Chapter Text
The last time Keith tried to excuse himself from a conversation where someone was clearly flirting with him, he insulted the princess of the planet they were trying to win over and almost cost them the alliance. That’s why he’s still participating in this conversation he has absolutely no interest in, if nodding and occasionally humming counts as participating.
“That’s when Mother realized that I, too, had the ability,” the girl says. Keith can’t remember her name, but she — like the rest of her people — has a third eye in the middle of her forehead. It blinks out of sync with the other two and is blue rather than black.
“Fascinating,” Keith says, even though it’s not. More than half the people on this planet have the ability to do what this planet is literally known for.
Across the room, Shiro looks genuinely interested in the conversation he’s having. He has a smile on his face, and as Keith watches, he seems him laugh, his grin growing wider. The noble he’s talking to raises his glass in a “cheers” motion and they both shake their heads, amused.
Allura is near the queen’s throne, where the queen herself has been standing for most of the night. She’s most likely schmoozing it up, listening to all the queen’s boring stories now that they’re allies. Keith’s never really understood this part of the night.
Inviting someone to the coalition usually goes like this: they either receive a distress signal and show up to help, the planet joining the coalition out of gratitude, or they receive a transmission along with an announcement that a planet wants to join. About half the time, once they arrive, the planet has a secret agenda and wants Voltron to do some extra task for them — one that’s not life-threatening to their people and is honestly a waste of Voltron’s time.
With either scenario, the end result is almost always the same. The planet is ecstatic to now be a part of the coalition and wants to show their gratitude in some special way — a party, they decide. Except it’s not even special because they have to attend these kinds of parties all the time. And instead of being fun, they’re just exhausting and political and unavoidable.
You can’t say the wrong thing and you can’t retire early because then you might hurt the new alliance — go figure.
Although, when Keith scans the room as the alien keeps talking to him, he realizes that Pidge is nowhere to be found. She must be the only person who ever gets away with it. At some point during most of these parties, she somehow manages to slip away. And no one ever yells at her after the fact.
It looks like Hunk has succeeded in escaping the sorts of conversations that bore the hell out of him by standing near the drinks table. There, the majority of people are holding glasses of something fizzy and they’re laughing louder than most. In fact, Hunk seems to be laughing quite a lot as well. Huh. Lucky bastard.
“Of course, I didn’t tell her that because I didn’t actually want her to know,” the girl says, followed by a trilling laugh. Keith has totally lost the thread of the conversation. He makes his best effort to look amused.
The girl waits, an expectant look on her face, and Keith realizes that he’s probably supposed to respond. Oh God, he has no idea what they’re even talking about. And while he almost ruined an alliance once by excusing himself from a conversation, he’s come much closer many more times by simply being bad at conversing — either saying the wrong thing or making it obvious that he wasn’t listening in the first place.
He opens his mouth, hoping that some combination of words will just fall into his head, when an arm lands on his shoulders and pulls him into someone’s side.
“Look at you, chatting up the pretty ladies!” Lance interrupts. His voice says teasing and obnoxious but his touch says comfort and escape. He knows Keith is gay, and he knows even better that Keith sucks at this part of being a soldier. The talking, schmoozing, interacting part.
“Wow, you are way too pretty for our Keith here,” Lance continues, leaning closer to the girl and turning on the charm. Helpful, in that he’s drawing her attention away from Keith. Downright painful, in that Keith would much rather have him flirting with him, as embarrassing as it is to admit it.
Keith flushes, glaring toward the opposite side of the room even as Lance squeezes his shoulder just a little bit tighter.
The girl giggles. “That’s not true,” she says, flattered anyway.
Lance just grins. “Anyway,” he says, “I’m really sorry to interrupt, but I need to borrow Keith for a second. Is that okay?”
“Of course!” the girl says, and Lance flashes that bright smile at her before dragging Keith halfway across the room.
“What’s going on?” Keith says. “Why do you need me?”
Lance scoffs, shooting Keith a look. “I was saving you from that conversation,” he says. “You looked so bored I thought you were going to fall asleep.”
“Thanks,” Keith murmurs. Lance just hands him a drink, swiping it off a tray as a waiter walks by.
“I’m excited for the afterparty,” Lance says, sighing and leaning against a pillar behind him.
