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They're about halfway through Zaedra's murky atmosphere when the storm hits.
Even though they were warned about the planet's infamous sandstorms, nothing could have prepared Lance for the sight of it: an enormous rust-colored cloud crawling over the entire horizon, crackling with electricity and barreling straight towards them.
His hands clutch instinctively around Red's controls. "Uhh ... Keith?"
"Yeah, I see it," Keith's voice answers tersely over the comms. "Just keep flying. Maybe we can make it to the ground before the storm reaches us."
They don't make it to the ground before the storm reaches them.
The raging wind slams into them, sending Black and Red veering off course. Then comes the monstrous cloud of sand, which consumes the sky within seconds and drowns out the last weak hint of sunlight.
In the darkened red haze, Lance can barely see anything as he desperately tries to stop his lion from spiraling out of control. But all he can do is clutch tightly onto Red's controls, crying out as the relentless winds send them reeling every which way.
Lance tries to think through his panic, to find some semblance of order in the chaos. Keith, he thinks––and strangely, that's the spark that ignites the fire in his veins. He needs to find Keith and Black, needs to get out of this swirling vortex of sand.
He grits his teeth and steers Red around, fighting against the fierce winds that try to push him back. Like a beacon in the storm, Black is a small dot visible in the distance, plummeting towards the ground. Lance can't tell whether Black is falling or whether it's just Keith's usual reckless flying. Either way, his pulse picks up as he tries to guide Red in that direction and––
A giant bolt of lightning branches through the air right in front of Red. Lance gasps, his vision hazing over as the memory pulls him under––racing towards Blue, crying out Allura’s name, shoving Blue out of the way just as the electricity coursed through Red’s hull, agony consuming his whole body before absolute darkness descended …
“Lance.” Keith’s voice pulls him back to the present. “Where are you? We need to get to the ground!”
Gathering his wits, Lance finds Black again in the hazy distance. It’s hard to tell what with all the sand clouding the air, but it looks like Keith has almost touched down.
“Roger that,” he manages to say. “I see you. I’ll be there in a tick.”
Lance’s pulse still hammers in his chest as he steers Red forward, navigating through the resistant winds, the flashing lightning, and the rising dust. Somehow, though, he manages to finally catch up with Keith just as Black comes to a skidding stop in the sand dunes below.
When they exit their lions, both paladins are wearing the long cloaks that Coran advised them to wear to keep the sand from getting stuck in the joints of their armor. Lance wraps his own dark blue cloak around himself, squinting against the gritty dust that fills the air.
Luckily, Keith’s bright red cape is easy to see through the murkiness, and … oh no. Lance was not prepared for the sight of Keith striding towards him across the sand, looking like some kind of fairytale knight with his gleaming armor and billowing red cloak, his black hair fluttering in the strong wind.
It isn’t fair, really. It wasn't too long ago that he was still in the process of overcoming his unreciprocated feelings for Allura, stomping out the last burning embers of those emotions before they could catch fire again.
But apparently falling for one teammate and being rejected wasn't enough for his stubbornly resilient heart. Here he is again, back at square one, but with Keith this time––Keith, of all people. It should feel strange and unexpected, and yet ... oddly enough, it's starting to dawn on him that maybe there was an inkling of something there all along, and he was just too scared and confused to acknowledge it.
Now, though, Keith has changed. There are some things that are more outwardly obvious––his hair has gotten longer, his shoulders have broadened a bit, a roguish scar now marks his jawline. But there are subtle things, too. He seems much more perceptive now than when Lance first met him, more patient, more rational.
He's been more open with Lance lately too, taking him aside to ask questions with quiet concern. Although he's probably only been doing it out of pity, or just trying to be a good team leader, it's still been making things difficult for Lance. Sometimes he almost wishes they were still rivals, that they had their frivolous arguing to fall back upon. This––whatever this is––is much more confusing.
By now, they've trudged across the sand to meet each other halfway between their lions. As they draw closer to each other, Lance can more clearly see the expression on Keith’s face––a slight frown that looks almost worried. Or maybe just angry. It can be hard to tell with him.
“Hey,” Keith says, coming to a stop, ankle-deep in the orange sand. “You okay?”
Lance wasn’t expecting the question, and he freezes up for a second. He must still look a bit shaken from their narrow escape, and he clenches his hands into fists to stop them from trembling.
“Huh? Oh … yeah, I’m fine.” He forces a crooked smile. “That was a close one, huh?”
Keith’s dark eyes search his face like he’s trying to find some hidden meaning behind Lance’s words. Maybe it’s the dusty air, but Lance’s throat suddenly feels a bit dry.
Finally, Keith looks away, head tilting upwards. “Yeah, sure was. Just glad we both made it out okay.”
