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Chapter Text

Lance was feeling a lot of things on his first day at the Garrison.

Excitement was a big one. He could barely hold it in, the feeling churning in his stomach as he bounced on his toes and fiddled with the cuff of his uniform. This was something he had been dreaming of for an eternity. He had been staring up at the sky for as long as he could remember, and now he was so so close to being there, to being nestled in the stars. He could barely breathe over how excited he was.

Underneath all that overwhelming excitement, though, he was feeling nervous. This was new for him, like really new. He hadn't ever really done anything like this before, and he had done a lot of stuff in his time on earth. It was nerve-wracking to look around at the shiny facilities that the Garrison had to offer: the ships, the uniforms, the salutes. It was so unfamiliar and foreign that he couldn't help feel like he didn't belong.

Lance was also feeling a kind of fond exasperation. This, however, had nothing to do with his first day at the Garrison and everything to do with Hunk's first day at the Garrison.

Hunk made a distressed noise from beside him as he covered his stomach with his hands.

"I think I might throw up," he whined. "Is that normal, or should I be worried? Oh god, am I going to die? Should I see the nurse? Lance, I'm too young to die."

Needless to say, Hunk was also feeling a lot of things on his first day at the Garrison, the main one was panic.

They were sitting on a bench against a wall as other students milled about around them. Lance was trying to calm his best friend down the best he could, but Hunk's panic was a unique kind of panic that Lance hadn’t quite figured out how to beat.

They were at the annoying mandatory get-to-know-your-fellow-cadets gathering before classes started the next day, and it was getting to be a lot for Hunk's delicate state of being.

He was already so freaked out about classes starting that throwing him in to forced socialization with a room full of strangers on top of that really set him off.

Lance was trying his best, rubbing his hand across Hunk's back in a soothing manner, trying to distract him from panicking.

He started to say something, but as he opened his mouth to speak, he looked up and the words stuck in his throat as his eyes met someone else’s from across the room.

There he was.

His other half.

His fated match.

His rival.

His soulmate, though Lance used that word very lightly and with a full bucket of disdain.

Of course he'd be here. Of course he'd be going to the Garrison too.

It wasn't fair! Just one life, that's all Lance was asking for, literally just one! But no that would be too easy and the universe loved giving him a hard time apparently.

This was Lance's dream. It had been Lance's dream for forever, and now it was being messed with by this guy, who Lance was not afraid to call his arch rival no matter how melodramatic that sounded.

Lance narrowed his eyes at the figure leaning there in the corner, back to the wall, arms crossed in a way that read, 'don't talk to me or you will regret it'. He obviously hadn't registered that he’d seen Lance yet from where he was standing because his eyes were just drifting around the room.

Before he knew what he was doing, Lance was out of his seat and elbowing his way through the crowd of cadets standing around the room.

He could hear Hunk's questioning as he got up, but it faded into the sounds of the other cadets around him as he waded through the crowd, closer and closer to his rival who still had yet to see him.

When he was almost there, he stopped to observe for a second, to do a little recon.

His rival was, of course, dressed like everyone else in that orange uniform that all the Garrison cadets had to wear. His hair was long and shaggy, brushing the collar of his uniform, which, Lance noted, was definitely against the Garrison dress code. He was standing there slumped against the wall like he really didn't want to be here.

Lance let his eyes drift over the boy one last time before he pushed through the group of students he was hiding behind and presented himself with a flourish before his rival.

His arch enemy who didn't even look at him.

If Lance hadn't already been fuming, he would be there now. The disrespect! The audacity! The nerve! How dare he!

Lance put his hands on his hips and said with what he hoped was authority, but was probably mostly whining, "This is my dream and you know it!" He crossed his arms over his chest with a huff and continued even though he was still being ignored. "How dare you try to take this from me! I have half a mind to fight you right here, right now!"

Finally-finally!-his rival looked up.

His eyes passed over Lance without a single hint of recognition, and he said, "Do I know you?"

Lance felt his heart drop to his stomach. He knew he was gaping, but he watched in horror, astonishment, hurt, fear, shock as his other half, with that same blank look in his eyes, pushed away from the wall and made his way to a different corner where he could be alone again.

Lance knew that he looked like an idiot standing there with his jaw dropped, looking like he had just been sucker punched, but he couldn't help it.

This had never happened before.

Throughout all the years, in all the lives they had lived, all the centuries that had passed, one thing had never changed--they always recognized each other.

Lance had never been on the end of that blank look before, he hadn't even considered it a possibility.

He stood there gaping for who knows how long until he was broken from his thoughts by a gentle hand landing on his shoulder.

It was Hunk there with a concerned look on his face. "Hey man, are you okay? You kind of disappeared earlier."

Lance shook his head to clear his thoughts, but he couldn't force his gaze away from the corner across the room with one grumpy, disinterested inhabitant.

His shock was slowly turning to anger. Anger at his nemesis for not recognizing him, anger at the universe for always shoving them together, anger at himself for even caring.

"I'm okay, Hunk," he finally said, tearing his eyes away. "I just really don't like that guy."

Chapter Text

Lance could remember all of his past lives so so vividly, like it was still happening to him, like it always would be, and yet, at the same time, he could only remember a vague outline of who he had been. Like a dream where the details are all there in bright colors and feelings of familiarity, but when you try to put it into words, it is almost impossible.

There were lots of fuzzy parts in his memories, details he could remember only as a feeling, emotions that only lingered like a sweet aftertaste, people who had been so dear whose faces he had forgotten centuries ago.

The only thing that lingered in his mind and never faded from memory was the person who had shared all of his lives.

He had always been there, through it all, and as centuries dwindled to broad brush strokes, as names and faces faded from his mind, when he could no longer remember even what his own face had looked like, the image of his soulmate, his rival, was as crisp and new as if he was still living those lives. Every face his nemesis had worn, every sneer on his lips, every challenging glint in his eyes were as familiar to him as his own mother's face in the life he was currently living.

And it fucking sucked.

Literally the only thing he wouldn't really mind forgetting in his kickass string of lives and deaths was that guy, and who did he always find, always see, always remember? Yeah, you guessed it: his arch rival. Okay, maybe Lance was stretching the truth a little bit. There were definitely things he wouldn’t mind forgetting more than his rival, but it was the principle of the matter.

It was like the universe was sitting up there looking down at Lance and saying, "You know what would be fucking hilarious to watch?"

It was getting old to be honest, but it's not like Lance had any say in the matter.

Their first life was really cool, at least on Lance's part.

She had been the daughter of some great king or ruler or something, and she had it pretty easy. Lance couldn't quite put together where it had been, or when it had been, but he could remember the sea.

She would spend long days walking along the beach with sand between her toes and her long skirt tangling between her legs in the soft ocean breeze. This was her first life, so she didn't have any worries or cares, no half-smudged memories to distract her. She was just like everyone else.

Lance couldn't remember what his parents had looked like, but he could recall how warm they made him feel. He knew that they were kind people.

In this life, she spent her time doing so many things, her days was awash with color and sounds and joy, but the thing she loved the most was her daily walks along the shoreline. She would walk, mostly alone save for the guard that her father ordered to protect her. She would walk, reveling in the sound of the waves and the cries of the gulls.

It was here when she first felt that feeling. Her eyes lock with another's and she knew that they were somehow tied to one another. Fated.

The feeling washed over her so strong when she first felt it that it almost knocked the breath out of her. She almost turned and ran, overwhelmed, but something kept her there. Something she couldn't quite describe.

It happened one day as she was walking like she often did and, all of the sudden, a girl rounded the cliffs ahead of her. She stopped abruptly when she saw the princess and stood there staring across the sand.

The girl was dressed in the garb of one who had been dedicated to the a goddess, set aside for divine work, serving in the temple and never marrying or bearing children. The princess was intrigued because she had never seen a temple maiden outside of the godess' temple before.

What intrigued the princess the most, however, was not the fact that she was one of the temple maidens, but rather the fact that there was blood smeared across her knuckles and dripping from the side of her head. She was standing there breathing fairly heavily, like she had been running, and there was a wild look in her eyes, mad with rage and fear.

The princess' guard was suddenly at her side, hand at the ready to draw his sword if the girl proved to be a threat.

The princess took a step towards the girl, trying not to frighten her. "Do you need help?" She asked, but before an answer could be given, two men rounded the same cliff chasing something, one of them with blood dripping from his nose.

It clicked in the princess' head that they were chasing the girl from the temple just as they caught up to her. Before anyone had the chance to react, one of the men grabbed the girl around the waist and picked her up.

"This will teach you your place!" the man yelled.

The temple maiden growled and hissed like a wild animal as she clawed at the man's arms and neck and face, he loosened his grip in shock, but the other man quickly grabbed her arms and wrenched them behind her back.

The princess ran forwards as a sound that was more like a howl than a scream left the girl's mouth.

"Stop it! Leave her alone!" She shouted. "Don't you know what she is?"

The men looked over and scoffed at the princess' words.

"Stay out of this, little girl, or you're next."

They both laughed until one of them yelped in pain when the temple girl sank her teeth into his arm.

He dropped her in surprise and she wrenched herself away from the other man. As she scrambled away, she failed to find her footing in the sand and ended up falling to her hands and knees.

The men would have been on her again if the princess' guard hadn't leapt forward tall and menacing, with his sword drawn and his armor bearing the insignia of the king's guard.

The men, both unarmed and still out of breath from their chase, looked from the guard to the girl sprawled across the sand a few times. They turned to each other then, trying to decide what to do. After a second, one of them turned to the girl and spit on the ground near her before they both turned and walked back the way they had come.

The princess rushed over and dropped to the sand beside the girl. She grabbed the girl's bloody hand in her own and tried to examine her knuckles. It was then that she looked up to meet the princess' eyes, and the princess was awash with those feelings of fate. She knew in that moment that her life was tied to this girl, and she could see in her eyes that she felt the same.

The only problem, though, was that as soon as those feelings stopped being so intense and overwhelming, the temple maiden snatched her hand away with a snarl and jumped to her feet.

"I don't need your help," she said before she turned on her heel and stalked away with a slight limp in her step.

The princess was shocked for a second before she too sprang to her feet. "Please let my guard and I escort you back to the temple.

The girl didn't stop or turn around.

"No."

The princess let out an offended noise. "Why not?" She asked.

The girl didn't answer, she just kept walking.

The princess huffed and stood up a little straighter before she announced, "Well you can't stop us if we just so happen to be going into town to visit the temple."

This time the girl did stop if only to send a glare over her shoulder.

"Leave me alone," she said harshly.

The princess ignored her and instead, walked at a swift pace until they were side-by-side.

"You can't tell me what to do, I'm the king's daughter."

The girl seemed to start at this, obviously not having known who she was, but after a second, she dropped her shoulders in defeat and started walking again.

She glanced over at the princess walking beside her and said, "I guess I can't stop you."

And so they walked to town, the princess talking the whole way, like she was prone to do, and the temple maiden not saying a single word the whole time.

It wasn't a terrible long walk and by the end of it, the princess was very annoyed at her taciturn companion.

When they got to town, the girl limped up the steps of the temple with not even a thank you to the princess or her guard.

The princess spent the entire walk to the palace in a huff at the girl's rudeness and by the time they had made it back, she was fuming.

The nerve of that girl!

But, even with all the anger and annoyance, the princess couldn't quite shake that feeling in her chest that she hadn't quite stopped feeling since the two girls had met eyes. She'd never felt that before, but it felt like the hand of the gods.

The princess continued to see the girl around town. Not often because temple maidens were bound to the temple and their goddesses and the princess almost never went into town, but every so often, their eyes would meet across the way.

And each and every one of those lingering gazes was accompanied by a glare or a snarl or a mean gesture from one or the other.

The temple maiden started it, but the princess soon let her annoyance get the better of her, returning each and every glare with one hotter and full of more contempt.

In that first life, their paths didn't cross often, but they could still feel that feud bubbling between them, a feud that would last centuries.

Chapter Text

His name was Keith Kogane and Lance couldn't stop glaring at him.

Every time they were near each other, Lance was gripped with a low simmering kind of anger.

After that night when he first saw Keith, he had gone through a whole roller coaster of emotions.

At first he was too shocked to feel anything. There were so many questions running through his head that he could barely breathe.

Then, he started doubting himself. What if that hadn't really been his rival, what if he just thought it was? He could be wrong, right?

Lance quickly dismissed that theory on the premise that it was dumb. Literally the only thing that he could remember reliably through all his lives was his rival so no way he was wrong there.

The feeling was too intense, too unique.

Also, Keith's eyes were exactly the same as they had always been so that was a dead giveaway. Stupid mullet with those stupid indigo eyes.

(Did he mention that his soulmate, soul rival, whatever, had a mullet? It was hideous and exactly what he deserved for forgetting about Lance.)

Next Lance felt fear. Fear that this might happen to him. Would he stop remembering one day? It was almost impossible for him to imagine. He knew that's how everyone else lived, just that short time on Earth, but he was afraid of feeling that small, of existing for so little time.

Interspersed through all this was the feeling of being alone. If he was the only one who remembered all those lives, did they even exist, did they even happen? What if it had all been a dream? What if Lance was just going crazy, imagining all this?