“If you can call it that.”
“Dude, it’ll be way more fun than this,” Lance says. “An alternate reality! We’re gonna get a peek just for helping ‘em out. How awesome is that?” Very awesome, is clearly Lance’s opinion of the whole thing, because he lifts his drink and waits until Keith taps it with his own before taking a sip.
“I think it’s creepy,” Keith says. “The thought of other versions of us, experiencing slightly different lives…”
“No way,” Lance says. “I bet they’re drastically different! I bet there’s versions of us that, like, never found the blue lion. Maybe there’s versions where we’ve beaten Zarkon already!”
“Or got defeated,” Keith mutters.
“Shut up, we’re awesome in any reality,” Lance says.
Pidge steps into view from behind the very pillar Lance is leaning on at that moment, also holding a drink. “Have you guys seen Shiro?” she says, her eyes darting around.
Keith finds Shiro talking to the same people he’d been talking to earlier. He gestures toward them.
“Ugh, thank God,” Pidge says, right before taking a swig of her drink. “Ever since he found out it’s only been four years since we left Earth, he’s been trying to stop me from drinking.”
“I still say those calculations are wrong,” Lance says. “It feels like way longer.”
“That would make you eighteen now anyway, right?” Keith says. “That’s a legal drinking age in some places.”
“I know!” Pidge says. “Are we really going to follow one country’s laws? While we’re in space?”
“Shiro is such a stickler for the weirdest rules,” Lance says, amused. “Remember that time when he almost talked us out of an alliance with those whatchamacallits? The Sinstras, or whatever?”
“Well, they were trying to force their religion on us,” Keith says. “It’s not right.”
“Sure,” Lance agrees. “But normally he’s all, anything to secure the alliance, you know?”
“Shiro follows his moral code,” Keith says. “He’s probably afraid that Pidge is ruining her brain’s development by drinking this early.”
“I have several objections to that,” Pidge says. “First of all, the brain isn’t done developing until you’re twenty-five, so if that’s the case, none of us should be drinking,” she says. “And I’m already smart — my brain’s fine.”
“No argument there,” Lance says.
“And I’m fighting in a war. I was basically a child soldier. I think I deserve a drink every once in a while.”
“Hell yeah you do,” Hunk says, showing up out of nowhere. He’s still holding that drink from earlier. Or maybe it’s a new one. He’s grinning easily, and he slings an arm around Pidge’s shoulder, shaking her lightly.
This part of the coalition parties, Keith doesn’t mind.
It doesn’t happen always, which is why Keith dreads these parties in general. At least half the time, they end up being as boring and horrible as Keith expects. (Borrible, Lance would say, if Keith said this sentence out loud. He does stuff like that sometimes, combining words, and it somehow always earns him a laugh. Horing, Pidge would probably reply, causing a bigger laugh.)
They’d all end up trapped in different parts of the room, suffering on their own. Keith would blunder his way through conversations he had no interest in, wondering if the others were genuinely enjoying themselves. His eyes would probably find Lance at some point, and he’d be stuck watching him for a minute — grinning and laughing and looking perfectly at ease.
It would make him angry. Wondering how he could possibly be enjoying this boring planet with their weird customs, which they are somehow always expected to follow, even though they never ask anyone else to follow their customs.
And then, like always, Lance would find something to complain about on the way back to the castle-ship. And then Keith would realize that Lance hadn’t actually been enjoying himself back there. He’s just a good actor, and he’d have managed to fool Keith — along with the rest of the people he talked to at the party — once again.
But sometimes, this happens. Lance will snag Keith from a conversation. Or Keith will see Pidge slipping away and be lucky enough to have an excuse at the top of his head, good enough to follow her.
And on nights like those, they almost always end up like this. Maybe it’s some kind of sixth sense they all have, but the second two or more of them are gathered, the rest of them start to show up.
They’ve had their own parties on the castle before. Sometimes Lance will score a bottle of a planet’s finest wine after they’re done visiting. Or sometimes they’ll come back from a space mall and Allura will very innocently set down a bag that clinks, and they’ll all look at her expectantly.
Their parties are always enjoyable. It’ll be just the seven of them. There’ll be no one to impress, no blunders they can make, and they’ll actually have fun. They’ll loosen up and laugh and play games and Keith always goes to bed sated, feeling warm and happy and thankful for this family he found.
