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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.”

Chapter Text

“So, like…okay, I’m just gonna come out and say it. Why the heck are we still here?”

Lance had waited patiently until they were in the safe confines of the limo before he had made his outburst. The ten-minute walk to the car had been absolute torture, made all the more painful by Kolivan and Thace who had insisted on accompanying them the whole way.

But now they were finally alone – yes, they had one of the Kogane drivers but there was a partition separating them and Lance couldn’t give a flying fuck if the driver heard anything they had to say anyway. It’s not like it mattered.

“What do you mean, my boy?” Coran asked. He was wearing sunglasses and basking on the backseat next to his father, a glass of champagne in hand, clearly taking full advantage of the extra perks they had been given.

“Well, okay, so first of all, I’m a little bit miffed that no one told me about Prince Lotor," Lance began, adjusting himself in his seat so that he was addressing all members of their party, "But you know, I’m willing to overlook that in favour of us getting on the next flight out of here," he finished, grinning like a Cheshire cat and barely able to contain his excitement.

“And why would we do that?” Coran mused, taking a painfully slow sip of his bubbly.

Why would they do that? Why would they do that!?

Lance gawked at him. He couldn't really be this thick, could he? Had he not been present for that shit-show of a meeting? Had he not just witnessed Prince Keith's epic meltdown? Did he not realise that Prince Lotor was waiting patiently for Lance’s arrival? How dare he just sit there casually, sipping Dom Pérignon, wasting time and acting ignorant as shit! How dare he!

“HELLO!?” Lance bellowed at the top of his lungs, causing everyone to jump in their seats and send champagne flying all over the show.

"Prince Lotor?? Prince freaking Lotor?! Prince Lotor who is interested in yours truly!!” Lance gestured wildly to himself, “He’s – god where to start? He’s like an A-list celebrity, not to mention a sex symbol! And he wants me! ME!” Lance gushed, turning to his mother and shaking her excitedly.

“Lance, calm down,” His mother chuckled, as Coran and his father began wiping champagne from the leather upholstery.

But he couldn't calm down. He was buzzing. Absolutely buzzing. His mind kept flitting to images of Lotor stood waiting at an altar. Lotor gazing into his eyes. Lotor slipping a ring on his finger.

He squealed with delight.

“Yes, well, I don’t know what you’ve read in your magazines, Lance. But you’re better off with Prince Keith, let me tell you!” Coran warned, wagging a finger in his direction.

Lance’s smile slid right off his face. Trust Coran to shit on everything, “Are you serious?” He demanded, “Did you not see how that mentalist reacted!”

“Lance, don’t call Prince Keith a mentalist,” his mother scolded, looking warily at the partition, as though the driver might have heard and get them beheaded for treason, “It’s rude.”

“Rude?!” Lance squawked, completely affronted.

He couldn’t believe it. How was stating facts rude compared to the twenty-seven ‘fucks’ Keith had whirled their way? If anything, he was being extremely polite with his description of ‘the king’.

“He’s the one that screamed f-u-c-k at everyone and flipped me off!”

“He’s just…” Coran gestured flippantly with his empty hand, “Emotive.”

Lance snorted. Emotive his left butt cheek. The guy was a prick. There was nothing more to it.

“Well, they clearly hadn't warned Prince Keith about the logistics of the agreement. You weren't thrilled when we told you!” Coran continued, wagging his finger again.

Lance scowled, “That's different."

"How so?"

“It just is.”

Coran chuckled condescendingly and helped himself to another generous glass of the expensive champagne which Lance had the sudden urge to biff out of his hands.

It was different. Completely different. For a start, Lance hadn’t popped off the way His Highness had. He had merely whined – a lot. And shed a few tears…and okay, yes. Maybe he did threaten to kill himself once or twice… But that was nowhere near as bad as dropping the f-bomb on complete strangers and almost taking two doors off their hinges!

"Okay, for starters, I didn't break any doors or cause a scene in front of people I don’t know," Lance said indignantly.

“Yes, but only because you had been warned prior to the event.”

“Uh no, it’s because I have fucking manners!”

“LANCE!” His mother and father shouted in unison.

“Jesus, sorry,” Lance blushed, looking down sheepishly, “I just… what’s so bad about Lotor?” He turned to look out the window morbidly and watched as Daibazaal shot past in a blur of colour.

He didn’t understand why his parents would want him to be miserable. Surely they wanted to see him happy? It wasn’t like he was being coy about the situation. He had clearly pointed out his preferred choice of a mate. For them to just ignore it and stick to their guns was cruel.

Lance has spent his entire life believing he was his own person, with his own hopes and his own dreams. His parents had been loving and caring and had never once made him feel like he was a second-class citizen. But now? Now he was just an omega, to be sold off to the highest bidder. It was bad enough that he was going to have to leave everything he knew behind for a complete stranger. The least they could do was let him pick which stranger he would prefer.

“I hate this,” Lance said quietly to no one.

The limo descended into an uncomfortable silence until Coran sighed heavily, putting his champagne down and removing his sunglasses, “Lance, How much do you know about Naxzela?”

Lance turned his head back to Coran, “Erm…” he replied eloquently, scanning his brain for any source of information it had on the notorious private nation. “It’s a…it’s a…Well it’s a country…Um, a nice… nice country?” His voice broke off at the end as he realised he knew fuck all about Naxzela other than it was where super sexy Lotor lived.

Coran smirked at him, “Is it?”

“Um…”

“You see it would depend on your definition of nice. My definition of nice does not include an imperialist regime run by a cruel dictator. But each to their own, I suppose.”

Lance raised his eyebrows in shock, “What??”

“Lance, there’s a reason you don’t know a lot about Naxzela. It’s not a nice place. Everything is controlled by King Zarkon - the media, the economy, and especially the people. Even if you don’t marry Prince Keith, we would not let you go there.”

Lance blinked a couple of times, letting Coran’s words set in. It was no secret that Naxela was portrayed as an almost perfect-like state. There was never any negativity in the press, never a whisper of conflict, never a hint of dissatisfaction from the residents. Lance hadn’t thought for a second that all was not as it seemed. He had certainly not considered the fact that there would be a reason for his parents’ decision. He’d been naive, convincing himself that Prince Lotor would have been his better option purely on the basis of how he looked. He should have known there was a catch. Wasn't there always?

However, his confusion quickly turned to hurt, as he realised that his parents and Coran had lied to him.