Then everything settled back into a simmering anger. It was always there at the back of his mind. Yeah okay, he knew it was immature to be angry at someone for forgetting something they had no control over, but he couldn't help it.

He was mad.

And he was mad at himself for being mad.

He was mad because he thought, in spite of all the turmoil that this was causing him (his skin was suffering from all the stress which only made him angrier) he would finally have a rival-free life. He could, for the first time in literally forever, live without that overarching sense of having to outdo, outmatch, outpace his rival.

Except no.

Of course Keith just had to be better than Lance at everything. He wasn't even trying and he was still beating Lance.

It made Lance grind his teeth together until he thought they might crack.

It was so annoying to see Keith step out of the simulator with a perfect score and not even glance in Lance's direction, daring him to do better.

It was infuriating.

But, honestly, what made Lance the most angry was the fact that he couldn't tell Hunk why he was so mad at Keith all the time. It made him so mad because his totally deserved and appropriate anger made him look like a complete asshat.

"You're staring again," Hunk said one day with a long-suffering sigh.

Lance didn't look away, he just narrowed his eyes in Keith's direction.

"It's getting creepy dude, why are you so obsessed with him?"

It’s not creepy. Lance thought. He’s the creep for just sitting there not remembering me!

Lance turned to face Hunk just so he could roll his eyes. "Um maybe because he's my arch nemesis? It would be weirder if I wasn't obsessed with him." He shot one last glare at the back of Keith's head and then started eating his lunch.

Hunk was still staring at Lance with an incredulous look on his face. "First of all, normal people don't have arch nemeseses. Nemeses? Nemesi?"

"It's nemeses, I think," Lance said around a bite of food.

"Nemeses." Hunk took a bite before continuing with his mouth full. "And even if they did, I think you have to actually talk to someone before they can be your arch nemesis."

"We've talked," Lance mumbled.

He glanced back over to where Keith was sitting by himself. He had his head down, eating his lunch as quickly as possible so he could leave like he always did.

It was Hunk's turn to roll his eyes. "You only talked to him that once at that stupid meet and greet at the beginning of the year.” Hunk said. “And if i remember correctly he only said one thing to you and walked away, so I don't think that counts."

Lance sighed and pushed his plate away. He didn't have much of an appetite right now.

"You wouldn't understand, Hunk. I can't really tell you," he said.

Hunk narrowed his eyes in Lance's direction and then looked back and forth between him and Keith. "He didn't hurt you did he? Because I am not afraid to defend my best friend. If he-"

Lance cut Hunk off, waving his arm in front of him. "No, no it's nothing like that!" He said, too loudly for the cafeteria.

Several cadets looked their way, but most were used to Lance's dramatics at this point.

"It's just a secret that maybe I'll tell you someday, but not right now." Lance would probably never tell Hunk, but you never know. He had told people before in past lives and sometimes it turned out great. Others not so great, but you can't win 'em all.

Lance watched as Keith stood quickly from his place at the table, his chair making a loud, obnoxious scraping noise on the floor. He made his way from the room as quickly as one could without running, only slowing down to shove his tray into the receptacle.

Lance made a move to follow him, but he was stopped by Hunk's hand on his arm.

"Dude, seriously this is weird," he said. "Just ignore him, whatever he did probably isn't bad enough for you to act like this." He paused. "And if it is, you know I will defend you with my strong arms even if Keith scares me."

Lance smiled and sat back down after shooting one last glance at the door that was still swinging from Keith's quick exit. "You are an amazing friend, Hunk."

"Aw, Lance!" Hunk said, throwing his arms around Lance. "You are my best friend too!"

Lance returned the hug as Hunk sniffled against his shoulder. "There, there buddy, don't cry."

"I just love you so much, man!"

Lance laughed and patted Hunk's back until he pulled away.

He glanced one more time in the direction Keith had gone, then he sighed. He took a deep breath and said, "I'll try to stop being so intense about Keith. I know it's weird."

And Lance was better.

He stopped glaring as much and tried to put Keith as far from his mind as possible.

He wasn't completely successful, though, how could he when the whole universe was screaming at him that Keith was supposed to be a part of his life, no matter how annoying.

He still got jealous at his scores in the simulator.

He still lay awake at night trying to wrap his mind around the fact that he was alone in this now.

But life went on. He made friends and went to class and got yelled at by Iverson, but all the while, Keith was there tickling the back of his mind. Always there.

And then Keith got kicked out.

This sent Lance into a new spiral of emotions because this had never happened before either.

Once they found each other, they always stayed in the same place: the same town, the same island, the same camp. They never got separated like this.

Now Keith was gone and Lance didn't know what to do with himself.

Not only that, but he was being constantly compared to Keith every step he took.

He eventually found himself buried under every soft blanket he owned, crying his eyes out. He was overwhelmed, sad and freaked out and hurt and scared. Everything he had been feeling since he had found Keith and everything since Keith had left hit him all at once, and he was a mess.

Hunk tried to help, but Lance was just about inconsolable.

"Is this about Keith?" Hunk asked. "Because I thought you said you weren't going to be obsessed with him anymore?"

Lance peaked his head over the covers and looked at Hunk's concerned face. He sighed and buried his head back into his pillow. "I lied, Hunk."

Hunk let out a frustrated noise. "Why are you so obsessed with Keith? You said you were going to tell me eventually, so please! I won't judge you I promise, just...I don't know how to help you.

Lance lay there for a second, debating with himself in his head.

He really wanted to tell Hunk. He needed someone else to talk to this about, especially since Keith didn't remember. But he was also scared, he didn't want Hunk to think he was crazy.

Coming to a decision after a few silent minutes, Lance sat up.

"Okay," he said. "I'll tell you, but like you said, no judgement."

Hunk nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, of course, Lance!"

Lance looked him in the eye, serious and strict like he never was. "I'm serious, Hunk. You are probably going to think I am insane when I tell you all this, but you have to promise to have an open mind."

Hunk's eyes widened in shock.

Lance knew he was kind of freaking Hunk out by being so stern, but he had to be.

"I'll try," Hunk said.

And so Lance told him. He sat with his legs drawn up to his chest, his eyes staring at the floor, and he recalled his past.

He talked about his past lives, about what he could remember, about what he had done. He told stories of his adventures and what it was like living all those centuries.

And he told Hunk about Keith.

He recounted the first time they had met. He told about how they encountered each other in every life and the way that they were rivals in every single one. He told of countless adventures through the years and the feelings that always stirred inside of him when he saw Keith for the first time in a new life. He described Keith's eyes that never seemed to change no matter how many lives they lived. And he talked about how Keith didn't remember him and that it was ripping him apart.

He unloaded everything he had kept inside.

Every so often he would glance up at Hunk to gauge his reaction.

Hunk seemed equal parts shocked, intrigued, and confused.

By the end of it, they sat in silence for a few seconds as Hunk processed all he had heard.

"Huh," he said, breaking the silence.

When he didn't say anything else, Lance glanced over at him. "Do you believe me?"

Hunk searched Lance's eyes before he said, "Lance, I know you woudn't lie about something like this. I may not understand it, but I believe you."

Lance let out a laugh that was more a sob and collapsed into Hunk's side where they were both sitting.

Finally, this was all off his chest. Finally he had someone to talk to.

Hunk wrapped his arm around Lance's shoulders. "Well, now I understand why you always called him your arch rival. Though, from the way you talk, it sounds like you were really close friends too."

”Hey, don’t go analyzing my centuries old rivalry! Get your own.”

Then, Lance let out a shaky laugh and Hunk laughed with him until they were both doubled over, sides aching, letting out all the tension of Lance's confession.

After they had both wiped the tears from the corner of their eyes, Lance flopped back down.

"I don't know what to do. I feel so lost." He let out a humorless laugh. "You'd think with how much experience I have living, I would know how to live my life."

Hunk shrugged. "I guess you'll just have to figure it out like the rest of us."

Lance rolled his eyes and shoved Hunk's shoulder.

Later that night when the lights were out and Hunk's snoring filled the air of the room, Lance lay there, trying to resolve himself to try to go on with his life without Keith there.

He could do this.

Yeah, he could. He could do anything.

He hopped out of bed and shook Hunk awake.

When Hunk's snores abruptly cut off and he cracked his eyes open, Lance whispered, "Hunk, I know what will make me feel better!"

Hunk sat up and rubbed his eyes. "What?"

"Let's sneak out!" He said with a flourish.

Hunk blinked at him for a second and then sighed. "And you're sure this will make you feel better?"

Lance nodded with a grin on his face.

Hunk wiped a hand over his face before throwing his legs over the side of his bed. "Fine, let me get dressed, then we can go."

Lance whooped and started pulling his own clothes. "Okay, we're going to grab Pidge, hit the town, loosen up-"

"As long as you are aware that I think this is a bad idea." Hunk interrupted.

Lance rolled his eyes. "Think of it as team bonding," he said. "Iverson said we needed to work on that anyway.

Lance was going to forget about Keith if it killed him, and this was step one.

Chapter Text

Waking up in his second life wasn't shocking or confusing at all.

He was't born with the consciousness of someone who had lived and died and woke up as an infant in a new life. Rather, his first life came to him gradually.

Memories fell into place as he walked through his life, appearing out of nowhere but feeling like they had always been there.

His first life was just there one day, a part of him.

As a child running around, he knew that this wasn't the first time. When he moved, he remembered moving; when he spoke, he remembered speaking; when he breathed, he remembered breathing. Remembered like a distant thing, like a dream.

Lance could remember feeling longing a few years into his second life after another day under his father's harsh words. He couldn't completely grasp the memory of his previous parents, he couldn't picture their faces or hear their words, but he remembered how they loved him and how he ached for them.

As he got older, he grew into his memories. He never told anyone, but they were always there in the back of his mind.

In this life, he was the only son of a renowned swordsman. His father and he lived in a small village on the side of a mountain. Secretly, because no one in that village had ever seen the sea, Lance would think of the ocean that he had once loved so much, and miss the calm that the waves brought him.

In this life, Lance knew that his father had been well respected in their village, but the memories of why he had been so revered had faded from his mind.

The most vivid memories Lance had of his father were of standing before him, sword in hand. He remembered how he was never quite able to get that look of disappointment off of his father's face. He remembered the smell of alcohol in the air and the ache of bruises forming. He remembered never being a good enough son.

Other than that, his memories from this life were fairly hazy until the day there was a knock at their door.

Lance doesn't remember why he was the one to answer the door, but when he swung it open, there stood a girl.

She was barefoot and obviously hadn't eaten in a while because her dirty, threadbare clothes hung dramatically off of her frame. She stood there in the doorway, bowing reverently as her hands trembled at her sides.

She didn't look up until the swordsman's son spoke.

"Who are you?" He asked.

The girl looked up and the instant those familiar eyes met his, he was awash with that same feeling he had known that day by the sea.

This was her. This was that temple maiden who had been rude and wild. He could remember the blood smeared over her knuckles like he had held them in his hand yesterday.

The girl on his threshold was standing there, just as shocked as he was. Her indigo eyes were wide and her lips trembled like she wanted to say something but she was too stunned to speak.

Eventually, she whispered out the word, "You?"

The boy couldn't stop himself from nodding, and, to his shame, he felt tears gather in the corner of his eyes. "You remember?" He asked.

She couldn't seem to look away from his face. "I do. I remember the temple and you on the beach." She paused. "I remember that you wouldn't leave me alone."

The boy let out an indignant noise at this, but he was prevented from replying when his father spoke up from behind him.

"Who is it, boy?" His father walked up to the door and none too gently shoved him out of the way.

The girl was quick to gather herself back up and she once again bowed low and reverently.

The boy couldn't tear his eyes away from her as she said, "Master, I have heard of your skill with the blade, and I wish to train under you."

The boy's father barked out a laugh. "You dirty, underfed little thing, I doubt you could even hold a sword, much less learn how to wield one."

His father was not a kind man, and he was not a patient one either. He had turned many men away who were stronger and much higher in rank than this girl.

She remained where she was bowing on the threshold. "Master, I have no family and no money to offer you, but I swear to be the most diligent student you will ever have."

"No money, no family, not even your own sword." The man sneered. "No. Go to the whorehouse if you really need a profession, or find a husband to marry, but don't come back here or you will have trouble."

At this he slammed the door shut, but not before the boy could see that same wild glint in the girl's eyes that he had seen in the past.

His heart thudded in his chest as his father's steps echoed through the house.

He was so stunned to have seen those eyes again that he couldn't move.

Then, he made up his mind to go see her, to talk to her, but as he reached for the door handle, his father shouted at him to get to work, and he was startled into obeying.

As he went about his chores, he thought of the girl. He knew that she would be back from that wild glint he had seen in her eyes. He couldn't help but be terrified of what his father would do if he found her on their doorstep once more.

He didn't have to wait long for her to come back.

The next morning, he hear another knock on the door, loud and quick.

He was so thankful that his father was out when he opened the door to find the same girl bowed at the waist looking just as dirty and malnourished as the day before.

She didn't look up before she spoke. "Master-"

"He's not here." The boy stood awkwardly in the doorway, suddenly unaware of what to do with his hands.

She looked up and stood from her bow as she took in who was in front of her. "When will he be back?"

