Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Keith was fuming. No, he wasn't fuming. He was raving. No, he wasn’t raving either. 

There really wasn’t any other word in the english language to describe the anger that Keith felt. 

It was like he had the sudden impulses of a madman. With a broken roar, like billows on an unseen shore, his fury burst, shattering the glass vases that lay on the side table. He was a seething witch’s cauldron, brewing up boiling bouts of fierce and powerful rage. 

“Your highness, please calm down-“

“Calm down? CALM DOWN? You really think that you can say that to me so blatantly? I bet you knew about this, this, this LIE that I've been fed my entire childhood, you were all planning this, weren’t you? To make sure that another omega doesn’t ascend the throne, right? It’s bad enough that I’m a halfblood, but I thought we got over that long ago. Wasn’t it you who told me things for omegas were changing? That we don’t need an alpha to prove our worth? What a motherfucking joke,” Keith scoffed. 

“Your highness, please-“

Keith’s gaze pierced like an arrow as he vengefully stared down the Galra ministers. “No, I don't want to hear another word of your lies, your treachery.”

He shot the court one last scornful sneer before sticking his nose high in the air and flouncing out of the throne room with a taunting sway of his hips and a swish of his cloak. 

The thoughts in his head pound like the thunder of a retreating storm as he strides through the palace halls. Despite his omega status, Keith has always exuded an aura of lordship and nobility. His aloofness and incapacity to surrender dominance to another was what was blamed for his lack of a mate. However, his mother, the Queen, still had hope that Keith would find a suitable alpha parter, and would persistently invite various dukes and princes to court him. However, Keith would snub them at every chance he got, and therefore had a reputation as ‘unmateable’. 

Keith suspects his turning down of Lord Ozar was probably the last straw for his mother. 

“Keith, darling,” Krolia had started off. “We’ve given you these past 3 years to try and find yourself a mate, and it’s been fruitless.”

“All the nobles you invited were bumbling baboon-heads and you know it.” Keith replies, snarkily. 

Krolia sighs. She felt like the crown's heavy metal was squeezing the life out of her temples. “Keith, I’m sorry, but it really is time for you to find a mate.”

“Mother, you’ve ruled mateless for decaphoebs.” 

“I’m sorry Keith. I've found a suitable alpha from Altea. You will meet, and eventually mate. There is nothing more to it.” 

Keith had quivered like struck harp strings as the words seeped through every fibre of his being, the betrayal oozing like slime into the blood in his pulsing veins. 

Keith had always been told that even though he was an omega, he held value that was untradeable. He had always been told that no alpha would be able to dim the light that shone from within him, and that only the best would claim him. He was the crown prince, after all. 

His mother had been a princess before she'd run off and met her mate, his father. However, on a day where the sky was the soft grey of a centuries’ old bridal dress, the clouds resting tenderly and lingeringly like a haunting perfume, she had collapsed before the castle gates with Keith wrapped in a wan, spotless shroud and pressed desperately to her chest. She had left her mate when she heard that the Galra emperor, her father, was dead, and her brother too in a ruthless assassination. She was crowned the very next day, beneath a sky as fair as summer flowers. 

And as Keith looked up at the sea-foam sky, standing by the wrought-iron of the palace gates, the veiled future bowed before him like a vision of promise. He shot one last glance at the palace, the life he had once led, the arranged marriage left waiting for him, all glittering in a frozen sea of sky, and lost himself in the hanging fog. 

Chapter Text

The city is a bustling hullabaloo of price haggling, spices and clouds of dust that whirl through the air like yellow silken scarves, and the humid desert heat of the market that thickens as it rises above the swarm of heads. Pearls of sweat crawl down Keith’s brow as he weaves his way through the primeval chaos of the crowd. Wanted posters with his face plastered all over them hang from every wall, window, nook and crevice. 

Keith mentally thanks his earlier self for saving the contact lenses from his last visit to Earth. 

His thoughts, in the meantime, are as fleeting as dreams. Ever since leaving the palace, he's been wandering from planet to planet in his stolen fighter pod. He’s always been impulsive, fiery and unpredictable, like a living meteor; it's still surreal to believe that he no longer lives at the palace. He sees vendor after vendor, offering goods, loaves of bread, precious jewels, eyes gleaming like soap bubbles, but none of which has what he wants. Not that he knows what that is. 

That is, until he sees a soft and purple mist, hiding underneath the vibrantly dyed fabric of what looks like a fortune-teller’s tent, glowing like a vaporous amethyst. 

Keith doesn’t know what draws him to that cloud as purple as the flush of dawn, but like a locust gathers to a stream before a fire, entranced, he walks towards it. But as he nears closer, the cloud retreats, and Keith can’t help but grow curiouser and curiouser. He picks up his pace, chasing this elusive violet fog that almost definitely leads to no good. 

But what’s the worst that could happen? 

“Hey!” 

As sudden as a dislocated joint slipping back into place, he starts, his trance broken. 

“Are you okay? You looked kinda out of it there.”

Keith turns to face his interlocutor, ready to retort with an insolent remark, but suddenly feels himself held captive under the gaze of the man’s eyes. They dance like a wave of the ocean, singing like sea nymphs. They glow blue like coals, or the noonday sky, and burst like a jewel in the sun. Captured by these eyes, Keith can’t seem to form words at all. 

“Uhh, I mean, I’m used to people being speechless when seeing me, but you didn’t answer my question. I’m Lance, by the way. Lance McClain.”

By the markings above Lance's cheekbones, Keith can tell that he’s Altean. 

“I’m Keith.” 

Keith’s never nice to a stranger. What sorcery is this? 

“Nice to meet you. You looked like a ghost just then. What did you see?” 

This Lance was obstinate, wasn't he? He was as unrelenting as the blues of his eyes.

“I am unsure. It probably was some sort of magic, I suppose. I think it was leading me somewhere. Thank you for getting me out of it, I guess.” 

Lance’s smile sheds radiance like an unclouded sun, as sweet as a fairy. Keith’s breath catches in his throat,  struggling like a caged animal. 

“No problem at all, my dude. Oh, I didn’t catch your name.”

“It’s Keith. Keith Kogane. I did tell you already.” Keith feels shyer than even the most hesitant squirrel, as he feels the blood rush to the tips of his ears underneath his hood. 

“Oh, sorry. I’m forgetful. Keith Kogane. Huh.”

“Why do you make that noise?” 

“Oh, nothing. Don’t worry about it. Just thought I knew you from somewhere, that’s all.” Lance waves a hand dismissively. “Hey, you’re probably new around here, aren’t you? Want me to show you around? You can meet my friends!” 

Keith was about to refuse, but when Lance widened those big blue eyes of his and stuck out his lower lip, and said, “pretty pretty please? I promise I’ll make it worth your while.” Keith couldn’t bring himself to refuse. He didn’t have anything better to do, did he? Lance seemed about as harmless as a new laid egg, and as trusting as a child. 

‘Besides, what’s the worst that could happen?’, Keith tells himself as Lance leads him down a dilapidated, rank alleyway with a weird fluttering in his chest, as if there was a dove trapped inside his ribcage. His nerves felt like throbbing violins as Lance’s scent became increasingly apparent. An alpha scent, and an attractive one too. 

Lance smells like the sweet, spiced smoke of beach campfires, and last night’s ocean-side barbecue. Hints of cumin and oregano permeate the hazy tropical scent that Lance exudes with pride, giving him an exotic, alluring smell that draws you in with just one sniff. It’s got Keith’s inner omega reeling, as he unwillingly lets off his own, matching pheromones in response. 

“You’re an omega, then?” Lance asks him. 

Keith curses internally. He wasn’t planning on releasing his scent so soon. He scowls, as dark as the swift winter whirlwinds. “Yeah, got a problem with that?” 

“Nope. In fact, I was just about to tell you that my friend, the one we’re about to meet, is actually a fighter for omegan rights. She’s really cool, I promise. She's a beta, and she’s been working on this ship for us that’ll hopefully get us off this planet and out into the universe! I haven’t known her that long, but I promise you that she’s great.” 

And with that, Lance stops, right in front of a sandstone archway, bricks decorated with symbols that Keith’s unfamiliar with, sand particles breaking off from the tiles and drifting lazily in the air. Crumbling sandstone steps lead down to a dark and damp passage. Although torches sparsely adorned the walls, their light was rich and vibrant, letting a strange sense of belonging and truth took the whole building under it’s motherly wing. 

As he descended down the stairs, Keith almost felt as if he would regret to lose this place, a haven among travellers of the universe, a place where safety climbs over the shoulders of all individuals who stay here. The scent of home-cooked food heightens as Keith travels further through the sandstone hallway, as reassuring as the sun rising, encasing him in a cycle of homeliness that Keith hasn’t known since he was a baby. 

“Ah, Hunk’s made cake!” 

Lance pushes open the wooden door at the end of the hallway, leading into a cluttered, yet colourful underground annexe. The furniture, although mismatched, still held all the beaming shades of the rainbow. The end table’s aquamarine paint was peeling onto the threadbare orange sofa, a fuschia coverlet halfway hanging off the armrest like an exhausted monkey, a red carpet lying diagonally below a worn, wooden table. The tapestry on the wall was a burnt, saffron yellow. And still, the aroma of an open oven, and the promise of food wafts through the room. 

Keith’s salivating like a dog. 

“I’m home! And I brought a friend!” Lance calls, shedding his cloak and throwing it somewhere random. 

There’s the rapid pitter pattering of footsteps down the stairs, and out emerges a small, boyish like beta, large round glasses perched on their nose and hair a lion’s mane around their pixie-like face. Despite their small stature, Keith can sense something sharp and brilliant within them, like the glitter of a sword, or a forked flash of lightning. 

“Hi, I’m Pidge.” The beta grins. “I’m a girl, but I don’t really care about pronouns.” 

“I’m Keith.” Keith says, glancing down at… she’s human. “You’re human.”

“Are you as well? Damn, how’d you get all the way out here?” 

“Oh, I’m not human, no, only half.” 

Keith instantly regrets his words as curiosity blooms like wildflowers in Pidge’s eyes. 

“Really? H-“

“Alright, enough of the questions, Pidgeon. I smell cake,” Lance interrupts. 

“Duh. Hunk made some.” Pidge replies. 

Keith lets a small smile overtake him, a small one, the one he uses to fill the silence as if it was speech. 

“I heard my name. Are you all badmouthing me? Oh, hello, we have a visitor. Hi, I’m Hunk.” This beta is tall, his smile welcoming and playful like a childhood friend, extending a hand towards Keith in a characteristically human manner.

Keith takes it. “I’m Keith. It’s nice to meet you.”

“It’s nice to meet you too!” Hunk beams, as full of eager vigour as a mountain stream. “I assume Lance found you at the market, and invited you back, didn’t he? Well, you’re perfectly welcome to some cake, and to stay if you’d like. Lance has a way with lost ones.” 

“Thank you.” Keith’s smile widens a little, as Hunk trundles back to the kitchen. 

Humans were always this way. Innocent and excited like bunnies, despite their sad emotions being as deep and fathomless as the bottom of the sea. They could still be faithful and loyal, and as merry as bees in clover despite the weights of the world, and the harsh reality of the universe. They were as carefree as the puppies they threw sticks for. 

“Shiro!” Lance calls. “Guess he’s not around.” 

“Yeah, he’s out at the moment,” Pidge replies. “He’s trying to get more parts for me. Come on, let’s go have cake.”

And for the first time in decades, as he tucks into a slice of fresh lemon drizzle cake, Keith feels at home. 

Night had fallen, and Keith was finding it impossible to sleep. It was eluding him, like the scent of a primrose, or a nimbly-footed doe.

Hunk was extremely generous to offer a bed to Keith, when he heard that Keith had nowhere to stay. 

These were definitely humans. 

Pidge, however, had been as quiet as a ghost, only fixing her gaze onto Keith and holding it there, as secure as an enchantment. Keith couldn’t help but feel his nerves flare, as his shoulders shrunk further into his body in discomfort. 

The entire building was quiet, the only sound the soft breathing of Hunk and Pidge on the other side of the room. Although their scents were muted, in slumber they became more apparent to Keith, and he found himself quite enjoying the comforting, neutral lull that they brought. Pidge smelled like rosemary and lavender, her herbal scent implying that she was good with remedies and medicine. Hunk smelled just like freshly baked bread, his scent even carrying the warmth from the oven and perhaps even some of the icing sugar on the top. 

But even these comforting smells couldn’t send Keith to sleep. 

His thoughts were crowding around him, closing in on him like prison-warders hand-cuffing a convict. There was still nowhere for him to go, and although Hunk had graciously told him that he could stay with them as long as he liked, he felt unease at preying on their hospitality. It was of no help that he was also the only omega in the household. What would they do when his heats came? 

And even though he knew that this planet was far away enough from his home so that it was unlikely he would be found, worry still plagued him like a curse. What would they do to him if they found him? What would happen to Hunk, Pidge and Lance? He couldn’t let anything happen to them, they were the only ones who had shown him kindness in all the time he had been on the run. 