“But you said--”

Coran waved his hands dismissively knowing full well what he was about to say “--Yes, I know. But we needed some leverage. Prince Keith doesn’t have many options and so we—“

“--Lied?”

“No! Not at all!”

“Yes, you did! You said Prince Lotor was interested in me,” Lance snapped, his voice wavering with emotions he was barely holding back. Anger, humiliation and sadness, to name just a few.

How could they be so cruel to him? Toying with him like this? Filling his head with ideas that someone like Lotor, even if he was an evil dictator in the making, might actually be interested in him. The situation was bad enough as it was, they didn’t need to create elaborate stories to make him feel shitty about himself too. He was already well on his way with that on his own, thank you very much.

Coran shrugged, “He is. Very much so.”

“Oh.” Lance breathed, instantly deflating. So Lotor was interested in him…that was….well, interesting.

“Yes. So technically, it wasn’t a lie.”

Lance pulled another face trying to make sense of it all. Coran wasn’t wrong but it still didn’t seem right. Why even threaten the Koganes with the idea of Prince Lotor in the first place? Even if he was interested in Lance? And why did Lance even have to fucking marry Prince Keith at all?!

“Can you just explain to me again why I even have to marry Keith?” He whined, looking at his parents desperately and giving his best puppy dog expression.

They’d had the conversation dozens of times before but Lance had never been given a concrete answer. He had been pied off with Miss America responses like: ‘It’s a wonderful opportunity', and ‘You’re making your family proud’, and let’s not forget his personal favourite, ‘Your firstborn will be the future king or queen of Daibazaal!’ Like that sweetened the deal of being married to someone who clearly hated him. At this rate, they wouldn’t even make it the bedroom, let alone procreate. His parents were dreaming - Keith wanted nothing to do with him, least of all have sex with him. If it came to it, Lance imagined he would be left alone in a room with a turkey baster containing his royal highness’s spunk. The thought made him shudder.

“Why can’t I stay at home? Why can’t I choose who I want to marry? Why can’t I stay with you—“

“—Lance,” his father began in a soft voice, “This is bigger than you. Bigger than all of us. We’re doing this for a reason. And you may not believe us now but it is for the best.”

Lance pouted. If it was for a good reason, they could at least have the fucking decency of telling him what the reason was. At least then he’d have an incentive to go through with it other than the fact that he would be able to get hot and heavy with a turkey baster and that his offspring would get to wear a shiny tiara.

Ooooo…would he get to wear a tiara too?

No. Now was not the time to think about the jewellery he would no doubt get to wear or the fancy clothes that a private tailor would most likely make for him. And it certainly wasn’t the time to fantasise about all the expensive skincare products he would definitely be able to buy with his sugar daddy future king allowance.

No. Now was not the time for that. He was angry. Angry at the fact that he was still treated as a child. He was nineteen years old for fuck’s sake. He was clearly old enough to be shipped off for an arranged marriage but not old enough to know the politics behind it? Yeah. Okay. Whatever.

Lance huffed and crossed his arms angrily, like a petulant child, “Yeah? Well, good luck telling Prince Keith that.”

*****

The next day passed by in a blur. As it turned out, much to Lance’s dismay, Daibazaal was actually quite pretty. They had spent their time seeing, what their Royal Driver, Percy, had described as the highlights of the country, driving past the many vineyards, mountains and quaint little villages that were situated just outside Mamora City.

The city centre itself featured grand buildings with intricate designs that had been built centuries ago. Once used to house wealthy families, they now boasted designer fashion brands, hotels, restaurants and museums as their landlords. They were set back from the cobbled roads that ran throughout the city, with large fountains or sculptures serving as junctions. It was beautiful and nothing like the cosmopolitan Altea that Lance called home.

They had stayed in the most luxurious hotel Daibazaal had to offer and dined in the finest restaurants. They also had instant access to all the prime tourist spots, jumping the mammoth queues as though they were VIPs. They technically were VIPs but Lance had always been raised to believe that he was no different to everyone else, and he was certainly never allowed to exploit his ‘royal status.’ However, he really couldn’t help himself from throwing a few cheeky winks here and there, at the cute tourists who had definitely recognised him, if their hushed whispers and finger-pointing was anything to go by.

Lance’s favourite place they had visited had been the enormous Galra Stadium. It had once been used as a source of vulgar entertainment for the Royal Family and blood-thirsty public. Criminals were sent there to fight until the death, with the victor winning the right to stay alive for just another week when they would be expected to compete all over again.

Their personal tour guide informed them that the Kogane dynasty had put a controversial stop to the fights, and the stadium was now used as a source of education. They still had daily ‘fights’ but these were merely elaborate shows featuring over the top actors, wielding a variety of weapons to an over-excited crowd.

The McClains were given the royal box for the show – the best seats in the house and Lance couldn’t help but lose himself in the fight. For a brief moment, he completely forgot why they were even in Daibazaal. He booed and jeered the less attractive competitor whilst cheering possibly too loudly for the cute actor with the large sword.

When said cute actor was finally defeated by the fuck ugly one, Lance found himself on his feet screaming ‘BULLSHIT’ at the top of his lungs and smacking his hands on the railings. He was quickly ushered out of the stadium by his mortified mother and furious father who proceeded to scold him for twenty solid minutes on his choice of words. Apparently, ‘bullshit’ was not very royal.

All in all, it had been a rather good day, even with the bollocking from his parents. It was only on the ride back to the palace that Lance’s insides began to squirm, as he remembered why they were actually there. And it wasn’t to admire the rustic cobbled streets or watch Z-list actors get funky with swords. It was because of his…fiancé.

Lance was still confident that Prince Keith would not have changed his mind. He fully expected his family to arrive back at the palace to the sight of Kolivan and Thace waiting for them on the royal steps, looking grim. He imagined that they would be holding a red velvet pillow with a letter upon it, and inside said letter, in a nice cursive font, would be a brief note telling them to go fuck themselves followed by ‘Kind regards, H.R.H Prince Keith Kogane. P.s. Oi, nobheads, you owe me a set of doors.’

Unfortunately, the sight they were actually met with was indeed Thace and Kolivan waiting for them on the royal steps, however, instead of looking grim, they were grinning like two idiots.

And that did not bode well for Lance.