He sighed. "You need to not come back here. My father will not take kindly to seeing you again," he said.

Standing there, the boy had a thousand questions that he wanted to ask, but he was also really annoyed.

This girl was still just as rude as they day they had met. She was on her second life and she still hadn't learned manners.

The girl spoke again. "I know that you and I have shared history, but I feel no sentiment for you. Nothing you say will stand in the way of me reaching my goal."

The boy scoffed at her admission. "Firstly, I feel the same. You are just as annoying now as you were back then. Second, nothing I say may stand in your way, but my father beating you within an inch of your life and kicking you out of the village might."

The girl searched his face for any sign of untruth, obviously hoping that he was lying to her. Her fists were clenched at her sides, and her jaw was clenched tight. "I have to learn how to fight and your father is the best. He has to teach me," she said.

"Please, he won't," he said, "and as much as I have never liked you, I still don't want to see what will happen if you keep coming here. Just go."

They stared at each other for a moment, neither blinking, neither looking away until the girl spoke.

"You can teach me."

The boy reeled back when he heard what she said. "Woah now, wait a minute, why would I teach you?"

She didn't seem to hear him, nodding to herself. She seemed pleased to have found a solution. "You said you didn't want to see me hurt, and I refuse to leave this village without learning the sword. If you don't want to see me back here asking your father to be my master, then you teach me."

"No." The boy said before slamming the door shut.

It only stayed shut for a split second before he wrenched it open again and looked at the girl who was staring at him with a shocked expression on her face.

"Fine, but you have to promise to not tell anyone what we are doing," he said with a resigned sigh. "Now wait here while I get you some food, you look like you might just whither away to nothing."

She nodded, and tried to hide the smile on her face.

"And I still don't like you," the boy said.

Over the next few months they trained every night.

The boy would steal from his house, wary to not wake his father. He would sneak his own sword out with him along with a practice blade and whatever food they had that his father would't notice missing. He would make his way with the moon as his only light out to the forest where they met.

It didn't take long for the boy to realize that, however good he might be having been raised by the best swordsman in the land, this girl was born to wield a sword.

She quickly learned the stances and the techniques for holding her blade, and before long, she was moving with the skill and speed of someone who had been studying the sword for years.

The first time she knocked the sword out of the boy's hand was less than a month after they started, and the boy though that it had probably been luck.

When a few more months passed and she was able to disarm him in every spar, he was envious.

He had been training under the best swordsman in the country since he was old enough to stand and hold a sword at the same time, yet this orphan girl with no experience surpassed him in less than a year.

If he had been annoyed at how rude she had always been, he was furious now at how arrogant she was and how much better she was at wielding her blade.

One night, after she had knocked the sword from his hand, she dropped her own sword and tackled him to the ground. They tousled on the ground for a few minutes until she pinned him beneath her. They both lay there in the dirt for a second, laughing and trying to catch their breath.

Then the boy spoke. "I think you've learned all you can from me."

The girl sat back and let out a small laugh at his admission. She looked down and met his eye. "I can see that," she said, poking the boy in the forehead, "but where am I going to find a more advanced master?"

The boy sighed. He knew the answer, but he wasn't sure how realistic it was, and he almost didn't suggest it, but he couldn't stop himself.

"My father."

She gasped and moved off of him to sit on the dirt beside him. "But I thought you said it was dangerous for me to go back there."

"Yeah, it was," the boy said, sitting up. "But if I vouch for you, and we show him what you know, he can't say no."

They boy's father said no at first. He was furious that his son would waste his time like this, and he tried to send them away.

Then he saw the girl's skill, and after a long while he agreed to train her.

The boy's father was no kinder to the girl than he was his own son, and he did not hold back his stinging words or sharp hits, but the boy still couldn't help but be jealous every time he saw that impressed glint in his father's eyes.

He hid it well, but the boy felt envy and resentment towards that girl who he knew from a life passed.

They still didn't get along. They bickered and argued and shoved each other to the dirt but they had almost a begrudging friendship. One that was laced with jealousy and rivalry, but a friendship nonetheless.

In this life they both died young.

There was a siege on their village, and not even the greatest swordsman in the land can defeat a whole army, even with two master swordsmen at his side.

The boy and the girl fought back to back up to the very end. They took down countless men, but eventually, they both fell.

As they lay there bleeding on the ground, the girl stretched out her hand and placed it over the wound in the boy's chest, like she could somehow stop the bleeding with what little strength was left in her body.

The boy smiled, lay his hand on top of hers, and laced their fingers together. "I think this is it," he said. A tear fell from the corner of his eye as turned his head what little he could to see her.

She let out a sound that might have been a laugh if she'd had the strength to pull any more air into her lungs. "Thank you for all you've done for me," she gasped out.

The boy could feel the world going dark around him and he squeezed their fingers together. "Maybe I'll see you in the next life."

She didn't say anything back and he couldn't hear her take anymore rattling breaths.

"I still don't like you," he whispered as he closed his eyes.

Chapter Text

So he was in space now.

That was new.

And fucking insane!

Yeah, he was a pilot studying to maybe go into space one day but the most he ever imagined (at least in this life) was a couple of scientific observation trips or something. He'd never even fathomed that he would be countless light years from earth piloting a giant blue lion.

And here was the kicker, the real funny bit.

Keith was here too.

Just when he had decided to forget about Keith, he ended up getting blasted into space with him.

Now not to get ahead of himself, Lance was kind of relieved that they had found themselves in the same place again. It comforted him to know that Keith hadn't just disappeared for the rest of this life.

But more than relieved, he was upset again. It was one thing for Keith to forget their lives together. It wasn't okay and Lance was dealing with it, but it was something he had been getting used to.

No, that wasn't enough for Keith, Keith had to go and forget him from the Garrison too!

When they had been standing there helping Shiro off that gurney, Keith hit him with that "who are you again" and if not for the unconscious man between them, Lance may have thrown a punch.

So yeah, Keith was here, and he'd forgotten him again. Plus, he was still the rude, arrogant brat he'd always been.

And it sucked.

In a castle with seven people tops, it was kind of impossible for Lance to avoid Keith, which was exactly what he was trying to do.

It worked well for a little while because Keith spent most of his time on the training deck and Lance avoided it like it was one of Coran's special Paladin lunches, then everything with Sendak happened.

Even though he spent most of it unconscious, it was some really intense stuff, and he could remember more of it than he would admit.

He remembered being slung over Shiro's shoulder, delirious with pain. He could remember shooting Sendak in that brief moment of lucidity. He could remember Keith clasping his hand and that soft smile that was so gentle in the lights. He remembered Keith's arms closing around him when he became too weak to sit up on his own. He remembered being held to Keith's chest as they prepared the healing pod.

Not that he would ever in a million million years admit that to Keith.

It may be petty, but Lance couldn't help but tell Keith he couldn't remember as a way to get back at him for forgetting everything.

Keith forgot them, Lance forgot their bonding moment.

Though, he had almost broke and told Keith that he did remember when he heard that crack in his voice when he mentioned cradling him in his arms.

After all this--avoiding Keith, almost dying, missing his family--Lance was struggling.

Lance...

Lance felt lonely.

He had Hunk and Pidge and the rest of the team, of course, but it wasn't always enough.

The rest of them thought he was homesick when he got all sad and brooding--and he was--but it was more than that.

He was lonely for what he never even thought he'd miss.

He was lonely for his soulmate, soul enemy, soul nemesis. Whatever.

And the worst part was that he was right there in front of him. When he moved, Lance caught glimpses of the past, and when their eyes met, Lance could see his rival from all his lives passed. When Keith trained with his sword in hand, Lance could still feel those fingers tangled with his as they lay bleeding out in that mountain village.

He would find himself catching words on the tip of his tongue that he knew Keith wouldn't understand. He would glance over at Keith sometimes, expecting to find him looking back at a shared joke, but Keith was always unaffected, looking the other way or not paying attention.

It broke Lance's heart in the loneliest way possible.

Sure he had Hunk who he'd told and who believed him, but he couldn't really ever get it. And the only person who could ever really understand, didn't.

Hence the rivalry.

Just because Keith didn't remember them being rivals in the past doesn't mean they couldn't be rivals now.

Sure, it looked kind of random to everyone else, and Keith really seemed like it wasn't what he wanted, but Lance would be damned before he let all of their past fall by the way.

Now days were full of, "Hey, Keith, think you can do better?" and "I bet you wish you were as good as I am!" and "Oh scared that I'll beat you again?" all of which were met with an eye roll. Though, he did still compete, no matter how reluctantly. He fell into their rivalry so naturally, that it made Lance's breath catch in the hollow of his throat.

One day after a training session that had escalated to a full-on wrestling match between the two Paladins, Shiro pulled Lance aside after everyone else had left.

"Lance," he said, his name coming out more as a disappointed sigh than anything else. "What is your deal with Keith?"

Lance crossed his arms defensively over his chest. "There's no deal with Keith. I have no idea what you're talking about."

Shiro looked at him seriously like he was waiting for Lance to not lie to him before he sighed again. (Lance felt like most of his interactions with Shiro involved more sighing than anything else.)

"You know what I'm talking about. Why are you always antagonizing him?" Shiro finally said.

"He's the one starting it!" Lance shouted, throwing his arms in the air.

Again, Shiro looked at him doubtfully, but he kept talking. "Lance," he said sternly. "Keith is your teammate, and you need to start treating him like it or it's going to start affecting the team."

Lance scuffed the toe of his shoe on the ground. He wished that he could just tell Shiro why he was acting like this, why he treated Keith like this, but he couldn't bring himself to.

"Yeah okay. I'll try."

Shiro looked like he didn't really believe him, but he reached over and squeezed his shoulder anyway. "Good work in training today," he said before turning and heading in the direction of the showers.

Lance groaned and dropped down to sit on the floor. He put his head in his hands and said to himself, "This is so lame!"

"What is?" Said an all-too-familiar voice from the doorway.

Lance looked up to find Keith making his way into the room.

"What are you doing here?" Lance asked, not getting up.

Keith shrugged and pulled out his bayard. "Just some extra training."

Lance rolled his eyes. Typical. "Dude, we literally just ended training, why are you training more?"

Keith had already started walking through steps with his sword, jabbing and dodging imaginary opponents. He didn't answer Lance's question, probably waiting for him to get the hint to leave.

Lance didn't move from his spot, instead he just watched Keith go through the motions. His heart hurt as he saw those familiar steps and the grip he had on his sword. He had been the one to teach Keith that. He had been the one to guide his hands and walk him through the steps. He’d been the one to adjust his fingers on the handle and fight alongside him. What hurt the most was that his teaching was still evident, even if Keith didn't remember it was there in every step and every twist of the sword.

Lance swallowed around the lump in his throat before he said, "Where did you learn to sword fight like that?"

Keith faltered for a second like he had forgotten Lance was there, and he shot a glance in Lance's direction from the corner of his eye but didn't stop his movements.

"I had to take fencing at some weird preppy school one of my foster parents sent me to," he said. "But, honestly, I've always been kind of good at it. My teacher called me a natural talent or something."

Lance scoffed. Natural talent was right, but it kind of seemed like cheating to have already mastered a weapon and then learn it again.

Keith stopped when Lance scoffed and turned to face Lance, hands on his hips and an annoyed look on his face. "Look, I know you have some sort of problem with me, but this is getting ridiculous" he said.

Lance's eyes widened and he put his hands out in front of him in surrender. "Wait, I wasn't making fun of your natural talent or whatever, I was just...” He paused and took a breath. “You remind me of someone else."

Keith looked at him doubtfully. "Who?"

Lance closed his eyes for a second and pictured those moonlit nights in the clearing.

"I have a...an old friend who was like you, like, a natural with a sword," he said.

He then patted the space beside him as an offer for Keith to sit beside him. Shiro had told him to make peace and now was as good a time and any.

Keith made his way over and sit cross legged beside Lance. He placed his deactivated bayard on the ground beside him and asked, "What was he like."

"She," Lance said with playful emphasis, "was amazing. She was strong and stubborn and one of the most annoying people I have ever met." Lance stared off wistfully, getting lost in the memory.

Keith sat there for a second before speaking. "You miss her?"

"Yeah," Lance said quietly, like it was a secret. "I never imagined that I would, but I really do."

Keith fidgeted with his bayard. "Maybe, I mean, when we get back to Earth, you'll see her again," he said hesitantly.

Lance looked up to the ceiling with a rueful look. "I can't. We...um, she died a long time ago."

It wasn't a lie. She had died, and who knew if Keith would remember in the next life, maybe what they had was all that Lance would ever get.

His thoughts were interrupted when Keith placed a hand on his arm, so gently that Lance almost couldn't feel it.

Neither of them said anything, but as Lance looked into those familiar indigo eyes full of some emotion he couldn't place, he felt his lip start to wobble.

"I didn't think I would be sad, but I can't help it," Lance said, dropping his face into his hands so that Keith couldn't see the tears start to drip down his cheeks.

Once the tears started, he couldn't stop them, and soon he found himself pressed hesitantly against Keith's chest in an awkward embrace as his shoulders shook with sobs.

"Sometime...I just...I feel so-so lonely, you know?" He said, breath hitching as he forced the words out.

Lance felt more than heard Keith hum a comforting noise, and his hand started rubbing soothing circles on his back.

