Chapter Text
Lance had always imagined his perfect wedding. He dreamt about meeting "The One” in a ‘love at first sight’ scenario. Perhaps they would meet on a train during rush hour when it was standing room only. Maybe the train would jolt and Lance would fall into their arms or they would fall into his. They would both apologise profusely, of course. Their ‘sorrys’ would be spoken at the exact same time, just as they made eye contact with each other, unable to look away. Then they’d blush and giggle nervously. He’d extend his hand out to them with a confident, “Lance”, and they would smile, a genuine smile and take his hand and say…
“Are you fucking serious!?”
Well…not that.
“Keith, please,” the man with the black and white hair voiced in warning, his eyes fixed on the boy who had made the outburst.
In fairness to him, Lance got the feeling that ‘Keith’ hadn’t been told why they were all there until that very moment. At least that’s what his face had comically given away. His eyebrows had almost flown off his head and his jaw had practically hit the floor when Lance was introduced as his ‘fiancé’. At least Lance had been given a few days to digest the idea of having an arranged marriage – not that he was ecstatic about it either. It didn’t exactly fit in with his vision of life and he was more than just a little bit bitter that he wouldn’t have a classic romantic story to tell his kids, but hey-ho, sometimes life doesn’t work out as you had planned. Case in point, now.
The boy, Keith, was positively raging, as he viciously pushed his chair away from the table and jumped to his feet.
“Absolutely not. No way. No fucking way. Fuck this,” he spat as he began to stomp off, stopping to direct a middle finger at Lance on his way out of the room, as though Lance was responsible for the whole debacle.
“And fuck you,” he snarled, baring his teeth. He made sure to slam the doors as if people needed reminding that he wasn’t a very happy bunny.
The rest of the table sat in deathly silence, the echo of the doors almost coming off their hinges rang through the room. Lance, who was sure he was rivalling the redness of the tomatoes in his salad didn’t know where to look. This wasn’t what he expected at all. When he had agreed to the marriage he, at the very least, thought that the other party would be on board. Had he known he was going to be pied off spectacularly, he would have stayed at home.
This was humiliating.
“I apologise”, the man with the black and white hair who had introduced himself as Prince Shiro said, finally breaking the painful silence. “Keith can be…difficult,” he shot a sympathetic smile towards Lance who cringed into himself even more.
Fucking hell what an understatement. Difficult? Ha! More like, off his frigging tits. Still, at least Lance had found out the guy was a complete psychopath before he had the ring on his finger. Lucky escape he told himself. Lucky. Escape.
He looked towards his mother and father who were sat with unreadable expressions, trying to catch their eyes so he could wordlessly communicate that he wanted to get the hell out of there.
“It’s understandable,” his father replied politely. “Lance had a similar reaction when we told him,” he chuckled lightly, obviously trying to gloss over the shit storm that had just occurred.
Lance’s eyes widened in horror.
Similar reaction?
Similar reaction!?
Lies.
Liza Minelli. LIES.
The absolute cheek of it!
When his parents had sat him down and broke the news to him that his life wasn’t actually his own and that they had sold him off to some knock-off Prince of Persia, Lance had taken it quite well if truth be told. As well as you could take something as earth-shattering as that.
Okay, so yes he had complained relentlessly about it, and yeah, maybe he had shed a tear or two over the thought of leaving his family to go and live with some random dickhead in a castle. But did he go around effing and jeffing and flipping people off?
Heck no.
Pfffff! Similar reaction his left bum cheek!
God, he was furious. First the unwanted rejection and now this? Christ! How much more of an emotional beating could he take? He wanted to scream, to take a page out of Keith’s book and start doling out some middle fingers, slam a few doors and storm off to god knows where.
But he couldn't do any of that. He wasn't completely stupid. Lance knew better than to make a scene or call his father out on his blatant lie, even if doing so meant that his good name was slandered. He respected his parents and unlike Keith, he had been raised to have some god damn manners.
Instead, he suffered silently, knowing full well that he was going to have the tantrum to end all tantrums on the way home. He was already calculating how many days of silent treatment he would treat his parents to.
“He will come around….eventually,” the older man with thin white hair and goatee who was sat on Shiro’s left-hand side said with a small smile, rivalling the one Shiro had given him. It reeked of sympathy and that pissed Lance off even more. He didn’t need their sympathy. He couldn’t give a shit that Keith didn’t want to go through with it. He’d done Lance a favour. They didn’t need to feel sorry for him. If anything, he felt sorry for them for having to deal with Keith’s bullshit on a daily basis.