They were quickly ushered inside, back to the room where Keith had made his outburst. Unlike before, they were not sat around the grand table in the centre of the room. Instead, Keith and Shiro stood awaiting the McClain’s arrival. They had both had a costume change but still looked as formal as before. Lance noted that Keith had added a dark red cape to his all-black ensemble, held together by a single silver broach of the Kogane family crest – a hand holding a sword within a circle. Keith’s mullet had also been tamed and Lance felt incredibly sorry for whichever poor soul had to approach the emo bastard with a hairbrush.

They quickly shook hands; Keith couldn’t even look at Lance when it was their turn, his eyes darting to the side as if the doors he had almost taken off their hinges were more interesting to look at than his future husband. As soon as he could, he released Lance’s hand and went back to staring at the floor, which seemed to be equally as interesting as the large oak doors.

Coran was making small talk about how wonderful Daibazaal was and how enchanting their trip had been. Lance didn’t think the ‘I <3 Daibazaal’ baseball cap that Coran was sporting was necessary but Coran had insisted, even trying to get Lance to wear a matching ‘I <3 Daibazaal’ t-shirt over his formal garments. Lance tried to meet him halfway, offering to wear the big foam finger he had gotten as a souvenir from the fighting pits, however, his mother had yanked it off his hand as he was exiting the limo with a, “Don’t be a twat, Lance.” So that was that.

“It was simply magical, a great day!” Coran gushed, finally finishing his lengthy ode to Daibazaal.

Thace, Kolivan and Shiro were all smiling and nodding politely. Lance noticed Keith still had his head down, continuing with his inspection of the floor. God, could the guy be more obvious? He clearly wasn’t happy with the situation. They were all well aware of that. But did he really have to be so fucking rude about it?

“Once again, we would like to apologise for Keith’s behaviour yesterday,” Shiro said genuinely.

Lance held back a snort. His behaviour yesterday? What about today’s behaviour? When was that apology going to make an appearance?

His mother and father smiled politely and waved their hands dismissively as though it was nothing. As though being told to ‘fuck off’ by the future king was a daily occurrence to them. Lance couldn’t help but roll his eyes at the performance. It was ridiculous.

Shiro nodded graciously and looked towards Keith expectantly, however, the boy still had his head down, oblivious to what had just been said. What the fuck he was looking at, Lance had no idea. He really wanted to ask him if knew how necks worked but then Shiro coughed obviously, trying to get his attention.

“Keith. Is there anything you’d like to say?”

At the sound of his name, Keith finally raised his head and blushed when he realised that everyone was staring at him.

Of course, everyone was staring at him! How he thought he was an extra in this production was beyond Lance. He was obviously the star of the show. He was the fucking reason everyone was there. Trying to act like Villager Number 5 wasn’t going to butter any parsnips.

“Duke and Duchess McClain. Please forgive me. There is no excuse for my behaviour.” Keith said robotically, as though he had practised the statement over and over again. He probably had.

“Please, you have nothing to apologise for,” Lance’s father replied kindly.

Lies.

Fucking lies.

They all knew it. Keith knew it. Lance’s dad knew it. Even Percy the driver knew it. Keith had been a dick. Pure and simple. There were many apologies to be had.

“I…um…I-would-be-delighted-to-marry-your-son.” Keith continued quickly, accompanying his words with what Lance presumed was an attempt at a smile.

It was terrifying.

It looked to Lance as though he had just gambled on a fart and it hadn’t gone in his favour. Fucking hell. If that was his attempt at smiling…Jesus!

Also, how disingenuous could you be?

Delighted to marry your son – like fuck you would.

Lance didn’t realise he was scowling at Keith until the boy caught his eye and returned the favour. Before they could get into a proper staring contest, Coran’s voice boomed out a “WONDERFUL!” causing everyone to jump about ten feet in the air.

“JUST WONDERFUL!” Coran continued, clapping loudly and making everyone flinch for a second time.

He elbowed Lance harshly in the arm, and Lance, thinking it was just Coran and his usual flailing limbs, ignored it. It wouldn’t be the first time he had been on the receiving end of one of his overzealous gestures. But then he did again…and then again. On the fourth time, Lance had had enough and turned, shooting him a well-deserved stank face.

“Ow, quit it, Coran,” he hissed.

Coran was giving him a deranged look as though he was trying to communicate something wordlessly to Lance. But being a few fries short of a happy meal, Lance didn’t quite catch on at first, mouthing a “What?!’” at the ginger-haired coot.

“Um, Lance,” Coran prompted, his eye twitching like he was trying very hard to keep his shit together, “Isn’t there something you’d like to say?”

“Um, no,” Lance replied, imitating Coran’s tone perfectly and looking at him like he’d lost the plot. He added a shake of his head before it finally fucking dawned on him what he was supposed to do.

“OH!” he all but yelled, blushing from embarrassment, “Oh…um…I…” he glanced at his parents who were nodding far too eagerly at him, before turning to Keith and rivalling his constipated smile, “I accept.”

Everyone but Keith and Lance breathed a sigh of relief and shook hands once more. Coran even went in for a hug with Shiro who had no choice but to go with it.

“Excellent, excellent!” Coran grinned manically, reluctantly releasing Shiro from his hold, “Well now that that’s out of the way, let’s go plan this wedding!”

Lance’s eyes almost fell out of his sockets in shock, and he was pretty sure Keith had given himself whiplash from how fast he snapped his head up to look at Coran, “What?!” they voiced in outraged unison.

Lance’s parents shot daggers at him and he bowed his head sheepishly, not wanting another bollocking. He would die of embarrassment if he had to endure another twenty-minute lecture, especially if it was in front of his new fiancé and family. Best keep quiet and look pretty.

Keith, however, did not get that memo and ignored the glares he was receiving from Thace, Kolivan and Shiro.

“What do you mean 'plan the wedding'? It’s too early for that!” He yelled desperately, his voice getting more and more hysterical with every word.

“Nonsense, my boy! We only have three months!” Coran chuckled heartedly.

Keith’s eyes widened in horror as he turned to Shiro, “Three months?? THREE MONTHS?!”

Something told Lance, that Shiro and Company hadn't informed his majesty about that little detail. Had they not learnt from past mistakes? Surely they knew how he would react; the boy flew off the handle over the smallest shit. Christ, imagine breaking it to him that they were out of milk or something…

To be fair though, Lance had also not been informed about the nippy nuptials, but did you see him crying about it? No. He’d do that later, in the comfort of his own room...

Shit the bed.

Three months?

