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Lance was great at a lot of things, he’d found. Specifically, archery. Who would’ve thought? Certainly not Pidge, but Hunk and Allura were thrilled that they wouldn’t have to witness Keith brutally drill Lance in sword lessons anymore. But here was another thing that Lance excelled at:
Sailing.
Lance knew which ropes to hoist, which sails to raise, and which direction to steer. He and Keith ploughed through the waves at what Lance had figured was about ten knots. Hell, he even understood how fast that was. For a sailing ship, pretty damn fast.
The Queen Anne’s Revenge responded to his every command without hesitation. It was exhilarating, having the salty ocean breeze tickling and carding through his hair as they sailed. Lance would have reveled in the sensation for the rest of his life, but now, without any magical goddesses trying (and succeeding, Lance snickered) to turn Keith into a guinea pig, nor preying on Lance’s insecurities and trying to convince him that, no, he did not need Keith. He could live out the rest of his days with Circe and her servants. She sensed something in him. Something different compared to those barbaric men.
Lance couldn’t have been more grateful for everyone’s misconceptions of him in that moment. Circe, like many others, had thought he was a son of Aphrodite, the goddess of love and beauty.
Oh, boy. Was she upset when she learned he was the son of the terrible god of the sea instead.
(Lance felt kind of bad for the pirates she’d turned into the cutest guinea pigs he’d ever seen. But hey, they made for a good getaway distraction.)
In hindsight, the whole situation could be laughed at. Lance would definitely tease Keith about becoming a brief furry against his will, but if Lance was totally honest, he was scared. Being alone with Circe without Keith was scary. Lance wasn't emotionally stunted like some individuals, and he could admit that.
His stomach still squirmed uncomfortably when he thought too hard about looking into the mirror, Circe’s cold hands brushing his shoulders as his reflection seemed to transform before his very eyes. Everything Lance wanted to be, right in front of him. No more chasing to be better than anyone, no more feeling inferior. Lance had finally fit into his skin in that moment.
(No more chasing after a dead man with soft, stern eyes and a white tuft of hair against short-cropped black and a lightning scar striking the bridge of his nose. A deadman that Lance still did not recognize.)
But it all became ugly and distorted when he broke out of the trance and Keith had squealed his little head off and grabbed his attention.
Lance tied a knot and mentally commanded the ship to continue straight as he looked around for Keith. The son of ares was sat with his knees to his chest, loose and weary, at the very front of the ship, overlooking the sea ahead. Lance followed the soft lanterns that broke the darkness of the night and sat next to him.
They’d attempted to trade off watch a few hours ago, but neither of them could quite sleep yet. Nerves were too high and realities were still… well. Coming back. More than once, he and Lance spotted monsters. A plume of water as tall as a skyscraper spewed into the moonlight. A row of green spines slithered across the waves – something maybe thirty metres long, reptilian. Lance didn’t really want to know, but Keith numbly relayed each and every monster they saw.
(Keith was still debating how one could go from hating lettuce to craving it none stop in just two hours. Lance was still wondering if what he saw in that mirror was someone he could be, or someone he’d continue chasing for however long he survived as a son of the big three.)
The dark waves were calm for now, lapping against the massive hull of the ship. They rocked back and forth in silence for a while, and Lance gasped softly when a trio of Nereids curiously made their way over to the ship. Lance leaned over the ship, waving in wonder. The Nereids glowed a yellow-green, giggled, but didn’t wave back before swimming away.
Lance leaned back against his arms when he was sure they wouldn’t come back, and watched the stars winking in the dark sky. After a long while, he broke the silence.
“Keith, buddy.” Lance licked his lips, scooting a bit closer to Keith subconsciously. He always did, it was natural for Lance to seek some sort of physical reassurance when he was nervous, but there was a shaky bridge that was worn taught at the moment that connected them. He took a deep breath before crossing. “The reason you hate Cyclopes so much. I know you have a reason for it, and I know it has to do with how, uhm, Shiro died. What happened?”
There was only a couple feet between them, but Lance could still feel Keith stiffen beside him.