“Hunk!” Lance says. “Please tell me you tried their appetizer things. They’re like hotpockets but better. We should get the ingredients!”
“Done,” Hunk says, that easily convinced.
Pidge takes another sip of her drink, just as someone clears their throat. They all turn to find Shiro standing in their circle.
“Shit,” Pidge mutters.
“Pidge,” Shiro says, sounding long-suffering.
“Can it, team leader,” Pidge huffs. “If you want me to stop, you’ll have to stop everyone else, too.”
Shiro gets this pinched look on his face. Probably thinking about how impossible that task would be.
“She’s fine, Shiro,” Lance says. The fight goes out of Shiro — pick your battles, and all that — and then Allura’s rushing up to their group, a smile on her face.
“There you all are,” she says breathlessly. “The queen’s ready for us.”
Lance and Pidge share wide, excited looks. The whole team looks excited, actually, which Keith still can’t understand. The whole concept of what is about to happen just creeps Keith out.
Their people, the Peervida, have a rare ability. And they’ve met plenty of people before that can do weird, fantastical things. They’ve met with oracles and future-see’ers. They’ve talked to people that can clearly see the outcome of any choice — able to tell them with zero doubt what will happen if they have toast for breakfast, or if they engage in a risky undercover operation. (The only problem is they hibernate most of the year — they’re asleep for 90% of it.)
And while some of those abilities creeped Keith out as well, it at least felt more, like, in the realm of possibility. Or less like trespassing, maybe.
Hearing things about their own future felt wrong, like skipping a few too many pages in a book, but at least those people were limited in their ability. They could only see so far into the future, is the thing, and it was at least their future that they were spying on. Same with the people who gave prophecies. Sure, it was knowledge they wouldn’t normally have access to, but at least it was directly related to them.
But peeking into alternate realities? It just feels wrong. Weird.
Keith can’t imagine what they could possibly do with whatever knowledge they receive. Like, if there’s a version of them still on Earth… what can they do with that? Just, know that there are other, safer versions of them out there? A Keith, still without any friends or family? A Lance, still surrounded by all of his?
Or maybe there really is a version of them that’s already defeated Zarkon. How will it help them — especially their motivation — to know that they missed a chance at winning? That it’s their fault they’re dragging this war on even longer?
From Keith’s understanding, there are slightly less alternate realities than one would expect. If Keith had tried to guess how many there were, before meeting the Peervida, he’d have said an infinite amount. Because in his mind, every single choice that any person could make would automatically split into another reality. A reality where he took a shower last night splitting from one where he didn’t.
But the Peervida explained it differently at the meeting prior to this.
For one thing, they have to keep in mind that they’re the same person in every reality. They may have experienced different things, but they’re bound to act the same way. When presented with a choice, they choose what the majority of the versions of themselves would’ve chosen. Which negates the need for millions upon millions of realities in the first place, if the majority of them would just be following the exact same paths anyway.
So, the Peervida explained it a different way. It’s not that realities are created, splitting off from one another to make room for all the choices they could’ve made in any situation. It’s more like… these realities were pre-determined. They all started around the same time. And then, somewhere along the way, something different happened.
Each reality is like an outlier in its own way. Because in each reality, a choice was made — somewhere — that was different than what should’ve been chosen. A version of themselves, or of someone else, made a choice that the majority wouldn’t have. And that’s why different realities are different in the first place.
There’s still a lot of them, apparently. Probably too many for their minds to comprehend. But it’s small and manageable enough for this species, at least, to sort through them. To see all the possible realities at once.
Keith realizes out of nowhere that he’s walking — that he’s been following his friends through the throne room without being wholly present. The queen is no longer by her throne, and Keith assumes she’s wherever Allura is leading them now, through a somewhat secret door behind the throne, and into the hall beyond.
It’s a short hallway, the walls made of stone and lit with interspersed glowing lights, and they arrive in a new room at the end of the hall. It’s bigger, but not by much. An intimate chamber, the lights softer here. There are cushions on the ground for seating — enough for all of them — and a throne-like cushion on the opposite side of the table. (If Keith’s being completely honest, it’s a beanbag).