Lance knew it would be a quick turnaround but even he thought it would take at least a year to get everything sorted. They hadn’t even announced their fucking engagement to the public – surely that was a feat in itself? And actually, speaking of which, shouldn’t he have a ring? He was pretty sure that 99.9% of engagements ended with a ring on someone’s finger. Keith hadn’t even gotten down on one knee when he had spouted. ‘I’d be delighted to marry your son,’ and now, no ring? Brilliant. This shit just got better and better. They were probably going to have an Elvis impersonator as their minister at this rate.

“Keith, why don’t you go and show Lance around and take him to his room?” Shiro ventured, clearly trying but failing to calm Keith down.

“NO! Not until you tell me—“

“KEITH! Room. Now.” Shiro warned and the look on his face told Lance that it wasn’t up for discussion. However, the look on Keith’s face said fuck it, he was going to try.

It was alpha vs alpha.

You could cut the tension with a rusty spoon.

Eyes were darting all over the show.

Pass Lance the popcorn this shit was better than the fighting pits. Better yet, what did his mom do with his foam finger?

He watched as Keith and Shiro stared each other down, and he knew that Keith was dying to have another one of his outbursts. In fact, Lance was hoping he would. That way maybe his parents might finally realise that this was not the man for their precious son, and he could go home and meet someone who: a) would actually want to marry him, b) at least get down on one knee during their fucking proposal, and c) actually produce a ring.

He was waiting for it. Any moment now, Keith would tell them to get fucked, call of the wedding and storm out in a blaze of glory, and Lance would be popping the Dom Pérignon on the way to Mamora International.

“Fine.” 

Lance's face fell at Keith's response. What a fucking anti-climax. The emo bastard had actually backed down!

He had expected fireworks - a show to rival the one he had seen at the fighting pits earlier that day. He had even braced himself for the slam of the doors that never came.

Instead, Keith turned on his heel and stalked out of the room as dramatic as ever, not waiting for Lance or even giving him a second glance.

It took Lance all of two seconds to realise he should be following the prince and he quickly bowed to the rest of the group before running to try and catch up to his highness’s unusually long strides.

“Hey, wait up!” He called out, trying but failing to match Keith’s pace. The boy was halfway down the long hallway, leading Lance to suspect he had teleporting abilities, that or he had absolutely legged it as soon as he was out of the room.

Keith sighed loudly which Lance thought was really fucking rude, not that he expected anything less but, you know, he thought a bit of discretion of his future husbands’ apparent loathing of him wouldn’t go a miss.

He finally caught up to him, panting slightly.

“Jeez, you walk fast,” Lance joked, trying his hardest to make the best out of the shit sandwich he had been served. He even smiled at the prince – a genuine smile as well, not like the constipated one his majesty had given him.

“Dining Room.” Keith huffed in his face and Lance just blinked at him. Where the fuck had that comment come from?

Oh. It must be a Daibazaal thing. Coran had warned him about all the weird customs. It must be a game they played to break the ice. A bit like ‘I spy’, except shit.

Who listed the names of rooms as a form of entertainment? Boring people, that’s who. And Lance was supposed to spend the rest of his life with this guy? Jesus, kill him now.

“Um…Kitchen?” He replied unsurely.

Keith scowled at him, “What?”

“Oh. Is that one off-limits? Okay, then…um, ballroom?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Are we not playing the room name game?”

Keith cocked his eyebrow at him like he was a fucking moron. Maybe Lance had got it wrong, maybe Keith just had Tourette’s and he wasn’t supposed to acknowledge it.

Shit.

“That was the dining room, dipshit,” Keith gestured to the room they had just been in. The one whose doors were barely hanging on.

“Oh,” Lance replied.

That…made sense.

“The room name game?” Keith queried, narrowing his eyes at Lance in disgust.

It wasn’t Lance’s fault that he had got it wrong - the first words Keith had fucking said to him had been ‘dining room’. Excuse him for not knowing what the fuck was going on. AND he had just called him a dipshit! Let’s not gloss over that detail!

“Hey!” Lance shouted, jabbing his finger into Keith’s chest, having had just about enough of his sass. At least he was fucking trying! “I don’t know what you guys do for fun around here!”

“Well not fucking that.”

“Well excuse me! I’m not the one with a stick up his ass—“

“—I don’t have a stick up my ass!”

“—Coulda fooled me!”

He doesn’t quite know how it happened but suddenly, he and Keith were nose to nose, each equally as red as the other – Keith with rage, Lance from a mixture of embarrassment and fury.

Who the hell did this guy think he was? Lance was a guest – this was not how you treated guests! You offered them a drink and laughed at their terrible jokes. You did not go around calling them dipshits. Who the fuck had raised him? Lance had half a mind to turn around, march right back in the dining room and give Shiro and Company a piece of his god damn mind. Plus, Lance was his freaking fiancé for goodness sake! Yes, after yesterday’s meeting, he didn’t expect rose petals on his bed, but you know a little bit of civility wouldn’t go amiss.

They were breathing heavily, still nose to nose and Lance swore that Keith was a split second away from chinning him. He’d never been in a fight before and he didn’t like his chances against an alpha. But he wasn’t a pussy, he would give as good as he got. He clenched his fists, ready to swing as soon as Keith did, however, the prince suddenly stepped back as though Lance wasn’t worth his time.

“You know what, fuck this! Find your own way around,” Keith spat. He started to walk away, his cape billowing behind him menacingly like the villain he was, whilst Lance just stood there, not knowing what to do.

This was not going at all well.

“Oh, nice. Real nice,” He taunted as if goading the hot-headed prince, even more, would salvage the situation, “What a great way to treat your fiancé!”

He heard Keith mumble something under his breath but the boy was too far away for Lance to make sense of it.

“What was that? I didn’t quite catch that, your majesty.”

Lance's sarcastic tone was all it took for Keith to succumb to the bait. He stopped and turned to face Lance, cold eyes staring him down, “I said, you’re not my fiancé by choice. I didn’t choose you. In fact, if I had any other option, I’d take it.”

Lance tried not to be hurt by Keith’s inflexion of the word any. But it was hard not to be. He was already feeling fragile and was barely holding his shit together as it was. He was going to have a meltdown, he just expected he would be in the comfort of his new room to have it in, rather than a regal hallway.

Keith didn’t want him. He got it. Loud and clear. Why the boy had to keep reminding him of it, he didn’t know. Was it to make him feel even worse? Because he was already at rock bottom, chilling with his dignity and free will, it wouldn’t hurt if his self worth came to join them too.

