I know, I know, it's been eighty-four years. Sorry for the unexpected hiatus. But if it makes you feel better, one reason for the long delay is because I was writing a Big Bang story that will be posting in a couple of months. It's at 57k words and it focuses on Keith, Lance, and Hunk, with all of the usual stuff you expect from me: torture, hurt/comfort, platonic cuddling, the works. I'm super excited to share it and I hope you all enjoy. But in the meantime, more Keet and Yance!
"Hey, Keith. How ya feeling?"
Keith opened his eyes slowly and stared up. He was lying in something soft, a shady roof shifting green above him. Grass. A tree. He was in the gardens of the Sylosian palace. His head wasn't hurting. He raised a hand and probed gingerly at the cut on his forehead. Something dry and flaky rubbed off on his fingers. He lifted his head to look at it, ashy gray and sprinkling down on his shirt like dust. He frowned.
"That's the salve Princess Mili put on your wound," Lance said helpfully.
Keith peered over at the sound of his voice and found Lance sitting cross-legged in the sunlit grass, playing with some kind of object in his hands. Two Sylosian children were draped over his lap, one male and one female, and another male was leaning on his back. "...Was I asleep?" Keith asked, just now catching on.
Lance nodded, seeming unconcerned. "Not long. Twenty minutes or so. Princess Yazia said it's a common response to the salve. Powerful stuff, I guess. Feeling better?"
Keith grunted. He put his hands behind his torso and levered himself up to a sitting position, then rubbed at his forehead again. More ashy residue came off in his fingers and sifted into the grass. The skin underneath was smooth, painless. The cut was gone. After just twenty minutes? Sylosian healing techniques rivaled Altean technology.
It was nice to be cured so quickly and flawlessly, but Keith couldn't help a shiver of uneasiness. He had fallen asleep in strange surroundings. Couldn't even remember doing it. He and Lance were completely on their own here, and he'd abandoned Lance to take watch by himself without even asking first. Allura would say it was a mark of how much he trusted Lance to look after both Keith and himself, but Keith still felt like he had fallen down on the job, somehow.
A thought occurred to him, and his right hand reached back suddenly to the small of his back. Ah, his bayard was still there, hidden under his long jacket. He hadn't dislodged it or lost it while he was napping. He must have been pretty exhausted, to fall asleep on top of the awkward, lumpy thing in the first place.
"Keith?" Lance was still watching, with a touch of concern now.
Keith offered him a smile, as sincere as he could make it. "I'm fine. What are you doing?"
"Playing." Lance held up the contraption in his hands, and one of the kids in his lap reached up a lazy claw to swipe at it. Lance laughed and held it out of reach. "It's a kind of Sylosian three-dimensional puzzle, see? It's pretty cool. I bet Pidge would love it."
Interested now, Keith scooted closer to watch Lance play with the puzzle. He looked around as he moved, taking in the atmosphere. They were in a different part of the royal gardens now, away from the dueling theater, but he recognized a lot of the Sylosians surrounding them. It seemed to be leisure time, or maybe tutoring. Most of the royal children sat in groups of two or three, looking at holopads or talking quietly, or playing with devices like the one Lance had.
"How does it work?" Keith asked.
"It's kinda like a finger trap, I think." Lance demonstrated, wrapping the boxy contraption around his left wrist, where it locked into place. There were several depressions and grooves in the device where his fingers could press. Even with a cursory inspection, Keith could see that they were made to fit Sylosian digits, not human, but Lance made it work. "The object is to figure out how to free yourself by, like, twisting and turning your hands. I saw some of the chicklings playing with simpler versions and asked if I could try too. Seems to be a common Sylosian toy."
"Hmm." Keith watched as Lance turned his left wrist, pressing the fingers of his right hand into the depressions. He had to use two fingers where a Sylosian would have been able to use just one claw, and his hand wasn't quite big enough to wrap all the way around the device, but he didn't give up.
"It's really cool and interesting. And I bet this is part of Sylosian warrior training, figuring out how to think your way around problems from a young age. And how to pick locks, always a useful skill. Like I said, I think Pidge would like it." Lance chuckled, and Keith had to agree with that assessment.
"Is there a quick way to take it off if you can't figure it out?" Keith asked, worried despite himself. At least Lance had had the sense to not put both wrists into the trap-slash-toy-slash-training-object, but it still seemed dangerous for Lance to have even one hand temporarily out of commission.
"I don't think so." Lance tried a different combination of finger-presses. "The point is to figure out a solution, not let yourself give up partway through. The Sylosians don't seem to like taking the easy way out. Of anything."