Lance almost told him to forget it when Keith scooted a bit closer, and Lance caught on the fraying ropes of the bridge and saw Keith on the other end, mending it. It was slow and painful. But it was working.
“Well. I guess you deserve to know,” Keith murmured.
Lance’s lips tugged upward, and he continued to cross.
“When Allura found us. Me, Shiro, and Lotor. She uh, she took a few wrong turns. She was still learning the land, you know? It’s hard to really get a grasp on things when you’ve been up guarding your evil, shitty excuse for a dad for so long. She told you that once, yeah?”
Lance nodded.
“Well, uh. One of those turns was into a Cyclops's layer in Brooklyn.” Keith picked at his fingerless gloves anxiously, breathing in the sea spray to ground him. “It was horrible. Like a never ending maze. We got split up. All of us.”
“How did he split you guys up? Did he like, capture you guys?” Lance inquired, furrowing his brows. It was hard to imagine such a powerful trio getting split amuck so quickly.
“He lured us. Just like Nadia did on the Princess Andromeda,” Keith huffed without humor, running a hand through his hair. His eyes were glazed over, like he was lost in a memory. Hesitantly, Lance scooted a bit closer. Just the slightest bit. Keith didn’t move away, the bridge held fast.
“Lotor thought he was running to save me. Shiro thought he’d heard me scream just a minute later, and me? Gods, I was alone in the dark. I was twelve and couldn’t even find the damn exit.”
Lance tried to imagine little, twelve year-old Keith all alone in a cyclops layer with no one but voices. Voices that he trusted but couldn’t trust. He shivered.
“I found the main room eventually. I had to crawl and stumble my way there, but it worked. That’s when I realized the things I was tripping on were bones.” Keith squeezed his wrist, and Lance bumped him with his own. He stopped. “I found Allura, Shiro, and Lotor tied up on a stick like smoked lamb. Bound and gagged. They were bleeding, but nothing too severe. I drew my dagger, but he heard me.”
Keith bit down on his cheek and he tasted blood.
“He laughed and he used my mother’s voice. Somehow he just plucked it out of my mind.”
(Keith learned to create a mental wall after that. He wouldn’t let a monster in his mind without a fight, now. He wasn’t sure a regular person could even break those walls down. But there was some people that could. Some people that did. One was dead. Two were back at camp. One was captured and waiting for rescue on the island of the cyclops. One was, admittedly, very quickly, getting there. That one person was next to him right now.)
“He told me I could stay there forever. She was sorry she ever left– gods. I almost fell for it too.” Keith began mixing the cyclops and the voice of his mother it had used, gritting his teeth at the memory.
A big veiny red eye pulsed, bulging as it came closer. Open arms. Waiting. Waiting. Laughing– not real. Not his mother. But it had her voice.
“He would’ve killed me. I’m sure of it. If Shiro hadn’t snapped me out of it then I wouldn’t be here.”
Heavy heart. Weighing down such a small body, wanting nothing more than to collapse into her arms. Fuck. They weren’t hers. Move.
Lance was right in front of him now, the bridge was shaky but he kept going. Those last couple of steps. Almost there. He could just jump. Meet Keith there if he just...
Slowly, Lance layed his head on Keith’s shoulder.
“But you are. You are here. So, what did you do?” Lance asked gently, willing Keith to put out his hand to get him onto that ledge and off this bridge.
“I stabbed him in the foot.”
Keith rested his own head on top of Lance’s, not bothering to stamp down a grin when Lance barked a laugh. The sea seemed to rock with his laughter, swaying to the sound. Keith didn’t argue.
“You what?”
“He wasn’t happy.”
“I can imagine, Samurai.”
Lance forced down his giggles, and Keith went on with a smile this time. “Shiro took it from there. Used his lightning and fucked everything up for the guy. It was brutal.” Lance sobered, because he could physically feel the weight of what Keith said next.
“It was the cyclops’s fault the other monsters caught up to us. The ones that had been chasing us for all those months.” Lance glanced up at Keith, and mindlessly inched his pinky until it hit Keith's. Before he could lose his nerve, he hooked them together. Keith breathed a sigh but didn’t move away. “Shiro would still be here if it weren’t for him. It.”