Following Keith’s gaze, Lance can see that the vicious sandstorm has already passed overhead, although clouds of brownish-red dust still obscure most of the sky. One last flash of lightning flickers on the horizon as the whirlwind storm moves onwards.
“We probably don’t have much time until the next one hits,” Keith says. He pulls out a small tracking device from the inside pocket of his cloak. With his other hand, he pulls the hood up over his head.
The sight makes Lance’s heart do a funny little somersault. He doesn’t realize he’s staring until Keith looks up at him and blinks.
“What?”
“I––what? Nothing,” Lance stammers. “You just … You look like a wizard or something.”
Wow. That is definitely not what he’d intended to say. He’s considering just burying himself in the sand and staying there forever, when Keith actually huffs out a soft laugh. And––oh no––Lance’s heart betrays him again, fluttering pitifully in his chest.
“Shut up,” Keith says, although it somehow sounds more fond than offended.
“You shut up,” Lance shoots back, but that comes out sounding weirdly fond as well. Quiznak. This is not helping.
Keith rolls his eyes, although he’s still smirking even as he looks away. He turns his attention back to the tracking device.
“Okay, looks like it’s not too far from here.” He frowns as he taps at the screen a few times, scrolling over the map. “Hmm.”
“What is it?” Lance asks, walking over to peer over Keith’s shoulder––an action that is a bit more difficult than it used to be, now that Keith is the same height as Lance … maybe even a bit taller, although Lance refuses to admit it.
“I don’t know,” Keith says after a moment of contemplation, zooming in on the tracking device. “According to this, the city should be just up ahead. But I don’t see anything. Didn’t see any sign of a city from above, either, although I guess it was hard to tell with the huge sandstorm and all.”
“Yeah, the whole trying-not-to-die thing kinda distracted me,” Lance says. “But I didn’t see anything, either.”
He looks up, shielding his eyes with one hand as he stares out at the horizon. There’s no sign of life as far as Lance can see––just the rolling hills of sand, the fog of dust drifting through the air, the intense heat shimmering from the ground. He’s already sweating under his armor and the additional weight of the cloak.
Something rumbles in the far distance, and both paladins turn around, startled. Although there’s no sign of movement, dread still stirs in Lance’s gut at the sound.
“Another storm’s coming,” Keith says grimly. He inspects the tracking device one more time and then shoves it back into the inside pocket of his cloak. “I guess all we can do is keep walking and hope we find the temple soon.”
It’s not the most solid plan, but Lance doesn’t have a better one to offer. All he can hope is that they’re not hopelessly lost.
He pulls his hood up and follows Keith as they start to make their way across the vast emptiness.
The Zaedran sandstone, as Coran cheerfully informed them, is extremely rare and can only be found on its home planet. Lance still doesn’t understand exactly what it is, except that it’s some sort of large gemstone that they need in order to rebuild the Castle.
Coran explained it in some overly wordy way that made Lance’s eyes glaze over––but from what he gathered, the stone can withstand extreme temperatures and has some sort of absorbent properties to keep the Castle’s engines from overheating.
The original sandstone was given to the Alteans as a gift, so Coran didn’t have much of an idea about how they’d go about obtaining the new one. He only informed them of one of the sandstones being located at the Temple of Qataldir, and suggested they bargain with the Zaedrans and if that didn’t work … well, there was always the “we’re paladins and we need this to defend the universe” card.
Lance wasn’t so confident in that plan to begin with, but especially now that it looks like there aren’t any Zaedrans around to bargain with. There’s not much of anything. Just the sloping dunes of sand under the cloudy beige sky, illuminated by the yellowish sunlight stifled by layers of dust.
“Are you sure we’re going the right way?” Lance asks for probably the tenth time. He tugs at the fluttering hood of his cloak and pulls it further over his head, blinking away the coarse sand that keeps blowing into his eyes.
“No,” Keith answers. He glares at the tracking device again. “According to the map, we’re supposed to be in the middle of the city, and the temple was supposed to be right up ahead.”
“Well … I don’t know about you, but I don’t see a temple anywhere nearby.” Lance gestures at the emptiness in front of them. “I think Coran sent us on a wild goose chase.”
“Or he just didn’t know the planet was abandoned,” Keith says, sighing as he puts the tracking device away.
“So, what do we do? We can’t just go back to the team empty-handed.”
“We don’t have a choice, Lance. There’s nothing here.”
Lance can’t help but feel a twinge of disappointment in his chest. He keeps gazing out at the distance with stinging eyes, as if doing so will conjure up the city that once thrived in this wasteland. Especially after everything that’s happened recently, he really wanted to get this right, to do something helpful. The thought of failing this mission makes something heavy weigh in his chest.