Keith thought about fighting an ostensibly friendly duel with razor-sharp weapons that easily drew blood. He nodded. The Sylosians were hardcore. "Can someone else release you then?"
"Maybe. I didn't ask." Lance flashed him a grin. "Worried about me, samurai? Don't be. I can figure this out." He kept working with his right hand. The kid leaning on his back craned farther over his shoulder to watch, eyes sparkling with interest.
Keith crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm not worried. I know you can do it."
Lance's grin broadened at that, deeper and softer. He worked on the device with even more precision and creativity. Finally, after a couple of minutes, he hit the right combination, and the trap-slash-toy released with a satisfying click and fell off his wrist to thud down into the grass. The kids cheered. "Ha! Told you I could do it."
"I never doubted that." Keith huffed.
"Ah, the Red Paladin is awake."
Keith tensed and looked over find Eforan watching them from several yards away. He looked back to Lance, who gave a small smile, meeting Keith's eyes steadily. He's cool, Lance mouthed, and Keith raised his eyebrows.
He turned his head back to watch as Eforan walked toward them, slow and calm, He had changed out of the form-fitting clothes he'd worn for their duel, now wearing a loose, flowing robe with various decorative embellishments, all in the same shade of crimson as his top feathers. Keith looked him up and down, remembering what Lance had said about how the male Sylosians tended to accessorize and put more emphasis on fashion than the females. Now that he was taking a moment to notice, Keith could see that that was true. Eforan's outfit looked particularly sumptuous and well-tailored. It had no doubt been made especially for him, and it looked crisp and new, too.
At Eforan's approach, the male chickling popped out of Lance's lap and ran over to meet him with a high-pitched shriek, claws lifting and grasping at him. "Big Brother Eforan!"
"Hello, Nian." Eforan laughed and scooped the little one up, then held him on his hip as he completed the journey to their spot on the grass. His cheeks were puffed in a huge Sylosian smile now as he split his attention between the paladins and the little one in his arms, and it softened his image enormously.
Still, Keith kept a wary eye on him as Eforan reached their spot on the grass and gracefully lowered himself to sit with them. "Ah, I see you are trying a wrist-lock puzzle." Eforan held a hand out toward the device resting next to Lance's knee. "Level Four, too! May I?"
Lance nodded and handed it to him, and Nian slipped out of Eforan's grip and knelt beside him on the grass so Eforan could take the puzzle. Eforan's pleased little hum spoke of nostalgia, and he locked the device around one wrist, then released it a single practiced motion. "It took me hours to figure this one out when I was a chickling. I'm impressed you released it so quickly, Paladin Lance."
Lance grinned cheekily. "No sweat. I'm a hero of the universe, you know. Gotta be able to get out of traps and think around obstacles."
Eforan nodded solemnly, but Keith, watching closely, thought he saw displeasure in the dip of Eforan's beak-like mouth. Well, fair enough. Not everyone found Lance's particular brand of braggadocio charming.
It kind of went in layers, Keith thought. On first impression, if you didn't know Lance at all, his habitual bragging, tempered with good humor and genuine skill, seemed like something natural to the personality of a galaxy-spanning legendary warrior. As you spent more time with him, though, and it just...didn't stop, the continual cockiness started grating on the nerves, until you came to dread every time he opened his mouth.
Then after you really got to know Lance and realized that everything he did was at least ninety percent an attempt to convince himself that he was going to be okay, it became more like background noise. A part of who he was. A little annoying at times, sure, but understandable and relatable, on the edge of being endearing. And, occasionally, a touch heartbreaking. Keith hoped someday they would get to the deepest layer of all, where Lance wouldn't feel the need to do this anymore, but could be confident in himself without playing up and exaggerating.
So Eforan's reaction could just be because he was on layer two. Or he might really, sincerely dislike Lance, and most likely Keith as well. Could go either way. Yeah, Lance seemed to think the guy was okay, now, but Keith didn't entirely trust it.
"So what's next on the agenda?" Lance asked Eforan. "Everyone seems happy hanging out and doing their own things, but now that Keith is up we can go on with the day."
Eforan nodded smoothly. "Yarian thought you might like to join us in a target-shooting contest. The skills of the Blue Paladin are legendary, and everyone is eager to see them in person."
Lance and Keith exchanged a glance. Lance looked back to Eforan, hesitation in his face. "Uh... What kind of shooting? We saw bows and arrows at the weapons pavilion, but I'm not trained with old-fashioned weapons like that. I hope you understand." He made finger guns and shot them at Eforan with accompanying laser noises, a little self-consciously. "That's more my speed, you know."
Eforan smiled. "Not to worry. The royal palace is well-stocked with modern weapons, as well. I simply thought that the Red Paladin would appreciate a more traditional approach to our duel."
