’s arms dropped limply at his sides. His chest heaved, his breath coming in sharp, unsteady gasps as his bangs fell over his eyes, shadowing his expression. His whole body trembled, his legs finally giving way as he dropped to his knees. Before him, Vrelen sagged further, collapsing against the floor. Two broken souls, ripped apart, bleeding, battered from wars both external and internal. The Paladins gasped softly, the sight blurring around Lance as the weight of it all pressed against him. He felt his stomach churn, a nauseating mix of relief and dread battling inside him.

Keith hadn’t pulled the final trigger.

Lance barely had a moment to process the weight of it when Pidge suddenly sniffed beside him. She exchanged a glance with him, her eyes sharp, urgent, flicking down to her tablet. Two blinking icons. Help was here. Just in time. Lance exhaled, a shuddering breath of something close to optimism breaking through the storm.

And then—

Vrelen moved. Fast as the wind, fast as a ghost. Keith barely had time to react before Vrelen’s arm snapped out, locking around his body, dragging him in. His grip was ironclad, his fingers digging into fabric and flesh as he pulled Keith against him. Lance shouted, his body jerking forward just as he saw the glint of metal, the Altean broadsword, gripped tightly in Vrelen’s working arm, pressed to Keith’s throat. Keith struggled, his legs kicking uselessly as Vrelen’s grip tightened like a vice around him. The cold press of the Altean broadsword bit into his throat, his pulse hammering just beneath the blade.

“Stay back,” Vrelen warned, his voice deceptively smooth, his sharp gaze flicking up to meet the others as they surged forward. He pressed the sword just a fraction deeper into Keith’s skin, and the movement alone was enough to freeze them in their tracks. “Or else I’ll end him. And I won’t be nearly as merciful as he was to me.”

Lance felt something in his chest snap, his breath hitching as he saw Keith struggle, his arms pinned, his jaw clenched shut. And then—Vrelen tilted his head, his lips ghosting close to Keith’s ear as he murmured something low, something that sent a violent shudder down Keith’s spine.

“Rule one,” Vrelen whispered, his voice an almost gentle growl, “never show a sign of vulnerability. I thought you would have learned by now. After all the times you’ve been betrayed.”

Keith’s breath stuttered. His fingers clenched into fists, his entire body tensed like he wanted to rip himself free, but Vrelen only held him tighter.

Lance saw red. His whole body ignited in a wildfire of fury, of adrenaline, of raw, unfiltered rage crackling through his veins. He didn’t think—he didn’t need to. His bandaged hand shot out, snatching the blaster from Hunk before anyone could process it, his movements driven purely by instinct. He held up the blaster, his bloodied hand shaking and hidden under the grip from his good non dominant hand, concealing the fact his fingers were failing to twitch or be anywhere near the trigger.

“Let. Him. Go.”

His voice was fire, a storm wrapped in steel. Hunk whimpered out a gasp, his brows raised and trained on pinpointing his firing hand.

Vrelen only chuckled, his lips curling in amusement as he regarded Lance with a mocking tilt of his head. “Oh? And here I thought you were a Paladin. Paladins don’t kill.”

Lance’s good hand tightened over the bad, his hands steady, his breath even, his aim deadly, yet he still could not feel his fingers.

But Vrelen didn’t know that.

His eyes burned with something untamed, something that sent a chill through the air.

“Fuck morality,” Lance growled. “You so much as draw a single drop of blood from Keith, and I’ll shoot you dead where you stand. And I won’t hesitate.”

For the first time, Vrelen actually looked intrigued. His fingers twitched against the hilt of the broadsword, but Lance saw the moment his amusement wavered, the faintest flicker of something calculating behind his eyes.

“I know you know what it feels like to be shot by me,” Lance continued, his voice dropping lower, deadlier. His eyes burned hell, his skin prickling and on fire, his stance rock solid. “I’m a fucking master shot.”

There was a beat of silence, charged and razor-sharp—

Then Pidge, of all people, snorted, breaking the tension just enough to rattle Vrelen’s composure. “Yeah, you really don’t wanna test him,” she said, arms crossed, voice wry but steady. “Lance is the galaxy’s best sharpshooter. And you got his prized boyfriend in your grip. You’re dead, bucko.”

Lance barely registered the compliment, but it sent a jolt of something warm through his chest. Despite Pidge’s outright inflation to his ego, he still felt Hunk’s questioning and doubtful eyes resting on his hands, like he could read exactly what Lance was fighting with bravado to conceal. Like he knew exactly what Lance felt, or lack there of. It didn’t matter right now. His eyes stayed locked on Vrelen, unwavering, as his pulse thundered with a single, unwavering thought.

Try me.

Lance’s forced grip hand over hand on the blaster tightened, his whole body coiled like a live wire, eyes wild and burning. His heart was a war drum, his breath ragged, but his hands—his hands were steady. Deadly.