He couldn’t help but think of all the things that had happened that day. That strange, purple mist that seemed to beckon him to places unknown, and then Lance, the Altean alpha who had courageously saved him and brought him to this underground apartment, where he was fed cake and smiles and laughter with no price attached. Everything seemed… off. It was all too sudden, he was too lucky.

And, stupidly, he couldn’t get that alpha’s stupid grin off of his mind. 

Keith really hates his inner omega sometimes. 

That’s also what he thinks when the scent of an unknown alpha enters the building. For all he knows, it could be an invader, but all his reptilian omega brain can think of is, ‘smells nice’. He fights the urge to groan, as he slowly rises from his mattress and creeps lightly, as quiet as an owl, through the hallway. He refuses to let his omega take over, as that would expose his scent, even if it would give him the night vision he needed. 

He follows the scent, leading down to the main room where he had eaten earlier. The single lightbulb hanging from the ceiling is lit. Keith frowns. He peeps around the corner to see a tall, bulky alpha making himself… coffee? This shouldn’t be right. 

Keith also can’t help rake his eyes over the alpha’s form, briefly inhaling a whiff of his scent - that was a mistake. The alpha smells like a whole forest, the musk of dead leaves, and pine, and the soothing scent of freshly cut wood. His inner omega preens and stretches, begging to be released. Keith rolls his eyes, fighting the urge to scoff.

That’s when he catches the smoldering, glamorously spiced scent of the beach, and the salty scent of the sea, and he knows Lance is right behind him. He whirls, pressing a finger to his lips in warning. Lance just laughs. Keith frowns. Did he not pay attention to Keith beforehand? 

Lance shoots him a playful grin before descending down the rest of the steps. “Shiro!” He calls, happily. 

The tall, muscled alpha (oh, those biceps) apparently called ‘Shiro’ turns around, a smile breaking across those chiseled features. And Lance, Lance is wearing only a tunic, and Keith’s inner omega is in seventh heaven. 

“Hey, Lance. Sorry to wake you, ran into a bit of trouble on the way back.”

“Just glad you’re back, man. Oh, Keith, come out!” 

Keith huffs childishly, before revealing himself and walking down the rest of the steps. He could at least be civil to this new alpha, who appears to be another one of Lance’s friends. 

“Hello, I’m Keith,” he says, tensing slightly when he catches sight of the alpha’s prosthetic arm - it’s definitely a galra creation, from the way a slight purple glow emanates from the joints. 

“Hey, I’m Shiro. Sorry for waking you up.” 

“It’s fine.” Keith replies, awkwardly. He’s never been the best at small talk. Some mistake it as pride or arrogance, but in reality, Keith’s just very nervous around other people.

Shiro just smiles at him, grabbing his mug of coffee. “I’ll just let you guys get back to sleep, then. Don’t worry about me. I’ll see you in the morning.” 

And as Keith wanders back to the shared room, he finds himself yawning. He flops down onto the mattress like a dead fish, and promptly falls asleep. 

The morning whirls in through the window like a tornado, shaking Keith from his slumber and flooding the room with warm, summer light. The myriad of tiles on the walls blaze in the golden sunlight like a mosaic of a hundred thousand jewels, flashing on all the furniture with sudden smilings of divine delight. 

Keith slowly rolls off the mattress, wincing at the hard thump of his hip on the floor, and wanders slowly down to the kitchen to grab himself another slice of cake for breakfast and some tea. He can’t help but grin, as he realises the tea is from Earth. 

These domesticated, homely activities become as familiar to him as his alphabet, as Keith sits at the kitchen counter, sipping his mug of tea, and pecking away at a slice of lemon drizzle cake, watching each of his housemates trickle down the stairs like a hesitant stream of water, yawning and groaning like old furniture, as they make themselves breakfast and sit next to Keith, smiling at him and making small conversation. 

“How’d you sleep, Keith?” Hunk asks, kindly. 

“Alright, thanks,” Keith answers. “How about you?” 

“Good. Here’s Pidge.” 

“Morning.” Pidge greets, as she plops down onto the seat beside Keith. “Did Shiro come home last night?” 

“Yeah,” Keith replies. “I smelled him.” 

“Ah, yeah. You’re an omega, aren’t you? Sorry for being standoffish yesterday.” Pidge says. 

“It’s fine,” Keith reassures her. “You’re curious about me, correct?” 

Pidge grins. “I must be easy to read.” 

“Don’t let her questions bowl you over, my friend,” Hunk steps into the conversation, as cleanly as a knife cut. 

“It’s alright.” Keith says. 

Pidge takes that as an affirmation of Keith’s acquiescence to being questioned. “So, you mentioned you’re half human. What’s the other half?” 

A deep, baritone voice sounds from the top of the stairs. “Pidge, didn’t I tell you not to just ask people what they are?” 

Keith lets out a huff of laughter as Pidge shoots him an apologetic glance. “Sorry, Keith.”

“It’s alright. I mean, if it really is important for you to know, I’m half human, half galra.” 

Before Pidge can post another one of her relentless questions, there’s a loud yell from the staircase. Keith whirls around, as quick as a whip, but it’s just Lance tripping over his own feet as he walks down the stairs. Keith’s grin widens.

“Lance, honestly, you’ve walked down those stairs god knows how many times,” Shiro sighs, helping Lance up off the floor. 

Lance dusts himself off with the flamboyant air of a peacock. “I was just distracted,” He sniffs. 

Shiro chuckles fondly. “Pidge, did you get the spare parts I left in your workshop?” 

“Haven’t been up yet. I’ll see them later. Thanks, Shiro.” Pidge beams. “Keith, you’re welcome to join me in the workshop.” 

Lance tuts. “Uh-uh, Keith’s joining me in the marketplace today. He’s my friend too, remember?”

“Shouldn’t Keith be deciding this?” Hunk adds, as he picks up empty plates and puts them in the water basin. 

Hunk is ignored, as Lance places his hands on his hips like a petulant child and says, “Pidge, you’ll get plenty of time to question him later. Let me spend time with my friend first. Besides, Keith’s shy, it’ll be easier for him to spend time with someone he knows.”

Keith’s about to step in with a ‘but we only just met yesterday’, but is cut off by Lance’s brilliant, broad smile. 

“Alright, fine. You know him, I suppose,” Pidge grumbles. “I’m going to go work on the engine.” 

“I’ll help,” Hunk eagerly volunteers. “See you guys later!” 

“I’ve got to get to work. Keith, Lance, are you joining me?” Shiro asks, draining the last of his coffee. He’s already dressed, hair swept back, cloak fastened securely on his broad, strong shoulders. 

“Nah,” Lance answers. “We’ll be doing our own thing. See you later!” 

“Alright, see ya.” 

And as Keith slips on his worn, tattered robes, he can’t help but feel a tiny bit of anticipation - after all, he was spending the whole day with a tall, handsome alpha. He should be allowed to feel a little excited.

Chapter Text

As Keith and Lance set off back down the alleyway, the sun beams happily down upon them. Lance’s tanned skin glows, as if he was being protected by a golden-shielded army.

Keith is annoyed. He doesn’t understand that small, tight feeling inside his windpipe. It’s a feeling he’s never had before, but ever since he met Lance, it seems to be incessant. 

As they walk through the market, Keith is amazed at how Lance seems to know everyone, with the way he winks bewitchingly at various passersby, or the way he grins charmingly at all the vendors, capturing alphas, betas and omegas alike at his will.  The market is just as busy as it was the other day. Keith rests one hand on the hilt of his gilded dagger. Like a parade, in rich memorial pomp the people go by, a sea of faces and lives. Keith feels like a snow-flake lost in the ocean. 

“Hey, Lance? Where exactly are we going?” Keith asks, wary of the swarms of people that crowd around them, and the flintsteel glint in their eyes as they catch sight of Keith. 

Lance just smiles a mysterious smile, as vague as a desert mirage. “You’ll see.” 

Keith recognises this square, it’s the square where that violet mist had sent Keith into a trance, and the square where he and Lance met. Looming ahead was a large palace, probably the home of some lord or noble that Keith had no intention to meet. Its walls were made of sunset-orange clay, and it towered above all of the other buildings in the city. It’s minarets and turrets were like those read in storybooks, or remembered out of the faraway past. The wide entrances, doorways and windows depicted various myths and legends in pigmented, intricate images taking up every available space. The power of the building was as obvious as a triumphing fire. 

The corner of Lance’s mouth is quirked up in a mischievous smirk, cheeky like a ring-tailed lemur, cunning like a hyena. “You trust me, right?” 

Keith laughs in response, shrugging his shoulders, but the bright flame of his chuckles are extinguished quickly as Lance begins to scale a side of the palace walls, hidden out of sight by a plumage of tall trees and their massive, emerald-green leaves. 

“What are you doing?” Keith whisper-shouts, but Lance can’t hear him, he’s halfway up the walls. 

Lance beckons him to follow, as he disappears behind the vines. 

As Keith begrudgingly scales the wall, he sees that a large section of the wall has fallen out. He just manages to catch sight of Lance hopping through the giant hole it’s left behind, before the alpha disappears from view. Keith slowly makes his way over, sidestepping the vines and rocks that look unstable. Since all royals were trained in combat, Keith being an omega was trained less in strength and brute force and more in agility, speed and espionage. It was easy to make his way across the wall. But despite his innate stability, the sight that awaited him as he reached the opening nearly toppled him back down to the ground. 

This window through the wall led right into the palace gardens, which held all sorts of lush, vividly colourful greenery native to the planet. There were blooms that Keith had never seen before, deep azure blues, as if they had taken threads of the sky and woven them into flower petals, and giant ferns the colour of burnt umber, towering over the pathways, and goldenrod spires hanging down from tall, navy trees like stars in the night sky. Salmon-pink grass, bushes and leaves spilled out of their branchy confines onto the pathways and into the air, as insects flitted from tree to tree, taking their fill of all the vibrant colour that infused this place with a vivacity greater than anything Keith has ever seen. 

And Lance looks like he’s right at home, as the fronds of various plant-life tickle his shins and cast shade upon his golden skin. He calls Keith to jump down and join him amongst all the flowers and the trees with a wide grin on his face. 

Oh, who is Keith to resist? 

And Keith sees, as he looks into the sweet periwinkle blues of Lance’s eyes, as nature cocoons him in its protective embrace, that this is what he’s been looking for all along. 

He’s a drunkard on the feeling of freedom. He’s surrounded by beauty, and all his anger dissipates like dust in the wind. 

“Tell me about yourself, Keith,” Lance starts, as they stroll leisurely through the forbidden gardens. 

Keith’s newfound revelations about himself and his life have choked his confidence. “I’d rather that you go first,” he says, trying to cover up how suddenly dry his throat has become. 

Lance grins good-naturedly, as lovely as starry-water. “Well, I’m Altean, as you can probably tell, born and raised. I’m 22, an alpha, presented at 16. I ran away from home because all my life, I’ve obeyed my parents, and done whatever they wanted me to do. I thought that my parents would relax a bit once I presented, but they just got even more and more demanding. It’s like I couldn’t even have my own life, you know? People would tell me to get a life but the thing is, I couldn’t. My parents controlled my activities, meals, love life, studies - everything, and at one point, I just had enough, you know? I mean, I’m probably explaining this all wrong, and I don’t know if you get it, but-”

“No, I get it. I know that feeling,” Keith interrupts, as Lance’s gaze turned inquisitively towards him. “As if you’re trapped in the wishes of someone else, and you wish that you could discover your own pathway.” 

The smile that overtakes Lance’s face is nothing like before. This time, it’s soft, soothing and gentle, like the whisper of a child murmuring it’s happiness within the depth of it’s sleep. “Seems like you’ve done the exact same I have.”

Keith nods. “It’s not a happy tale.” 

“I’d really like to hear it, if you’d be okay with telling me.” 

And Keith lifts his eyes to rest on the entirety of Lance’s face. How his cheekbones contrast the rest of his face sharply, like his jawline, perfectly straight like the edge of a sword. But despite these sharp edges, Keith can’t help but notice how soft Lance’s features truly are. A button nose, and lips that curl upwards in bright, beaming grins, brash smirks, or little, loving smiles that animate his face with a billion different shades of emotion. Eyes that find the harmony between the opaque, enigmatic ultramarine, and the sibylline, clairvoyant cornflower blue, that seem to hold Keith’s soul and slowly lull it to the swaying of the ocean waves, keeping him afloat even during thunderstorms. The curiosity, mischief and playfulness that resides in them resembles dolphins, dancing through the seas of loveliness in Lance’s irises. And all of that rests on tanned, taupe skin that glistens under sunbeams, sweat sparkling like caverns of treasure. And Keith’s rendered even more speechless than he’s ever been. 

“I-”

“It’s fine if you don’t want to. I’m not going to push you.” 

And Keith is swimming in the kindness and consideration of this alpha’s eyes, as his inner omega purrs in pure satisfaction. Something warm wells up inside him, like a reservoir of warm, flowing water behind a dam. 