Lance didn’t know what to do so he just let himself cry. Let himself pretend for a second that he wasn’t really alone.

Once his sobs had faded to the occasional sniffle and the tears dried on his cheeks, Lance pulled back. He knew he probably looked atrocious with his eyes swollen and red, but it was too late to be embarrassed now.

Keith searched Lance's eyes for a long while. Then he opened and closed his mouth like he wanted to speak, but couldn't figure out what to say.

"Lance, I-"

He was interrupted when Shiro walked through the door.

They both jumped to their feet, and Lance immediately faced away from Shiro so that it wasn't so obvious that he had been crying.

Shiro sighed and shook his head at the two. "You better not have been fighting in here."

"We weren't!" Keith shouted a little too loudly.

Shiro narrowed his eyes at them suspiciously and said, "Good. I just came in here to make sure Keith wasn't still training. You need to make sure you get rest."

Keith nodded and then glanced quickly at Lance before making his way from the training deck.

Shiro watched him leave before turning back to Lance who was still angled away.

"You okay, Lance?"

Lance nodded and squeaked out, "Just peachy!" Before he practically ran from the room.

On his way back to his room, Lance felt a flutter in his stomach as remembered being pressed to that strong chest for the second time in this life.

Wait, flutter?

In his stomach?

Oh, no. No way was Lance getting butterflies in his stomach over Keith!

Even as he thought this, he couldn't keep the smile from spreading across his face when he remembered those indigo eyes staring so deeply into his own.

Chapter Text

The third life was different because here they grew up together.

Lance couldn't quite put together when they realized that they had known each other. He remembers them picking up sticks and play fighting and one of them shouting "Like our swords last time." He remembers looking in those familiar eyes and knowing them better than he knew anyone else's.

This life was different because as the memories slowly slotted into place, they remembered together.

This life was also different because their whole tribe knew what they were. They were celebrated from a young age as being two halves of the same soul. Their parents and the elders of the tribe and almost everyone else tried their hardest to shove them together at every opportunity.

Lance can remember being resentful of this when they were younger, he remembers just wanting to be left alone to play, but everyone was always treating them differently.

And then, on top of having a soul pair, Lance could also remember being treated differently for the fact that he was One with Two Spirits. They had the soul of both male and female inside of them. It was an honor, it brought good luck to their family and good luck to their tribe. However, they were a little tired of all the attention.

The boy, their other half, made them so angry all the time.

The elders in the tribe would laugh at the antics between the two and say that they bickered like a couple who had been together for their whole lifetime. Everyone seemed to find their fighting charming until they didn't.

The fighting got old fast and the bickering began to grate on everyone's nerves until they were being scolded at every turn for their behavior.

The Two Spirit would trip the boy while he was carrying a jug of water and the boy would chase them around until they were both rolling around on the ground punching and scratching. The boy would pull their hair, and they would shout at him. The Two Spirit would throw a punch and the boy would tackle them to the ground. One would kick or spit or yell and the other would throw it right back.

When they had both been young, their behavior was met with giggles and fold looks, but that quickly turned to a sharp rap on both of their knuckles or being sent inside with no supper as they got older.

This lasted well into adulthood where one would goad the other or hit them or throw something until it reached a breaking point.

The tribe elders brought the two together. They tied a leather band between their wrists and fastened it until it couldn't be removed. They told them both that they had to go into the wilderness tied together until they learned to get along.

They were given supplies and just enough time to say goodbye to their families before they left.

As the sounds of the village faded behind them, the One with Two Spirits said, "This is all your fault."

The boy sneered in their direction. "Shut up."

They shook their head in disbelief. "This would't have happened if you weren't so stubborn and annoying," they continued.

The boy shoved their shoulder, knocking them to the side; however, because of the leather band between them, the boy was knocked down after them and they both ended up in a heap on the ground.

"Get off me!" The Two Spirit said. "You're crushing me!"

"You started this!" The boy shouted. "Just leave me alone."

The two spirit shook their head, anger building in their chest. "I'll leave you alone when you leave me alone!"

Then before they knew it, they were both rolling on the ground, biting and scratching and kicking.

They wrestled until they both lay breathing heavily draped over one another, bruises and shallow cuts forming as they caught their breath.

"I think we got along better last time," the boy said from the ground.

The Two Spirit snorted. "Yeah but you were prettier back then, too," they said.

The boy punched them in the shoulder for that. "Yeah, well you were less annoying back then."

They were both silent for a little while as the sun began to set and the sounds of the forest around them grew a little bit louder.

The boy nudged his companion's side. "We should probably go build a fire so that we don't freeze tonight."

Once the fire had been built and their supper eaten, the two lay side by side looking up at the stars.

"I want to go there one day," the Two Spirit said.

The boy glanced over at them. "Where?"

They pointed up and said, "To the stars."

The stars twinkled above them and the moon hung bright and swollen in the sky.

"I don't think that's a place you can go," the boy said. He squinted up at the stars. "Is it?"

The Two Spirit raised their hand like they could hold the stars in their palm. "It has to be. Why else would I want to go there so badly?"

They lay there in the quiet again until the boy spoke. "Maybe one day, if we live enough lives, we'll be born in the stars."

They glanced over at the boy with a curious look on their face.

"What?" the boy asked, embarrassed by the look.

"You really think we'll be born together?" They asked.

They boy shrugged. "We always are aren't we?"

They though of the boy and his eyes. When he was the maiden by the beach with blood on her knuckles. When he was the girl with the sword with the sound of her breaths rattling though her lungs.

"I guess we are." They said.

The two lay there side by side, tethered by more than the leather cord between them until they fell asleep.

When they both woke up the next day, the boy said, "Do you think it's like they said, that we are destined to love each other for eternity? That our souls are made for each other?"

The Two Spirit shrugged. "We've never been lovers before," they said, fiddling with a stick in their hands. "Maybe we are destined in another way."

The boy tilted his head to the side in confusion. "Like what?"

They shrugged again. "Maybe we're destined to be enemies."

It made sense. They had never particularly liked each other. Even in the last life when they had mostly been friends, they had still fought most of the time.

The boy's face scrunched up as he thought it over in his head. "I don't think we're enemies, though. I don't want to kill you or anything."

They nodded when the boy said this. "Okay, then maybe we are destined to be rivals. Rivals don't want to kill each other but they definitely don't get along."

The boy stuck out his hand for the Two Spirit to clasp in their own. "Rivals."

The two decided to stay in the forest for a few days as they made a plan on how to pretend to get along so that they could go back into the village. When they got back, the elders cut the band between them, and no one doubted them.

They still bickered and messed with each other, but it was less aggressive. They challenged each other. No one would call them best friends, but everyone could tell there was something special in their bond.

In this life they both lived long and well.

They died when they were very old of the same sickness that swept through their village and many around them.

As they lay among the other sick, the man said, "Maybe we'll be born as stars next."

The Two Spirit smiled when they heard this.

"Maybe so."

They glanced over at the man, not surprised to find him already looking at them.

“I still don’t like you,” they said, with no malice in their tone.

The man just smiled in response. “I know.”

Chapter Text

Things got a little bit better after his talk with Keith.

Not a lot better, but it was a start. He still struggled with that weird lingering loneliness that he couldn't shake, but things around the castle started going more smoothly. There were more missions, more planets to free, more alien dignitaries to meet, and that really cut down on Lance's "be sad and brood alone in his room" time.

It also helped that the team was starting to work better together. Shiro had found his stride as leader and they were all falling into their own roles, and the team as a whole was getting along a lot better than they had been in the beginning.

Of course, Lance still picked fights with Keith. He made sure to keep up with their rivalry, but it started to become less antagonistic and more like they were trying to bring out the best in each other.

Lance was trying to start fresh with Keith—this person who he knew almost as well as himself and yet apparently not at all. It seemed stupid to keep up with things the way they had always been if it was one-sided. Keith didn't want to fight the way that Lance remembered them always fighting so Lance decided to roll with it.

They were less likely to end an argument wrestling on the ground, throwing punches, as they were to nudge each other's shoulders and exchange fond smiles.

They started spending more time training together and learning combination moves and figuring out how to work together. It was nice.

Lance could tell that the others were starting to notice, too. He could see Shiro's approving nod when they executed a tricky maneuver together. He could just feel Pidge's eye roll whenever they had one of their super intense, high-stakes thumb war battles. And Lance just knew Allura was gossiping with the mice about them. Coran was very loud about their newfound camaraderie, wiping a proud tear from his eye as he waxed poetic on how well the old Red and Blue Paladins worked together.

Then there was Hunk.

Hunk was the worst. At least to Lance.

Lance assumed he wasn't saying anything to Keith, but whenever Hunk and Lance hung out together, he never hesitated to bring it up.

"So you and Keith, huh?" He would ask.

Lance always blushed and rolled his eyes. "It's not what you think, we're just getting along now that he doesn't remember our age-old rivalry."

Hunk would just wiggle his eyebrows suggestively and say, "Oh yeah, sure it is, I totally believe you, buddy."

It was equal parts annoying and embarrassing.

It was embarrassing because Lance still kept encountering those butterflies in his stomach when their eyes would meet or when Keith's hand would graze his own while they walked down the hall or when Keith brushed his hair behind his ear during training.

And then...

Then, Lance started feeling guilty. He felt like he was somehow replacing his rival with Keith, like he was betraying the only person who he had always been there with him. Every time he joked with Keith or smiled in his direction or laughed with him, he felt terrible. It kept him us some nights, thinking about all he was losing.

This...whatever that he had going with Keith felt so right, yet it was also empty in a way that neither Keith nor Lance could help. Empty in a way that Keith would never know about. Empty in a way that no one else would ever be able to understand.

But, before he could get too sad and broody about it, there ended up being a mission.

Allura called them all together when they received a distress beacon from a small planet in a nearby solar system.

The mission ended up not even being that difficult, and it wasn't nearly as dangerous as most of their missions were. They liberated the planet quickly and efficiently. Apparently, the Galra hadn't though to waste more than a couple of small ships for the tiny planet with few resources.

Once they had all made it back to the castle, Allura's voice sounded through the castle.

"Paladins, please report to the control room immediately!"

Lance turned to Keith as he ripped off his helmet. "Race you!" He shouted before taking off at a dead sprint.

He heard Keith shout, "Hey, no fair!" before he heard steps bounding after him, echoing through the metal hallways.

By the time they made it to the control room, they were both huffing and puffing, arms around each other as they both struggled to stay up on their tired, shaky legs.

"Has it always been so far to the control room?" Lance asked between breaths. "I feel like it usually isn't."

Keith nodded from his side but didn't say anything, still panting.

Allura just looked at them like she wanted to scold them but couldn't find anything wrong with what they were doing.

"Thank you for being so eager to hear what I had to say," she said at last.

Lance and Keith looked at each other at the same time. After a few ticks, Lance realized they had been looking at each other for a little longer than normal, so he looked away quickly and cleared his throat, praying that the blush he felt crawling across his cheeks wasn't visible.

When the door opened behind them, they dropped their arms from each other's shoulders so fast it was like they had been burned.

Lance heard Pidge and Hunk snigger behind him, and he felt himself blush even more.

"Paladins," Allura said, drawing everyone's attention from the two. "Congratulations on a very successful mission." She clapped her hands together. "The planet we have just liberated has asked for the honor of hosting a feast in our honor tonight and I think it would be a nice break for us."

Shiro nodded along with what she said. "I agree with the princess. I think this will be good for the team."

"Yes," Coran said, "but also remember to be on your best behavior! This is also a way that Voltron's name and mission get spread around, so we have to be sure to leave a good impression!"

They were quickly dismissed to go shower and change into their everyday clothes. Allura had landed the castle-ship near the palace that housed the planet's royalty, and they were quickly shown into the banquet hall when they made it to the palace.

By the time they walked through the doors, the party was already in full swing.

Fashionably late, Lance thought with a grin.

The local population was very tall, the shortest being more than a foot taller than Hunk, and their skin was all different shades of a pearlescent shimmer. It was mesmerizing watching them walk and flit and dance around the room.

The local who was showing them where to go said that the festivities had started as soon as the last Galra had been removed from their planet, and that made Lance feel all warm inside. It made him feel like they were really making a difference in people's lives.

They were quickly shown to their seats, a round table all to themselves that had two extra empty seats that were adorned with flowers and flowing cloth.

A minute or two after they had sat down, a one note chime sounded around the room, and all the aliens took their seats. One of the aliens, very tall and light blue in color, stood at the head of their table and addressed the room in a high-pitched, but resonant voice.

"We are here today to honor these Paladins of Voltron who have liberated our planet and many others from the tyranny of the Galra Empire."

There was thunderous applause around the room.

The alien raised his hand to silence the audience before he spoke again. "Here to bless the Paladins with luck and good fortune in their continued fight against the Galra are our very own Haih'haraath."

Again there was thunderous applause as the announcer gestured to the two aliens who were making their way into the room. They wore very elaborate flowing clothing, and they both wore the same crystal headdresses that set them apart from the other aliens in the room.

Lance though that they must be the royalty of this planet. They certainly looked royal enough.

The two made their way to the round table where the Paladins were and took the two empty seats.