The queen is already seated. Before her on the table is what can only be described as a crystal ball. It’s completely clear, reflecting the lights that shine on it. She’s sitting with her hands in her lap, two of her eyes closed but her third one wide-open.
“Welcome,” she says, the second they’re all in the room. “Please, take a seat.”
Keith sinks onto one of the cushions, cross-legged.
“As you know, my people can view every alternate reality,” she begins. “But it takes a long time. Normally, our scholars split up the realities and focus on just a few. It’s an admirable profession.”
“Of course,” Allura says.
“Today, I’ll just be observing the reality closest to our own.”
There’s another thing about the Peervida’s abilities. They can see into the alternate realities, but they can only see what’s happening in those realities to people they’ve met before. Mostly, they spy on their own planet. Sometimes enemies and allies they’ve met. Now, they can see what’s happening to Voltron.
Keith doesn’t doubt that all the people at this party — those with the ability to See, anyway — will have a grand time spying on them tonight. They’ll probably watch whatever realities are most interesting. Ones where everything is completely different. Ones where they’re celebrating the war’s end or suffering its losses.
And there’s one other thing they were told during the meeting, when discussing the Peervida and their abilities. It’s not so much like watching what’s happening over there at that very moment. It’s more like… flashes, they said. And not just of the present. It’s like getting glimpses, seeing where they are at this moment, but also seeing where this moment will lead them.
From Keith’s understanding, time and realities aren’t perfectly aligned. They might actually be a year or two ahead of another version of themselves. Or behind.
“So… they’ll probably be in space,” Lance concludes.
“Correct,” the queen says. “There are realities far different from ours. Realities we can hardly comprehend. Circumstances that led us down completely different paths. It’s rarely of use to base our decisions off those realities, because we’re not even close to them.”
“Right,” Allura says.
“The realities we observe most often are the ones beside us, I guess you could say,” the queen informs. “These are the realities that we are most likely to line up with. The ones that we sometimes mirror directly. They’re also the ones that are most dangerous to us.”
“Why?” Keith blurts. See? He hates this. It’s wrong to know what’s happening in another reality.
“It’s because of how close we are, that they’re dangerous,” the queen explains. “We mirror each other sometimes, sure. But the fact that they’re different realities means that we don’t mirror each other all the time. It means that there are vast differences, and if we’re not careful, the things that we want to be different won’t be. We might mirror them.”
“Well then,” Allura says, finally sounding a little bit worried. They should all sound a little bit worried, in Keith’s opinion. “Let us hope that the alternate reality follows a fortunate path.”
The queen smiles, nodding elegantly. “I will begin,” she announces.
Her third eye blinks shut. Smoke starts to fill the crystal ball. When the queen opens her eye again, it seems to be glowing.
She’s deathly still. Not a part of her moves, or twitches, or anything. Her eye just stares into the smoke in the crystal ball, unyielding.
Keith shifts, uneasy because of her stillness. Beside him, Lance is far more fidgety. But then, he’s always fidgety. Twisting loose strings around his fingers and bouncing his knees and tapping his hands. Lance is like a person who’s made to be in motion. Every time Keith’s seen him asleep, it feels creepy. Not just because he’s looking at a sleeping person, but because Lance is stiller than he’s used to.
It takes longer than Keith would’ve expected. He’s not sure why. He kind of just thought that it would take her a minute or two. That she’d jolt in terror, or open her eyes and smile at them. Instead, minutes pass. The smoke continues to float through the crystal ball. Keith exchanges awkward looks with Pidge, then Lance.
Allura reaches up and runs a hand through her hair, a clear sign that even she is feeling a bit weird sitting here in this silence. Maybe the queen should’ve told them before she began if silence was required. Maybe they won’t even be distracting her if they start talking.
But then, it finally happens. The queen’s third eye shuts, and then all three snap open at once. She stiffens, inhales, and then all her eyes dart to the side and back.
Shit.
“What is it?” Allura says quickly. Keith can feel the tension leaking out of her. Leaking out of all of them.
“It’s… not good,” the queen admits.
“Well, it’s their reality, right?” Lance says, laughing awkwardly. “Their problem?”
A weird look passes over the queen’s face as Lance talks. When she responds, she’s not even addressing him. She’s looking at Allura again.