“Well, that’s the thing, Kolivan,” Coran, the McClain’s advisor began, “I need not remind you that Lance is…shall we say 'special'? “ he smirked whilst twizzling his ginger moustache, “Why, there is already another suitor interested in him!”
Lance snapped his head up rapidly to look at Coran. Had he heard him right? Another suitor? What other suitor? His parents hadn’t mentioned anything about another flipping suitor!
“Wait, what?!” he whispered urgently to Coran, careful to keep his voice as low as possible. He wasn’t supposed to speak at all; he had been instructed to sit quietly and look pretty. But that was before Coran had dropped the bomb to end all bombs on him.
They had to be bluffing, surely.
Lance waited patiently for a reaction that never came and quickly turned his attention to his parents who looked away from him sheepishly.
Un-fucking-believable.
So not only had they tried to pawn him off to the shit Prince Caspian but they clearly had another, shitter version of him waiting in the wings. There was a reason they’d visited Prince Emo first, wasn’t there? Maybe he was the best of a bad bunch. Christ, what was waiting for him at the next destination? A troll? Some really old guy? A turd!?
Oh, fuck that! Bring back the raging Jon Snow, right now!
Kolivan raised his eyebrow at the admission and exchanged knowing looks with Shiro and another man who was sat on Shiro’s right. He was a handsome middle-aged man with a full head of chestnut brown hair and a clean-shaven face.
“May we ask who the other suitor is?” Kolivan asked in a way that was both urgent and needy but masked poorly as indifference. Lance wanted to laugh. He couldn’t help but think Kolivan would make a terrible poker player.
Coran turned to look at Lance’s parents, wordlessly asking permission to spill the beans. Lance’s father nodded once in reply.
“Prince Lotor," he stated smugly.
Lance did a double-take and just about managed to keep his jaw attached to his skull at the admission. Prince Lotor? Prince fucking Lotor? Prince ‘Sexiest Royal as voted for by Vanity Fair 5 years running’ Lotor?
Yes please.
Jesus Christ, if it was true, what the heck were they still doing entertaining these chumps? Where did Keith place in the rankings? Oh, who frigging cared? He wasn’t number one that was for sure.
Kolivan and the other guy looked nervously to Shiro, who Lance noted, had schooled his face into an unreadable expression.
“Yes,” Coran raised his eyebrows with a knowing smirk, “So you can see why we don’t want to wait for an ‘eventually’.”
Kolivan nodded again and Lance wanted to roll his eyes. Why they were still here, he had no idea. Had they told him he had a choice: Prince Keith or Prince Lotor, he would have told them there and then that Prince sexy blonde locks Lotor had him at hello, and they wouldn’t be here wasting everyone’s fucking time on Prince My Chemical Romance who had probably gone to his room to write poetry on his shit life and how everyone was out to get him.
“Please be assured Duke and Duchess McClain, we are interested,” Shiro said genuinely, “We would like to ask you, if you would be so kind, to give us today to change Keith’s mind. We will, of course, accommodate you in our finest suite and you are more than welcome to take one of our drivers to explore the city. We also have private chefs on hand who will ensure that you feast on our finest cuisine, and should you need anything, our housekeeping staff will be more than happy to assist you.”
Son, you can put us up in a solid gold room complete with the fountain of youth and that still wouldn’t sweeten the deal, Lance thought. Now that Lotor had been added into the mix, Prince Anger-Management surely didn’t stand a chance. His parents had to realise that – they had seen how he had reacted to a simple statement, they couldn’t possibly want Lance to spend the rest of his life with that lunatic!
Lance watched in horror as his parents leant in towards Coran, whispering fervently with each other. To him, it was a no-brainer and he really hoped they would sit back and say, “Thank you for your offer but we’d rather shit in our hands and clap. Good day kind sirs, this has been most unpleasant.”
Unfortunately, as such was his life, instead Coran said: “And if you cannot change his mind?”
Shiro bit his lip anxiously thinking through his response. Lance suspected he was already regretting only asking for a day to change The Lord of Darkness’s mind. He’d probably need a millennium.
Finally, after a prolonged pause, he said: “Then we shall waste no more of your time.”
Coran and Shiro’s eyes remained locked and it surprised Lance that Coran didn’t look to his parents for confirmation of the deal.
“Very well.” Coran smiled, “We gladly accept your kind offer.”
Kolivan seemed to exhale in relief and each party stood to signal the end of the meeting. Lance followed Coran and his parents around the table to shake hands with the three men. He tried to not look as disappointed as he felt and managed a polite smile as he shook each hand.