They made the proper introductions as the servers brought out the first course.

As they all talked, Lance marveled at the way that the two aliens moved and interacted with each other. It was like they were one being, moving together and finishing each other’s sentences and glancing at each other like every thought they had was the same

Lance tuned into the conversation when Pidge asked, "So what exactly is a Haih'haraath?"

The two giggled together over her pronunciation, then the one on the right said, "I am not sure what you would call it in your language, but it translates roughly to 'Ever-Love' for us."

The other one continued when their partner left off. "It means we have lived all our lives together."

At this, Lance's heart jumped to his throat, and he jerked so hard that his knee knocked into the bottom of the table, and he spilled some of the liquid from the cup in his hand.

He ignored the glare Allura sent in his direction as he subtly tried to gauge Keith's reaction from the corner of his eye.

Keith didn't seem to be paying attention. He sat rigid in his chair, obviously still uncomfortable being around so many strangers.

Lance distantly heard Hunk say, "Oh so you experience reincarnation on this planet?" He sent very unsubtle glances in Lance's direction as he asked this.

The one on the left answered first. "No, it is just our experience. All of the others around us live only one life."

"We have met others like us," said the other, "but never on our planet."

Allura was nodding, eyes wide with intrigue as they started telling tales about their lives. Shiro was politely listening, and Coran was stroking his mustache as they talked.

Lance hoped his face was as neutral as he was trying to make it while it felt like his heart was going to beat out of his chest, as his thoughts raced around his head. He'd never met anyone else like him and Keith. Never. But it made sense. It was a big universe and there were bound to be other soulmates out there.

His palms were beginning to sweat as the aliens continued, and he found that he couldn't take in any deep breaths.

Lance heard a chair scrape loudly against the floor, and only registered it had been his own after he realized that he was now standing. "Excuse me,” he said before he quickly made his way to the balcony that he knew would be empty.

The air outside was cool and crisp, and the breeze blowing made him pull his jacket a little tighter around him. The air seemed to calm him down a little bit and the chill helped him breathe in slower breaths.

He was mostly okay by the time he heard footsteps behind him.

"I'm okay, Hunk, just a little too much. I never really-"

He cut off when he turned to find that Keith was the one to follow him.

"Oh," he squeaked out, "hey, Keith."

Keith gave a small smile before he made his way over to Lance's side.

He was quiet for a second before he spoke.

"It was a bit much for me too."

Lance's turned his head sharply in Keith's direction.

"The party," Keith continued. "Too many people, er...aliens."

Lance slumped a little but didn't say anything. He didn't know if he could without desperately telling Keith everything.

After a few minutes of silence between them, Keith said, "Lance, I-I have to..." He trailed off. "Lance you have to know-" He paused and worried his lip between his teeth.

Keith sighed before he said, "Never mind. I'll see you inside."

He still didn't respond as Keith turned back to the party.

Lance felt dumb. He had already decided to put this behind him, to try to move on, but here at the first mention of it, he falls completely apart. It was pathetic.

Lance didn't know how long he stayed there on the balcony trying to calm himself down. Long enough for the air to get colder. Long enough for him to start shivering a little bit.

He was just contemplating going back inside when a voice said from behind him, "How are you, Blue Paladin?"

Lance tried to hide the fact that the alien had surprised him and turned around to find one of the two aliens with the headdress on their head.

There was a lump in his throat, but he spoke around it. "You're one of the Haih'haraath, right?" He asked, clumsy with the pronunciation.

They nodded and moved to stand beside Lance. They towered over him, but still somehow seemed delicate with their shimmery skin.

I might never get another opportunity to talk to someone who knows what I’ve been through, he thought.

"Have you ever-" He cut himself off and fiddled with his hands while he figured out what to ask. "Do you and your...partner remember each other every life, like every time?"

They looked at him curiously. "Yes, not all at once, but we eventually find each other in every life and remember."

Lance sighed. "Have you ever met a pair of, we call them soulmates, where one of them forgets the other?" His hands were trembling so he shoved them into his pockets.

He was terrified to hear the answer but he had to know.

The alien shook their head, and the jewels in their headdress clinked together like a wind chime. "I have never heard of such a thing happening. It sounds terrible, and I could not imagine the pain." They paused and leaned down to search Lance's face. "Why do you ask?"

Lance could feel his lower lip wobbling, but he managed to keep his tears from falling. "Because I am a-a." he stumbled over the word, "Haih'haraath, and my soulmate doesn't remember me."

The alien at his side gasped, and Lance’s hands clenched into fists in his pockets.

"You're sure they don’t remember?"

Lance nodded and looked up to the stars, still struggling to keep his tears in check. He had already cried so much over this, and he refused to cry about it now.

The alien placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "I cannot imagine, I am so sorry," they said. "Who is your pair, someone back on your homeworld?"

Lance couldn't help himself from glancing through the glass that separated them from the banquet hall and searching out Keith.

"The Red Paladin?"

Another nod.

They let go of his shoulder and grabbed his hand from his pocket.

They didn't say anything else, apparently at a loss for words, but they stood there, with Lance's hand in theirs as Lance tried his hardest to keep his tears at bay.

Eventually they squeezed Lance's hand and said, "You are far stronger than I, and I wish you the very best."

Lance heard them walk back into the banquet hall.

After a while, Shiro's voice sounded through the doorway, "It's time to head back to the castle-ship," he said.

Lance turned with a sigh and made his way over to Shiro.

Shiro cleared his throat and said, "Are you okay? You kind of ran out back there."

Lance shrugged. "It's just personal stuff, you know?"

Shiro stared at him like he could figure out what was on his mind just by looking, but eventually he just gave up and put a hand on Lance’s shoulder.

"You know you can come to me with anything if you need to talk."

Lance forced a smile. "Of course, oh fearless leader-o-mine!"

He shrugged Shiro’s hand off and went to meet the others.

On the way back to the castle, Allura was grinning, still spinning, re-enacting the dancing she had been doing, and Shiro looked like he was about to pass out he was so tired.

Hunk was carrying armloads of the food they had served "For the ship replicators!" and Keith was sulking with his arms crossed tightly across his chest.

Lance leaned over to Pidge beside him. "What's Keith's deal?"

She snorted. "I think it's because a certain Blue Paladin was flirting with a pretty alien out on the balcony the whole night."

Lance looked from Pidge to Keith a few times before a bashful smile spread across his face, and the butterflies started up again.

Okay, so maybe this life wasn't all bad.

He made his way over to Keith and slung an arm over his shoulder. "Hey, Keithy-boy, what's got you down?"

Keith's frown turned into a playfully annoyed expression. "Maybe because I was jealous that I didn't get to skip out on the party like someone else I know."

Lance nudged him and Keith nudged him back, laughing a little.

Yeah, this life wasn't so bad at all.

Chapter Text

In the next life, they didn't meet until they were well into adulthood.

Here, Lance had been born on an island. He didn't remember where, but it was another warm and happy life. He didn't remember who he'd been in his village or what his parents did, but he remembered what his mother looked like in this life. Her eyes were so kind, and her smile was the gentlest thing he'd ever seen.

He was thrilled about being near the sea again, and it was almost impossible for anyone to tear him away from it.

It was funny because in this life, his second by the sea, he met his other half on the sands of his favorite beach again.

The boy, well more of a man at this point, old enough to have had his own family for years now (if he’d had any interest in that kind of thing) had been swimming along his favorite stretch of beach when he saw a foreign shape bobbing in the water.

He swam towards it, curious and cautious.

Once he got close enough, he realized that it was a man lying over a piece of driftwood, unconscious.

He grabbed the man from the driftwood and held onto him to keep him from slipping below the surface.

The islander swam quickly, using his long limbs to drag the man along behind him until they were on the sand where the waves barely brushed them.

The man was lying there soaked, dressed in ostentatious ruffles and covered in bruises and cuts. The islander glanced over the man and one thought crossed his mind: pirate

. He knew their kind, and he shivered at the thought of one of those large ships crossing the horizon to their island.

The man took on the appearance of this pirate. The pirate was smaller than he was, but he was definitely built more firm. He had a gently sloping nose, thick eyebrows, strong, sturdy arms, muscles hard from years on a ship. The man's pale skin was burnt and blistered, peeling from having been exposed to too much sun, and his lips were flaking from dehydration.

He lay his head to the man's chest to hear his heartbeat, but it was impossible to hear through all the layers he was wearing.

The islander sighed at the uselessness of such unnecessary clothes.

He quickly ripped as many layers off that he could until the pirate was down to the tightly wrapped cloth that he wore underneath his shirts and thick jacket.

The islander couldn't find a way to rip the cloth, and it was too close to his skin to cut it off, so he left it at that and searched out the man's heartbeat.

His heart was still beating, but from where he was, he could tell that the man's breathing was restricted, probably by the damp cloth around his chest.

The islander decided just to risk cutting it off.

He left the pirate's side side to retrieve his knife before dropping back beside him to slip the blade underneath the fabric. As the fabric split under his knife, the pirate finally gasped in a deep, desperate breath and opened his eyes.

In a split second, the pirate sat up and scooted backwards, arms gripping the fabric at his chest. "Don't touch me!" He shouted.

The islander held his knife out in front of him, wary of the pirate.

They both looked up at the same time and when their eyes met, they paused for a long while.

Then, the islander dropped his knife, and the pirate let out a bark of laughter.

"Not quite the stars, but it's something." He said, sitting back on his ass, fabric still all bunched in his arms.

The islander shook his head and ran a hand through his hair, still wet from his swim. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"

This was the longest they'd ever lived before finding each other. It was one of the reasons that the islander hadn't really ever been able to get settled in this life. It was like he was still waiting on something. On someone.

The pirate grinned at him and then looked around at the clothes strewn along the beach. He looked up at the islander and said, "If you wanted to undress me so badly you could have done it a few lives ago if you'd just asked nicely," and winked in the other's direction.

The islander felt his face flushing, and he dismissed what the other had said by flicking sand in the pirate's direction.

He'd always heard that pirates were crude, but knowing it and having comments directed towards him were two different things.

The pirate then looked down at the bundle of cloths he was holding to his chest and sighed loudly. "You really ruined this, didn't you?"

The islander let out an offended noise. "If I hand't ruined your weird unnecessary clothes then you would still be suffocating. Also, you never thanked me for dragging you from the ocean," he said and then pointed a finger at all the clothes lying in a pile and the cloths clutched in the pirate's arms. "What even are all those shirts and cloths for, anyway? That's more fabric than any person should ever wear."

The pirate shrugged. "Most of them were just for the look," he said. Then he glanced down at the dripping wet cloths clutched to his chest. He bit his lip as he wrestled with something for a second before he tipped the cloth down a bit to give the islander a quick view of his chest. "These were for something else."

"Oh," the islander said as his brows furrowed, not quite understanding, "so you're-"

"A man," the pirate interrupted. "I'm a man." He gestured to the cloth he still clutched to his chest, "And this makes me feel more like one.” He paused and then grinned. "So of course this was the only thing you decided to chop up."

The islander made another offended noise. "I was saving your life!" He shouted. "Why were you even floating in the water like that anyway?"

The pirate paused and then started gathering his clothes from the ground around him. He didn't look up as he spoke.

“There was a storm. I was thrown overboard."

"I'm sorry." The islander was unsure of what else to say.

The pirate sighed and looked up. "They probably don’t even know to look for me. Everyone probably thinks i’m dead." He gave a rueful smile and a one-shouldered shrug. “It’s not the first family I’ve ever lost.”

And that was something that really resonated with the islander. He put his hand on the pirate's shoulder and said, "Well, you'll always have me." He cracked a smile. "I may not like you, but it seems like we're stuck together."

They shared a meaningful look before the pirate glanced across the beach and into the forest.

"It looks like we're really stuck together now. Look at this place."

The islander glared at his companion. "If you say one bad word about my island, I will drag you back out into the sea and leave you there."

The pirate let out a laugh and put his arms out in front of him in surrender. "I'm sorry. I won't do it again. This is a lovely place."

The pirate quickly got redressed in the clothes of his that hadn't been sliced open, and once he was dressed, the islander pointed to the interior of the island.

"I guess I need to go introduce you to the rest of the village." He winced and said, like he was trying and failing to be delicate, "They might give you a hard time at first because pirates have a really bad reputation around here."

The pirate gave a bitter grin. "I'm used to it," he said. "Believe it or not, pirates have a really bad reputation everywhere."

The islander laughed as he turned to start leading the pirate through the trees. "So you can stay with me until you ship comes for you, and if one never does, we'll figure it out."

It took a while, almost a year, but a ship did come for him.

Maybe it was fate or good luck, but one day those white sails crossed the horizon and the pirate could barely hold on his glee as he recognized the ship.

They had just been looking for somewhere to restock and do some repairs, and they happened to stumble upon the island.

The reunion was loud and jovial.

Once they caught sight of their lost companion, it seemed like nothing could calm them down.

They exchanged rough embraces and loud recounting of adventures and sips from each other’s flasks as the days went by.

They struck a deal with the islanders to stay on the beach and away from their village in exchange for food.

As it got closer and closer to the time when they would have to leave, the pirate kept glancing between his rival and the crew until one day, shortly before they left, the islander said, “What makes you think I’m not coming with you?”