“Hey.”
Lance feels a hand on his shoulder and looks up in surprise. Keith stares back at him, peering out from under the shadow of his hood.
“It’s not our fault. You know that, right? There’s no way we could have known the planet was deserted.”
Keith pauses like he’s waiting for Lance to say something, and then lets his hand drop to his side again when he receives no response. Lance can still feel the spot on his shoulder tingling where Keith was touching him a moment ago.
“I––I know,” Lance stammers, finally finding his voice. “It’s just frustrating, that’s all.”
"Yeah," Keith agrees with a sigh. He runs a gloved hand down his face. "I guess we should head back to the Lions. Maybe we can take one more look around from the air and see if we find anything."
"Good thinking. We should probably head back before––"
A loud crack rings across the sky, cutting off the end of his sentence. Almost at the same time, a steady wind begins to blow around them, sending their cloaks billowing and the sand swirling around their ankles.
Keith's eyes widen as he looks at something over Lance's shoulder. "Oh, no."
He's almost afraid to look, but Lance turns anyway––and what he sees makes his blood run cold.
Just as he feared, another storm is rolling towards them––one even more gigantic than the one that hit them in the air. Or maybe it just seems that way from the ground. Either way, it's rolling towards them at an alarming rate, so huge that it spans the horizon and blocks out the faint light of the sky as it tumbles onwards. Veins of lightning crack through the swollen clouds of dust as they consume the empty plain.
“Get down!” Keith yells, and Lance doesn’t need to be told twice.
He frantically tries to remember the training they received at the Garrison, back in the desert, in case of sandstorms––crouch low, keep your face covered … something about moving to higher ground, although that one they probably don’t have time to do at this point. All Lance can do is crouch as close to the ground as he can and brace himself for the impact.
It comes moments later, with a grueling force that nearly sends him sprawling. He covers as much of his face as he can with his cloak, clutching the fabric tight around his nose and mouth as he squeezes his eyes shut. But he still feels the torrent of sand rushing over them like a coarse and heavy rain. The roar of the storm grows until it makes his ears sing.
If that wasn’t bad enough, the winds are picking up to a terrifying speed. Lance’s cloak flaps madly around him, and he can feel the strong gusts trying to drag him away. As hard as he tries to dig his heels into the sand, he’s no match for the sudden vortex of wind that hits them.
It’s like he weighs nothing at all. One moment he’s crouching on the ground, and the next he’s pushed violently aside as if slammed with a physical object. He cries out as he’s lifted into the air and then drops hard onto the ground again, his hood flying back in the howling wind. Grains of dust sting against his face as he tries to find some kind of purchase, lifting himself to his hands and knees and digging his fingers into the sand.
Under the deafening roar of the storm, Lance thinks he hears Keith calling out to him. He sounds so far away … did the wind really carry him that far? He opens his eyes just a crack, only to find that he can’t see anything but a dense fog.
“Keith?”
His voice is swallowed by the rushing noise. He tries to get to his feet, but the force of the wind pins him down again.
Just then, though, something grips firmly onto his forearm. He raises his head just enough to glimpse the bright red of Keith’s cloak as he kneels down next to Lance. He doesn’t know how Keith got there so fast, but he’s too relieved to question it right now.
“Lance!” Keith yells. Even though his voice is practically right next to Lance’s ear, Lance can barely hear him. “Just hold onto me, okay?”
Lance doesn't answer out loud; he's pretty sure he'll just get a mouthful of sand if he tries. Instead, he manages a quick nod, although he's not sure Keith sees it.
A moment later, a solid arm drapes across his shoulders and he can feel himself pressing up against Keith's side. It's probably the adrenaline rush, being caught in the middle of a deadly sandstorm and all, but Lance's heart rate almost doubles. He's glad that he has to keep his head ducked down, because he doesn't want Keith to see whatever embarrassing expression is on his face right now.
The storm seems to last an eternity, although it's probably only a few minutes. Lance and Keith remain huddled on the ground, holding on to each other to avoid being separated by the violent wind that rages around them. Lance keeps his eyes tightly shut the entire time, pulling his hood up again to protect as much of his face as he can.
At last, the worst of it seems to pass. The winds subside and the loud rumbling of the storm crawls into the distance.
When he finally deems it safe, Lance lifts his head. Although the density of the sand-fog has died down a bit, he still has to squint to see the hazy horizon. He tries to take a breath and coughs on the dusty air.
“Okay,” he says, voice a bit hoarse from the dryness. “Looks like the coast is clear for now.”
But before he can get up, Keith’s hand tightens on his shoulder.
“Wait … do you feel that?”