“I said, drop him!” Lance’s voice cracked through the air like a gunshot, raw and fervent, vibrating with something more than just anger—desperation. He jerked the blaster up, shaking it just to hammer the point home, every fiber of his being radiating pure, unrelenting fury. There was no bluff in his stance, no hesitation in his eyes. If Vrelen so much as breathed wrong, Lance would end him. And yet—Vrelen only chuckled. The bastard laughed.

Tilting his head at Keith, he let out a soft, almost pitying

tsk

, like he was watching a child throw a tantrum. His grip on Keith never wavered, but his gaze flicked back to Lance, and the amusement in his eyes sent a fresh wave of fire through Lance’s veins.

“Fascinating,” Vrelen mused, voice dripping with mockery. “You really do resemble Alfor, you know.”

Lance’s breath caught in his throat.

“From the way you wear your love so loudly, so blindly—to the marks on your cheeks.” A pause. A tilt of his head. “Or rather—where they used to be.”

Lance faltered. His cheeks suddenly felt cold. Pidge and Hunk both snapped their heads toward him, their sharp, audible gasps slicing through the space like knives, the realization striking them for the first time in over a year and a half what Lance confirmed to himself when he woke up in Red after saving Keith and coming out of that crazy Allura induced coma.

Lance didn’t have to see his reflection when he woke up in Red to know what they saw right now. He knew in that moment. Somewhere, deep down, he had felt it. He had looked at it for confirmation even then, and yet he didn’t feel panic. He didn’t scream or cry or try to convince himself he was going crazy or blind. It had settled and washed over him in the warming embrace he had felt when they first appeared on him. They had disappeared and left his skin barren and freckled as they had always been, a mark dissapearing in its reminder of what it was there for. But he didn’t see it as a loss. When he was first marked by Allura, he has seen them as a buden, as a constant reminder of everything he had lost despite his battle to keep it. At his failures in love and his shortcomings and insecurities of what was expected of him. As a forever darkness to carry and keep him in this swallowed up mindset that he was not ever going to be enough. Not for Allura. Not for his team. And not for himself.

But slowly, they were a reminder that she was there and looking after him. That she carried on in his heart and his mind and actions, that she was proof of love that Lance could give, and a resilience that he had fought with. After joining Keith back in space, after missions of helping and picking up guns again and racing against his own adrenline and even falling in love again, Lance realized he didn’t need these marks to be a constant burden.

That every time he felt the tingling sensation under his eyes, it was Allura seeing what he felt. That she was satisfied with his healing, that she was encouraging him to take the next steps.

And by disappearing on his face, he no longer needed her marks as a reminder that he was strong.

And so waking up in Red, Lance was not panicked when he realized his marks were gone. He was fine with it.

But this was the first time someone had said it out loud. The first time since he lost them that someone had even noticed they were gone, as simple as assuming his marks belonged to his face like a freckle or mole that seemingly disappears when you are used to someone owning this. The Altean marks on his cheeks—the ones he had worn like quiet proof of his lineage, of the changes that had been forced upon him—were gone. A flash of movement. A sharp inhale.

Keith’s head had lifted ever so slightly, his bangs still casting a shadow over his face—but Lance caught the look in his eyes.

Broken. Startled. Unreadable.

Lance’s fingers twitched against the trigger, forcing himself to shove the thought down, to focus. “That’s not important,” he bit out, shaking his head once, sharp and fast. Lance’s breath came out sharp and ragged, his heart hammering against his ribs.

“You don’t have what it takes to shoot,” Vrelen said, his tone almost lazy, but his eyes gleamed with challenge.

Lance bared his teeth. “How much you wanna bet on that?”

For the first time, Vrelen hesitated. It was brief. A flicker. A mere fraction of a second. But Lance saw it. Then…The sound of boots against metal. The dim light of the room split open as the door slammed wide. A silhouette cut through the darkness, broad shoulders, unshaken stride, the unmistakable glow of white hair catching the light.

Shiro.

A force of nature barreling into the room, the sheer presence of him hitting like a shockwave. His breath was sharp, his muscles tense as his eyes zeroed in on Keith, still held in Vrelen’s grip, the blade at his throat. Shiro’s mouth opened in reaction, breathing hard as a shaky and broken gasp escaped his lips, clearly not ready for what he just ran into. For a heartbeat, everything froze.

Shiro’s storm of momentum came to a screeching halt, his entire body locking up as his gaze met Keith’s. The room crackled with tension, heavy and suffocating.

And then—

Vrelen moved.

Seizing the moment, he loosened his grip on Keith just enough to shift his stance—his speed still unholy, his precision near flawless. The blade in his grasp flashed under the dim light, and before anyone could react—

He struck. The sound was sickening. The sharp, visceral slice of metal meeting body. Shiro staggered, the impact forcing the air from his lungs as the blade drove through his arm, the force of it hurling him backward.

“Shiro!” Pidge’s scream tore through the air.

Lance’s vision whited out. His ears rang. His chest seized. And then—the energy in the entire room snapped.