“No, I do want to tell you. I… was born on earth. My father is human, and my mother is galran. I’m 23, and an omega, and I was always told that even as an omega, I still had the strength an alpha had, even if it made its appearance in different ways. I was always told that I had the inner power to be independent, and strong, and free. Since my mother had left her mate, yet still raised me, she showed me that I needed no alpha to prove my own worth. But the day I ran away, she told me that she had chosen a mate for me, and that I had no choice in the matter anymore. The realisation that my life was no longer my own had been building for some time, but it overwhelmed me then, in that moment. So, I ran. I have a ship, hidden here. I haven’t looked back.” 

Lance places both of his hands gently on Keith’s shoulders, turning him so the pair could speak face-to-face. “You are independent, and strong, and free, Keith. I see it in you. Omega or not, your value can’t be overlooked. I… I hope you see that too. Don’t listen to your mother, or what society says. Your life is your own.” 

Keith gives Lance a small, understanding smile of a conspirator who has just become a friend. “Your life is your own too, Lance.” 

Lance mirrors his expression, as mutual understanding flits between them and rests like sand in the bottom of an hourglass.

“Hey, do you want to hear about the time I was on earth?” Lance asks, the promise of laughter hidden in his ocean eyes. 

“Sure,” Keith says, already starting to feel fondness for the younger alpha, as his spirits start to rise like happy bubbles in his throat. 

And the sun continues to shine down on two runaway kindred spirits, finding solace in each other, in the midst of a universe tangled in chaos. 

“Man, you talk a little strange.” Lance says, one day, as he and Keith are sunbathing on the rooftop of an obscure tower in the sandstone city. 

“Mind your words. I’m older than you.” Keith replies, unamused. 

Lance only giggles in reply, mirth saturating his tone like droplets of water on silk. “See what I mean? You’re so formal all the time, makes me think you’re a lord or something.” 

Keith freezes only for a split-second, before turning his head to face Lance. The two are lying side by side on matching red blankets, the evening sun warming them gently and bathing them in it’s warm, homely glow. 

Keith has never felt comfort like this before. Despite the pounding of his heart at having Lance, an alpha, in such close proximity, he feels safe. 

“Whatever on earth gives you that impression?” 

“Ah, you’re using Earthen expressions too now! Pidge is rubbing off on you too much, my friend.” Lance’s grin never falters, as he also turns his head to look Keith right in the eyes. 

The eye-contact is intense, but not overwhelming. Instead of a sensation of drowning, Keith experiences a moment of pure clarity. Here is another soul just like his, different but the same, forever intertwined, forever connected, soul-bonded. But this revelation is gone as quickly as it arrived, like the fleeting flap of the wings of a turtle dove. 

Keith huffs. “Pidge is not rubbing off on me. You’re speaking nonsense again.” 

“What nonsense? I don’t tell any lies, I only speak the truth!” 

Keith gives Lance a pointed look that says ‘Lance, I’m not having any of your shit today’, before turning away to look up at the sky. Dark purple is creeping towards the sun as it hides behind the horizon, the orange colour slowly bleeding away, and Keith wonders how much time he has left before they find him.

“What is this ‘movie’ you’re taking me to? Is it a vehicle?” 

Lance splutters. “VeHICLE??? What part of movie equals VEHICLE? What the hell is a vehicle anyway?” 

Keith rolls his eyes, absolutely and completely fed up yet again with Lance’s bullshit. “You said movie, movie sounds like the word ‘move’, doesn’t it? Vehicles move! Therefore my assumption is perfectly valid.” 

“My asSumPtIOn iS PeRfeCtlY VaLiD,” Lance parrots back in a really stupid high-pitched voice. “It’s a movie?! How have you not seen one before?? We had them all the time back in Altea.” 

By the stars, he’s so annoying. 

“Well I’m not from Altea, am I?” Keith deadpans, turning his head away from Lance snootily (more like sulkily, but Keith would rather die than admit that). 

Lance makes a humming noise in the back of his throat, before starting to explain. “Well, a movie is… uh… how do I explain what a movie is? Do you know what a cinema is?” 

“If I don’t know what a movie is, how do you expect me to know what a cinema is?” 

“I don’t know! A movie is like a book but like moving! And you have a camera and then you take a video and put it all together with a story and then boom! A movie!” 

“I understood virtually none of what you just said.” 

Lance pinches the bridge of his nose in exasperation, as if his explanation of whatever a ‘movie’ is wasn’t utterly incomprehensible. 

“You’ll see, okay? Just let me show you. I got us tickets for it and everything, in the back row too, don’t you know what a hot commodity those seats are? It’ll be great!” 

“Sure.” 

Keith goes along with it, because in all honesty, he’s very bored and just wants something to do. 

Ha, sike, he’s just whipped for Lance and his pretty blue eyes. 

They arrive at what Lance is calling the ‘cinema’ (although he calls it the ‘theatre’ too and Keith isn’t really sure what either one of those words mean), and Keith is already overwhelmed by the amount of flashing lights and big words and ‘Coming Soon To A Galra Outpost Near You’ and that doesn’t sound good. Lance, on the other hand, is bouncing around happily, dragging Keith around to show him ‘corn’ that ‘pops’ (Keith doesn’t know what corn is) as well as a human delicacy called ‘coca-cola’. 

“Movies were a human invention, you know?” 

No, Keith does not know. 

“And then they were so popular and so fun that the rest of the universe caught on, and now we can all watch them!” 

Ah, so they were something that you ‘watched’. Keith notes this down for future reference. After all, this seemed like a pretty important part of human culture (as well as Lance’s culture too). 

“What kind of popcorn do you want, sweet or salty?” 

“Um…” Keith has never tried popcorn before, and hesitates. 

“Oh, you’ve never had it before?” Lance catches on, to Keith’s relief, “In that case, we’ll get a mix of both. You can try both flavours!” 

Lance beams at him, and Keith decides that this foolery was all completely worth it. 

The room that they enter is dimly lit, and there’s rows and rows of red plush seats slowly descending in front of a large black flat box looking thing. Lance grabs Keith’s wrist (no, Keith is NOT paying attention to that at ALL) and pulls them into the back row. Keith is trying his best to balance the popcorn with one hand and not bump into all the other… couples?

Why on earth are there so many couples in the back row? 

But Keith doesn’t have time to worry about that, because the lights are dimming down, and oh . 

It’s a… feed? Keith doesn’t know where it’s playing from, but there’s a moving image and it’s playing and it says ‘Wiseau Films’ inside a planet that looks like Earth? Keith really should have paid more attention in his classes. He also has no clue what a ‘films’ is, but he’s kind of used to not knowing anything now. He glances over at Lance, but the dark haired man is busy shoveling all the popcorn into his mouth- 

“Hey! I want to try a popcorn too!” He hisses, not wanting to disturb the sound that is currently playing from somewhere in the dark room. 

Lance ever the gentleman, sticks a hand into the popcorn, spilling several of the kernels all over his lap in the process, and crudely offers a handful of popcorn to Keith, all the while keeping his eyes fixated on the screen. Keith fights the urge to roll his eyes, and cups his hands for Lance to pour all the popcorn into it. 

The picture on the box at the front of the room is moving again, but this time it’s moving downwards, revealing… earth? Keith doesn’t understand anything about this, but there’s what looks like a bridge, and the sky is characteristically blue (giving away that it’s Earth), and there’s some very uncomfortable noises that are occurring between the couple that is sitting beside them, and Keith is confused . 

Lance takes a moment to explain, in a hushed whisper that thankfully distracts Keith from everyone else in the back row. “So, this movie is called ‘The Room’, and it’s about a love triangle. So basically you have actors and they have like a script? And then they are recorded, and the footage is edited, and it becomes a movie! Some movies have real stories behind them, some are made-up.” 

"So… this one is made up?” 

“Well, kinda.” 

Keith is even more confused. 

“But you don’t really need to worry about that. They just hire people to pretend to be people in a story and then they record it with a thingy called a camera.” 

“I know what a camera is.” 

“Oh, good! Anyway so, the camera takes a video and they film, and then afterwards they collect all the footage and then put it together, and boom, a movie!” 

Keith kind of gets it, now, but the first dialogue scene is starting, and Lance’s explanation abruptly stops so he can… mouth the words? How many times has he seen this? Keith could really use more explanation, but he really shouldn’t have overestimated Lance’s vernacular, and just sits back and enjoys the pleasant tang of the current popcorn kernel in his mouth (he thinks this is what Lance means by ‘salty’). 

It’s only been about five ticks, and the pair on screen are… engaging in some activities that Keith isn’t really sure should be recorded, but Lance is looking thoroughly amused. Is this what a movie is?? 

Keith moves to reach for the popcorn, and he knows his face is the colour of burnt poppies as he averts his eyes from what Lance is calling the ‘screen’, and manages to avoid Lance’s hand reaching into the popcorn at the same time (absolutely no physical contact is allowed at this moment, especially not with Lance).

In front of them, there is another couple, and the omega’s head is learning on the alpha’s shoulder as they watch, sharing popcorn, and Keith is suddenly filled with this strange feeling, that lights a little tugging sensation in his chest. He watches as the omega, face lit by the big screen, nuzzles further into her mate’s cheek. Her alpha is also female, and offers her omega a loving smile. And Keith wants . More than ever, he wants a relationship like that. He wants that solidarity, that security, the warmth that a mate bond provides. The fulfilment. 

(Keith’s still trying to ignore the absolute absurdity that is happening on the big screen.) 

The little wriggly feeling in his chest intensifies as he turns his gaze towards the tanned alpha sitting next to him, the way his big blue eyes reflect the bright lights of the movie, illuminating his sharp cheekbones and the adorable little freckles dusted over his nose. And he wishes that things were different. He wishes that his contact lenses wouldn’t evaporate in two weeks, he wishes that he wasn’t easily recognisable by literally any galran soldier, he wishes that he knew what a movie and a film and a theatre and a cinema was. 

And in an act of pure bravery, he rests his head on Lance’s shoulder, mirroring the omega in front of him. He ignores Lance’s head snapping towards him, and keeps his eyes trained on the screen (he still has no idea what is happening) and hopes that his pheromone glands are emitting a comfortable, relaxed scent. 

Lance then relaxes under him, and Keith is absolutely delighted to notice that Lance is smiling , a tiny upwards lift of the corner of his mouth, and he emits a pleased scent, and Keith is suddenly warm and embarrassed all over, but he steels himself and watches . 

Here you go, keep the change. Hi doggy.

Keith’s going to pretend that he doesn’t see Pidge wiggling her eyebrows whenever he and Lance go out to dinner, or the raised curl of her lip whenever Lance practically throws himself onto Keith for a hug. Keith’s also going to pretend that he isn’t affected by Lance’s ever-increasing clinginess, his invitations to hang out every single day for weeks. He thought alphas weren’t supposed to be this needy, but apparently he was wrong. 

The two had just returned from dinner to greet Pidge and Hunk in the living room, tinkering with parts of the engine of Keith’s escape pod. Keith, deciding that he no longer had a use for the little ship, since it certainly couldn’t take all 5 of them off the planet, had given it to Pidge to see if she could use any of the scraps for the ship she was building. 

Keith still hadn’t seen the ship yet, all he knew was that it was hidden away in some secret underground chamber connecting to this one, veiled in clandestine mystery. But he was happy to contribute to Pidge’s efforts. 

Dinner was very romantic, or at least it was in Keith’s eyes. The eatery was situated at the top of a large sandstone tower, with glassless windows overlooking the glimmering city, letting the dry desert air carry in it’s multitudinous scents from all over the city. The tower was slowly crumbling, it’s roof already disintegrated, which meant Keith and Lance dined under stars as bright as the tears of angels, moonbeams resting like silken sheets of white on Keith’s dark hair, candlelight being the only thing that allowed them to see each other’s faces. Little white flowers were growing on the vines slowly eating away at the tower walls, some of which were already falling to ruin. 

Keith felt himself falling like a wandering star, as dish after dish of exotic, spicy foods arrived,  the wine starting to taste sweeter and sweeter, and conversation with Lance becoming increasingly suggestive as time continues to pass like a great express train, flashing the hours past as Keith loses himself under the glittering night sky. 

When they got back, they waved goodnight to Hunk and Pidge, Shiro once again out late, and staggered up the stairs in a stupor, Lance’s arm curled tightly around Keith’s waist, and Keiths’ nose buried in the nape of Lance’s neck. 

Neither of them release their hold on the other, even when they reach Keith, Hunk and Pidge’s shared room. Instead, they carry on to Lance’s room, that he shares with Shiro, which was empty, and fall on the mattress together, minds too clouded with drink to realise the compromising position they were in. Keith nuzzles into Lance’s hold like a sleeping child, inhaling Lance’s hazy ocean scent like it was a drug, as he clutches onto Lance’s shirt with both hands. 

Lance, in response, burrows his own nose into Keith’s neck, gently nudging Keith’s adam's apple, as Keith’s own scent begins to sweeten in pleasure. Little jolts of sensation ran down his spine like rivulets of water, Keith’s inner omega taking over and pressing his body closer to the alpha’s, craving the warmth that emanates from his torso. Lance’s hands rest as gently as moonbeams on Keith’s hips, legs tangling together like vines. Keith’s hands travel up to rest on Lance’s shoulders, his eyes closed, feathery eyelashes fanned prettily over pink cheeks as he lets himself be scented. 