“Feel what?” Lance asks, but the words die in his throat as he feels what Keith is talking about. There’s a low rumbling underneath them, like a giant beast awakening.
Lance’s first instinct is that it’s another storm coming, but a quick glimpse of their surroundings shows no visible sign of one. “Earthquake?” he suggests.
“I don’t––” Keith starts to say.
Before he can finish, the ground underneath them moves. Lance doesn’t comprehend what’s happening right away; he clutches uselessly at the sand as he feels himself slipping. He gasps and looks over his shoulder, to see that the ground is caving in and all of the sand is tumbling towards the epicenter––and it’s taking Lance and Keith with it.
Seeming to realize it at the same time, Keith shouts, “Lance, we’ve gotta move!”
“Yeah, no kidding!”
They both try to scramble to their feet, but it’s useless at this point. The slope is rapidly becoming too steep, and it’s impossible to climb as the sand slips underneath them.
Keith grabs onto Lance’s arm.
The ground collapses.
It happens in a matter of seconds. One moment Lance is frantically trying to crawl his way to safety, and the next he’s falling. He’s dimly aware of his own cry of fear, of Keith’s grip still locked around his arm, of his jetpack kicking in a little too late before he slams into something solid.
The last-minute aid of the jetpack slows his descent somewhat, but he still falls hard enough onto his back that the breath is knocked out of his lungs and he sees stars. It doesn’t help that a heavy weight falls right on top of him at the same time, pinning him down.
Moments pass as Lance lies there, unable to register where he is or what just happened. He’s aware that everything is suddenly very dark and silent, that there’s no source of light except for a yellowish patch high above him––a large hole, he realizes, with sand still leaking in around its edges with a gentle hiss.
It then occurs to him that the unmoving weight crushing his chest must be Keith.
He draws in a cautious breath, afraid he’ll discover he’s broken all his ribs, but miraculously there’s no overwhelming pain.
“Uh … Keith?”
He carefully lifts one hand to place it on Keith’s shoulder, and his heart jumps into his throat when he receives no response. His grasp tightens, but he knows he shouldn’t try to shake Keith awake in case he’s hurt or––
Keith coughs, then groans in pain as he shifts and eases himself up onto his elbows. Lance wheezes a little as the weight lifts from his chest––both literally and figuratively––but he doesn’t mind the discomfort, too relieved that they’re both somehow alive.
That relief is only temporary, though, as it quickly sinks in that Keith's face is hovering mere inches above his own, that they're still lying in a tangled heap on the ground, that when Keith lets out a short exhale Lance feels it against his mouth. He can't seem to get himself to move. Maybe he really has broken every bone in his body, after all.
As Lance's eyes adjust to the dim light, he can see the dazed look on Keith's face becoming more focused. His dark hair is dotted with sand––like hundreds of tiny little stars, Lance thinks faintly.
Okay, he's definitely losing his mind.
"Are you okay?" Keith asks, brow furrowing.
Lance takes a second to recover. "Huh? Oh. Yeah," he stammers. "You're kinda crushing me, though. You're like super heavy, you know that? Have you been eating rocks or something?"
He mentally scolds himself for the words that just came out of his mouth––real smooth, Lance––but somehow, Keith doesn't seem to take offense. Instead, he only looks surprised for a second and then smiles crookedly.
"Yeah, you're fine," he says, with a certain teasing fondness that makes Lance's heart skip. Then he rolls to one side and sits up.
Lance takes a moment before he follows suit, just lying there on his back feeling like he can’t breathe before he manages to get a grip. He lifts himself up, gingerly touching the back of his head in case of any injury, but he doesn’t feel anything.
Once he’s on his feet, he finally takes a moment to take in their surroundings. “Whoa,” he murmurs.
He sees now that they’ve fallen into a large, cavernous space. His initial thought was that it was some kind of underground cave, but he can see now that they’re standing in the middle of ancient ruins.
The decadent architecture indicates that it was once a beautiful place—with tall pillars surrounding its perimeter, stained glass windows, and a painted ceiling. Now the pillars are crumbling, the windows cracked and darkened by the sand, and the scenes painted on the high ceiling are faded beyond recognition. It probably doesn’t help that Keith and Lance also just opened up a large hole through the roof by falling through it.
“Well, I guess this is the place,” Keith says at last, his voice echoing through the empty stillness. A single beam of dusty light filters through the ceiling and illuminates him as he brushes the sand from the shoulders of his cloak.
Lance pointedly looks away. “So, you think this is the Temple of Qataldir? I guess our tracker was right, after all. It’s just that the temple is completely buried.” He frowns, turning in a slow circle. “But where’s the—“
He stops abruptly as he sees the answer to his own question.