“Don’t worry,” Shiro smiled down at him when it was his turn, “He’s not that bad when you get to know him, honest.”
Lance threw him another polite smile. He didn’t have the heart to point out to Shiro that by 10am tomorrow, he and his family would be on their way to casa del Lotor.
****
Keith knew he could be a bit of an asshole.
Scrap that.
Keith knew he could be a massive asshole but in his defence, if he wasn’t surrounded by complete bellends, he might have more of a shot at being a nicer person.
Who the fuck makes that kind of decision about someone’s life without even consulting them first?!
It wasn’t like the other decisions that were made for him. You know, like what he was having for dinner that night or what he was wearing to one of those god-awful balls that he had to attend. He didn’t care if people decided on those kinds of things for him because they didn’t matter. But this… this was…this was his fucking future for God's sake! Like seriously, picking your spouse is a really big deal, isn’t it? It’s probably one of the biggest decisions of your life, and they had the audacity to wheel in a random stranger with a, "Oh hey, Keith. This is Larry your fiancé".
What the fuck were they thinking?
Had he known what he was walking into, he could have at least prepared for the worst. But no, instead they decided to yank the rug from under his feet and drop a shit storm on him. So really, it’s no wonder that he had reacted the way he had.
Like seriously? How did they think he would react? Jump for joy? Whip out a ring he had hidden in his pocket and scream “FINALLY!”??
In hindsight, Keith could have handled the situation better. He, of course, knew that. Now that he had had the chance to calm the fuck down, he realised that it probably wasn’t the wisest thing he’s ever done swearing in front of the Duke and Duchess of Altea. Nor should he have launched the middle finger at their son, ‘Larry’ or ‘Lawrence’ or whatever the fuck his name was. But whatever, he wouldn’t have to see them again, at least not for the foreseeable future anyway. He’d just get his assistant to send a fruit basket or something. Accompany it with a card with his apologies on. Blame his bad temper on the stress of ruling a kingdom and hope ‘Luke’ had better luck next time yaa-dee-yaa-dee-yaa.
A knock on Keith’s door broke him out of his thoughts and he sighed heavily, closing his eyes in despair.
Shiro.
It was always Shiro.
God, did they have to do this now?
“Go away!” he called out in an annoyed tone.
Shiro ignored the command as Keith predicted he would and yanked open the door, striding into the room. Even though he had his back to him, Keith knew Shiro would be glaring at him with one of his ‘disappointed’ looks. It was probably the one he used whenever Keith was not being an exemplar representative of the royal family. It seemed to make an appearance on a daily basis.
Keith sighed again, “No.”
“You don’t even know what I’m going to say.”
“Yes, I do. You’re going to tell me that I have to apologise for my 'despicable' behaviour which I’m already planning on doing. Then you’ll try to convince me to give ‘Liam’ a chance which isn’t going to happen because I’d rather fucking die.”
Shiro folded his arms across his chest, “First of all, it’s ‘Lance’ and secondly – Jesus…you’re so dramatic, do you know that?”
“Am I wrong?” Keith questioned, tipping his head back in his computer chair to finally look at his brother.
“Well…no,” Shiro admitted reluctantly.
Keith twizzled his chair around to face him properly, “Wow. I didn’t think you’d crack this easily.”
“Look,” Shiro began. He strode across the room and took a seat on the bed, and Keith’s heart sank knowing that this was not going to be a short conversation.
“I don’t need to remind you that you are running out of time.”
“We’re all running out of time, Shiro,” Keith remarked sarcastically, “One day you’re a fun-loving child on the cusp of manhood, the next, you’re a barely twenty-year-old adult whose brother is trying to force you into a marriage you don’t want.”
“Keith,” Shiro warned, “You know you have to be married by the time you are 21 if you are to be King.”
“And I have made it clear that I do not want to be King.”
“You don’t have a choice, Keith.”
“Why not!?" Keith demanded for what felt like the millionth time, "Why can’t you be King? We both know you’d be better at it!”
“We’re not doing this,” Shiro spat bitterly, “You know why I can’t. I have no claim to the throne.”