Keith feels like he’s on the beach, salty air whipping through his hair and hissing in his ears like a flock of white-winged albatross, sand sticking between his toes and smoke from the campfire making his eyes water with pearl-like tears. He’s just falling in the unimaginable depths of Lance’s cerulean eyes, his soothing, spiced scent, the soft, unblemished skin of his neck, the firmness of his chest and the steady, everlasting beat within, and the analeptic heat that envelops Keith in an inescapable embrace. 

And his scent changes, ever so slightly. According to Lance, Keith smells like indigo and lavender, with a hint of cinnamon spice that serves to remind others (especially alphas) that he’s a ‘bad bitch that’s not to be messed with’, Lance’s words, not his. Now, Keith’s scent transforms. He smells as if water from Lance’s ocean had rained, soaking the ground that Keith’s flowers grew in. The added spice of both their scents blended perfectly, fitting together like an old glove to a native hand. To Keith’s absolute delight, Lance’s scent altered too, mirroring the metamorphosis that happened within Keith. Tropical flowers began to grow like shadows, slowly, ever so subtly, within their two scents.

A perfect match. 

Keith’s inner omega is singing, relishing in the attention of such a suitable alpha, but Keith is holding back. Even though sexual tension has been building for the past few weeks, all pointing towards this moment right here,   there’s a nervousness, growing like a small weed inside Keith’s consciousness. Despite the thickness of the heated air around them, Lance’s touches are as innocent as they can be. They both know kissing would be too far, too far down a rabbit hole neither of them have the confidence to jump down, a line that once crossed, would ruin the trust that had been building for weeks. As much as Keith’s inner omega wants to plead for Lance’s alpha to take him now, Keith isn’t ready. 

But still, Keith finds himself inhaling sharply, breath hitched, as Lance runs his hands smoothly up Keith’s back, lightly caressing the nape of Keith’s neck to tangle in his ever-growing hair tenderly, nose still hidden in Keith’s neck, limbs locked together like the rings of a chain, chests pressed flush together, as if they were intertwined with a bond special to lovers, and lovers only. That’s when Keith feels the heat pooling beneath his navel, burning like a bonfire all the way to his heart, tongues of fire enveloping his mind. 

And a thought crosses his alcohol-riddled brain. How long has it been since he was in heat? 

That jolts him harder than when Lance brushed his lips over Keith’s collarbone, or when Lance’s fingers were dangerously close to slipping under the waistband of his trousers. He tenses, shoving Lance away from him harder than intended. Both of their chests are heaving, breath escaping in quick, rapidfire bursts from Keith’s lips, pupils blown wider than galaxies. 

“What’s wrong?” Lance is asking him, turbulent seas and tsunamis of surprise, arousal, bewilderment bursting in his irises like the sour explosion of a poisonous berry on the tongue. 

And that’s when he smells it. The way Keith’s scent has sweetened. It’s agonizing, how all-consuming Keith’s scent has become. It beckons, pleads, in a fervent, impassioned, yet almost reluctant and coy way, beseeching Lance to come closer, to lose himself in Keith’s exquisite, ardently seductive flora , and-

Keith’s cheeks are flushed pink, his eyes brimming with tears of hate, regret, embarrassment, his knees tucked protectively into his chest. Those venomous, virulent eyes are focused on Lance’s face, full of hurt and so much pain that he backs away. But Keith’s scent is still imploring him to touch him, run his hands all over Keith’s frame, and Lance can’t do this anymore. 

“I-I’ll get Pidge,” Lance says, voice hoarse and raspy, the edges as jarred and raspy as a serrated knife. 

Keith gulps, yet nods, grateful for the understanding and the care for him so blatantly shown by Lance’s actions. “D-Do that then.” 

And the respectful restraint that Lance has, despite everything, makes Keith drown even more. Flirty, confident and charming Lance, yet considerate and diligent in his affections, never pushing Keith further than his limits yet still being touchy and doting. Forget the sexy-cute duality, this one is much better. Keith’s omega tells him he really couldn’t find a better mate, but Keith can’t imagine mating, and with Lance, who’s such a perfect alpha that Keith knows he doesn’t deserve him. No one does but the best omega, who does all the omega things she ’s supposed to do, unlike him, a socially-awkward, antisocial, stubborn, mess of stupid who never seems to do anything right. 

This coupled with the uncomfortable burning of his heat is enough to make him cry. 

And the truth is, Keith misses his mom. He misses how she would wrap him in her arms and sing him softly to sleep, and call him sweet names as she cradled his head to her chest, and how she was always able to tell when Keith wasn’t okay and open her arms with a warm, understanding smile. Keith misses how she’d bake him cookies whenever he was feeling low, and shove aside all her royal duties just to make him, her only son, feel better. 

It’s exactly at that moment when Pidge walks in, hackles all raised and nose twitching in typical concerned beta fashion just as Keith lets out a little sniffle, and her face contorts into a mixture of sympathy, adoration and pity. “Aw, Keith. Hunk! We need you here right now!” 

The last thing Keith sees before Hunk enters the room and closes the door behind him is Lance’s anxious, tired and helpless face, sending little shurikens of guilt into his heart. But as Hunk surrounds him in a comforting, motherly hug and Pidge wipes away the tears he didn’t know he was crying with a warm cloth, he feels his nerves being eased just a smidge. 

“Shh, Keith, it’s okay, we’re all here,” Hunk soothes, as tears continue to trickle down Keith’s cheeks, as never-ending as the passage of time. 

“I’m going to go get you some water, food and blankets. Can you stay here with Hunk?” Pidge asks Keith, softly, as if her words were going to hurt him. 

Keith manages to muster a feeble nod and a smile, body going slack in Hunk’s arms. The effects of the alcohol wore off completely the moment Keith realised he was going into heat, and all that remained was an awful headache and the irritating sensation of having a ridiculously high fever. Everything was too warm, yet Hunk’s embrace wasn’t warm enough. And still, Keith continued to feel torturously inadequate and awkward because… and he realises it too. This is the first time he’s spending a heat outside of the palace. 

He’s never been vulnerable like this before. 

“Hey, can you give this to Keith?” 

Keith hears Lance’s voice outside the door, and his insides feel like they’re disintegrating like the walls of the tower they had dinner at, going soft like the underside of the apple crumble his mother used to make. His inner omega calls helplessly, and all Keith can do is bury his face even further into the crook of Hunk’s arm and whimper in misery. 

“Hey, Keith? It’s Pidge, can you open your eyes for me? Great. There’s water over there, and I’ve just sent Shiro out for heat supplies. I don’t know much about omegas, but Lance has a blanket for you that he’s scented, so if that helps…” 

Keith lets out a desperate mewl at the first whiff of Lance’s scent radiating off the blanket, snatching it out of Pidge’s hands and pressing his nose into it. The fire burning inside him instantly lessens, just by a fraction, as his inner omega is quieted by the smell of his alpha. 

Keith sniffs. It seems his omega’s already got its heart set. 

It wasn’t a bad choice. It was unlikely that it would ever happen, but Lance wasn’t a bad choice. Not when he, of his own accord, scented a blanket to help Keith through his heat because he couldn’t be there. 

Keith really doesn’t want to exist anymore. 

Still, the blanket does wonders to Keith’s condition, as he clasps it instinctively, possessively, to his chest, as if he was a mother cradling a newborn. He feels protected, shielded, and that feeling enough sends him dozing off into dreamland. Keith welcomes sleep with open arms. He’s completely and utterly fed up with feelings. 

Chapter Text

“I absolutely cannot believe that you took him to see The Room. The Room .” 

“Dude,” Hunk remarks, throwing a piece of fruit in the air and catching it with his mouth (which is never short of impressive). 

Lance, Hunk and Pidge are currently in Pidge’s lab in the basement, helping her with ‘engineering’, which is code for ‘let’s gossip about Lance and Keith’s relationship’. 

“Are you actually this utterly numbskulled?” 

“I told you that I didn’t want to court Keith the traditional way, I wanted to court him the human way! You said to take him out to a movie! That’s the one that was playing, okay? I even got us back row tickets, like you said.” 

“I can’t believe-” 

Pidge is almost yelling. “Back row???? No, no, that was a joke, nothing actually happened, did it?” 

“What do you mean, nothing actually happened?” Lance shouts, indignantly. 

Pidge closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, and runs a hand through her hair. 

“You absolute imbecile. The Room has 4 sex scenes, and you’re sitting in the back row. ” 

“You said ‘back row’ with a wink last time, I thought it was a good thing! Good things that humans do when they’re courting!” Lance insists, gesturing wildly with his hands. 

“Yeah, because people have sex in the back row!” 

Lance stares, wide-eyed at Pidge. “Well, the back row was packed , and for your information, there was only one couple who even got remotely close to… that , and-”

“That’s because the back row was PACKED!” Pidge steels herself, and then speaks slowly, as if Lance were a toddler (he has the maturity of one, so Pidge is completely justified in this scenario), “Usually when the back row is empty, human couples who are ‘courting’ or whatever go to the back so they can engage in coitus.” 

“Coitus,” Hunk snorts. 

“Well, it’s obvious that Lance is a gigantic moron , and even though he spent a hell of a lot of time on Earth he still knows absolutely nothing -” 

“Hey!” 

“And decided to try and date the most repressed omega in the entire universe.” 

“Not true! He even put his head on my shoulder! It was very nice,” Lance smiles, moon-eyed as he recounts the moment. 

“And they were watching The Room .” 

Chapter Text

Keith’s heat passes in a blur of being inconveniently horny, sleep and Lance returning every evening to pass Keith one garment of his clothing. The look on his face is undecipherable. It’s mysterious yet incomprehensible, as if it was supernatural. Keith doesn’t know if Lance is feeling concern, pity, lust, anxiousness, hurt, awkwardness, or all of the above. 

Therefore, when Keith’s heat is over, the tension between the two is thick like a wall of hail-stones innumerable, preventing the two from ever meeting each other’s eyes. They don’t fight, but it’s as if they’ve both forgotten that intimacy with which they scented each other, the little spark that was once cradled so lovingly in their palms left out in the snow to burn out. 

Keith avoids seeing Lance, and Lance avoids seeing him too. There are no more playful invitations to go to the market, or walk around in the forbidden palace gardens, or climb palm trees by the oasis and talk, throwing coconuts at each other and chittering like monkeys. Even Pidge acknowledges the awkwardness between them. 

One day, Shiro decides he’s had enough of the ‘standoffishness’. “You guys need to sort out whatever’s happened between you, because it’s affecting the rest of us, and I’m sick and tired of you guys just avoiding each other. You’re both going to the market today, together, and that’s final.” 

Keith feels small and useless as he trails behind Lance through the market. The alpha is still refusing to look him in the eyes, not saying a word. Lance’s shirt (the last one he gave to Keith before his heat ended) still rests, neatly folded, on the end of Keith’s mattress. Even though it’s made of linen, it still weighs on Keith with the force of a thousand iron ingots. There’s an uneasy feeling in his stomach too, bile churning in his liver. 

Keith’s dawdling behind Lance, but the alpha still doesn’t speak, or tell Keith to catch up. When he calls for Keith, his voice has lost that lustre that it once had, and there’s a hateful uncertainty brewing in those ocean depths of his blue eyes. Keith’s heart clenches, eyes tearing up behind those long-term contact lenses in his eyes. 

Lance still hasn’t seen his real eye colour, has he? 

Keith knows that the lenses will evaporate at the end of their four-week course. Everything has to come to an end, doesn’t it? 

That’s when Keith catches sight of that purple cloud he saw on his first day here, the one that Lance saved him from. Except this time, there’s a woman emerging, face hooded by the long robe she wore. Gravity made her cheeks sag, her face the classic lilac colour of Galra , and Keith feels his heart all the way up in his mouth. He wants to tug on Lance’s sleeve, whisper to him to run, but he’s lost sight of him in the crowd, and Keith’s panicking now. 

Instinctively, he calls. “Lance!” He’s starting to walk faster and faster, but the witch, the royal witch is following him, her robes gliding through the sand, making her seem to hover like a ghost. 

No, not this soon, I don’t want to go back-

His inner omega overtakes him as panic sets in, searching desperately, hopelessly, for the scent of his alpha, his own scent like a beacon of vexation. He should have known from the very first day that they would have found him. 

The witch, Haggar’s robes are like the curtains of God’s tabernacle, purple and crimson and scarlet, her glowing, all-seeing eyes are glinting like two swords in the sunlight, and Keith breaks out into a run. He just catches sight of the top of Lance’s head, whirling around wildly as he catches the scent of distressed omega, his distressed omega. 

“Keith!” 

But Haggar is moving with unnatural speed, seeming to glide through people as she gains on Keith, like a fox gaining on a helpless rabbit. Out of the corner of his eye, Keith can see the armour of the royal Galran guards, and he knows he’s already lost. 