The pirate smiled so wide it threatened to split his face in two.

”I think it’s time for me to spread my wings and see what else the world has to offer than this island.” He nudged the pirate. “Besides, I think someone needs to put you in your place. I’m sure you’re getting a big head without your rival to knock you down a few pegs.”

And so when the ship departed, it took both of them with promises to return every so often to visit.

As they sailed, it became obvious that the sea was where the islander belonged. If the pirate was made to have a sword in his hand, the islander was made for the ocean.

They sailed for years on the same ship, fighting and laughing and drinking and living side by side.

The pirate was bitter to have finally found something that the islander was far more naturally gifted at than he was. The islander teased him relentlessly over it, and the rest of the crew thought their bickering was endearing. The animosity kept their rivalry alive throughout the remainder of this life.

Of all the lives to die young, this seemed like a likely candidate, but they both ended up living well past their prime.

They weren’t quite old men yet when an attack by the British navy brought them down.

They fought back to back until the very end, one with a pistol, the other with his sword.

”I still don’t like you!” The islander yelled over the sound of their fight.”

The pirate just laughed and kept fighting.

Chapter Text

"Hunk, for the thousandth time, no, I'm not going to tell Keith!"

Lance groaned as he covered his face with his hands. He send a glare at Hunk through his fingertips, but Hunk had that stubborn look on his face that meant he was certain that he was right.

They were in Lance's room and Hunk was giving out his patented unsolicited advice.

"I'm just saying, I think that it would make all of this better," Hunk said. He had been trying to give Lance the same advice since they had left that planet with the other soulmate pair. "You haven't been yourself recently and everyone's starting to notice."

Lance sniffed, indignant. "Well, that's none of your business, none of anyone's business."

Hunk sighed. "We're your friends, and we're worried about you."

Lance knew that Hunk thought he was being helpful, but he didn't really want to talk about this.

"Hunk, stop bringing this up or I am going to have to revoke your best friend status," he said. It was an empty threat, he could never replace Hunk, but he wanted Hunk to know that he was being serious.

Hunk gasped dramatically. "That's cold, man, but alright. Just know in the end you're going to wish you'd taken my advice."

Lance shook his head. "Go bother Pidge," he said, shooing Hunk from his room. "You've already pestered me enough."

Hunk narrowed his eyes at Lance suspiciously, and Lance rolled his eyes.

"You should at least tell Keith how you feel."

Lance let out a squawk and flailed dramatically, while shouting loud denials. "No, no no! You've got it all wrong, buddy. There are no feelings here." He let out a nervous laugh. "The only feelings I have are of pure rivalry and hatred, lots of hatred!"

It was Hunk's turn to roll his eyes as Lance continued his tirade. "Sure, dude, whatever you say."

Lance stopped shouting and glared at Hunk. "I'm serious, there's no feelings."

Hunk nodded. "Yeah sure, buddy, I believe you."

Lance knew sarcasm when he heard it.

"I'm serious!"

"Don't worry I know." Hunk held his hands up in surrender, but there was a smirk on his face.

Lance threw his pillow at Hunk and shouted, "Scram, and don't come back until you admit that I'm always right and you're always wrong!"

Hunk stepped out the door. "Oh, I guess that I'm never coming back, then."

The door slid shut before Lance could respond, but he could hear Hunk's laughter echoing through the hall.

Lance got up to retrieve his pillow and then he sat on his bed to think.

Maybe he should tell Keith, not about their past. He doubted he'd ever tell Keith about that. But maybe he should tell Keith about his feelings.

He'd denied it to Hunk, but he really did have feelings for Keith. A lot of feelings. A lot of strong feelings. As much as he tried to fight it, as much as he tried to deny it, there was something between them. No matter how they were in the past, no matter the memories Lance still felt he was somehow betraying, Lance still had feelings for Keith.

And, unless he was mistaken, Keith felt something for him too.

There had been too many lingering touches and soft smiles, too much meaningful eye contact to dismiss completely.

And didn't that thought set butterflies loose in his stomach and a blush to his cheeks.

YeahLance thought, I'm going to tell Keith.

He nodded to himself and then made his way out of his room in the direction of the training deck.

Now or never.

When he got to the training deck, however, the only person there was Shiro who was balanced in a handstand, eyes closed and concentrated.

"Have you seen Keith?" Lance blurted out.

Shiro jerked in surprise and took a few desperate, wobbly steps on his hands, trying to stop himself from falling, before he crashed to the floor.

Lance winced and creeped backwards toward the door as Shiro let out a pained moan from the ground.

"I'm just going to take that as a no," he said before he turned and ran back into the hall.

He stopped running once he got close to the kitchen, and he popped his head in to see if Keith was in there.

What he got instead was the image of Hunk and Coran standing beside the goo machine engaged in a very elaborate angry staring contest.

Lance took a wary step into the room.

"Hey, guys, I was wondering if you had seen Keith?" He asked hesitantly, afraid of what would happen if he broke the tension.

Hunk didn't take his glare off of Coran, but he said, "Lance, I can only assume you are looking for him because you are taking my advice, so trust me, I am all for it." He paused to glare even harder at Coran. "But, as you can see, I am in a very important discussion with Coran about who should be making our food, so I can't help you look for him right now."

"Have you checked the training deck, Lance?" Corn asked, also not looking away from their stare-down.

"Yep," Lance said, staring at the two like they were crazy (which, obviously they were). "Okay, I'm just going to keep looking."

Lance searched everywhere he could think. He wasn't on the observation deck, or the lion hangars. Pidge was passed out over her laptop, snoring very loudly, so she was obviously no help, Allura was in her rooms and hadn't seen him, he wasn't even at the pool.

Lance decided that maybe the universe was trying to tell him that maybe right now wasn't the best time.

Thanks a lot universe, he thought as he made his way to the sleeping quarters to check Keith's room in a last ditch effort.

Imagine Lance's surprise when he turned the corner to see Keith pacing back and forth in front of Lance's door.

Lance saw him walk up to the door and raise a hand to knock before he shook his head and continued pacing.

Lance felt a little nervous and a lot excited when he thought about what Keith was so anxious about telling Lance.

Is he planning on telling me the same thing I'm planning on telling him?

Lance cleared his throat to announce his presence, and Keith was so surprised by the noise that he honest to god jumped like a startled cat.

When he saw Lance standing there, his eyes widened. "I was just passing by," he said, unprompted.

Lance gave a sly grin. "Do you normally walk by my door 30 times when you're just passing by?" He asked.

He watched with something like giddiness as that bright red flush make it's way over Keith's face.

Lance sauntered over to Keith with his hands casually stuffed in his pockets. His heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest, but it was also funny to mess with Keith like this.

They were soon standing right in front of each other with barely a foot of space between them. Lance could tell that Keith's hands were shaking and he gulped, his mouth suddenly dry.

There was a long pause like they were deciding who was going to speak first.

"So what were you needing me for?" Lance asked, suddenly breathless.

Keith took in a large shaky breath. His eyes were wide and wild, and he was obviously struggling with what to say. "I have a confession to make."

Lance's heart felt like it stopped beating and his eyes were desperately searching Keith's.

"I remember," Keith whispered, and then his eyes widened in shock after he had said that, like that wasn't actually what he'd meant to say.

There were a lot of feelings that rushed through Lance--relief, anger, indignation. So many feelings piled up in him it was like his brain was shutting down and the only thought that was running through his head was he remembers, he remembers, he remembers over and over again.

But before he could gather his thoughts enough to find something to say, Keith continued, stumbling over his words until what came out was, "I remember you from back at the Garrison."

And all Lance's thoughts ground to a halt, and he stared at Keith with a blank look.

He stared for long enough to make Keith start fidgeting nervously with his jacket.

"I'm sorry I lied," Keith said hesitantly. "I don't really know why I did it, and then too much time had passed for me to correct myself and I-"

Lance held up his hand to make Keith stop with his rambling.

"It's okay."

Keith looked at him in surprise. "Really?"

No not really, Lance thought. Not with everything else you've forgotten.

This had really thrown him off. He didn't know what to feel about Keith's confession. It was like he had just gone through a million different emotions in a split second, and his mind was still reeling.

"Yeah it's okay." Lance forced a laugh that he could barely hear over the ringing in his ears. "Just don't do it again and we're good."

Keith gave a weak smile. "Like I'd ever be able to forget you again," he said, and then something like guilt flashed in his eyes. "Sorry again."

Lance shrugged and then pointed his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of his room. "Well, if that's all you have to say, I'm going to go and take myself a well-deserved nap." He then smiled at Keith, hoping it looked causal but fearing that it looked forced. "You owe me for lying, just so you know. Like washing my lion for me or something."

Keith didn't really deserve that, but Lance was just trying to find something to say that sounded normal.

"Consider it done," Keith said with a relieved smile.

Lance turned to go into his room before Keith spoke out behind him.

"Actually, Lance, I..." He trailed off.

"Yeah?" Lance prompted.

"Sleep well," Keith finished weakly.

When the door slid shut behind Lance, he dropped to the floor and buried his face in his knees.

He wasn't crying, but he was definitely feeling overwhelmed.

"He remembers me from the Garrison," he choked out, incredulous, words followed by a bitter laugh.

He sat there in the floor until Hunk came and knocked on his door for supper.

Lance stood on shaky legs and felt his resolve build. He couldn't let this throw him. He was still going to tell Keith how he felt, no matter what.

Chapter Text

In the next life, Lance could remember being full of righteous fury most of the time and being terrified some of the time.

He couldn't quite place why he felt either of these things, but he can remember that the terror came first and the fury followed.

In this life, he could remember being the daughter of the town parish. And he remembers hating how restricted he felt.

She was brought up to be quite and demure. Lance can remember the itchy skirts and how uncomfortable the church pews were. He could remember those eyes that still made his skin prickle when he thought about them.

He could also remember those terrible hands on his skin and those eyes, greedy with something horrifying, roving over his body.

He remembers sinking the bread knife from their kitchen into that church elder's throat and then running and never looking back.

That had been the day she was truly born in this life. That was the day she chose her own name, the day she decided who she was.

She felt the call to a justice that no one else cared about, and she was good at it. All her lives before had trained her for this.

Her name became famous in the neighboring towns as she went about her newfound calling.

She wrote it in blood and vengeance on every doorpost of every man she visited in the night.

Tales of her killings traveled far and near. Reaching those who would fall to her sword and those who would seek her protection.

It took her years, but she used her skill to create an underground for all those young women and boys who had been hurt in the same way she had been. They knew how to contact her, how to ask for help, and she always delivered.

She thought of the terrified eyes of that temple maiden from her first life, and she knew that she was doing the right thing.

She ended up becoming a highwayman of sorts. She took from the stories she had heard as a child, the story of the man who would steal from the rich and give to the poor. She stole from those who were cruel and unkind and would use the money to protect those who needed it-the sick, the poor, the hurt, the marginalized, the people the church deemed sinners beyond saving.

She was a little nervous about meeting her rival in this life. What would they think of her life now, but she knew that not even they could stop her from protecting those who needed her.

And then she finally found him. They ran into each other in a dark alleyway in a dingy town.

Their eyes met over the muzzle of his musket.

He was one of the militia, sent to stop her. Sent to take her in and have her hanged.

His fingers faltered on the trigger, but she wasn't about to let him get the upper hand. She was on him in an instant, sword at his throat, gun thrown to the ground beside them.

They stared at each other for a long moment. He was breathing heavy, searching her eyes like he was trying to come to grips with what he had seen.

"Could you have done it," she asked, pressing the sword ever so slightly harder to his throat.

His eyes widened.

"What?"

"Could you have pulled the trigger even after you knew it was me?"

"I wouldn't. I couldn't!" He shook his head and that slight movement was enough to cause his skin to split a little under her sword.

She noticed this and pulled a little, still wary.

"But you would have if it wasn't me?"

He looked into her eyes as his hand came up to brush against the small cut that rested right under his adam's apple. "I'm not sure. Maybe?"

She bared her teeth at him. "How could you? Don't you know what I do?"

His eyes never wavered from hers.

"I know enough. I know you kill innocents. I know-"

She pressed her sword back. "You know nothing! Innocents!" She scoffed. "I protect those who no one else will protect. I protect those who suffer at the hands of those supposed innocents! I protect those who suffer like I did!"

He tried to take a wary step back, but she followed him until his back it the wall of the alley.

"I know you remember what that kind of helplessness feels like. How can you condemn me for this?" She hissed, face inches from his.

"I didn't know," he rasped out. "They told me you were a killer, a murderer. Nothing else."

She searched those eyes that she knew better than her own. She searched for the truth that she already knew she would find.

"Well, now that you know what they are and what I am, are you going to join me?"

He drew in a ragged breath as his eyes widened at her words.

"I...I can't."

Her eyes burned with fury.

"Can't what? Let me go? Can't abandon the very soldiers who call me a villain for protecting the people they terrorize? Can't keep people from suffering at the hands of those with power? If you can't do that, then I never knew you at all."

There was quiet again as her words settled around them.

She backed up and sheathed her sword. "Either follow me now or never see me again. Your choice." She turned her back and started walking out of the alleyway.

She heard rustling behind her and a loud thud. She turned to see that he had dropped his musket and shed the military coat that he'd been wearing.