The sandstone is hovering over a dais at a small distance away from them. Lance doesn't know what type of force is keeping it aloft––something magnetic? Magic?––but somehow it floats just a few inches above the cracked pedestal underneath it, turning slowly. Light filters in through the hole in the ceiling, glancing off its dark red exterior and highlighting the gold flecks in its surface.
There's only one problem: the sandstone is separated from them by a huge abyss in the middle of the floor. The jagged, serpentine line cuts the room in half like a crooked grin.
“Well,” Lance says, “that might be a problem.”
“Nothing our jetpacks can’t handle,” Keith says with a shrug. “Come on.” He’s already walking towards the gap in the floor, not even waiting for Lance to follow him.
“Keith, wait,” Lance blurts, stumbling in tow. That actually gets Keith to pause in his tracks as Lance comes to a stop next to him. “It might not be as easy as it looks. I mean, what if the Zaedrans were super protective of this sandstone thing? There could be traps around it.”
They come to a halt at the gaping crevice, both of them peering cautiously down into it. In the dim lighting, it’s impossible to see very far down. Only a foreboding darkness stares back up at them.
“There could be,” Keith says, “but I don’t see anything.”
He squints up at the ceiling, and Lance follows his gaze. As far as he can see, there’s no sign of a trap––just some odd, cocoon-like structures hanging from the corners of the high ceiling. Lance can’t determine whether they’re a part of the architecture or maybe some kind of alien fungus overrunning the ruins, but the sight of them makes him shudder.
“Eew. What are those things?”
Keith shrugs. “Beats me. Anyway, let’s grab the sandstone and get out of here.”
Before Lance can talk any more sense into him, Keith takes a running leap and activates his jetpack. He sails easily over the abyss and comes to a skidding stop on the other side, turning to give Lance a thumbs-up to indicate it’s safe.
Lance still has an inkling of dread in the pit of his stomach––something about this place gives him the creeps. But he doesn’t want to leave Keith to fend for himself in case anything happens. With a defeated sigh, he braces himself and takes a long jump.
His stomach drops for a moment before his jets kick in, and then he’s hurtling towards the opposite side of the crevice. Keith made the landing look so easy, but Lance isn’t quite as fortunate. He lets out a short cry right as he falls to the tiled floor, rolling a few times before he comes to a stop.
His face burns as he lifts himself up again, rubbing at his shoulder where he landed on it.
“You okay, Lance?” Keith asks from a few feet away.
Lance avoids making eye contact with him. “Yep, great. I do all my own stunts. Impressive, huh?”
Surprisingly, the words draw a huff of laughter out of Keith. “Very. Now, let’s get that stone.”
The dais is still at a slight distance from them, with the sandstone floating idly above it. Now that they’re closer, Lance can see that the stone is a bit larger than he initially thought, but still small enough that he could hold it between both of his hands.
They both start moving towards it––but right then, there’s a sudden rustling noise from above.
Lance puts an arm out, barring Keith’s way. “Wait, hold on a second. Do you hear that?”
“Hear what?” Keith asks, but the words have barely left his mouth when the noise rattles across the ceiling again––a series of crackling and hissing noises that make Lance’s blood run cold.
At first he thinks maybe it’s just the sound of more sand pouring in through the hole in the roof. But no, it’s much louder than that, and coming from every direction. As he looks up, eyes widening with terror, he sees that the large cocoons above them are starting to move, shuddering and splitting open.
Lance barely has time to curse under his breath before dark shapes start to drop from above. He doesn't comprehend what exactly those shapes are until they've landed on the floor all around the room, surrounding the two paladins.
All Lance can see in his momentary panic is a lot of long spindly legs and large claws, and that's enough for him to immediately summon his bayard. As he overcomes the initial shock, he gets a better look at the creatures swarming towards them––and what he sees makes him want to turn and run away as far as possible.
The creatures might best be described as giant scorpions, with imposing front claws and long segmented tails, mandibles clicking loudly in front of their mouths.
They’re already scuttling towards Lance and Keith at an alarming pace, hissing menacingly. There’s at least a dozen of them, and there’s even more crawling down the crumbling walls of the temple. Lance looks over his shoulder just to check if running is an option and––nope, there are giant alien scorpions crawling out of the big crevice in the floor, too.
As the space around them rapidly grows smaller, the two paladins back up until they’re almost shoulder-to-shoulder.
“Okay, okay,” Lance murmurs, trying to quell his panic. “No big deal. We got this.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Keith’s bayard activate in a violet flash, and he quickly activates his own bayard. Nowadays, he’s never sure what form it’s going to take, but he can tell immediately from the shape of the light surrounding it that it’s transforming into the broadsword this time.
When the light fades, he catches Keith staring at him with wide eyes.
“What?” Lance says.