“Not entirely,” the queen says softly. “As I said, their reality is very close to ours. Without the proper precautions… well. I don’t doubt that you’re likely to follow the same path.”
“We’ll mirror them,” Keith realizes. There’s a sinking feeling in his gut. Horror. Fuck.
He doesn’t know how to feel. Part of him is vindictive. Like, see! I knew we shouldn’t have spied. But then, if they hadn’t, how would they take any precautions at all? They might just mirror their alternative selves blindly. Follow the exact same path, whatever it is.
“What… happened?” Shiro asks.
The queen shakes her head. “Not yet,” she says. “First, we must make a decision.”
“A decision?” Pidge echoes.
“My people… we have a procedure,” the queen says slowly. “It’s slightly… unorthodox. I didn’t tell you about it before. I— I didn’t suspect we’d need it.”
They’re all looking around at each other. Surprise. Suspicion. Fear and unease.
“What’s the procedure?” Allura asks.
“On rare occasions,” the queen starts. “I mean, very rare occasions — never even in my lifetime have we — well. There’s a way we can ensure that we don’t mirror the, er, drastic parts of our sister realities.”
“Tell us,” Keith commands. “We’ll do it. We can’t risk — whatever it is.”
Hunk’s nodding in agreement. Shiro looks similarly convinced, his face determined. He would be, Keith thinks. He’s the leader of their team. He’d do anything to protect them. To keep them safe, to win a battle.
“It’s extreme,” the queen warns. “We’d have to switch one of you. That is to say, one of you would switch places with your alternate self. And they would be able to steer you away from making the same mistakes. Their reality is almost a year ahead of ours, you see.”
They’re all silent. Shocked, Keith thinks. He definitely is.
Is that really… possible? They could just switch one of their team members for an alternate self? Jesus. How would their alternate version even react? Would they really want to help them? They already had to suffer some terrible fate, apparently.
How would Keith feel, if the worst had happened? If they’d, like, lost to Zarkon. Doomed the universe. If he was sucked into some alternate reality, would he be happy to steer them in the right direction? Or bitter, that they’d get to have what he’d missed out on, avoid the mistakes he’d made?
“You’ll switch back, of course,” the queen says quickly. “It should only be for about a month. That’s — that’s when, well. When the biggest changes happened. The rest shouldn’t matter to you, if you’re able to avoid them.”
Shiro’s taking charge. He’s got his leader face on.
“I’ll go,” he tells them. “Whatever’s happened over there, I can deal with it. I’ll be fine. And I’m sure any version of myself would be happy to help you guys. You’re my team,” he says.
Ah. So Keith wasn’t the only one worried about that. He’s not sure whether he should even volunteer. He’s confident in his own skills, of course. He’d probably be fine in some alternate universe, even if there was a lot of fighting involved.
But he couldn’t be sure about his alternate self. He might be too angry. Volatile. Jealous.
Well. Maybe it’s a good thing he knows himself so well.
“Are you sure?” Allura says gently. “You’d have to trust him to lead the team. And, I mean… you’ve been through a lot.”
“Even if he wasn’t fit to lead the team, you’re all capable soldiers with or without me,” Shiro says, looking at them, now. “And I’ve been through a lot here, too. I’m still sane. If that’s what you were getting at,” he adds, looking at Allura. She seems embarrassed.
“I just mean… I’m sure it’d be a lot for anyone,” she says. “Whatever happens.”
“I could also go,” Pidge offers. “If an alternate me knows what’s coming, I might be able to make something to prevent it. Or — she might be able to, I mean. Devices and whatnot.”
“If it’s all the same, I don’t want to go,” Hunk says, shuddering. “I’m sorry. It really creeps me out.”
“I’ll go,” Shiro insists. “The rest of you will stay here and ensure we get it right this time.”
“If you’ll allow me to interrupt,” the queen says, and they all fall silent. She clears her throat. “I’m afraid that won’t be possible,” she says.
“You said you could switch us,” Keith points out. “Is this not what you meant?”
“It’s not that,” the queen says. She looks guilty. “It’s… There’s just…” She clears her throat. Sits up straighter. “Unfortunately,” she says clearly, “there’s only one paladin who can go.”
That weird look comes over her again. She’s staring right at Lance.
And Lance… he might as well have been asleep. For once in his life, he’s sitting perfectly, impossibly still.