He jogged up to her side, and she saw a resolve settle in his eyes.

"I'm on your side, always," he said.

She rolled her eyes and shoved at his shoulder.

She patted the sword at her side. "Do you remember how to use one of these or so you need to go back and grab that musket?"

He shoved her back.

"If I remember correctly, I was better than you."

She laughed and said, "Well, you're probably rusty."

They were a team in this life. Terrors in their own right. Champions of the weak.

They fought a lot between each other too. The highway woman pushing the other to do more, to be more vicious, to be less forgiving. The former militia man trying to reel his partner in, to keep her from going too far, from crossing too many lines. They were volatile together. One raised too strictly and one having raised herself. They argued frequently and loudly, about anything and everything.

They weren’t the perfect pair, but they didn’t leave each other’s sides, even when they were so mad at each other that they couldn’t breathe.

They died young in this life too, in a fight they were never meant to win.

As they stood on the gallows, the man turned to his companion.

"There's something I need to tell you."

She angled her head to look at him, "Hmm?"

He sighed, and in lieu of speaking, he reached out a hand and grabbed hers.

"Never mind," he said with a gentle smile. "I'll tell you next time."

She squeezed her their hands together and stood up straight and tall.

Her eyes were full of that righteous fury up until the moment she died.

Chapter Text

Lance was going to tell Keith how he felt.

No really, he was, he just hadn't gotten around to it yet.

After that first time he'd tried to admit it, he just hadn't found the right time.

There had been missions and alliance stuff and helping Coran around the castle.

No, he wasn't coming up with excuses, there hadn't been time.

Okay, maybe there had been some time.

It was hard, though. Every time he gathered up the courage to tell him, Keith would look at him with those eyes and Lance's words would get stuck in his throat.

Hunk had given him probably a thousand pep talks in the last week alone, but Lance still chickened out very time.

It wasn't until after a really risky mission where they'd almost lost Keith to some risky, self-sacrificing maneuver that Lance decided enough was enough.

They were back in the castle, all of them safe and sound. Keith had been attacked by hugs when they had landed, but then he waved everyone off to go take a shower.

"I'm exhausted guys and I really need to just shower and crash." He's said before he left the room.

Lance was waiting by Keith's door when he got out of his shower. Keith's hair was still wet and that distracted Lance for a second before he remembered why he was here.

"Can we talk?" Lance asked.

Keith stopped when he saw Lance. He stared for a second and then gave a small nod as he opened his door and ushered Lance inside.

Keith sat on his bed and motioned for him to sit.

"What's up?" Keith asked. His voice was quiet like he was afraid to speak loudly, afraid to break whatever tension was building between them.

Lance sighed and took his place at Keith's side.

His hands were trembling in his lap, but he didn't make an effort to hide it.

He had to get this out, he felt like he was going to explode with all these feelings. His heart felt like it was going to beat out of its chest, but he was going to push through.

"Keith," he started. His voice cracked and his face felt too hot, but he continued anyway. "Keith, there's something I've been meaning to tell you for a long time."

Keith was staring at the side of Lance's head, not speaking.

Lance's hands began to fidget with the edge of his jacket.

"Okay, I'm going to just say it, because if I don't get it out now I don't think I ever will."

He turned to meet Keith's eye.

Keith was looking at him with wide eyes. There was a bright blush making its way across his cheeks, and he leaned towards Lance ever so slightly.

"I like you," Lance blurted. "Like a lot. Like, romantically. I know this is kind of sudden. Honestly, I never in a million years thought I would be here right now saying this to you." He took a breath. "I know I used to hate you a lot and I acted really weird and mean to you for a long time, but I had to say it. It felt wrong keeping this from you."

He stopped talking and took in a deep shuddery breath.

Keith wasn't saying anything, just staring.

"So...?" Lance prompted, heart beating out of his chest.

A shy smile crossed Keith's face, and his cheeks were burning red. He didn't say anything, so Lance took his smile as something positive and flickered his eyes down to Keith’s lips. Keith seemed to be lost in a daze as he started leaning in.

Lance's heart jumped in his chest, and he started leaning in too. His eyes fluttered shut, and his heart was beating so loud and quick in his chest that he felt lightheaded.

Their lips brushed just barely enough for Lance to feel those chapped lips against his, and then suddenly Keith was gone.

Lance's eyes shot open to find Keith stumbling back with his hand over his mouth. He was staring at Lance with a distressed look on his face, and his eyes were wet with tears that hadn't fallen yet.

"I can't. I'm sorry," he whispered out.

Lance crossed his arms over his chest and slumped forward a little bit. He bit his lip to keep it from wobbling.

"It's okay, I get it. Sorry if I pressured you or—"

"No!" Keith yelled. "It's not like that." He looked around the room like he was looking for a way out. "I can't do this because I've been lying to you."

A million thoughts ran through ls head too fast for Lance to really catch.

"About what?" Lance's voice was so quiet it was almost inaudible.

Keith suddenly dropped to his knees on the floor and buried his face in his hands. He just shook his head back and forth.

Lance hesitated, but then he dropped to Keith's side and put an arm over his shoulders. "Hey I’m sure it's not that bad. Just tell me."

Keith looked up, his eyes full of tears. "No, it is that bad. It's the worst thing I could have ever done to you."

Lance didn't know what to say as his imagination ran wild, but then he choked out, "Tell me, please."

Keith searched his eyes for what felt like an eternity before he whispered out, "I...I remember."

What?

Lance's heart stopped beating.

And then it dropped to his stomach.

He couldn't breathe.

Then Keith continued.

"I remember everything. The beach, the—the way we died on that mountain, that time we were tied together in the woods. I remember that you wanted to live in the stars and how good you were at sailing. I-" Keith's breath hitched in his chest. "I remember how we ran from the military men together, and I remember riding side by side. I remember everything, I remember all of it, every life, every death. I remember you."

Lance just stared blankly at Keith while he spoke.

Once Keith stopped talking, Lance sat there trying to process while Keith buried his head in his hands again to hide from whatever reaction Lance was going to have.

Lance was shocked. He was also really really fucking hurt.

But honesty, on top of all the overwhelming...everything that he was feeling, there was such an immense wave of relief. He wasn't alone. He wasn't alone. He wasn't alone.

Even through his intense anger and hurt and betrayal Lance's heart sang.

He leaned over and gathered Keith up into his lap to wrap his arms around him.

Keith buried his head in Lance's chest and sobbed out, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

He was gripping the back of Lance's shirt so hard that he thought the fabric might rip and Lance gripped him back just as tightly.

"I'm still mad, like, I am so fucking mad I don't know what to do with myself, and I am probably going to avoid you for like a whole day at least. And Hunk is probably not going to talk to you for a whole week because I'm definitely going to vent all this to him."

Lance took a very deep breath. "I am like also so relieved." He let out a weak shaky laugh. "Don't you ever do that to me again, okay? This really messed me up. I thought I was going crazy."

Keith just gripped him harder and kept saying, "I'm sorry" over and over again.

After a little bit, Lance shook Keith's shoulder to make him stop.

"Why?" He rasped out. "Why would you? Just...why?"

Keith still didn't look up, he just continued, his voice muffled where it was buried.

"I was tired of how we were. In every life we were always fighting, always yelling and hitting. Even when we got along there was that stupid rivalry and ugh! I hated it! I've always hated it, but it was how we always did stuff, so I didn't know how to stop it. I figured if I didn't play along, if I didn't remember you, we'd have to change somehow. It would have to be different,"

Lance shook his head. "Why?" He asked again.

Keith paused and shrunk in on himself, trying to make himself as small as possible.

"Keith, why did you do this?" Lance pulled away. "I think I deserve to know."

Lance could feel Keith's breath hitch in his chest.

Lance almost didn't hear when he mumbled out, "Because I'm in love with you. I’ve been in love with you for a long time."

Lance jerked backwards, falling onto his elbows and knocking Keith out of his lap.

"How long?" It came out as a broken whisper. Sure, he thought Keith had feelings for him, but that was just Keith. That was Keith who didn't remember. That was before he knew.

Now, he didn't know what to think. How could he have got it so wrong all those centuries?

When Keith didn't answer, he repeated the question, louder this time. His voice cracked, it was so full of emotion. “How long?”

"Since the first one. Since I saw you that first time on the beach."

Lance's eyes desperately searched Keith's face.

"What did you say? No, it can’t—I don’t believe you. "

He sat there in disbelief as fresh tears broke free from Keith's lashes and trickled down his pale cheeks.

"Why would I lie about this?" He asked desperately.

Lance was shaking his head trying to make sense of it all. "But this entire time...?"

There was an almost imperceptible nod from Keith as he sniffled and wiped the sleeve of the jacket across his cheeks.

Lance could feel his own eyes well up with tears, not necessarily sad tears, but tears that came from the ovewhelming emotions he was feeling.

"No fucking way."

He hadn't meant to say that out loud.

Keith flinched back like he'd been struck.

"I know you said you liked me before, but that was just Keith. That was before you knew that I remember. I know this isn't what you wanted, but it's how I feel. You can just ignore it if like you always have. I can deal with it..." He trailed off with another sniffle.

Lance lifted himself up to a sitting position while he tried to process.

"I'm not mad just rethinking." Lance made a face. "Well, I am mad. I am so so so mad. I think I’m angrier than anyone in the universe has ever been, but just not about this.” He paused. "I-we were rivals. We've always been rivals. You're my arch nemesis until now we—"

Keith interrupted Lance with a sad noise and looked up to search Lance's face. "I never felt that way. That was you, all you."

He didn't say anything else, apparently all out of words.

"I think I need some time to think about this," Lance said.

Keith nodded his head as Lance stumbled through the door.

When Lance collapsed onto his own bed, he lay there for a second, still in shock.

Then he started laughing. He laughed until he couldn't breathe, until there were fat tears rolling down his face. He laughed until his laughs turned to sobs.

He cried until the tears stopped coming and he was there breathing heavily on his bed.

Keith remembered.

What the fuck.

Chapter Text

In the next life, Lance remembers working hard. He remembers that he had so many siblings that he couldn't remember how many there really were.

He remembers how chaotic his house was and how hard it was for them to feed all the mouths they had to feed. In this life, he left home young. He remembers not wanting to be a burden.

He thinks his mom cried when he left, but he also knows that she hadn't said a single word of opposition when he talked about leaving.

He remembers that she didn't wave to him when he turned back around to wave at them from the gate because the little one had started to cry, and she had turned to tend to them.

That's all he remembers from his family in this life.

He lived on the road for a while with only the clothes on his back, taking odd jobs and helping people out with their farming in exchange for a place to sleep and a warm meal.

Then winter came.

As the nights got colder, he started getting worried. There was't as much work to do in the winter, so there was less he could offer in exchange for lodging.

He knew he couldn't go back home, they had probably already forgotten about him there.

He was starting to get desperate until he was pointed towards a farm on the outskirts of the town that he was in.

He couldn't feel his fingers or his toes by the time he was knocking on the door of a fairly large farmhouse.

When the door opened, he closed his eyes to savor the warmth that poured out. When he opened his eyes, he found a tall woman, sturdy from hard work with lines around her eyes that suggested she smiled big and often. Her middle was round, obviously very pregnant.

"Can I help you, boy?" She rested a hand on top of her stomach.

The sounds of children's laughter could be heard from somewhere in the house.

Just as the boy opened his mouth to answer, a strong, cold wind hit his back, and he shivered hard, tucking his arms over his chest harder.

The woman's eyes softened. "You here looking for work?"

"Yes ma'am," he said eagerly.

He could smell something cooking in the house and his stomach rumbled. Not loud enough for the woman to hear, but it was like she heard anyway.

"Well, I'm not going to be able to do my work for the rest of winter." She rubbed her hand over her stomach. "I've been looking for someone to help out in the stables since my husband died," she said. "I've been taking care of it, but I can’t really do much until a little after the baby's born."

He nodded and she continued.

"I can offer you a place in the barn and a couple warm meals a day in exchange for your help."

His stomach rumbled again, louder this time. "I think that sounds amazing, ma'am."

She laughed a little. "Let me grab you a bowl of this stew and then I'll send you out to the barn."

Soon there was a warm bowl thawing his frozen fingers and a large, scratchy blanket tucked in his arms. The woman shooed him in the direction of the barn.

"I already have a boy working in there, he'll show you around and put you to work," she said.

He smiled at her. "I appreciate it, ma'am."

She waved him off as she returned his smile. "Just stay warm and keep my horses well," she said before she shut the door.

He made his way to the barn, already missing the warmth that was coming from the house.

He was shivering again by the time he pushed the door to the barn open. It was warmer inside the barn by a considerable amount, and he almost cried in relief of having found somewhere to stay for the winter.

Looking around, the barn was large, and there were quite a few stalls, all of which seemed to be occupied.

There was slight snuffling and rustling as the horses moved around in their stalls, and there was the heavy scent of animal in the air, but the warmth was better than fresh air at the moment.

There was a voice from the loft above the stalls. "You the new help the missus told me might be coming?"

The boy looked up to find a silhouette of anther boy, backlit by the lantern that was hung in the loft. The boy was carving something with his knife, and had yet to look up.