“You have a sword?”
Lance had almost forgotten that Keith has never seen his bayard take this form before, and he manages a proud grin even though they’re about to be ambushed by monsters.
“Pretty cool, huh? You kinda missed a lot while you were gone.”
There’s a flicker of something in Keith’s eyes that Lance can’t quite read, and then he quickly shakes his head.
“Okay. We need to focus on fighting these things off. I’m gonna try to get to the sandstone.”
Lance scowls. “Hey, how come you get to be the one to grab the sandstone?”
“Lance––” Keith starts to say, but they have no more time to argue because they’re under attack.
The first of the creatures dive in with their claws and mandibles snapping. Lance barely manages to dodge one creature’s grasp before he swipes his sword out in an arc and slices off its raised claw.
He then turns on his heel to find another creature coming up behind him looking like it’s ready to pounce, and Lance plunges his blade into its face. He winces slightly at the gurgling noise it makes as it crumples to the ground, but he doesn’t have much time to be grossed out right now when he has an army of other alien scorpions to fight.
The creatures keep coming at an almost dizzying pace, crawling over each other as they try to reach the paladins, but somehow Lance and Keith manage to hold them off.
The battle is rushing by in a confused blur as Lance just tries to concentrate on felling one scorpion-creature after another with every vicious slash of his sword. He only gets a little distracted by the sight of Keith fighting alongside him––making an impressive leap into the air and bringing his sword down into one creature’s back, then whirling around and slicing another’s claws off with an angry yell.
No matter how many of the monsters they fight off, though, more and more keep coming and the space around the paladins grows increasingly narrow until they’re back-to-back.
Sweat is breaking out on Lance’s forehead and his breath has grown labored from all the effort. He can hear Keith breathing just as heavily beside him as they both take a moment to recover. But they don’t have much time. Even with the carcasses already littering the temple floor, more of the giant scorpions are still prowling towards them from all sides.
“There’s too many,” Keith says between heaving breaths. “Lance, you should get out of here. Jetpack back up through the roof. I’ll get the sandstone.”
“What?” Lance exclaims, stopping to slash at another hissing creature as it lunges towards him. “No way, dude. I’m not leaving you by yourself!”
Keith is momentarily distracted by the pair of monsters cornering him. He has both of his swords out now––his Marmora blade and his bayard––and he lets out another furious cry as he scissors them together and fells one creature and then the other.
“You have to!”
“No, I don’t!”
Their argument is punctuated by the continuous battle, by the swing of their blades and their yells of effort. When a slight lull hits, they stumble backwards until they’re back-to-back, both breathing heavily and holding their blades out in front of themselves to threaten any oncoming monsters.
“Why are you being so stubborn?” Keith says through gritted teeth.
“Why do you always have to be the hero?”
“What are you talking about?”
Lance doesn’t have time to answer before they’re surrounded by another wave of scorpions clambering towards them. At this point, he’s lost count of the swings of his blade, of the number of creatures falling at his feet or scuttling back into the shadows.
“I’m talking … about … how you always do this,” Lance says, trying to catch his breath between words. “Always running off by yourself. Trying to be heroic or whatever. Fighting Zarkon on your own. Ditching the team. Trying to sacrifice yourself at Naxzela. Why do you do it?”
Keith lets out a growl of frustration, angrily tearing his cloak out of the grip of a nearby monster before hacking its clawed arm off. “Are we really having this conversation now?”
“Yes. Because if we don’t talk about it now then we never will! And I want to know. Why are you always trying to get yourself killed? Just to prove yourself?”
Keith freezes in the middle of fighting, the tips of his swords trailing on the ground as he turns to stare at Lance. His eyes widen and then narrow again.
“That’s not the reason why, Lance.”
“Then what––”
“It’s to keep all of you safe,” Keith blurts out. “Don’t you get it? I’m trying to protect the people I care about. I’m trying to protect you.”
The words come out sharp and forceful, like a punch to the gut, and Lance’s heart drops into his stomach. Oh.
Keith heaves out a shuddering breath. “There,” he says. He stabs another monster that had been about to lunge at him, lifting his foot to push the dead creature off the blade with the heel of his boot. “Happy now?”
Lance’s ears are still ringing with Keith’s words and he feels strange and off-balance like the ground has fallen out from under his feet. It takes a moment before he snaps out of it.
“I mean, no, I’m not––Keith, look out!”
There’s another scorpion scuttling towards Keith from the side. Without thinking twice, Lance launches his sword at it like a javelin. The blade meets its mark, diving cleanly between the plates of the creature’s exoskeleton and sending it toppling to the ground.
“Anyway,” Lance says, walking over to the fallen scorpion. He grunts as he yanks the sword free again, turning to point at Keith with his free hand. “No. That’s not fair. You don’t get to do that.”