Please, just let me see him one last time. 

And Keith locks eyes with Lance, both struggling to reach each other, a thousand words being said in the time of none, as Keith sees a tear fall down Lance’s cheek because I couldn’t get to him in time , and Keith wishes he could just kiss it away and fall into Lance’s arms for the rest of eternity and forget everything that’s happened over the past month because I want you , and I know you want me too. As the guards reach him, Keith tries to savour his last glimpse of Lance’s azure eyes over the sea of heads before he’s whisked away. 

The only thing he leaves is his heart, in the sand right at Lance’s feet.

I promise I’ll find you. 

“The Empire is failing under that excuse of a Queen. Husband, this is our chance to take the throne.” 

Keith blinks, his eyes hazy with tears unspilled, as he identifies the recognisable rasp of the royal witch. 

“I have always been respectful of your views against the Queen, dearest wife, but you know that I have never had any intention to stage an uprising against her.” 

Keith would know that deep, baritone voice anywhere. General Zarkon, commander of the Galran armies. He really thought he’d never see the day that he’d marry, let alone fall in love. 

“You have always been foolish . Don’t you see? We could be so much more than this. We could rule the entire Galran empire! With the discovery of quintessence, we could take over the entire universe . We could become the most powerful beings in all of existence!” 

“I am sorry, dear wife, but it goes against my very nature to fight against our Queen. Let us return the Prince to his home, and I am sure that we will be rewarded handsomely.” 

“‘Rewarded handsomely’? Pah, as if that compares to having complete control over the entire universe.”

“Dearest, the Queen has always been kind to us. She was the one who allowed us to marry, something unheard of. I have never understood what you have against her.” 

“As always, you think primitive thoughts. It is not that I have something against her, it is that she cannot do what is best for the Galran empire. She makes allies, instead of conquering. She fights for the rights of those omegas, who were born to be lower-class. It is bad enough that her son is one.” 

“Now, now, dearest, you were an omega once.” 

“And I’d never go back.”

Keith feels like there’s a caged lion in his head, roaring and rattling at the bars of his prison. Everything throbs, and he can’t bear to listen to the argument in the next room for another second. He can feel himself slipping in and out of consciousness, as if he were drowning. One moment his head is above the water, the next, it’s below. But eventually, he knows he will sink, his body slowly moving downwards in the water just like his eyelids, a single tear of pure exhaustion escaping through the closing wall, before he’s fallen asleep. 

Pidge just sighs when she sees Lance return home, alone. She sees him kick off his shoes by the door, and trudge over to the kitchen. However, she doesn’t see the devastated, lost look on his face, how his feet drag like lead, how grave thoughts seem to thread through his usually dream-like demeanour, because all she can see is Lance’s not with Keith. 

“Where’s Keith?” Her tone is accusing, as she hisses, her eyes slitted like a predatory cat. 

“I don’t know.” 

Pidge mistakes the desolation in his voice for negligence, the pure death of soul in his timbre for thoughtless unconcern. To her, Lance is being his haughty, lackadaisical self. The beta is ready to snarl at him, but Hunk is walking over and is surrounding Lance in one of his comforting hugs, and Pidge finally sees how Lance looks a shadow of the star he once was, how the seas in his eyes are in upheaval. 

“I-I don’t know where he’s gone,” Lance sniffles, the ocean blue of his eyes overflowing, some spilling down his cheeks. “We were just walking, and, and we didn’t stay all that close together, and then, then I heard him call my name and I could smell him and-”

“Alright, shh, shh, let’s sit down, you can tell us the whole story calmly.” 

Lance is breaking into quiet, stifled sobs, shuddering like a doomed soul, as Hunk gently sets him down on the sofa. 

“He called for me, Hunk, he called for me, he called for me and I couldn’t reach him-”

“What do you mean you couldn’t reach him?” Pidge asks, hints of her anger before still present in her tone. 

“He was being chased, by Galran guards, the royal guards, and their royal witch, and he called for me, and-”

Hunk, out of confusion, started. “What? Why would he be chased by-”

Pidge is sputtering, as she pieces the whole jigsaw together in her head. “His ship was a piece of Galran technology. Maybe he’s a fugitive, or-”

She’s interrupted by Lance’s loud sobs. She turns to face him, her features falling in sympathy as she stares at her friend, whose scent’s been overtaken by sadness as vast as the depths of deep space. A tiny bit of Keith clings to the edge of Lance’s smell, and it’s so obvious that Lance is holding onto him too. 

In her best attempt to comfort him, she says, “Maybe they weren’t royal guards, maybe they were just thugs hired by some witch.” 

Lance wipes his nose with his sleeve. “They’re royal guards, I know. I’d recognise that uniform anywhere, and the Galran court has a position for a witch, and they took Keith-” 

Lance shatters into another round of tears, and Hunk is soothing him, but one thing Pidge can’t get off her mind is that she knows nothing about who Keith really is. She knows nothing about Lance, either. How could Lance be so sure that they were royal guards? She voices her thoughts out loud, “I’m sure they had a reason, especially if they’re members of the royal court, maybe Keith is escaped nobility, or royalty...”

And everything becomes as clear as polished glass. 

“K-Keith isn’t royalt-”

When Lance breaks off in the middle of his sentence, Pidge knows that he sees it too. 

“His surname is K-Kogane, that’s the old surname of Queen Krolia when she was on Earth, and that notice of the runaway Galran prince, and he said, he said he ran away from home-” Lance starts, eyes wide, his heart shaking like wind-blown river reeds inside his ribcage. 

Pidge continues, “He was captured by royal guards, he had a Galran ship, his way of speaking was so refined and his robes were made of finer material than usual, the Queen’s son is known to be half human, half galra, oh, it all makes so much sense, how did we not see it-”

“I-I’m engaged to him.”

And Lance is furiously wiping away his tears, escaping from Hunk’s embrace, sitting up in determination, back straightened in resilience. 

“I’m engaged to Keith.”

“B-But he’s Galran royalty, how-”

Before Pidge can utter another word, Lance pulls out a folded, tattered photograph from his pocket, opening it with care, handling it as gently as time handles the centuries, revealing his Altean parents. His mother cradles baby Lance in her arms, his father standing behind him, proud and regal, both with matching crowns on top of their heads, dressed in traditional royal Altean garb. Lance fingers the edge of the photograph tenderly. It’s ironic, how he looks upon his childhood with such a child-like hope, but also an old sort of wistfulness. 

Lance sighs. The salt from the dried tear tracks is soaking into his skin, making it sting slightly, as he explains. “I ran away from home, the palace, I guess, because I was done with my parents telling me what to do, and how to live my life. What really did it for me was them forcing me to mate with the ‘Galran Crown Prince’, a.k.a Keith, I wanted to find my own mate, like any other alpha, you know? I also didn’t want to force an unwilling person to mate with me. And Keith, he told me that he ran away because of an arranged marriage as well, and that must have been the one with me, but neither of us knew, and-”

  “And you fell in love anyway. That’s so beautifully romantic, I think I might cry.” Hunk says, smiling once Lance  was done with his story. 

“What do you mean, fell in love?” Lance stares, confused. 

Pidge facepalms. “You eyeless, amaurotic-” 

“No, no I know I’m probably in love with him, I’ve known that since forever,” Lance replies, slightly shocking Pidge. After all, Lance’s always had the emotional awareness the size of an elementary particle. “But I don’t know if he loves me back.” 

“He loves you. There’s absolutely no way he doesn’t love you. We’ve seen it with our two eyes. Quit fooling yourself. He let you scent him. You two were always out together, doing god knows what, watching The goddamn Room my god, I can’t believe-” 

“You really think he loves me?” 

Pidge looks up, ready to bite back with a scathing remark on Lance’s blindness, but then sees the glistening tears of realisation in Lance’s eyes, and sighs. 

“Well, I think you’re lucky, because I’ve just finished building our ship. I guess we’re starting operation: rescue Keith.” 

The next time Keith is awake long enough to properly take note of his surroundings, he hears another conversation through those thin, derelict walls, through the musky, metallic air. He tries to ignore the burning of the ropes digging into the skin of his wrist, rubbing them raw, to eavesdrop. 

“She’s changed, Sendak. She’s not the woman I knew before. She’s drunk on… on some power, I don’t know where it came from, but it means we never agree.” 

“All couples do have their misunderstandings, sir.” 

“I know that, I know that, it’s just that we barely see eye to eye with each other. Our orders were to bring the Crown Prince back home, but she is delaying our return, she wants to hold him hostage, and use him as leverage against the Queen, and you, of all people, are the one who should know how I would have reacted to that.” 

Keith hears a long sigh, one that he assumes is Zarkon’s. 

“Well, sir, there is a high chance that a soldier could bring the Crown Prince back to the palace because he used his omega voice. Of course, sir, you would have nothing to do with it. It could happen entirely on it’s own.” 

There’s a pause, one Keith imagines to be filled with secretive, mirth-filled smiles.

“Is that so, Colonel Sendak?” 

“Yes, sir. It is quite likely.” 

“Well, in that case, make sure to station our best outside the door.” 

“Yes, sir. Of course, sir.”

Chapter Text

At first, when Keith’s shoulders are shaken vigorously, and he raises his sleep-ridden eyes to the ceiling, seeing the faint, ghostly light of one of the moons of this planet wink at him through the bars of his window, he can’t comprehend what’s happening to him. 

“Shit, he’s awake.” 

He’s suddenly being lifted into the air, thrown over someone’s shoulder like a dirty towel, and carried out, and his first thought is to call for Lance. 

Stupid, he’s not here. 

Ah, well, at least he’s being taken back to the palace. Being taken care of by servants would be preferable to whatever morbid tortures Haggar would have put him through. 

As he’s set down on one of the co-pilot’s seats, he looks out of the purple-glazed windshield into the depths of the night. He can see the other moon orbiting this planet, among an aigrette of stars that rest on the navy-coloured night sky like white flower petals on still, deep water. The ship is in an open desert, on a small landing platform almost invisible among all the sand. The compound where he must have been held looks small and unthreatening, which was extremely ironic, considering all that Keith had been through. 

There’s a jolt as the spacecraft’s engines whirr to life, humming and hissing with unreleased energy as she rises upwards, like hot air. Keith can see the city, as the spacecraft moves upwards, buildings getting smaller and smaller. Keith can see the now tiny stalls of the marketplace where he and Lance bargained with the tellers, the rooftops where they had lain and gazed at the dying sun, and the crumbled tower where Lance had taken him for dinner one evening. He could see the domed roofs of the palace that Lance had been so fond of, the garden they had walked in so many times. The streets still hold people, their small, squirming bodies illuminated by the glow of lanterns hanging on strings that span from building to building, lighting up the bustling night market with droplets of bright yellow. 

Something tugs in Keith’s chest as he lays his eyes on the city where he had spent the only free month of his life.

He doesn’t know if he’ll ever see this again. 

With a barely audible drone, the spacecraft’s engines fire, carrying the ship silently and surreptitiously into deep space. The city grows smaller, all the little lights joining together to create one giant, glowing mass of pure, unadulterated brilliance. 

Keith can even see it from space. He stares at it, while the ship’s miniature teledav fires up, wanting to make the most of his last glances of freedom. Even when the stars in deep space start to bleed together in lines of white as the ship speeds towards the wormhole, he holds his gaze. He holds it, until he can’t see that planet anymore, the one he never even knew the proper name of, the one where he found freedom. 

When he looks away, the soldier piloting speaks. 

“You can sleep, if you’d like, your highness.” 

Keith doesn’t reply. For the first time in weeks, he’s being addressed by his proper title. This fact drenches him in surprise, his responsibilities once again clamped onto his wrists like weighted handcuffs. That’s right, he’s not Keith, he’s the Royal Crown Prince Keith of the Galra Empire, Inheritor of the Universe, Hope of the Stars. 

A month ago he became just Keith. 

Just Keith could do all sorts of things. He could walk around the market of his own will, without being followed by an entourage of guards. He could go to a festival surrounded by his newly-found friends, and intoxicate himself on local meads. He could climb up walls and sneak into private gardens with an alpha, or get his hair done at one of the local salons. He could wear the most mismatched set of clothes, or catapult himself from rooftop to rooftop, laughter filling up his lungs. 

In fact, only two weeks ago, Just Keith had been challenged by the cheekiness of one of Lance’s raised eyebrows, and was able to retaliate with a mischievous smirk of his own, something so un-Keith-like, that he had been surprised. 

“Mmhm, just you wait, you’re going to be scared to bits!” 

“Bold of you to assume that you will not follow the same path as I.” 

“Ooh, it’s on!” 

Keith can confidently say that he was the lesser scared of the two, no matter what Lance said. Lance, with an arrogant little simper, had strutted into that ‘haunted’ tower and had shrieked when he saw the fake blood on the floor not even 10 ticks in. Keith didn’t know what he meant about, “I’m not scared of ANYTHING,” because it was quite obvious by the way Lance was clinging fiercely onto Keith’s arm that he was very definitely afraid. 