"I am." The boy climbed the wide ladder up to the loft, an action made difficult by the soup in his hand and the heavy blanket he carried.

Once he reached the top, the other boy looked up and they both froze.

They broke into the same smile when they saw each others' familiar eyes.

The boy dropped his blanket onto the ground and sat very near the other until their sholders were touching.

"We can catch up later," he said, "but I am so hungry, I have to eat this right now or I might just die."

The other boy laughed, and when he saw his parter shivering, he scooted over and placed a hand around his back.

"Jeez, you're freezing!" The ranch hand said.

The boy made an offended noise around his mouthful of soup. He swallowed quickly and said, "It's not like I can help it! It's freezing outside!

The ranch hand nodded thoughtfully. "I hope you're ready to share body heat in this barn. It's a little drafty and it will be so much warmer if we just decide now that we're going to sleep cuddled up together."

The boy eyed him while he continued eating.

"Oh don't give me that! It's not like it's the first time we've had to cuddle.

The boy learned quick and fast, too excited to actually have a place to work to be lazy about it.

As the winter went on, they got into a rhythm quickly. In the cold, there wasn't a lot of work to do, especially when it started snowing, but the horses had to be fed and watered and exercised every day.

It was good work.

They found out quickly that the boy was terrible at working directly with the horses, though.

He was a hard worker, but he just didn't have the touch.

He was skittish and jumpy, and when he was riding, he fell off more than he stayed on. When it came to breaking horses, he was bad enough that the ranch hand had limited him to just halter breaking them, keeping him far away from riding the horses that weren’t already saddle broke.

At first, the ranch hand found it funny, and then, after a while, he was always exasperated.

After that winter came to an end, the woman decided to keep the boys on so that she could expand her ranch a little bit. She couldn't do all that work by herself, so she hired the two boys on permanently.

The boys spent the rest of that life on that farm. The woman left it to them when she passed, her daughters having been married off and her son having moved away when he was a young man.

"I couldn't think of anyone I'd rather have my farm than you two," she said during her final days.

They carried on working on that farm, the boy who had been there first being a natural at raising horses that were the envy of the county, and the other boy...helping.

Chapter Text

After he cried himself out, Lance stayed up all night staring at the ceiling, trying to make sense of everything.

First he let himself be angry.

He was so mad at Keith. Mad that he thought that this was okay to do. Mad that Keith had kept on lying to him for so long. Mad that he'd spent so long agonizing over this and trying to let the past go when it was standing right there in front of him.

He didn't know if he'd ever completely get over being angry at Keith.

Then he let himself be hurt.

He curled in on himself and agonized over the fact that Keith had been able to look at him and pretend not to remember. Keith was around him every day and ignored every sigh, every glance, every melancholy moment that Lance had. Keith had the nerve to just keep Lance in the dark like that.

Keith had passed Lance every day in the halls at the Garrison and pretended to not know him.

Then Lance circled back around to anger.

Keith had had the audacity to pretend that he couldn't even remember him from Garrison.

He'd had the nerve to be offended when Lance didn't remember the bonding moment when he was standing there lying to Lance's face every day.

Then he let himself be confused.

He lay awake analyzing everything he could remember from those past lives. He looked at all the ways he'd met Keith, all the ways they'd interacted and lived in proximity. He analyzed their rivalry through the ages, the bickering and trying to outdo each other.

And he found that maybe, just maybe he'd been exaggerating things in his mind.

He pictured very shove, every hit, every time they'd ended up wrestling in the dirt. That was a rivalry, right? They fought and called each other names and glared. They'd never gotten along, never. Even in their lives where they were close, it wasn’t soft like lovers or tender best friends. It was fierce and harsh, bared teeth and rolled eyes.

Then, he thought about every laugh, every glance, every soft touch. He thought about the way that, no matter what, through every life, after they found each other, they stayed at each other's sides. That wasn't a rivalry. That seemed like something more, something precious, something like love.

Lance groaned into his hands.

So, it seemed like he was not a part of some grand rivalry with an arch nemesis he'd meet every life. He was in an epic love story.

They'd never been lovers, though. Through all the other lives, they'd never been that much to each other, not even once.

But, Lance could see the hints towards that, towards their tumbling into being lovers eventually, now that he was looking.

Well, less hints and more very obvious signs.

I'm probably the dumbest person to ever walk the Earth.

He needed a second opinion

He was already up and headed towards the door when he registered what time it was.

Right...it was the middle of the night and no one was awake yet.

So Lance tried to sleep. He closed his eyes, but instead of sleep came a flood of memories. He thought back and realized that he'd felt those butterflies even then, but never assumed much from them. He'd always dismissed them.

No wonder Keith was so frustrated at how things had been.

Lance had always pushed their rivalry, he'd always been insistent on the fact that he didn't like Keith, that they were only together because the universe kept shoving them together.

No, Bad! No sympathizing with Keith right now. I'm still angry with him.

Lance eventually fell asleep. He didn't wake up until Hunk was knocking on his door, telling him that breakfast was ready.

Lance rubbed his eyes and then looked down at his wrinkled clothes that he'd slept in.

He shrugged, too tired and emotionally strung out to really care this morning.

He was the last one to arrive at breakfast like usual. He grabbed his plate and then bypassed his normal chair at Keith's side to sit at the end by Pidge. Lance didn't look at Keith at all, but he could tell that everyone's eyes were on him as he filled his plate.

He looked up to find concerned glances being tossed between him and Keith as they sat there in silence.

Lance finally risked a glance in Keith's direction, and had to bite down a gasp.

Keith looked awful, to put it mildly.

He looked like he hadn't slept at all last night if the bags under his eyes were anything to go by, and he had obviously been crying, his eyes red and puffy, crusty at the corners from dried tears. He didn't look up from where he was sitting, not eating, just staring at the goo in front of him.

While Lance was still staring, his eyes flicked up to Lance's face. He seemed startled to find Lance already looking, but then a pained expression crossed his face, and his lower lip trembled almost imperceptibly.

Keith's eyes dropped back down, and he mumbled, "I'm not hungry," before he shoved away from the table and stalked from the room.

As soon as the door slid shut behind him, every head swiveled around to Lance.

Lance let out a nervous laugh. "What's up with Keith, am I right?"

He knew he wasn't fooling anyone, he looked equally as terrible as Keith, and Keith only left like that after Lance sat down and avoided him.

"Lance, what happened," Shiro said. "Did you-"

Lance slammed his hands down on the table. "No! This is Keith's fault!"

Shiro looked at him skeptically.

"You always say that, Lance," Allura piped up from where she was sitting.

Lance shook his head and continued talking. "No this time, it's serious."

There were glances exchanged between the rest of them at the table.

Hunk spoke up. "Okay, buddy, we believe you, but what happened?"

Lance slumped in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. "It's just-Keith, he's has been lying to me about something super important for like a really long time, and he finally told me."

"What was he lying about?" Pidge asked.

”It’s personal.”

”Well, what is it?” She asked, more eager now.

While Shiro got onto her for asking, Hunk made meaningful eye contact with Lance, and Lance nodded to him.

"Is there any way we could help?" Coran asked.

Lance shook his head and then paused. "Maybe, for something definitely not related to Keith, though."

He did want a second opinion.

"Okay," Lance said, clapping his hands together. "So, here are some hypotheticals. Remember those tall shiny aliens from that one planet who were like soulmates or whatever?"

There were skeptical nods from everyone around the table.

"What does this have to do with anything?" Pidge asked.

"Just bear with me," Lance said. "So, and remember this is completely hypothetical, imagine that you were like that, having a lot of lives with someone else. Okay, but then imagine, instead of being in love, you were rivals. Are you imagining?"

Shiro sighed. "Yes, we're imagining."

Lance rubbed a hand over his face. "But then, imagine that in one life, your rival doesn't remember you and it's super stressful and everyone hates it and you're really really upset all the time." Lance took a breath. "And then your rival admits that they remember everything and were lying and also maybe confessed that they had been in love with you the whole time. And you sort of think back on your lives and maybe realize that the rivalry you thought was there was actually, maybe, flirting and that maybe you were in love with them too or something. Hypothetically!"

He paused to let everyone process for a second before he continued.

"What would you do?"

Allura cleared her throat looking confused. "And why do you need help with this again?"

Lance's eyes widened. "I'm...writing...a book?" he said hesitantly, his voice cracking.

They all looked at him dubiously.

Then Hunk spoke up. "I think that if it was me, I would tell my best friend who would go find Kei-er, I mean my rival and give them a piece of their mind for hurting my best-I mean their best friend."

Lance shot him a grateful look. At least someone would always be on his side.

Pidge put whatever she was fiddling with down. "Why would the rival pretend to not recognize the person? Is there a reason?"

Lance threw his hands up in the air in frustration and said, "Because he said that he was tired of always fighting and didn't know how to change things. Which is a super dumb reason if you ask me."

Shiro nodded thoughtfully. "I think that the rival should have just tried to talk to the person instead of just pretending to forget. That seems like it would do more harm than good. Communication is important."

"Thank you!" Lance shouted. "Exactly."

Allura put a hand up. "But, we can't forget that this is the catalyst for the two admitting their love. Would the one who was lied to ever have realized their feelings if this hadn't happened?" Then she turned to Lance. "Don't you think it's a little unrealistic for them to have thought all this time they were enemies when really they were in love?"

Lance slumped low in his seat and pouted. "Sometimes people don't realize things. It's normal," he mumbled. "You can't always be right."

Coran spoke up. "This reminds me of an epic love story my grandfather told me one time!"

Lance knew that if he let Coran continue, he would be stuck here for the rest of the morning, so he interrupted.

"I've suddenly decided to go and reconcile with Keith!" He jumped up and left the room as the other's excuses to get out of Coran's tale followed him.

He hadn't really been planning on going to find Keith, but his feet took him to the training deck anyway.

Sure enough, there was Keith. Lance could tell there was something off with his movements. His motions were sloppy, probably from lack of sleep, and everything about his stance and posture was off.

"I know I taught you better than that," Lance called, startling Keith.

Keith stumbled and turned to find Lance. The gladiator raised it's staff to take a swing at Keith's now exposed back.

"End training sequence!" Lance shouted just in time for the gladiator to power down before it could reach Keith.

They stood there staring at each other neither knowing exactly what to say.

"You did," Keith said, suddenly.

Lance cocked his head in confusion. "What?"

Keith cleared his throat and scuffed his boot on the ground. "You did teach me better."

They were quiet again.

"Okay, so rumors of our rivalry may have been wildly exaggerated. Mainly by me," Lance said, breaking the silence. "I got to thinking back, and maybe you were right, something did need to change."

It was like the sun breaking through the clouds when a smile crossed Keith's face, and he opened his mouth to say something before Lance interrupted him.

"But this was not the way to do it."

Lance needed him to know how much Keith had hurt him.

"You should have just talked to me. I would have realize eventually." He looked Keith in the eyes. "This really hurt me, okay. It was messed up and I still haven't completely forgiven you for it."

The smile dropped from Keith's face, and he nodded. "For what it's worth, I'm so so sorry." He paused and took in a deep breath. "It's just, I figured that since you felt so strongly about us being rivals that you wouldn't care that much."

"Well, I do care," Lance said. "I've always cared about you."

That small smile was back on Keith's face and it made Lance's heart flutter.

"I've done a lot of thinking," Lance said, "and I just need to say this."

Keith's eyes bore into Lance's.

"What I said yesterday in your room, before you told me you remembered. That still stands. I like you." Lance let out a small hysterical laugh. "I probably even more than like you if I'm being honest."

Keith let out a laugh to match Lance's. "Really?"

Lance didn't know how he could ever have looked at the expression in those all-too-familiar eyes and not known Keith was hopelessly in love with him. Not known that he was in love with Keith.

"Yes, really, and if you aren't opposed to it, I would really like to kiss you right now."

In lieu of an answer, Keith dropped his bayard onto the training deck floor and surged forward.

With how eager his actions were, the hands that cradled Lance's face were gentle and hesitant.

When they were only a hairsbreadth away, Keith said, "You have no idea how happy I am right now."

With the way Lance could feel Keith's breath on his lips, he felt like he had an idea.

When their lips finally, finally pressed together, it felt like coming home.

As their lips pressed together, one of Keith's hands wrapped around the back of his neck. Both of Lance's arms encircled Keith's back and pulled him closer, one arm stayed on his back while the other dropped to his waist and just rested there.

This was the most natural thing Lance had ever done in any of his lives. It was like this, loving Keith, was exactly what he was destined for.

The kiss stayed chaste and simple, and when they finally pulled back, they both lingered in each other's space, breathing together, wrapped in each other's arms.

"Just so you know," Lance said, his nose nuzzling against Keith's, "Hunk is probably going to kill you for making me cry so much."

Keith huffed out a laugh. "I don't blame him," he said. "I kind of want to kill me for that too."

Lance just tightened his arms around Keith. "Don't do that, then I wouldn't get to kiss you until next time."

Keith pressed his lips briefly to Lance's. Then he pulled back and whispered, "I love you. I've always loved you"

Lance grinned and those butterflies were back. "I love you too. I think maybe I always did."

They pressed back together, melting into each other's embrace, pressed as tightly as two people could possible be.