Keith nodded solemnly. "I did. Your collection of weapons is very, very cool."
Lance perked up and looked more interested. "Okay, I'm game. What kind of target-shooting did you have in mind? Like, stationary targets? Is the object pure distance? You guys have a lot of space, it's a freaking palace after all, I bet you've got a pretty wild shooting range. Or maybe even something like moving targets? Is there such a thing as space skeet?"
Keith stared at him, mouth started to hang open a little. He couldn't remember the last time Lance had been this enthusiastic about something, though he was still a touch cautious. It was good to see that light in his eyes again. He was trying to hold himself back, but he was already looking forward to showing off.
No, Keith reminded himself. Not showing off. He'd seen Lance shoot. This was Lance's area of expertise, and even with the near-constant battle their lives had become, he didn't often get a chance to exercise his skills. The majority of Voltron's fights were about brute force and power, not the finesse and precision of a sniper shot. Lance was very, very good at shooting, and he deserved to take pleasure in that.
Eforan's cheeks puffed happily, and his eyes even narrowed a bit in contentment. He was pleased by Lance's excitement, and it should have made Keith trust him more, but instead, for some reason, it set his teeth on edge. "I'm glad you're so willing to take part." He stood gracefully, lifting Nian with him, perched on one hip. The chickling giggled and clung to Eforan's shoulder with one hand. "I'll go tell the others and get the range set up. Follow when you're ready."
He gave a Keith a look, not challenging, just understanding. He had realized that Keith wanted to have a private word with Lance, and he was giving them room for that. Eforan held out his free hand and clucked his tongue at the two chicklings still draped over Lance, and they leaped to go with him, laughing and grabbing at his hanging arm and the back of his robe.
Keith watched him leave, then looked to Lance. Lance was smiling softly, looking down at the training puzzle again. He felt Keith's eyes on him and looked up, smile going a little wider at the look on Keith's face. "Hey, don't look so worried. I can beat anyone in a sniping contest."
Keith's forehead wrinkled. "Yeah, that's not what I'm worried about." He looked around, then scooted closer to Lance and leaned in, voice lowering. "What do you think of Eforan? I was out of it after the fight, so I didn't get a chance to watch him. Do you think he was mad? Did I make him into an enemy by beating him the way I did?"
Lance looked at him quizzically for a moment, then grinned again, even wider. "Aw, man, I worried you with all that talk before the duel, didn't I? You were really listening!"
Keith frowned. "Of course I listened. What you were saying was important."
"Holy quiznak, Keith, you're so serious." Lance laughed at that, eyes sparkling. He sat up straighter, beaming in the sunlight with his hands on his knees. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."
"What do you mean? You don't think Eforan was as dangerous a fighter as you thought he might be?"
Lance shook his head. "No, no, not that. He really was serious during the duel. I could tell. He truly did go all out to beat you, and it was dangerous." The smile slowly died, and he lifted a hand to rub his forehead in an unconscious imitation of Keith. "I mean... For real, Keith. You lost blood."
"Not that much," Keith said, trying for a reassuring tone. "And I'm totally fine now. Honest."
"Yeah, okay." Lance shook his head, slow and solemn. "You didn't see it, though, man. I don't know... Eforan almost looked like he wanted to kill you at moments. Even though I knew it was still an exhibition fight... I couldn't help being worried."
Keith sat up straighter and looked into his face. "Then why aren't you worried anymore? What changed after the fight, while I was napping?"
Lance shrugged. "It's hard to explain, but it's like... All of that fell away. As soon as the duel was over and Eforan made his bows, he spun right around and came over to where Princess Mili was putting the salve on your cut, and like... I don't know. He looked real-deal worried and regretful. You were too out of it to know, but he basically hovered over you until we got you under that tree and you fell alseep. Even then, he sat and chatted with me for a while, and he kept looking over to make sure you were still okay. It's just... It's hard to fake concern like that, you get me? I think he's a genuinely good guy."
Keith squinted one eye shut in thought. "So he wasn't angry that I messed up his chance to prove himself?"
Lance pursed his lips. "I don't know, man. I think he's...kinda used to it."
Which bothered Keith in a whole different way, but he didn't know how to express it. Were Lance's observations correct? Or was he extrapolating too much? He had said that Eforan reminded him of himself, and Keith knew well that Lance was a genuinely good person, so maybe Lance was seeing a reflection in Eforan that wasn't truly there.
Argh. This was making his head hurt again. Keith reached up and rubbed it, and Lance's lighthearted demeanor faded even more.
"Hey. Are you really okay? Nothing hurts from the duel? We can go hunt Coran down, get him to check you out. And Blue is always ready if we need to go back to the castle."