Keith can almost hear Lance’s annoying, nasally voice, saying, “You can’t say anything, asshole. When that first ghost jumped out you yelled so hard I could probably hear it all the way in Altea.” 

“Yes, but I don’t recall yelling ‘so hard you could probably hear it in Altea’ at ANY of the other ghosts, did I? You, on the other hand, just screamed whenever you saw blood, which, I do hope you realise, was fake. And in every room. All over the walls.” 

“Shut your quiznak! You’ve got the story all wrong!” 

“I most definitely do not.” 

“You most definitely do too.” 

“I do not.”

“Do too.”

“Do not.”

“Do too.” 

“Do not.”

“Do not.”

“Do too.” 

“Ha, I got you!”

Keith remembered finding that annoyingly endearing, despite Pidge’s groans, and the, ‘Would you two stop bickering like children and actually focus on where you’re going?” 

And then Lance’s, “If we’re children, and we’re this tall, then what are you?” 

“You’re right, Keith, he definitely was a lot more scared than you were.” 

Lance’s offended huff and pout had sent Keith’s poor heart into extreme panic. 

“Well, I didn’t yell at any of the ghosts,” Lance had retorted, petulantly. 

“You were still scared of them, I could tell.” Pidge laughed.

Keith could tell as well. However, he had thoroughly enjoyed Lance’s cute little gasps whenever something unexpected would shoot out of the walls, or whenever the lights in the building would flicker, or when a strange noise would suddenly startle him, and how he would squeeze Keith’s bicep even tighter and hide his face in Keith’s shoulder. 

Halfway through, he had even grabbed Keith’s hand, and needless to say, Keith had been desperately trying to use his hair to cover the red tips of his ears for the next 5 doboshes. In reality, Keith really just found himself entirely ignoring the various scary parts of the tower and just paying attention to how adorable Lance’s reactions were to everything, mentally thanking Pidge a million times over for suggesting that the two go through the tower together.

For all of his bragging, the alpha was even scared when Keith and Lance visited a local zoo, despite the fact that the animals were all a safe distance from him and there was an extremely strong-looking set of iron bars preventing any escapes. 

“Awww, look, the baby is so cute- QUIZNAK WHAT IS THAT-”

“Lance, it isn’t capable of hurting you.” Keith deadpans. 

“But what if it breaks through those bars?” 

“And why would it do such a thing?” 

“I don’t know, maybe, maybe she saw me looking at her baby and thinks I want to eat it or something!”

Keith had just rolled his eyes, before continuing to walk on to see the next exhibit, Lance scurrying pitifully after him with a, “Keith, wait for me!” 

“I recall you saying you wouldn’t be scared of anything.” 

“I’m not scared!” 

One day, Lance had even managed to coerce him and Hunk into baking, and it mainly resulted in Pidge having to go out to buy more cleaning supplies, the usage of a lot of bath water, and one slightly mangled looking cake. 

“I’m an absolute pro in the kitchen, I’ll show you.” 

“Mmhm, of course you are, we never doubted that for a second,” Hunk commented, pulling out various cooking utensils from the cupboards. 

“Stop sounding so sarcastic!” Lance grumbled. 

“Sorry Lance, but last time you tried to bake, you somehow managed to get egg on the living room sofa, and we didn’t even go into the living room.” 

Keith has to fight the urge to chuckle, as he sits in the comfort of the co-pilot’s seat, as the Galran home planet comes into view. He knows he’ll never be able to experience true liberty ever again.

And he knows that with age, these moments will fade from his consciousness. As time passes, he’ll remember less and less, the details in the memory washing away like sand on the beach. But it’s ironic, that remembering these memories cheers him up from the thoughts of forgetting them. But he knows that despite all the years of forgetting he has left, he’ll remember Lance. 

He’ll always remember Lance. 

“Alright guys, it’s most likely that they’ve taken Keith back to the palace. When we’re within range, Pidge will plug us into the Galra broadcasting system so we can hear any news or word of Keith. Remember, this is a rescue mission. Do not reveal your identity, try not to attract any attention whatsoever, and most importantly, do not kill. We are breaking into one of the most highly guarded places in the universe. Remember that.” 

“That’s reassuring.” Pidge quips, before spinning around in her chair, pulling up several images on her holoscreen. “Anyway, we’re within range. I’m pulling up graphics on the palace and our way in now. We’re going to pull up at a Galra supply point for ‘fuel’, and there we’re going to try and nab some of the Galra armour so we can sneak in as soldiers. There’s a side entrance into the palace used by guards from all over the empire, it’s a place where goods are brought in from all over the empire for the palace, so we’ll use that, but if we want access to any of the doors inside, we need to get the armour of the palace guards. I’ll just warn you now, when you’re in, you won’t be able to access me, or a map of the palace, so you have to memorize it.” 

“Alright, and so when we’re successfully disguised as the palace guards, do we just go straight to rescue Keith?” Hunk asks.

Shiro is quick to answer. “Nope. Lance will go to rescue Keith, in the meantime, the rest of you will help with their escape route. The Crown Prince suite is inside a tower, and we’re going to try and escape the way we came, so we need to kill cameras as we go through. Hunk, you and I will stand at key points in the route to make sure that we get out safely. When we’re out, we make a beeline for Pidge’s ship, and hopefully leave without anyone noticing.” 

“I’ve used the technology from Keith’s ship to disguise us as a Galra authorized carrier, so we should have no problems with the landings. We’ve also taken some of the local spices just in case they decide to search us, but that shouldn’t happen.” 

“We’ll be at the supply station in 7 vargas. From there, it’s about a quintant to the Galra home planet, where the palace is located. We should all try and get some sleep during that time, and memorize the map, just like Pidge said.” 

“Mission: Somehow Impossibly Rescue Keith is a go!” 

It had only been a few hours, or should he say, vargas, since Keith had arrived back at the palace, under the pallid, bitter sky. The clouds completely covered any trace of light, white and sunken like the cheeks of a corpse. 

Upon arrival, he went straight to his room, refusing to converse with anyone, and ignoring the pointed stares of surprise directed at his return. Even his mother wasn’t able to reach him, locked away in the safe vestiges of his chamber, which was now heavily guarded, for the fear he would try to escape again. 

“Don’t you think he should be given a few days to rest? He’s had a long journey, I don’t think me seeing him right now would be beneficial to-”

“Your Royal Highness, it is imperative that you converse with him, today . We must ensure that he still intends to succeed the throne.” 

Keith could hear Haggar’s voice outside his chamber, alongside his mother. He wanted to snort in disgust. 

“I followed your advice with the mating proposal, but if he doesn’t want to rule, then-”

“Absolutely not. He must rule. Forgive my disrespect, your highness, but you must put the welfare of your subjects above anything else.” 

There are three sharp knocks at Keith’s door. Keith wishes that he could ignore them, but he knows that he can’t put this meeting off any longer. He owes his mother a meeting after not seeing her for a month, at least. 

When the door opens, Keith is struck by how exhausted his mother looks. Dark rings circle around the underneath of her eyes, darkening the already purple skin, and there are lines on her face that Keith was sure wasn’t there before he left. Her eyes were limpid, repressed pools of shadow, her shoulders holding only a fragment of the regality they once had. But when her eyes lay on Keith, her face widens into a soft, loving, relieved smile, features relaxing, as she finally catches sight of his face for the first time in weeks. 

“Hey, mom.” 

Krolia’s face widens into a soft smile, the features softening as she lays eyes on her son for the first time in weeks. “Hey, Keith.” 

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but we have several important matters to tend to,” Haggar cuts in. 

“Am I not allowed to greet my son?” 

Defiance is flickering in Krolia’s eyes. When Keith had left, she had never felt more powerless. Keith had taken a part of her with him as he snuck away, under that sea-foam sky. But now that he was back by her side, she knew that she could no longer be pushed around by the court ministers, let alone Haggar. 

“I truly am sorry, your highness-”

“Keith, I’ve missed you so much. You have to tell me everything that happened.” Krolia walks towards Keith, enveloping him in a tight hug.

“Okay.” Keith agrees, quietly, from within his mother's comforting, protective arms. His mother loves him, he knows. Maybe he forgot that over the past month, maybe he strayed a bit too far. 

Krolia spins to face Haggar. “Leave us.” 

“Your highness-”

“Leave. Us.” 

With a bow, Haggar sags out of the room. Grudge and annoyance have weighted her shoulders and her cheeks, as she mumbles to herself. Krolia pays no notice to her, only returning to hug Keith. 

“I’ve missed you oh so much. You must tell me about all of your adventures.” 

But as Keith recalls various stories from his time with his friends, he can’t help but feel that something is off with his mother. His mother has always fiercely confronted problems. She rarely would sugarcoat, preferring to face the conflict head-on. So why was she pretending that Keith was on an ordinary trip, as if she had always known where he was and when he would come back? Why was she neglecting the elephant in the room? 

Krolia moves to seat them both on the plush bed. There is a look of eagerness on her face, as if she were an excited child ready to hear a bedtime fairy tale. 

“There isn’t much to tell, really.” 

Krolia’s smile falters a bit. She’s hurt, she’s hurt by the fact that Keith’s not opening up to her, like he once did.  “Not even one story?” She asks, and Keith can read that little spark of hope inside her eyes, that he still trusts her. 

Guilt tugs at Keith’s heartstrings. It isn’t his fault that they’ve grown apart, but It’s so clear to Keith that the openness that once defined Keith and Krolia’s relationship is no longer there. He almost wants to rekindle it, even if he knows it’ll only hurt in the end. Perhaps he’s always known that it’ll hurt in the end. 

“I met someone.” 

Krolia lets out a little gasp. 

“His name’s Lance, and he’s an alpha.” 

“And?” 

Krolia is looking at him, and there’s such happiness on her face that he’s confiding in her, such a trusting look glistening in her eyes. But there’s pain, despite her efforts to hide it. Because she knows exactly how Keith feels. She knows what’s coming. 

“And I think I love him, mom.”

Keith wakes up to the sound of heavy rain splatting onto his windows, Krolia’s face staining his memory like blood staining fabric. And no matter how much bleach you use, you would never erase it completely. 

She had understood. Completely. And she had cried with him as he talked about how he’d never see Lance again. They’d wrapped arms around each other and wept into each other’s shoulders because it seemed like their family was destined to be separated from their mates. It seemed like it was written in the books of fate for the two to be unhappy, forever putting the welfare of others above their own, forcing themselves to be strong because of how many people count on them, while not being able to count on themselves. 

When he made his way into the court hall, he felt himself slipping into that now unfamiliar royal business mindset. It was a cold, dark place, lacking the light of mercy, purely confined to the rules written all those years ago in the scriptures. It was almost humorous, how technology had advanced, but their rules hadn’t. 

He had been questioned furiously, talked over like a piece of meat at the dinner table. Him and his mother were the only omegas in the entire court room, and even though they were royalty, they knew that the power had never laid with them. 

“All I am trying to say is, that perhaps it would also be wise to consider other candidates for the throne, working as an understudy, if you will.” 

“I am fairly certain the Prince has learnt his lesson. We have no need for an ‘understudy’.”

“No offense, Minister Ozar, but there are plenty of eligible sons among this court that would be fit to rule. Since you have no son of your own, I understand if you cannot comprehend this fact.” 

“Why, I think I understand perfectly, sir.”

Keith no longer wanted to listen to these barely concealed, barbed insults and provocations just thrown around the court carelessly. They were all untrained archers shooting poisonous arrows. The fact that he was once free seems surreal. Keith doesn’t know how he’d ever manage to escape this. 

“Your highness, we are conflicted. It is up to you for the final ruling.” 

Krolia opens her mouth to speak, but Keith cuts in. 

“I would like to recommend a candidate for the throne other than me. My cousin, Lord Marquis Lotor, I think would rule wisely and fairly.” 

Lotor, sitting on the side of the court, managed to recover his composure unnaturally quickly after the surprise of Keith’s recommendation. The court broke out into whispers. 

“I hope that you all have been astute enough to realise that I do not want this position. I have never wanted it. My mother, the Queen, is aware of this and supports me unwaveringly, which I thank her for. After all, if I never wanted to be King, how could I rule the people? They deserve a monarch who cares for them, and wishes the best for them, I am sure we all agree. That is why I believe that Lotor should rule. Having known him all my life, I have observed that he has a healthy sense of patriotism as well as a balanced mind, and I believe that he could do this empire good, better than I ever could.” 

“I thank you, my kind cousin, for your recommendation, but I must refuse. I do not have the experience required to lead our people. I will be content advising by your side, but I could never rule. I sincerely apologize, yet thank you for the opportunity.” Lotor bowed. 

Ever since they were children, Lotor had been the only child to have the gall to provoke him. His parents, General Zarkon and an unknown maiden, had placed him in an unsecure position at court, since he was seen as a bastard child, but his ferocious cleverness won him favour among the court. As children, he would relentlessly tease Keith, however, there was no malice in his taunts, and the two quickly grew to be fast friends. They would not meet often, since Lotor guarded fortresses on the edge of the empire, but he was an invaluable ally and a wonderful companion. Keith really couldn’t see anyone more suitable than Lotor to rule the empire. 