A moment of silence told Lance that that was the end of that.
“That was… really brave, Keith. You were– are. You’re brave.”
Keith hummed, and they watched the Hercules constellation rise in the sky for a while. Any monsters around either didn’t notice them or didn’t care enough to try them.
At last, Keith told Lance, “Go below. You need some rest, Sharpshooter.”
Lance huffed at the nickname, but obeyed. His neck creaked in protest as he lifted it from Keith’s shoulder and unwound his hand (it had been his pinky a moment ago) from Keith’s and went below.
When Lance found a hammock, he didn’t sleep for a while. He imagined what Keith must’ve gone through during his time before camp, and Lance wondered if he’d have the courage to do what Keith was. To take on this quest and sail right into the layer of another cyclops.
Lance also realized that he wasn’t on the bridge anymore. He was right next to Keith on his tiny ledge. But, somehow, the ledge was suddenly big enough for two.
Lance didn’t dream about Allura.
Instead, he was in Lotor’s stateroom on the Princess Andromeda. The room was cold, and his body felt physically sucked dry of energy. The curtains were open. It was nighttime outside. The air swirled with shadows. Voices whispered all around– spirits of the dead. Beware, they whispered. Traps. Trickery.
Kronos’s golden sarcophagus glowed faintly – the only source of light in the room. A cold laugh startled Lance. It seemed to come from miles below the ship. You don’t have the courage, blue one. You can’t stop me, it whispered rather rudely, and frankly, it pissed him off. Lance grit his teeth. He knew what he had to do. He had to open that coffin. And maybe teach this guy a lesson or two about table manners.
Lance uncorked the canteen hanging from his backpack, and water began to evelop his arm as he commanded it. The water shimmered with celestial bronze as his bow took form in his hands. A gift from his father. Coran had given it to him when he’d gotten to camp and Lance, Allura, Pidge, Hunk, and Keith discovered he was mighty resilient with a bow during archery lessons.
(Lance didn’t understand why Coran didn’t give him that broadsword he’d used to kill the fury on his school field trip. Something to do with having a long way to go before he could use it as a regular weapon.)
Ghosts whirled around Lance like a tornado. Beware! His heart pounded, and sweat was starting to coat him like a second layer of skin. He couldn’t make my feet move, but he had to stop Kronos. Lance had to destroy whatever was in that box. And he had to do it now.
“Well, there’s a reason we always bring our sharpshooter.” A voice said from beside him. Lance turned, expecting to see Keith, but instead saw another boy. He looked no more than a few years older than him, but he had all the years of an adult weighed down by life in the wrinkles lining his face. But he looked soft. And Lance couldn’t help but gravitate towards him.
“You ready?” But Lance couldn’t answer. Couldn’t move. The boy put a hand on his shoulder and gave him a sympathetic smile, nodding. “That’s fine. Leave it to me.”
Lance reeled back when the guys right arm began to glow purple. He could feel the warmth from where he stood. It looked like it was made of the very thing that made up most demigod weapons. Celestial bronze.
The boy gently moved Lance aside before steeling himself. Lance tried warning him. Tried to pull him back, but the ghosts parted for the boy, like it was his birthright to open that damn sarcophagus. The boy pushed aside the golden lid.
Lance heard him murmur something beneath his breath.
“No,” He whispered, before full on yelling. “No!”
The boys eyes turned purple, wild and unpredictable. His face, contorted with fear and anguish– was stained with anger and an evil grin.
Lance could finally open his mouth, and he screamed. But his voice wasn’t his own. It sounded young and angry and scared. He was talking to it just a few hours ago.
“Shiro!”
Lance bolted out of the hammock, yelping before slamming into the floor. Keith stood above him, rolling his eyes.
“Come on, Lance,” He said, helping him up with no time to lose.
“W– what? Huh?” Lance slurred, gaining his bearings. “What happened?”
Keith's face was grim as he helped Lance up. “We’re approaching the island of the Sirens.”