When Keith was a child, he never really understood the rules of royalty. He didn’t know why he was a prince but his friends weren’t. Or why he lived in a castle when his friends all lived in regular houses. His mother had done her best to shield Shiro and him from their 'other' life and strived to give both boys a relatively normal childhood with as few royal commitments as possible. There was the odd occasion where they would have to dress up and attend dinners with way too many forks and posh napkins, and people would refer to Keith as ‘his highness’ but those were few and far between. He knew he was a prince but he didn’t know what that really meant, and he didn't think for a minute he was that different to anybody else. It wasn’t until his mother and father were killed in the war when he was 13 that he really understood what it meant. It meant that his life was over. It meant that his life wasn’t his own. It meant that he was different, and not in a good way.
Suddenly the world was watching him. There were no more friends, no more fun and certainly no more freedom. He went from being a happy-go-lucky child to a dreadfully unhappy adult overnight.
He had always assumed that Shiro would be next in line for the throne. He was certainly better suited. He was the older, more mature and level-headed prince– a perfect candidate for a king, and by rights, the throne should have been his! But then it was revealed that Shiro had had a different mother, one who died whilst giving birth to him. She was never mentioned and the only thing Shiro had to remember her by was her engagement ring that he had worn on a chain around his neck ever since he found out about her.
It also served as a constant reminder that he could never be king.
Keith had never understood the rules of royalty.
“That’s bullshit and fucking archaic! Just like this fucking marriage rule!” Keith shouted, throwing his hands up in despair. He knew he was being childish but he couldn’t stop himself. As he said, Shiro was always the better candidate for a king.
Shiro shrugged half-heartedly, exhausted from having the same fight again, “That may be so, Keith. But they are the rules. We cannot afford to lose the throne. If we are to keep the peace, you must be king.”
Keith kept his eyes fixed on Shiro as he thought through his response. He knew his brother was right, as always. If Keith didn’t take up the role, it would fall into the hands of the next in line, which just so happened to be a member of the family who was responsible for his parent's deaths, that and the ten-year war that they had started. He couldn't afford to be selfish. This wasn't just about him. It was about the people...his people. Millions of Daibazaal residents would be subjected to an imperialist regime if it was to fall into the next in line's hands. Keith wasn't about to let that happen, even if it did mean going through with a marriage he didn't want.
He sighed long and hard, “Fine. But I don’t know why I cannot choose my own partner,” he remarked childishly. He knew he was fighting a losing battle but he was still a little bit pissed off about the whole, ‘Oh, we’ve chosen a husband for you. Meet Leonardo’.
“Because I don’t think you’re capable,” Shiro deadpanned.
“Well, that’s fucking rude—“
“—You’ve never been on a date. You freaked out that one time you did get asked out. You hate socialising. Whenever someone new even tries to get to know you, you’re immediately suspicious and think that they’ve come to assassinate you.”
Keith flushed with embarrassment, “That’s…that’s—you don’t even know--”
“James.”
“He was trying to kill me!”
“He was your tennis partner, Keith. Tennis.”
“He kept aiming for my fucking head!”
“And you speared him to the floor and held a dagger to his neck.”
Keith opened and closed his mouth several times, doing his best impression of a goldfish.
“So yes, we went ahead and picked out a partner for you. Sue us,” Shiro said, a smirk working its way onto his face.
Keith sat in silence, still crimson from the memory of having to be pulled off of James, who he later found out was so nervous around Keith, he could barely hold a racket.
“I wanna pick my own partner!” Keith finally shouted indignantly. So he had never had a boyfriend? So what? It didn’t mean that he couldn’t get a boyfriend. Or, you know…a husband. He wasn’t that pathetic that he needed his fucking brother to hook him up to get laid. At least let him have a little bit of dignity!
“Okay,” Shiro replied, his voice dripping with amusement, “You can pick your own partner. How’s that?”
Keith glared at him suspiciously, “Why do I feel like there’s a catch?”
“Oh there’s no catch,” Shiro smirked, getting to his feet, “But good luck finding a male omega who also happens to be a royal and is also gay.”
Fuck. Keith hadn’t thought about that. That other rule. So not only did he have to be married by the age of 21 but he also had to marry an omega and not just any old omega - a royal omega. On top of that, Keith was gay and royal male omegas who just so happened to be gay were as rare as a first edition shiny Charizard in a pack of Pokémon cards.
He narrowed his eyes, “Surely it can’t be that hard.”
“Two. There’s two in the whole world.” Shiro replied with a smug smile. He had clearly done his homework.
Keith swallowed, trying to save face, “Fine, then I’ll contact the other—“
“--He’s 92, Keith.”
Keith’s mouth fell open comically.
“But like I said,” Shiro began, heading towards the door, “You can pick your own partner. Go nuts.”
“Oh fuck you, Shiro.”