“You think I want this? You think I want to be engaged to some stranger who doesn’t want me?” He started, voice already wavering and lip quivering, “You think I want to leave my whole family behind, to come and live in some foreign country with people I don’t know?”

He could feel the tears starting to form in his eyes and tried to blink them away. He didn’t want to give Keith the satisfaction of seeing him cry. Seeing an omega cry. God, he was such a cliché. A minute ago. he had been ready to throw down, and now he was almost crying? Keep it together, Lance.

“I have no choice in this either. I know you don’t want me but we have to at least try and make this work,” he trailed off, feeling the muscles in his face beginning to tense. 

As much as Lance had been against the idea, he knew that when he agreed to the arrangement, he would do his best to make it work. After all, when life gives you lemons, you make lemonade, and Lance had always been a glass-half-full kind of guy. He was fully prepared to try and make the most out of their marriage. He was trying. Goddammit. You couldn't say he wasn't trying.

Keith looked at him vacantly and the action hurt Lance more than his insults.

It was like he wasn’t bothered at all. He could see how upset Lance was and he was looking at him like he couldn’t find a fuck to give....not one.

Yeah, Lance had always been a glass half full kind of guy, but sometimes you have to admit that the glass is actually broken and there's fucking liquid and smashed glass everywhere and it's actually just a big shitting mess.

He sniffed and looked away, “Fine. I’ll go and tell Coran that it’s off,” he said dejectedly, turning to make the long journey back to the dining room.

“Wait.”

Lance stopped and turned back to Keith, “What?”

“You can’t.”

“I can’t what?”

“Tell them that it’s off. That’s…it’s not an option, okay?”

Lance frowned, “If you had any other option, you’d take it. This is your other option.”

“No. It’s not.”

Lance scoffed and turned away from the prince again, walking towards the dining room, “You don’t want me, Keith.”

He heard rapid footsteps coming from behind him and suddenly Keith was standing in front of him, blocking his way.

“Please? Look, I’m… I just….this is really hard for me.” Keith said, his eyes darting around as though he couldn’t bring himself to make and keep direct eye contact with Lance.

“Really? Is it?” Lanced asked sarcastically.

Hard for him? What exactly was hard for him? As far as Lance was concerned, he got the better end of the deal. He didn’t have to leave his home or his family. Nothing would change for Keith, he’d still get to do whatever the fuck he wanted.

Everything would change for Lance.

Keith bit his tongue and Lance could tell he was desperately trying to stop himself from blowing up again.

“I’ll…I’ll show you around. Come on.”

*****

“So that’s it,” Keith concluded. He had given Lance a very brief tour of the castle, racing past rooms with a flick of his wrist and a one-word explanation. Lance knew he was going to get lost immediately and just hoped the palace staff would be more accommodating than his brooding fiancé. “You can go anywhere, except for my personal gym, my training room and my room, obviously.”

Lance rolled his eyes at Keith’s demands. As if he thought he would be welcome in Keith’s boudoir - he wasn’t completely stupid, “Got it. Stay out of the West Wing.”

Keith narrowed his eyes at him, “We don’t have a West Wing?” he said, affronted, as though Lance hadn’t been listening to all of the five fucking words he had said to him on the tour.

“It’s from Beauty and the Beast. You know, the West Wing is where the Beast keeps his enchanted rose? He has to get someone to fall in love with him before the last petal falls?” Lance prompted before putting on his best deep voice, “But who could ever learn to love a beast--.”

“--What the fuck are you talking about?”

Right, so his fiancé wasn’t a big Disney fan. Fantastic.

“Nevermind…hey, you don’t have an enchanted rose do you?”

“No?”

“That’s a shame.” It was wishful thinking on Lance’s part. If he did have one, Lance would have gone up there and plucked every petal himself. Save him from this misery.

Wait, that’s not how that shit worked, was it? The Beast wouldn’t have died, he would just have remained…well… a Beast… Not that Lance was plotting to kill Keith or anything, but if the opportunity presented itself…

“Okay. So. Here’s your room, I guess.”

Before Lance could get carried away with thoughts of pushing Keith into the path of an oncoming train, Keith had gestured to a set of pretty tall white doors, with elegant golden handles.

“Thank you,” Lance nodded with a smile.

“Okay…so… bye.”

Keith had barely gotten the last word out before he was stalking off down the hallway.

“Wait!” Lance called out.

Keith sighed exasperatedly, “What now?”

“Aren’t we supposed to go back to the… um… the dining room?”

Keith looked at him like he was crazy, “Fuck that. You can go back. I’m not.”

“Well, I don’t know how to get there.”

“Were you not listening?” Keith sneered, crossing his arms over his chest, clearly having been done with this conversation, several minutes ago.

“Yes!” Lance bit back, “It was impossible not to. You only said like 5 freaking words to me in total!”

Keith shrugged, “Well that’s your problem.” And with that, he turned and walked away.

“Are you serious?” Lance called out, expecting him to stop, “Keith! Keith!”

But the boy didn’t stop and continued to saunter away like he couldn’t hear Lance or his protests.

Un-fucking believable.

*****

After an emotional goodbye with too many tears and not enough hugs, Lance was exhausted. He watched as his parents’ limo became a dot on the horizon before he finally returned to the palace. Shiro had been very kind, telling him to get an early night, which he gladly did, in his new Californian King Bed which was akin to sleeping on a cloud.

When he awoke he realised he had overslept, having probably tired himself out from his crying. Not wanting to make a bad impression on his first day, Lance scrambled to get ready and ran like a lunatic through the halls to the dining room which Shiro had instructed him was the place where all meals were served. He was proud to say, he only got lost twice…okay three times but it wasn’t his fault. Who needed that many rooms anyway? Luckily, the palace staff were a lot more accommodating than Keith and were more than happy to point him in the right direction.

He finally made it to the dining room and was pleased to find that one of the doors was slightly open, meaning he wouldn’t have to make a grand entrance and could just slip inside. That and he was still very reluctant to touch either of the doors, after Keith’s treatment of them.

He was just about to enter the room when he overheard the heated voices of both Shiro and Keith coming from inside.

“Just because we’re getting married, doesn’t mean we have to like each other.”

“Keith, that’s exactly what it means!”

“Please – there’s plenty of loveless marriages.”

“Keith, you’re not even giving him a chance.”

“I don’t want to give him a chance.”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“What?! I’m doing as you asked. I’m getting married,” Keith jeered.