Lance was still squinting, trying to force his eyes to adjust to the darkness and make out the details of the island ahead of them when Keith turned him around, looking him in the eye.
“I need you to do me a favor.” Keith said. “We’re going to be in hearing range soon.”
Lance recalled the stories about Sirens. How they’d use their honey sweet voices to lure sailors off their ships. In some stories, to drown them. In others, to eat. Lance shoved down the urge to tie himself up to make sure he couldn’t throw himself off the side of the railings.
“Yikes. Yeah, no worries, man.” Lance shook himself out. “There’s a big tub of candle wax below deck. Probably won’t feel too good but we can just plug our ears–”
“I want to hear them.”
Lance blinked. “What– are you insane? Why?”
Keith scoffed, an indignant blush creeping up his cheeks. “They say Sirens sing the truth about what you desire. That’s was so enchanting about them. They can show you things you didn’t even know about yourself.” Keith bit his lip. “Fatal flaws. They’re what brings any hero– and yes, every hero has them, that includes you– down on the battlefield. If you survive the Sirens, you come back wiser. Who knows when I’ll ever get this chance again?”
“Gods, you sound like Pidge.” Lance grumbled, dragging his hands down his face. He peeked out from behind his fingers at a glaring Keith. “Jeez, fine. Fine! Don’t blame me if you die, idiot.”
Keith nodded, appeased for the time being.
Reluctantly, Lance listened to Keith’s plan and helped him get ready. When the rocky island came into view, Lance ordered one of ropes to wrap around Keith’s waist, tying him to the foremast.
“Don’t. Untie me,” Keith reminded him, raising a brow. “I’m going to beg and plead. No matter what, you ignore me and keep going or else I’ll throw myself over and try to drown myself.”
“Are you trying to tempt me?” Lance grinned shakily as the mist grew thicker, obscuring Keith’s face.
Keith huffed. “Ha-ha.” But Lance could hear the shake in his own voice.
Lance promised to keep him secure, and hummed when Keith kneaded two thick pieces of candle wax and stuffed them into Lance’s ears.
“What do you think?” Lance felt his chest rumble, but he heard nothing. “Do I pull them off?”
Keith rolled his eyes with a smile, and Lance think he could read, Aphrodite would be proud, on his lips. Lance stuck his tongue out, laughing when Keith shoved him away. Lance turned to the pilot’s wheel.
The silence was eerie, all Lance could hear was the rush of blood in his ears and his own voice in his head. As they skirted around the jagged island, Lance willed them to go a little faster. He couldn’t hear anything, but the feeling of eyes pricking him all over was more than a little unsettling.
Lance glanced back. At first, Keith looked totally normal. Same grumpy face and calculating eyes– but then, his mouth dropped slightly, and his eyes widened. He began to strain against the rope before finding Lance’s eyes. Every atom in Keith’s body begged to be released, and Lance could see that from where he stood at the wheel.
Keith was straining and pulling at the rope, desperately trying to get away from it. His face looked nothing like what Lance was familiar with, all stress and anguish and pain. Tears streamed down his face and Lance never imagined reading his name on Keith’s lips could be so painful.
Guilt settled in his stomach, deep and taught. He could never imagine causing Keith so much pain, and it was clear that Keith thought the same as he sobbed and yanked.
It must’ve been one of Lance’s toughest moments in life, having to keep himself from cutting Keith free.
Lance had to force himself to look away.
He urged the Queen Anne’s Revenge to go faster. Lance still couldn’t see much of the island – just mist and rocks – but floating in the water were pieces of wood and fibreglass, the wreckage of old ships, even some flotation cushions from aeroplanes. How could music cause so many lives to veer off course? Lance supposed, sure, there were some Gracie Abram and Laufey songs that made him want to take a fiery nosedive, but still … What could the Sirens possibly sing about?
For one dangerous moment, he understood Keith’s curiosity. He was half-tempted to take out the earplugs, just to get a taste of the song. He could feel the Sirens’ voices vibrating in the timbers of the ship, pulsing along with the roar of blood in his ears.