Keith shook his head, feeling almost offended. "I've said I'm fine," he snapped. "More than once."
"Whoa, okay." Lance backed off with his hands raised. "Sorry. Didn't mean to insult your honor or whatever."
He looked away, but Keith didn't miss the flash of hurt in his eyes. Keith sighed, shoulders lowering, and looked away, too. At least no one was watching them. Most of the Sylosians had moved off to follow Eforan, presumably to the shooting range to help prepare for the competition, and those who were still waiting, like Princess Mili, seemed to be doing their best to give him and Lance time to talk.
"Sorry," Keith mumbled, looking back to Lance. "I'm just...not good at this. This diplomacy stuff. Trying to understand people and what they really want when they might be hiding something. It has me on edge."
Lance glanced at him, face still flushed with embarrassment. "Oh my, is Payadin Keet admitting to not being perfect at something?"
The teasing was strained, but Keith would take it. He mustered a half-smile and crossed his arms over his chest. "I think Payadin Yance knows that Keet is not good at a lot of things. I think Yance usually has a long list in his pocket ready to share."
"Yeah, but you usually don't admit it." Lance was relaxing, though, voice no longer strained. "This mission really is bringing out new sides of you, huh?"
"Yeah." Keith smiled as sincerely as he could. "You too. I'm glad you're enjoying yourself, honest. I just... It's not as easy for me."
Lance sighed and leaned back on his hands in the grass. "I know. But as long as you're not feeling any bad effects from the duel... What could go wrong at a target-shooting competition? It's not like anyone is going to be shooting at me. You can relax, swearsies. At least a little."
"You're probably right."
"Of course I'm right."
Keith shook his head. "I'm just not sure I trust Eforan yet, that's all. I'm glad you do, and I wish I could take your word for it, but... I don't know. Something about him puts my hackles up. And the way you went one-eighty on your opinion of him is throwing me off. You were the first one to be wary, when I wasn't at all, and now that I'm suspicious... Sorry. This feels really weird. I don't know how to fix it."
Lance watched him thoughtfully. "No, this is fine," he said after a long moment. "I know you work more by instinct than by logic, and I know I can trust too easily, sometimes. Either one of us could be right here. Eforan's words and actions could go both ways. Really, I think the thing that's making me the most comfortable with him is how good he is with the chicklings. They all love him to death, and it's hard for me to imagine a bunch of little kids trusting someone who is actually a bad dude. But that's no guarantee that he has good intentions toward outsiders, of course. Plenty of people who are actually pretty rotten can hold themselves together enough to be good to their own families."
"Okay." Keith nodded thoughtfully. "I get where you're coming from. So if either of us could be wrong or right on this one... You want to make a little wager?"
Lance sat up, grinning all over his face again. "Keet," he said, fully teasing now. "Are you trying to turn diplomacy into a competition?"
Keith shrugged. "Why not? You like competitions, don't you?"
"You know it." Lance tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Okay, how about this? If I'm right about Eforan, you take my cleaning chores with Coran for a week."
"I thought you like doing chores with Coran."
"I like hanging out with the dude and listening to his stories, even when they don't make sense, sure. That doesn't mean I like scrubbing cryo-pods until my fingers hurt."
Keith chuckled. Fair enough. "Okay, fine. And if I'm right about Eforan, you spar with me anytime I ask for a month. I promise, just an hour each time, and I'll give plenty of break days in between."
Lance made a face. He hated extra training. But if Keith won, he would be sure to at least make the sparring as fun for Lance as possible. The guy needed to work on his hand-to-hand, and Keith and Shiro had been talking about ways to make training easier for him, something he would enjoy doing and feel good about. Too often the formal training with Allura was so deadly serious and fraught with tension that Lance finished it looking exhausted and unhappy with himself and his performance, no matter how steadily he was improving and how much everyone else tried to praise him. He needed the extra training, but no one wanted to force him, either.
But it wasn't in Lance to turn down a wager. Especially not with Keith. He wavered for a moment, then nodded and held out his hand. "Okay. Deal."
Keith reached his hand back in return, expecting a handshake, but Lance turned his hand at the last moment and caught Keith's pinky with his own. He giggled and shook it up and down. "Pinky promise. That's stronger than a shake."
"Okay." Keith sighed and let him do it. Then he looked around and saw Princess Mili still loitering nearby, waiting to escort them to the shooting range. "You ready to go? I'm looking forward to watching you wow all the Sylosians."
"Yeah, absolutely." Lance popped to his feet, inordinately cheerful once more, and Keith rose to follow him.
If nothing else, this was certainly going to be interesting.