Lance stood outside the room frozen. He was horrified. Is this really what lay ahead for him? A loveless marriage?

Who was he kidding?  Keith was never going to try. It was hopeless. Lance was a fool. A fucking fool. He had actually woken up in a good mood, ready to start. Ready to win Keith over. How could he do that if Keith wouldn’t even give him a chance?

Was he really going to spend his life with someone who hated him? Who couldn’t stand him? Was he actually going to have to have children with this man?

God, would Keith even love them?

He wanted to cry again but he had no tears left to give. Dejected and feeling quite sorry for himself, Lance decided to return to his room when suddenly, the door flew open and he came face-to-face with a startled Kolivan.

“Master McClain,” Kolivan announced loudly. His eyes widened and he nervously looked behind to catch Shiro’s eye.

Lance wanted to be sassy, to tell him that it was okay, that he’d heard every word but instead, he found himself croaking, “Morning,” with a small smile that blatantly gave him away.

Shiro arose abruptly, “Lance! Join us, please,” he smiled and gestured to the table. It was far too enthusiastic and Lance could tell he felt obligated to put in double the effort.

“Actually, I was just leaving,” Keith declared and threw his napkin down.

So he couldn’t even stand to be in the same room as Lance? That was a new low, even for him.

“It’s okay, I’m not… I’m not hungry,” Lance said sadly, throwing a small smile at Shiro. He turned around, and as quick as he could muster without it looking too pathetic, walked away.

*****

“Do you think he heard?” Shiro asked Kolivan who was still stood at the door, watching Lance’s retreating figure.

“Most definitely.”

Shiro sighed and sat back down. He began to fiddle nervously with his own napkin, scanning his brain for a solution.

“He’s probably gone to cry about it,” Keith smirked.

Shiro looked up at him in disbelief, “You know, Keith. I never had you down as a cruel person but,” He stood up and shook his head, “If mom and dad could see you now.”

With that, he threw his own napkin down and stormed out of the room.

Chapter Text

“Are you serious?” Lance breathed in amazement, staring down at the box in his hands.

He couldn’t quite believe what he was looking at. A ring…but not just any ring….the ring.

It had belonged to Queen Krolia and was one of the most famous rings in the world. It was breathtaking; a platinum ring with a large oval blue/purple stone surrounded by diamonds. There were articles written on it, replicas made for museums, copycat engagement rings sold in the thousands at a fraction of the price but nothing could compare to the real thing.

“Yes, Lance. We want you to have it,” Shiro smiled kindly.

“But it’s…it’s...it was…” Lance stuttered, unable to find the right words to say.

“Our mother’s?” Shiro asked, finishing Lance’s sentence for him.

Lance finally tore his eyes away from the ring and looked up at Shiro, “Yeah,” he breathed in awe.

When Shiro had knocked on his bedroom door, Lance had just assumed he had wanted to go over his responses to the interview questions again, to make sure that they were watertight. But then the prince had sat on his bed and whipped out a box containing his dead mother’s engagement ring and told Lance it was his, like it was no big deal, as if he was offering Lance a stick of fucking gum and not a royal heirloom.

Lance knew he would be given an engagement ring eventually but he had genuinely believed that he would be handed some hideous store-bought creation that Keith had begrudgingly gone out and bought on the morning of their wedding and only because Shiro was holding a gun to his head.

He never thought in a million years he would be given a piece of history.

“I think she’d want you to have it,” Shiro said with a fond smile.

Lance continued to stare at him in disbelief, looking for any kind of sign that he was joking. He had to be. There was no way in hell that it would be passed down to a nobody like Lance.

Plus, it wasn’t like Lance and Keith were childhood sweethearts. They barely knew each other. They were acquaintances at best and that’s if Lance was being generous. He couldn’t imagine Keith’s mom looking down on them and thinking, ‘Yes. Give it that random Latino boy, I’ve got a good feeling about him.’

So he waited, waited for Shiro to burst out laughing and say, “I’m joking you idiot,” and snatch the ring out of his hands. He was ready to play along and laugh it all off. Pretend he knew all along that Shiro wasn’t actually being serious. But he didn’t have to do that because the look on Shiro’s face was nothing but genuine and it was all Lance could do to stop himself from bursting into tears there and then.

Since his arrival at the palace two weeks ago, Shiro had shown him nothing but kindness, going out of his way to make Lance feel welcome and wanted, which was the exact opposite of how Keith had treated him thus far.

To say things hadn’t been going well with the future king would be an understatement, and although Shiro had tried to make up for Keith’s apparent dislike of Lance, nothing said ‘I can’t fucking stand you,’ more than Keith’s ability to avoid him. Lance had barely seen the emo prince at all, only catching brief glimpses of the back of his mullet, which was usually leaving the room he was entering.

The ironic thing was, they had announced their engagement merely two days after Lance’s arrival, and although the press release had been very formal, it left no indication that the arrangement wasn’t sought after willingly by both parties.

Lance had almost coughed up a lung reading the sentence, ‘Prince Keith Justin Kogane proposed to Leandro Alexander McClain after a brief courtship whereby the Prince fell for Leandro’s good humour, looks and charm,’ which couldn’t be further from the truth if it tried. Although Lance didn’t think, ‘Prince Keith was forced into this marriage because he has no other option,’ had the same ring to it.

Well, at least they had got one thing right, the courtship had been brief. 24 hours brief to be exact. And as much as Lance would like to think he could make someone fall in love with him due to his impeccable good looks, hilarity and charm, the only thing Keith had fallen for was an agreement he couldn’t get out of. 

Still, Lance couldn’t argue. He got off quite lightly in the statement. All they had said about him was regarding his family history, his status as an omega, and the fact that he had graciously accepted the proposal which whilst an exaggeration, was nowhere near as bad as them waxing poetic about the ‘love’ his future husband had for him.

God, Keith must have been furious. Lance was a little bit annoyed that he hadn’t been there to witness his reaction. He wondered which inanimate object had been on the receiving end of his wrath this time.

“So are you going to try it on?” Shiro prompted, snapping Lance out of his thoughts.

“Oh,” Lance blinked, looking back down to the ring in his hands. It really was beautiful. Too beautiful, really. He had only just gotten his head around the fact that Shiro might not be joking - now he had to try the fucking thing on? Jesus. No pressure then. He delicately took it out of the box and with shaking hands, slipped it on his ring finger.