Lance seriously needed to compile a list of Top Most Horrifying Moments in his life. Pronto.
He lasted about five minutes, resisting the urge to look at Keith before he caved. Maybe that was his big mistake. The way his stomach dropped when he was met with nothing but a heap of cut ropes and an empty mast told him that much. Keith’s dagger layed discarded next to them. Keith never let his dagger out of his sight. Never.
Lance stumbled as his body flew down the steps toward where Keith was climbing, gearing to jump off the side of the ship. “Keith, no!” Lance shouted, but it was too late. Keith jumped.
Rushing to the side of the ship, Lance found Keith cutting through the waves with surprising strength. He was making a beeline straight for the sirens. Lance couldn’t believe he’d forgotten to disarm him. But obviously, it didn’t matter anymore. His body readily agreed, yelling at the ship to ‘stay!’ and wasting no time before jumping right after Keith.
Lance sliced through the waves, fighting through the constant shock of the freezing cold against his skin. He willed the currents to bend around him, shooting himself forward. Salt stung his eyes and if he couldn’t already breathe underwater, he was more than sure he’d be coughing a fit for sure.
Lance dived and shot right back up, spotting Keith again. Lance cursed when a wave swept over him, shoving him in the direct path of two jagged rocks that would surely skewer him, leaving Lance with no other choice but to plunge after him once more.
He dove under the wrecked gull of a yacht, wove through a collection of floating metal balls on chains that Lance realized with a jolt afterwards were mines. He had to use all of his power over the water around him to avoid getting smashed against the rocks or tangled in the nets of barbed wire strung just below the surface.
Lance jetted between the two rock fangs and found himself in a half-moon-shaped bay. The water was choked with more rocks and ship wreckage and floating mines. The beach was black volcanic sand.
Forcing himself to focus on his objective, he looked around desperately for Keith.
And there he was in all of his mullet glory.
Lance was never more grateful that Keith was a strong swimmer than in that moment. He’d made it past the mines and the rocks, and he was almost to the black beach.
Lance could’ve sworn his heart was in his throat when he saw them– the Sirens. The mist broke, unleashing the ugly sight upon Lance’s eyes.
Imagine a flock of ugly, and Lance meant ugly, vultures the size of people– with dirty black plumage, nasty grey talons and wrinkled pink necks. Now imagine human heads on top of those necks, except the human heads kept changing. If Lance were just a little closer, he wouldn’t have doubted he saw what looked like his mother. Lance shoved that to the very back of his mind.
Just for it to come right back. Because Lance did, in fact, get closer. And he could see that they were singing, and as their mouths moved, their faces changed into people he knew. And yep– there was his mother. Then his sisters, Poseidon, Allura, little Nadia– all the people he wanted to see the most right then. But it didn’t matter what form they took, because their mouths remained the same. Greasy and caked with bits of meat and what Lance was more than sure wasn’t ketchup from their last meal.
Lance had to force himself to keep back a wave of vomit when he realized there were rotting corpses littered around the island, stabbed into rocks with whole intenstines spilling out.
Yeah. Definitly not Monster Doughnuts.
And Keith was swimming right towards them.
The innate knowledge that Lance could not let Keith get out of the water propelled him forward, and he left it to the sea to decide their fate. It had always protected him one way or the other, and he had to trust it would do it again.
Lance grabbed onto Keith’s ankle, and a shock went through his body so suddenly that he had to remember to hold on when Keith kicked him in the face.
When Lance opened his eyes again, he knew he must’ve been seeing the Siren’s how Keith was seeing them.
At first, he only saw darkness. He could hear crying coming from beside him. Keith. Lance immediately went to comfort him, but then the scene changed. A woman with short, dyed purple hair with violet highlights stood before them with a smile on her face, beckoning them forward. She looked familiar, but Lance couldn't quite put his finger on it in the moment. Then, the boy from Lance’s dream stepped forward, and Lance immediately recognized him as Shiro. Next, Lance scowled, came Lotor. Then Pidge, Hunk, Allura… and then Lance. Huh.