He marches towards Keith, who’s now looking him up and down with wide eyes like he has no idea who Lance is.
“You don’t get to just go throwing yourself in harm’s way all the time. Did you ever stop to think that maybe I’m trying to protect you, too? ‘Cause I am, and you’re making it really difficult.”
He’s close enough now to poke his finger at Keith’s chest plate accusingly, and Keith takes a hesitant step backwards.
“Lance––”
“No! Whatever you’re gonna say, I don’t want to hear it. I’m not leaving you here. We’re gonna get out of this place together or not at all.”
“Lance.” Keith grabs him by the wrist, which shuts Lance right up.
And then they’re staring at each other with mirror expressions of surprise, both breathing hard, covered in sand and smears of monster blood. Maybe it’s the adrenaline still coursing through his veins, but Lance feels the sudden physical contact like an electric current shooting up his arm and into his chest.
“Yeah?” he says faintly.
Keith’s eyes flick over Lance’s face before he seems to come to his senses again. “We … I think we got them all.”
"Huh? Oh."
Lance snaps out of it. He was so busy going on his tirade that he didn't notice until now that there are no more giant scorpions crowding towards them. As he glances around, he sees only the scattered remains of all the monsters they've defeated.
But then he's drawn back in again by the firm pressure around his wrist, and realizes that Keith is still holding onto it. He finds that Keith is still staring at him, too, with a strange and almost calculating expression that Lance can't decipher.
"Uh ... Keith?" Lance is suddenly hyper-aware of how close they're standing together. His heart is already pounding from exertion, but somehow it manages to beat even faster like it's about to burst out of his chest.
The moment shatters, though, as Keith quickly lets go of him and takes a step back. His eyes widen. "The sandstone," he says, like he'd forgotten all about it until now.
Truth be told, Lance had almost forgotten about it too. "Oh, right. That."
They stride towards it until the shining gemstone hovers before them, catching the faint beams of sunlight that leak through the gap in the roof.
"You want to do the honors?" Keith says.
Lance blinks at the unexpected offer. "Me? I thought you said you wanted to grab it."
Keith shrugs. "Doesn't really matter, I guess. We're bringing it back to the same place, anyway."
"Good point."
They exchange a brief smile before Lance carefully reaches up to take hold of the sandstone and––
Something rumbles far above them.
Lance snatches his hands back. "What was that?"
"Don't know," Keith murmurs, staring up at the high ceiling. "Doesn't sound good, though. We'd better grab that stone and get out of here."
"Roger that."
Without wasting a moment, Lance reaches for the sandstone and catches it between his palms. It's surprisingly warm to the touch, even through his gloves, and he wonders whether that's from exposure to the sun or whether it’s radiating energy from within. He'll have to ask Coran about it later.
He holds the large gem with extreme care, turning it over in his hands. Under its dark red surface, gold flecks catch the light in a mesmerizing dance. "Whoa," Lance comments in awe.
He feels a hand rest on his shoulder, and he looks up to find Keith smiling at him again. It's a real, genuine smile that makes Lance almost drop the stone he's holding before he recovers enough to smile back. But then, suddenly, the expression starts to fade from Keith's face, giving way to something almost surprised––or scared, maybe.
Before Lance can ask him what's wrong, another deep rumble rattles through the walls, louder than the first. An ominous creak follows it, then the sound of something slowly cracking apart.
By the time Lance looks up, sand is already starting to pour through the hole in the roof again in shimmering curtains. But worse than that, jagged lines have started to snake their way across the ceiling.
Lance curses. They’re really having the best luck today, huh?
"We've gotta get out of here!" he shouts, stating the obvious. He fumbles with the sandstone for a moment before managing to fit it into the inside pocket of his cloak, praying it will stay in place. He and Keith both activate their jetpacks at once.
The sand is pouring in torrents now, already creating a considerable pile on the floor underneath the opening. Jagged cracks continue to splinter across the ceiling, and Lance’s heart climbs into his throat as he watches the roof start to cave inwards under the weight of the sand.
Chunks of stone fall as the structure begins to crumble, and Lance barely manages to dodge them, keeping his focus on the narrow exit above.
“Almost there!” he yells.
But just then, he hears a sharp crack and a cry somewhere below him.
He looks down and sees that Keith is falling, tumbling head over heels as his jets sputter and go out.
"Keith!"
Without giving it a second thought, Lance lets his own jetpack deactivate. His stomach drops as he starts to plummet downwards, and he can only pray that he calculated correctly and that he and Keith aren't about to fall to their deaths.