“It fits?” He said in amazement, holding his hand up in front of his face to admire the view. It was perfect, like Cinderella-glass-slipper-perfect. Like Harry-Potter-in-Olivander’s-when-he-finally-finds-the-right-wand-perfect. It was like it was made for him, not too tight, not at all loose - the one ring to rule them all.

“Let me see?” Shiro took his hand and inspected the fit, “Wow, it’s perfect,” he smiled, dropping Lance’s hand delicately, “I had a feeling it would be.”

“You did?” Lance queried, trying not to let the fact that Shiro had basically just told him he had girly hands get to him.

“Yeah,” Shiro shrugged, “Guess, I was right.”

Lance couldn’t help the smile that bloomed on his face. Girly hands aside, the ring looked amazing on him if he did say so himself. His tanned skin really made the platinum stand out and he was pretty sure the blue/purple stone matched his eyes perfectly.

“I can’t work out if the stone is blue or purple?” Lance commented, turning his hand this way and that so that the ring would catch the light. 

“Violet,” Shiro smiled again, “It’s Tanzanite.”

“Oh,” Lance voiced, nodding dumbly, “I’ve never heard of that before.” 

Sure he’d heard of rubies, sapphires and emeralds but never Tanzanite. It sounded like something QVC had invented for four low payments of $19.99.

“Yeah, my dad got it specially made for our mom on their tenth anniversary. It was kind of an inside joke between them,” Shiro replied warmly, a nostalgic smile sitting heavy on his lips, “She used to say that my dad’s aura was red, as he was a hot-head with a very short temper.”

“Sounds familiar,” Lance joked.

Shiro chuckled, “You’re not wrong.”

“So why violet?”

“Well, my dad said that my mother’s aura was blue, as she was far more laid back than he was. She was the calmer, more rational one in the relationship. So he picked out a violet stone because when you mix red and blue together, you get purple.” Shiro shrugged dismissively as if saying it aloud seemed kind of dumb.

“That’s….that’s really beautiful,” Lance said in earnest.

It was the kind of story he had always dreamed of for himself. Meeting ‘the one’, knowing that a person was made for you and you alone. Sharing that kind of intimacy with someone. Knowing them inside out. What they loved, what they hated and everything in between. He didn’t know what colour Keith’s aura would be, and the heart-breaking thing was that Keith wouldn’t give a flying fuck either way.

Knowing his luck, Keith’s aura would be red and Lance’s would turn out to be green, meaning that their shared colour would be brown. Maybe Keith would get a piece of jewellery made especially for him on their tenth anniversary, although Lance didn’t need a necklace with a turd pendant on it to remind him that Keith already thought he was a piece of shit.

“Yeah…” Shiro smiled in agreement and looked off to the side wistfully, “And Tanzanite is supposedly the ‘magic stone’. Wearing it on your wedding finger means your life together will be like a real-life fairy tale…or so they say. And that stone in particular,” Shiro nodded his head to Lance’s hand, “Is one of the purest and rarest forms of Tanzanite on earth. Dad only wanted the best for my mom.”

Lance didn’t miss how his smile turned mournful. He kind of felt like a dickhead for even considering that the ring could have been anything other than priceless.

“Well, I’ll keep my fingers crossed for that fairy tale,” he joked, attempting to lift the morbid mood that had suddenly descended.

He knew that Keith and Shiro were orphans. Everyone did. He remembered the day their parents had been killed like it was yesterday. It was one of those monumental moments that you never forget. He could tell you exactly where he was when the news broke that the King and Queen of Daibazal had been murdered.

It had been terrible. Broadcast on every channel and interrupting any regular programming. The repeated images from the helicopter flying over the scene, and the lifeless bodies of Queen Krolia and King Justin covered by white sheets, being transported into ambulances.

Lance remembered watching the televised funeral with his family. Watching the thousands upon thousands of people lining the streets, as the horse-drawn carriage passed them, followed by the two princes who were walking solemnly behind their parent’s caskets. 

Shiro had been 19 at the time and Keith, who was only a year older than Lance, had been 13.

Lance remembered watching Keith as the cameras tastelessly zoomed in on him, capturing his anguish, his despair, his heartbreak. He remembered thinking that it wasn’t right. That Keith should have been allowed to grieve in private. That no one should have to bury their parents at the age of 13 years old.

“That poor, poor, little boy,” his grandmother had sniffed, wiping tears from her eyes. Lance had nodded, turning back to look at the TV which was showing a close up of Keith’s face, capturing the moment when a single tear fell from his left eye and rolled down his cheek.

Little did Lance know he would end up marrying that heartbroken little boy one day.

Shiro huffed out a laugh, “He will come around....this is just... a lot for him, you know?”

Lance knew what Shiro was saying without him having to spell it out. 

Keith didn’t want to be king.

In the short time he had been at the palace, Lance had picked up on quite a lot of things. He had learnt that Shiro practically ran the kingdom albeit with the help of Kolivan and Thace, and that Keith was just the poster child for the monarchy - like Mickey Mouse for Disneyland. He learnt that Shiro put his heart and soul into everything he did and that Keith just rocked up and provided a signature when it was needed. But the most important thing Lance learnt was that despite everything, Shiro didn’t hold an ounce of resentment towards his baby brother.

It was a cruel irony that Shiro wasn’t the next in line for the throne. On paper, he was the ideal candidate but due to a stupid 10,000-year-old rule, they’d rather give it to his dickhead younger brother who couldn’t run a bath, let alone a country.

It made no sense.

But they were the rules. Shiro had no claim to the throne and much like the death of the King and Queen, Lance remembered the story vividly.

It had come to light at the murder inquest. King Zarkon was on trial for conspiracy to murder Queen Krolia and King Justin when the story conveniently hit the papers. 

Takeshi Shirogane Kogane was a bastard.

It had been quite the scandal. Broadcast on every TV station, splashed across the front page of every newspaper, and featured in every tacky magazine one could buy, complete with glossy pull-outs, promising in-depth accounts of the story the Kogane family so desperately tried to cover up.

Before he had married Queen Krolia, King Justin, who was a prince at the time, had been engaged to Princess Arina Shirogane of Olkarion. She had quickly fallen pregnant, and not wanting to fall out of favour with the public due to getting frisky before marriage, the palace had kept it a secret, with only a few trusted employees knowing of the princess’s condition. 

They were due to be married well before the birth, which would have been fine. They would have lived happily ever after. Shiro would have been the rightful heir to the throne and Keith would have been just a glint in his father's eye. But that never happened, of course. Instead, Princess Arina died giving birth to an extremely premature Shiro, leaving King Justin aged 20, unmarried and with an illegitimate child. 