Finally, a man with a short cropped black hair and numberous scars decorating his body came up behind the woman, hugging her from behind. He had a smirk on his face, the kind that made older women swoon. Lance immediately recognized him as Ares. He almost didn’t recognize him compared to the burly, crude man he’d fought last year.
Lance realized that this must’ve been what Keith truly wanted, deep down. He wanted to reunite his family, bring Shiro back, keep his friends safe, and apparently, that included Lance now.
Lance blinked. Hard. He physically shook the illusion away, focusing on the way the too wide smiles and bloody teeth. He blinked again, and all he saw were the ugly vulture women, ragged and hungry, ready to feed on another victim.
Lance pulled Keith back into the surf. He couldn’t hear him, and he was surprised the ear wax was so strong– he would definitely worry in a little while that they might be stuck– but for now, it was perfect. Until Keith kicked him in the face again. Lance groaned, spitting salt water out as he pulled Keith’s back flush against his chest.
Willing the currents to pull them back into the bay, Lance held fast as Keith pummeled him, using all of his strength to hold on. It made it hard to concentrate, and Lance couldn’t multitask for much longer. He didn’t know what to do, if he kept fighting, Keith would surely drive them straight into a floating mine.
When a wave pulled them under, Keith stopped struggling. His expression became confused. Then they’re heads broke the surface and he started to fight again.
The water! Of course. Sound didn’t travel well underwater. If Lance could submerge them for long enough, the spell had to break, right? The minor detail of Keith not being able to breathe seemed… well, minor in the moment.
Lance wrapped his arms around Keith’s waist, pulling him ever closer before he ordered the waves to push them down. They shot into the depths, the deep blue turning black. Three, four, five– six metres. Of course, he had to be careful, he knew Keith couldn’t take the same amount of pressure that Lance could.
Lance held onto Keith as he struggled on instinct, bubbles rose to the surface as waves rolled above the surface– bubbles! Yes!
Lance was more than desperate to keep Keith alive, and he was running out of ideas quickly. He squeezed his eyes shut, praying as he imagined the bubbles coming toward him all at once. In a flurry of white, Lance felt a tickling sensation and then, Lance opened his eyes. Keith gasped and coughed, heaving for air against Lance’s chest. His whole body shuddered, taking in as much oxygen as it could.
They were surrounded by a giant air bubble, their legs were the only thing peeking out into the water.
When Keith met his eyes, Lance could tell the spell was broken.
Dark eyes were no longer clouded by a grey haze, instead, they looked like the very ocean they were sinking into. Dark, and wobbly as Keith’s eyes began to swim just as powerfully as he had trying to get to his fantasy. They were red, his eyes puffy and tender as he sobbed, harsh, heartbroken, angry sobs. Lance wasted no time in turning him around and pulling him close. Keith layed his head on Lance’s shoulder, and Lance held him like he was glass about to break. Maybe he was. Maybe he already did.
They stayed suspended for a while, and Lance had to tell more than a few fish to scram when they got too nosy. Lance could already hear the rumors that would fly around about the son of Poseidon and a random boy at the bottom of Siren Bay.
“I’ll get us back to the ship, Keith,” Lance said, his name flowing easily off of his tongue instead of his usual nicknames. This moment felt a lot more intimate, and being able to say his name because he was here in his arms instead of off being eaten alive by vultures was a blessing. “It’s okay. You’re okay. Just hang on.”
Keith nodded against him, letting him know that he was okay now. Lance felt him tighten his grip on Lance as he murmured something Lance couldn’t hear because of the wax in his ears.
Lance made the current steer their weird little air submarine through the rocks and barbed wire and back towards the hull of the Queen Anne’s Revenge, which was maintaining a slow and steady course away from the island.
They stayed underwater, following the ship for a while until Lance was sure they were out of earshot of the sirens before they broke the surface and their air bubble popped with a splash.
He ordered the ship to drop the rope ladder and they climbed aboard.
Lance kept his earplugs in, just to be sure, and grabbed Keith’s hand on instinct to keep him close. They sailed until the island was completely out of sight, and Keith sat beside Lance as a compromise so he could begin drying off with a blanket Lance found. Finally, he looked up, dazed and sad, and mouthed, Safe.