Fortunately, Keith sees Lance falling towards him and his eyes widen. He outstretches one hand just as Lance reaches for him and they grip onto each other's forearms in a tight lock. They're seconds from hitting the ground now and Lance yells as his jets fire to life again, propelling them upwards at the last possible moment.
Lance's shoulder burns from having to hold up Keith's weight, and Keith's jetpack don't seem to be helping much besides stuttering on and off again every few seconds––probably damaged. Lance just clenches his jaw and pushes the pain to the back of his mind as they shoot up towards the gap in the ceiling. Larger pieces are falling from the roof now, and the sand coursing through starts to fill the hollow temple like a gigantic hourglass. If they don't make it out of here, they're going to be buried alive.
Finally, just as Lance is starting to think they won't make it, his jetpack fires up with one last desperate burst. They break out into the open, both of them crying out as they hurtle over the collapsing roof and go tumbling towards the ground. The sand cushions the fall somewhat, but Lance still lands painfully on his shoulder and goes rolling down the dune until he comes to a stop.
A moment passes before he allows himself to crack one eye open and then the other, a thrill of relief rushing through him when he sees the sun above him––even though it looks hazy and muted in Zaedra's murky atmosphere, but at least that means they're above ground.
"Lance!" Keith jogs towards him and kneels next to him in the sand. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, fine,” Lance says, wincing and rolling his shoulder. “You?”
“I’m alright. Got hit by some falling debris and I think my jets are completely out, but I’m okay.”
Something loosens in Lance’s chest as he looks Keith over just in case, but he doesn’t see any sign of injury.
“That’s––” he starts to say, and then his eyes widen. “The sandstone!”
Lance had totally forgotten about it because he was too busy with the whole trying-not-to-die thing, but now he fumbles for the inside pocket of his cloak with his heart already dropping. There’s no way it stayed in there during this whole ordeal. It must have––
His fingers brush against something solid and warm. “No way,” he says, hardly daring to believe it. He closes a hand around the object and pulls it out into the open. The sandstone catches the weak light in its dark crimson exterior, the gold flecks glinting under the surface.
Keith stares at it in disbelief. “You didn’t drop it?”
“Hey,” Lance says, narrowing his eyes. “Have a little faith in me, Keith.”
“I do, it’s just––” Keith huffs out a laugh. “We were flying up through an avalanche of sand, and you had to carry us both out of there, and you somehow saved the sandstone, too. You’re … That’s amazing.”
“Well, I try.” Lance shrugs modestly despite the way his face is burning.
He’s about to say something else, when he notices that Keith is suddenly looking at him with a very focused expression like he’s trying to do a complicated calculation in his head. The easy smile that was on his face moments ago has vanished.
Their eyes lock, and Lance feels like all the air has been squeezed from his lungs. “What––” he starts to say.
But he doesn’t get to finish, because Keith is kissing him.
Lance falls back in surprise, but manages to catch himself on one hand, fingers digging into the sand. One of Keith’s arms has slipped around his waist, holding him steady. He’s distantly aware of the sandstone dropping into his lap, but he’s not focused on much else besides the sensation of Keith’s lips moving against his––a little dry from the dusty atmosphere surrounding them, but Lance could hardly care about that right now. His free hand reaches up to grasp at the fabric of Keith’s cloak and pull him closer, then slowly finds its way upward until his fingers slide into Keith’s hair.
When they break apart, Lance blinks his eyes open and everything feels hazy and surreal like he’s just woken up from a dream. Keith just stares back at him before one corner of his mouth turns up in a shy smile.
“Probably should have done that sooner.”
Lance lets out a breathless laugh. “Probably.” He still has a hand cupping the side of Keith’s face, and he runs a thumb along the scar there as he’s imagined himself doing countless times.
Keith inhales sharply at the touch and starts to lean in again. Lance’s eyes drift closed, his own breath stilling in anticipation––
Just then, there’s a low rumbling in the distance. The two paladins spring apart, both turning to see the dark smudge crawling across the horizon, crackling with lightning.
“Looks like another sandstorm’s coming,” Keith says.
Lance huffs in annoyance. “Perfect timing.”
“Seems to be a pattern with us.” Keith laughs a little. “Well … guess we can continue this later, but we should probably get back to the lions.”
He gets to his feet, offering a hand down to Lance. There’s a hint of hesitation in his eyes, like he’s not sure if it’s the right thing to do, and Lance finds something about it oddly endearing. This thing between them may be new territory, but at least it’s new for both of them.
He reaches for Keith’s hand, only remembering at the last second to scoop up the sandstone from where he dropped it. To his surprise, Keith intertwines their fingers together. He doesn’t let go, even as they start to walk across the sandy plain.
They keep walking across the rolling desert, hand-in-hand, until the storm is far behind them.