Count Ozar interrupted the whispers ricocheting across the walls of the court. “Well, if you, your royal highness, would mate, your mate could rule the country. The Alteans have still not rescinded their offer. We could unite our nations and live in prosperity.” 

Keith felt disgust crawl inside his stomach like worms. He couldn’t bear the thought of being mated to someone else . 

“Now, I think that might not be necessary,” Krolia steps in. Keith fights the urge to shoot a grateful smile at her, trying to remain stoic. “My son has already informed you all that I support Lotor’s candidacy. We just want the best for the empire. This meeting has given us a lot to think about. It might be wise to end it here, and discuss tomorrow on fresh minds. Court adjourned.” 

Mumbled chatter fills the room as all the ministers leave. Lotor catches up with Keith as he exits the hall. 

“I knew you were going to recommend me, but couldn’t you have done it more subtly?” 

“Why did you refuse? I know you’ve always wanted to rule.” 

Lotor sighs. “There’s a lot that I’ve found out in the past month that affects my decision. I’ve found my mother, dear cousin. She is not who you expect her to be.” 

“Didn’t you say she was some maiden that your father impregnated on his full empire patrol?” 

“It’s better if we talk in private.” 

When they are alone, Lotor leans in conspiratorially, but there is no teasing mischief in his eyes. 

“My mother was Altean. It is the reason for my fair complexion and hair. She currently resides in the palace, as the royal witch.” 

Keith can’t conceal his suprise. “Haggar? You must be joking.” 

“I’m not joking. And if I take the throne, what do you think will happen? Haggar as the Queen Mother? The universe will fall into ruin.” 

“Only if you let it. You will have all the power, Lotor. You can do whatever you’d like with your mother. Your father opposes her as well.” 

“She isn’t easily controlled, Keith.”

“She is the only reason you do not take the throne?” 

“Yes.” 

“In that case, unless we find another candidate, Lotor, I’d like you to be my advisor. It is embarrassing to reveal it, but I do need you around. I hope you don’t mind abandoning the outermost territories.” 

“It’d be my honour, Keith.” Lotor grins. “Now tell me about what happened in your month as an outlaw.” 

The evening sun paints Keith’s room like a dragon, writhing in gold. All of the conversations he had throughout the day shackled Keith with tiredness, as he flopped onto the plush cushions of his bed, relieved that the day was over. 

Before he could tuck himself beneath the covers, there was a knock at his door. 

Keith begrudgingly wrenched himself out of bed and wandered over to the door, pulling it open, expecting to see Lotor, who had bothered him at night before, but there only stood a lone figure clothed in Galra uniform, the two other guards stationed outside his door lying collapsed on the floor. 

Keith’s heart jumped as he scented the air, because, there, in front of him, was an alpha who smelled just like-

“Lance?” 

And Keith was holding his breath, as the alpha took off his helmet. 

“Can I come in?” 

Chapter Text

“Hey, Keith,” Lance breathes, once the door is closed. He’s ethereal, tan skin bathed in the radiant glow of the evening sun, the belligerent grin on his face like a healing tonic to the oppressive emptiness that had haunted Keith since he left. 

Seeing Lance brought Keith a euphoria he didn’t even think was possible. Had he really risked his life to sneak in and see him? Keith couldn’t hide his identity as the crown prince anymore, but Lance didn’t care about that. Keith feels washed in sweet relief that Lance is okay, but when Lance pulls his fingers through his matted hair, shaking his head slightly to even it out, look on his face like an excited puppy, eyes brimming with affectionate adoration, Keith feels his heart kick inside his ribs and jerk out of its restraints, because here is the man he loves and he’s come back for him.

The evening sun seems to bounce off the walls in uncontrolled happiness, like an excited child at a funfair, mimicking the pulsing warmth of a beating heart. 

“What are you doing here,” Keith whispers, even though he already has an answer held in his heart’s trembling hands.

Lance’s smile widens impossibly. “I thought it was obvious,” he replies. “I’m here to rescue you.”

And Keith is smiling too, heat creeping up his reddening cheeks, as he says, “I can rescue myself, you bastard.”

Lance snorts, before giving Keith a grin that outshone all the stars in the universe. “I know. Now come on. Let’s blow this popsicle stand.”

Lance pulls his helmet on.

“After you, my Prince.” He says, sweeping into a low bow. Keith tries to control the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, giving Lance his best regal nod, steeling his features and shoving his nose in the air as he sashays down the hallway. 

It’s almost too easy. No one dares to bother Keith when he looks like he’s on the warpath, and with Lance dressed as a guard and trailing close behind him, giving the other guards a barely perceptible, civil nod, the two manage to reach the servant floor without any suspicion. Shiro joins them after a while, handing Keith a suit of armour with a face of stone, letting his twinkling eyes do the talking.

And that’s when the alarm blares. Its brash, offending siren rings through Keith’s ears, sending adrenaline coursing through his veins. As a sense of urgency clouds his mind in its demanding fog, as he pulls on his helmet.

He can’t lose now, not when he’s so close.

The voice over the loudspeaker is Zarkon’s, as it barks orders in desperation. 

“The Crown Prince has escaped. Calling upon all units. Last seen, tower staircase. Find him and return him to his proper place. Do not fire at all costs.”

“Let’s move.” Shiro commands, moving them in rigid battle formation towards the kitchen. Another figure clad in armour joins them, and completes the four-guard formation so classic in the galra military.

Keith isn’t shocked at how foulproof and well planned the rescue operation is. No one dares to question the purpose with which the four walk across the kitchen with, striding through the exit into the gardens. That is, until one of the many patrols marching through the courtyard, having been warned of the situation at hand, stop to question them. 

“State your name and purpose.”

Keith can sense that Shiro is struggling for an answer, worried that his voice will give him away. Impatience surges within him like a tsunami, washing away all remaining restraint, launching him into a flying kick right into the middle of the guard’s helmet, as precise and accurate as an assassin. Sliding his knives out of their leather holders, fastened in a thigh garter, he sends them straight into the necks of the other guards with a flick of his wrist and years of practice and skill.

“Keith!” Lance gasps. “Why’d you-“

“I didn’t kill them! Just run!” Keith yells, breaking into a sprint.

“Hey!”

Other patrols have noticed the fallen bodies of their comrades, and the perpetrators sprinting across the courtyard, and Keith feels alive in the danger of the chase, thrumming with ideas and excitement and adrenaline. 

He can’t fail now. 

“Damnit Keith, this was supposed to be undercover!”

“We would have been discovered! Do you even want a chance at escaping?”

There’s a squadron accumulating behind them, some even mounted on speedbikes that glow with the otherworldly, menacing purple known to Galra technology. Their window of escape seems to shrink, not just because of how they realise that the exit is further away than estimated, but also because time never seems to play out on Keith’s side. 

“They’re gaining on us!”

“Duh!”

“Run faster!”

“I can’t! They’re going to catch us!”

“No, they won’t!”

Keith’s muscles are burning as he glances behind himself briefly. Like wasps, the Galra patrols swarm, nearing closer and closer with each passing tick. Fear surges through Keith’s rapidly pulsing veins. The escape hole is still all the way across the flower field, and all they have are aching feet and a desperate will. 

Not much compared to the velocity of the speedbikes, the dozens of guards chasing them, and an ever lessening chance of escaping. Perilously, the quartet tear across the grass, trampling on the flowerbeds and flattening the weeds as they sprint for the exit. The roar of the speedbikes so close behind them is deafening, even muffling the cacophony of the thunderous footsteps of the foot soldiers.

As he runs, Keith flicks out the last of his throwing knives, lodging them in the machinery of the bikes, toppling their riders. Hope still clutches on to his shaking heart, but when Hunk loses his footing and trips over a rock, it flies off into the dry, unforgiving air.

Lance skids to a stop beside the beta, holding out a hand to help him up. “You okay? Quick, get up. I’ll hold them off.”

Keith is slowing down into a jog, glancing behind him, shaken. “Lance, what are you-“

“Just go! I’ll be okay!”

“But-“

Before Keith can finish, Shiro’s hand has latched onto his wrist and he’s being pulled away, away from Lance, and he knows it’s futile to resist, despite the tugging of his heart that furiously rebels against leaving Lance there. He turns to look at Lance one last time, and is hit with a nauseating sense of deja-vu. 

Hunk has already scrambled to his feet, Lance firing tranquilizer darts with the expertise of a trained sharpshooter. But he can’t run fast enough, and the last thing that Keith sees as he ducks under the crumbling wall is the guards, swarming over Lance like hungry ants, but he’s tugged away from the scene before his heart can sink lower than it already has. 

“He’ll be here soon, Keith, I promise.” Hunk assured, placing a kind hand on the omega’s shoulder. 

“You don’t know that,” Keith replies, bitterly. 

For the second time, he had lost him. The air around him seemed fatigued, like a caged creature. Although his binds weren’t as real as the ones probably around Lance’s wrists, maybe even around his neck-

Keith snarled at the thought, before his face faded into a lusterless, imperturbable expression, as pale as wax. Defeat plunged inside him like a sinking ship, one that he had sunk himself; thousands of screams drowned in the muffling sea. It had already been wrecked, from the beginning. There was nothing he could do. 

“Keith? You haven’t eaten anything since you got here, and I know I’m not the only one who’s heard your stomach growling.” Shiro’s understanding concern makes Keith feel even worse. 

“I’m not hungry.” 

Shiro lets out a defeated sigh at Keith’s sullen, brusque response. “You have to eat something. You know it’s what Lance’d want. He won’t be happy when he arrives back and finds out you haven’t eaten.” 

Keith makes no response, expression as unchanging as stone. 

Shiro concedes. “I’ll just go make something, just so you have something to eat if you get hungry in the middle of the night. Any special requests?” 

Keith gives a minute shake of his head, and Shiro smiles. At least he got a response. 

“Alright. Make sure to get some rest. Lance’ll be back in the morning, I’m sure.” 

“Just trust him.” Hunk says, standing up as well to leave with Shiro. “He wouldn’t leave you for the world.” 

As the door slides shut, Keith’s inner omega whimpers in despair. He curses his own selfishness. He would give up his own freedom for Lance’s in a heartbeat, but he knows that apart, neither of them are happy. He’d still be forced to marry some alpha he’s never known, forced to rule an empire tainted with corruption and poverty, bound in the chains of his royal robes. 

Maybe there was a chance that Lance could forget him. But maybe there was a chance that even if Keith returned himself to his duties in the palace, they wouldn’t let Lance go. They could promise Keith that Lance would have freedom, but execute him behind Keith’s back. That risk wasn’t worth it. 

He knew that as long as he was out there, they’d keep Lance alive, just in case he came back for him. Lance was leverage, he was valuable , and by Keith coming back, he’d be tossed away like scraps. 

His hands were tied. He was bound. 

“You’re really just going to let him mope in there?” Pidge’s voice is raised, outside the door. 

There’s another voice, but the door turns clear words of speech into unintelligible mumbles Keith can’t decipher, even with his enhanced Galra hearing. 

“What do you mean no concrete proof of his feelings? The fact that he’s in there, refusing to eat, looking devastated as hell, is proof enough! Why don’t we just tell him? Why does Lance have to tell him? And don’t give me that ‘if it’s meant to be, it’s meant to be’ shit. He makes Lance so fucking happy, god fucking damnit. Lance makes him happy too. I’m not throwing that away for your fate bullshit. Let’s just tell him.” 

“Tell me what?” 

Keith has slid open the door, revealing Pidge, whose face is tinted red with frustration, and Shiro, who has his arms crossed, frowning stoically. When the two see him, standing there, brow furrowed, there's a shocked, awkward silence that Keith really doesn’t have the patience to deal with. 

“I said, tell me what?” 

Shiro sighs. “Fine. It’s no use leaving him in the dark.” 

Pidge lets out a shaky exhale. “Thank you. Keith, Lance isn’t who you think he is.” 

“Who is he, then?” Keith demands, impatiently. 

“You might not believe me, but he’s the Crown Prince of Altea, and he’s your betrothed.” 

Keith blinks. “You’re right, I don’t believe you.” 

“It’s true. You love him, don’t you? Well, you guys were engaged from the very start.” 

“You’re making this up, to get me to rescue him.” 

“Nope. Lance showed us a photograph of him and his parents, and they’re Altean royalty. The King and Queen, to be specific.”

Keith doesn’t move a muscle. His stillness is unsettling, uncomfortable. 

“Keith?” 

“Buddy, you okay?” 

“I’m going to go save him.” 

With a fearless conviction, Keith’s moving. Past Pidge, past Shiro, all the way to the escape hatch, dauntless like a hawk, obstinate like fate, inevitable like some elemental force. Whether Lance is a crown prince or not, whether they were actually engaged or not, Keith doesn't give a fuck. That's someone he cares about, someone who risked their life to save him, and he couldn't do the same. Well, that's about to change - right here, right now. 

“Keith! You can’t-”

Pidge interrupts Shiro, to cheer, “Go get your mans!”  

Keith flashes them one last grin before he disappears through the hatch, into the waiting night. “I intend to.” 