Lance took out the earplugs, nodding when he heard nothing. The afternoon was quiet except for the sound of the waves against the hull. The fog had burned away to a blue sky, as if the island of the Sirens had never existed.
After a few moments of silence, Lance watched Keith watch the ocean around them with sad, dark eyes. Lance was about to ask if Keith was okay when stood up, leaning against the railing as he spoke.
“I never realized,” Keith didn’t look away from the ocean as the ship rocked. “How powerful the temptation would be.” His voice cracked at the end of his sentence, and Lance could swear he heard his heart break along with it.
Lance debated for a moment before leaning his elbows on the railing, watching Keith out of the corner of his eyes. He thought he should tell Keith about what he saw, but he was afraid Keith would do that thing. The one where he pulled away and shut himself in, but Lance figured he owed it to him.
“I saw your mom.” Lance said, remembering back to the photos that Keith had shown him last summer. No wonder the woman had looked so familiar. “And Shiro. Lotor… everyone.”
Me went unspoken, but they could both feel the word hanging in the air.
Keith flushed, tensing his shoulders. “You saw that?”
Lance ignored him, trying to catch his eyes as he leaned forward. “What Lotor said on the Princess Andromeda, about being a family again. Keeping everyone safe if you joined the winning side… that really got to you, huh?”
Keith looked away. “My fatal flaw. The sirens showed me…” Lance nudged him, and Keith met his eyes. “It’s uhm. It’s dumb. Gods,” Keith huffed, teasing at his hair as he stressed. It was still damp, sticking to his forehead. Lance hummed, bumping him with his shoulder as a physical reassurance.
“It’s the fear of abandonment. Desertion.” Keith said it all in one breath, leaving an awkward stilt in the air.
Lance breathed out a shaky breath, at a loss for words. He understood the fear all too well, he couldn’t imagine being left all alone. He supposed it only made sense, with the way Keith grew up essentially an orphan when he mother disappeared. That had been a rough story to sit through when he, Allura, Pidge, and Hunk were sat around the campfire on their own one night.
“Yeah. I get that, buddy.” Lance whispered. “Man do I get that.”
(Lance didn’t acknowledge it, maybe he didn’t know it yet. But while he was scared of being alone, he couldn’t imagine having to lose everything he had, either. They were similar, but different. Lance could handle behind alone if he had too, but he couldn’t imagine for a second being the one to leave the people he loved to suffer such a fate. He would never leave his friends if he could help it. And he would make sure Keith wasn’t if anything could be helped.)
Keith nodded, and Lance didn’t dare breathe when Keith shifted to stand right beside him, eliminating the space between them. Keith set his head on Lance’s shoulder, mirroring the night before.
“So, do you feel wiser, Samurai?” Lance asked gently, dipping his shoulder to make it more comfortable for Keith. “Was it worth it?”
Keith gazed into the distance, thinking for a moment. “I’m not entirely sure. I mean, I guess any therapist could tell you the average orphan would have an fear of abandonment, but I didn’t think it would affect me to the point of being fatal. But either way, we have to save camp. We have find Allura and stop Lotor…”
It sounded like Keith was going to say more, but he trailed off. He didn’t need to finish, Lance knew what he meant. If Lotor’s way of thinking could even tempt Keith, there was no telling how many other half-bloods might join him.
Lance thought about his dream with Shiro and the golden sarcohpagus. He wasn’t sure what it meant, but he had the feeling he was missing something. Something important, something terrible that Kronos was planning. What had Shiro seen when he opened that coffin lid?
Suddenly, Keith lifted his head from Lance’s shoulder.
“Lance.”
Lance hummed, picking his gaze off of the boy and instead in front of him toward the horizon. Up ahead was another bloth of land– a saddle-shaped island with forested hills and white beaches and green meadows – just like he’d seen in his dreams. Lance’s nautical senses confirmed it. Thirty degrees, thirty-one minutes north, seventy-five degrees, twelve minutes west. They had reached the home of the Cyclops.