Despite the burning heat outside, the air in the cell is cool and damp, the metal of the cell bars cold and relentless. Light streams into the dungeon through small windows near the ceiling, but even it’s persistent fearlessness can’t penetrate the unfeeling coldness of the cell. Lance is still trapped in the guard’s armour, his sweat sticking uncomfortably to his skin. He’s sitting against the far wall, facing the bars, head resting on the wall behind him. 

Despondency clings to him like a wet slug. 

The saying that absence makes the heart fonder really couldn’t be more fitting. Lance couldn’t even try to describe the flurry of emotions that hit him when he first lost Keith, and if that was a flurry, then when Lance lost him for a second time, it was an absolute blizzard. 

He wishes that his thoughts weren’t filled with Keith. Although recalling his omega, rubbing his eyes in sleepiness as he sees Lance, would send little flutters of fondness through his chest, he couldn’t stomach the thought of never being able to see Keith again. All he could do was regret that he hadn’t told Keith about his feelings. He had just left him in the dark. And Lance, himself, would never have gotten the chance to make Keith his. 

Keith doesn’t even bother himself with the concept of stealth. Ever since he found out that Lance was his betrothed, as well as Altean royalty, he had been angry. Not at Lance for not telling him (that would be unbelievably hypocritical), but at himself for being so selfish to even consider the prospect of abandoning him to the clutches of the Galra court ministers. Whether Lance was royalty or not, he still deserved to be saved, no matter the costs. That was the same treatment given to him, when he was rescued. It wouldn’t be fair to give any less to Lance. 

“Hey! You there! This is the palace! Who do you think you are, walking in like that-” 

“Say one more word to me, I dare you.” Keith turns his magma-filled eyes to the guards standing in front of the gate. With the power with which he walked with, it would be sure to reduce anyone to a snivelling mess. 

But the helmets they were wearing seemed to blind their vision, because they couldn’t see the regality that Keith strode with, and didn’t even try to consider why this man would be so bold as to walk into the palace gates as if it were his own home. 

It was ironic. 

“This little prick really thinks that he can just break in here, doesn’t he?” 

Keith scoffs. “You have some nerve, talking to the crown prince like that.” 

But before either of the guards could show surprise, Keith launches at them, lacking the patience to talk. He lands a flying kick right into the centre of the guard’s helmet, before smashing the guard’s head onto the knee. The crack of the helmet almost shattering didn’t even sicken him. For the other, he doesn’t even take the time. He was sneaking up behind Keith, dirtily, so Keith just kicked up with his foot, backwards, hitting right where it hurts, as dainty as a ballet dancer, before strutting on through the palace gates, dusting himself off. 

For all the Galra bragged about their fighters being the best trained in the land, they really were just a bunch of untrained brutes. 

He sashays his way through all the other guards as well, confusion rippling into alarmed shock as they realise who he is, what their orders are. 

“T-That’s, hey- Your Highness!” 

Keith doesn’t even bat his long, pretty eyelashes as guards suddenly turn the corner, the word of his return spreading like a plague through the palace. 

“Your Highness, we have orders to-” 

Keith’s surprised that his thighs aren’t strained by his lack of practice over the last month, as he neatly kicks his way through the guards with ease. Luckily, none of them have had the brains to use tranquilizer guns, otherwise he really would have been in trouble. He arrives at the dungeon, a beat of sweat trickling down his neck, past his scent gland. He really hasn’t fought in a while. 

He strides down the dungeon steps, the guards bowing, opening the doors wordlessly to let him pass. Their orders are to let the Crown Prince be, but Keith doesn’t even need a crown to be described as royal. 

But his perfectly crafted composure breaks as he sees Lance, curled in the corner of one of the cells at the end of the long hallway, behind these iron bars that despite the strength that Keith’s been training for all these years, he can’t break. His betrothed’s eyes are turned up to the stone ceiling, face illuminated by the moonbeams of the approaching night. 

“Lance,” he calls. Even though his voice is soft, the alpha’s head snaps to face him. 

Lance lets out a shaky exhale as he lays eyes on Keith, hair disheveled, a crazed look on his face, but such soft relief in his eyes that it makes him feel weak, like all his limbs have turned to putty. 

“Keith.” 

The omega is there, before his eyes, jogging, no, running towards him. Keith clutches the bars of Lance’s cell, sinking to the floor as his violet eyes brim with tears. 

“What’ve they done to you?” 

“Nothing, darling, I promise.” 

The endearment tightens Keith’s chest. A lone tear slides down his flushed cheeks, as he takes in how they’ve robbed Lance of his freedom , just like they robbed him. 

“You came back for me,” Lance breathes. He’s going to cry too. 

Keith sniffs, the corner of his mouth quirking up. “Of course I did. You came back for me.” 

There are no words to describe how Keith feels as he lays eyes upon Lance, his alpha, his betrothed. His heart thunders with new-found vigour, despite all his tiredness. The world seems to explode with colour, as if it were a fairytale. Keith can finally look into those blue eyes again and be overwhelmed by their vivacity. It’s as if there was an empty well inside him, dead, cold, useless, but it begins to refill under the gaze of those aquamarine eyes, eyes that sparkle under the moonbeams as the sea sparkles under the rays of the sun, eyes that dance like sea nymphs. Keith’s crying for an entirely different reason now. 

“I lo-” 

“Your Royal Highness, are you alright?” 

The guards interrupt whatever Lance was going to say, snatching away something Keith didn’t even know could matter to him. 

Keith pulls himself to his feet, furiously wiping away his tears with his forearm, defiantly staring into the guard’s visor. He's never been good at bluffing, but he's going to damn well try. 

“This man is the Crown Prince of Altea, my betrothed, and I demand that you release him at once.” 

“Sire, I’m unsure if you know what you’re saying-”

The guard scratches the back of his neck, more scared than sheepish at defying one of the most powerful people in the palace. Scratch that, one of the most powerful people in the galaxy. Maybe even the universe. But this powerful figure, just moments earlier, had been reduced to tears at the sight of just one person. 

Keith is glaring, his scent flaring. Lance felt that a spoonful of cinnamon was being shoved into his mouth, the overwhelming spice of Keith’s scent burning his tongue and the powder clogging his throat. 

“Bring my mother down here, if it comes to it. Hell, bring the whole court down. It does not matter to me. I am telling the truth.” 

Quiznak, Keith taking authority was hot . Lance shakes his head, trying to pull it out of the gutter, but Keith has his hands set on his pretty hips, yet is glaring with the full force of a supernova. 

“I-”

“Since you still have doubts, I command you to fetch my mother immediately. We will settle this once and for all.”

“Yes sir.” 

The guard clumps back down the hall in defeat. Lance wants to scoff. 

Keith spins back around to face Lace, that soft look evaporating all traces of annoyance. “I apologise for them.”

“It’s not any better in my palac- home.” 

Keith laughs, as merrily the birds in the trees, as he plops back down next to the bars to grin at Lance. His violet eyes brim with unexpressed mirth, because now that his eyes rest upon the face of his supposed fiance, he can’t do anything but smile. 

He’s too happy to do anything but smile. 

“I guess they told you, then.” Lance says, scooting closer to the bars, his grin perfectly matching the one on Keith’s face, as he slides his hand through the bars to rest on top of Keith’s. 

"What? Who told me?" Keith's happiness is momentarily clouded by doubt. 

"Pidge, Hunk, Shiro? That we're engaged?" 

And Lance's eyes burn with the frantic heroism of the stars, scent filling with smoke so overwhelming Keith almost feels like his lungs are being constricted. 

"Yeah, Pidge told me that you're the Crown Prince of Altea, and that we're engaged, but I didn't believe her..." Keith trails off. 

"Why not?" 

"Coincidences like that don't happen in real life, Lance." 

An understanding smile dawns over Lance's face, his scent clearing back to its normal sea-breeze crispness. "Well, I guess this isn't real life then." 

Keith scoffs. "Come here, you idiot." 

Their lips meet with the readiness of months spent pining, hoping, wishing, with the inevitability of the passing of time. It’s as natural as the leaves falling in autumn, or the flowers blooming. And despite the bite of the iron bars against Keith’s cheeks, there is no feeling that could compare to this. 

Keith gently nibbles on Lance’s lower lip, failing to keep the smile off his face as he finally gets to kiss the man he loves. The man who loves him back.

Lance breaks away first, with a beaming grin that could outrival the sun. 

“That was nice.” 

Keith lets out a very un-prince-like snort. “Why’d you stop?” 

But just as the two lean in again, they’re interrupted by the heavy clanging of the dungeon doors opening, revealing Krolia, who was definitely not in all her royal finery. The lamps along the wall light up in ultramarine, bathing the couple in purple haze. 

“Alright, what’s going on?” 

Keith and Lance stand up, hands still linked. “Mother, I apologise for waking you up, but-”

“Quiznak! That’s the Crown Prince of Altea! What in all the universe is going on? Oh, gosh, where are my manners.” Krolia sinks into an apologetic curtsey. “Good evening, your highness. And my son, of course. I deeply apologise for all the confusion.”

“Oh, no, please, it’s quite alright. It’s an honour to meet you, your majesty.” Lance bows as well, shooting Keith a sly, knowing wink, which Keith returns with a roll of his violet eyes. 

“My goodness, you both are filthy. I’m so sorry, let’s get you both to a bath right now. We can discuss later over a midnight snack, perhaps? You, in the armour, unlock that cell at once and escort both Princes to the bath room, please. I’ll meet you in the Tea room in a varga.” 

With that, Krolia sweeps out of the room, and the iron door is finally slid back, and Keith is already in Lance’s arms. A welcomed warmth washes over Keith as he lets himself be held, as he noses over Lance’s shoulders, deeply inhaling Lance’s spiced ocean scent. Lance himself presses soft kisses to Keith’s forehead, cheek, scent gland and collarbone as he wraps his arms tightly around Keith’s waist, warmth washing over the two at the sensation of finally being able to hold each other close, touch each other, protect each other from the world.

“Um, your highnesses.” The guard interrupts, embarrassed at witnessing such intimacy. 

Keith releases himself from Lances hold, settling to just grab his hand instead, and apologises. “Oh, I’m sorry. We’ll go, lead the way.” 

The bathing pool is warm and filled with bubbles that gleam in evanescence under the fairy lights. Keith’s breathless laughter bounces off the walls as Lance coats his chin with the foam, claiming that he now had a ‘bubble beard’. 

The two were currently in the midst of a very intense bubble castle making contest. 

“Nuh-uh, your bubble castle is nowhere near as good as mine,” Lance says, smugly, as he smoothes over his minaret. 

“I beg to differ,” Keith replies, as he adds spikes along his battlement walls. 

“Mine is elegant , babe, you just don’t understand.” 

Keith snorts. “Yeah, that lump, elegant. Mine, however, doesn’t need to be pretty. It already could withstand an invasion AND a siege.”

“Oh yeah? Could it withstand this?” Lance launches himself across the pool, right into Keith’s castle, but also smashing into his, sending the bubbles floating off into the water in unrecognisable lumps, landing right on top of Keith. 

“Oi, get off! You just destroyed my castle!” Keith says, trying to sound annoyed, but he can’t hide his smile. 

Lance starts to pepper kisses all over Keith’s face, delighted by Keith’s surprised reaction. 

“You absolute madman, you’re covered in bubbles and you’re geTTING IT IN MY HAIR!” 

Lance rolls off Keith to sit beside him, collapsing in giggles. 

“Ooh, you’re really going to get it now,” Keith growls, throwing his whole body onto Lance’s before scooping up as many bubbles as he could, smoothing them all over Lance’s face. 

“Pfffft,” Lance shakes his head, sending bubbles flying through the air as he spits out soap.

“Oh, disgusting! Ew!” 

But Lance looks so funny with bubbles covering his face, looking so indignant as he glares at Keith, that Keith can’t help but dissolve into peals of bright laughter. 

Lance, a revenge plan forming in his mind, a devilish smirk on his lips, then sends his hands through the water, fast, splashing Keith’s face. The omega splutters, caught in a faceful of water, before his own smile widens. 

“Oh, it’s on.” 

“Like Donkey Kong.” 

“So, let me get this straight. You both ran away, by chance met each other on the same planet and fell in love, and then Keith was brought back and Lance tried to rescue him, but then Lance was imprisoned for helping you escape and Keith, you came to rescue him, and by then you both knew that you were actually betrothed, and so you came to me, and then you flooded the whole bath room.” 

Keith takes a sip of his tea as Krolia recounts the whole story. 

“That’s right, your majesty,” Lance affirms. 

“Please, call me Krolia. So, I guess I won’t have to cancel the wedding?” 

“If you don’t mind, mother, I’d like it if we got to choose when and where we have our own wedding, thank you.” Keith folds his arms across his chest. 

“Oh, I’m sure that can be arranged.” Krolia grins. “What a hoot , I must say. So, it seems like you two ended up together in the end. I’m sure it was fated. You two were bound to get together.”

“Sure seems that way, Krolia.” Lance replies, sipping his tea.  “Bound. I like that.”