To make matters worse, the king at the time, Shiro and Keith’s grandfather, King Alexander, was on his deathbed and died a mere 2 days after Shiro was born. To salvage the situation, the palace confirmed the unfortunate and sudden deaths of both Princess Arina and King Alexander and capitalised on the public’s sympathy by rushing in Lady Krolia, a childhood friend of King Justin’s. They were quickly married, cementing the Kogane’s continued reign over Daibazal.

Queen Krolia announced her pregnancy immediately and several months later, Shiro was introduced as their first son, born prematurely. They gave him the middle name “Shirogane” as a tribute to Princess Arina - a feat which was greatly admired by the public. Their ‘second’ son, Keith was born six years later.

“So,” Shiro slapped his hands on his knees, jolting Lance out of his thoughts, “How are you feeling about today?”

This was what Lance had originally thought Shiro had come to speak to him about. Today was the day he and Keith would be making their public debut as a couple. Not only did they have to endure an intimate photoshoot together but they also had to somehow get through a televised interview that was going out live, meaning they had to get it right on the first take - there was zero room for errors.

“Weirdly confident, actually,” Lance smiled, making his hand into a fist so that he could admire the ring some more, “I don’t know if you’ve picked up on it or not but I’m quite the performer.”

Shiro huffed out a laugh, “Yeah, I got that. Do you know your lines?”

Shiro and Company, with the additional help of Coran, had prepped Lance and Keith at great length on the kind of questions they could expect to be asked. Lance had taken it in his stride, answering perfectly and gaining compliment after compliment for his ‘fantastic and well-worded answers’. Keith, on the other hand, was a monosyllabic shit show and even Coran’s constant enthusiasm was stripped away by the end of their prepping session. 

He couldn’t blame him, the boy couldn’t improvise to save his life and Lance had lost count on how many ‘ers’ he had uttered, whilst looking like a deer in headlights - and that was with people he knew! Lance shuddered to think about what he was going to be like today with none of his entourage prompting him. It would be up to him to save it.

“Do I know my lines?” Lance scoffed and put a hand to his chest in mock outrage, “Shiro, I am a professional. Of course, I know my lines! Don’t you worry, I won’t let you nor the citizens of Daibazal down, I promise.”

“It’s not you I’m worried about,” Shiro grimaced and Lance could tell he was more than just a little bit anxious about Prince Keith one-word Kogane.

Lance smiled sympathetically, “Don’t worry, I’ll try and do the talking.”

*****

“Why do we have to do this? Wasn’t that god-awful press release enough!?” Keith huffed out, yanking his face away and out of reach of the makeup artist who was attempting to apply even more foundation.

“Keith, believe it or not, this is kind of a big deal. It’s not every day, the future King of Daibazaal gets engaged.” Shiro replied. He was leaning on the counter next to Keith, rifling through a tacky magazine, which just so happened to feature the most unflattering photo of Keith on the cover, accompanied with the headline, ‘HRH FINALLY gets engaged’, as though he was a freak of nature for not being married at the ripe old age of 20.

“It’s bullshit. Like, I sort of get the photoshoot thing but the interview?” Keith remarked irritably, throwing a stank face at the poor makeup artist who was hesitating with a tube of concealer in hand, as though she was afraid Keith might bite her hand off if she went near him with it. 

To be fair to her, he probably would, given the mood he was in.

He had been fucking thrilled to learn that not only did he have to participate in a cheesy photoshoot with Lance attached to his arm but he also had to sit down with the notoriously conniving interviewer, Diane Donnelly, from the Daibazaal Broadcasting Corporation (DBC) for a ‘royal special’. If that wasn’t bad enough, the interview was going out live, meaning he wouldn’t be allowed to swear or have a second go at answering one of the idiotic questions, she would no doubt ask him.

Well, wasn’t that just fan-fucking-tastic?

Oh! And let’s not forget about that fabricated piece of shit press release, which made Harry Potter look factual. Like seriously? He’d ‘fallen for Lance’s good looks, humour and charm’? Yeah, fucking right! All he’d fallen for was a series of unfortunate events, starting with his birth and ending with the death of his parents.

“It’s customary – the people want to hear from you, you’re getting the reputation of being quite…” Shiro paused, thinking of a word that wouldn’t provoke Keith, “Elusive,”  he concluded, flicking over another page.

Keith glared at his reflection in the mirror, “I prefer ‘mysterious’.”

“Yes, well there’s mysterious and then there’s being an asshole. Face it, Keith. The public is behind you because of Mom and Dad’s legacy. You have big shoes to fill. So start on the right foot."

Keith rolled his eyes. He was getting pretty tired of Shiro and his constant pep talks. 

When he had finally (and very reluctantly) agreed to marry Lance, no one had said anything about photoshoots or televised interviews. No, they had kept those little gems to themselves, only revealing them to him when they had to i.e. a day before said photoshoot and interview when he couldn’t do anything about it.

He wondered what else they were keeping from him? They were probably going to reveal that they had booked him and Lance on a romantic two-week honeymoon on a private island in the middle of fucking nowhere, just as he was boarding the plane.

God, he couldn’t think of anything worse.

Not to be dramatic but the thought of spending any amount of alone time with Lance made him want to jump out of the nearest window or set himself on fire.

It wasn’t like he hated Lance...he just…it was just...

Okay, so he might have hated Lance.

It wasn’t his fault! The guy was insufferable. He was one of those loud and obnoxious bipolar people who was either laughing his tits off or crying in a pit of despair. There was no in-between with him and it was fucking exhausting to be in his presence.

So Keith made the executive decision not to be. They didn’t have to spend time with each other. They could fake it. As long as they rocked up together to keep up appearances, grinning like a pair of dickheads, dotting the i’s and crossing the t’s, who would know any different? 

“I’m sure the public is going to love me,” Keith remarked sarcastically, wiping off the newly applied lip-gloss on the back of his hand, and throwing a snarky, “Really?” to the makeup assistant who had turned bright red with embarrassment.

“You are a national treasure, they already love you,” Shiro mused, holding up the magazine for Keith to see.

He had stopped on a double-page spread featuring photos of Keith at various stages throughout his life. The photo of him as a baby cradled in his parent’s arms; his first day of school, hand in hand with his mother; the photo of him crying at his parent’s funeral. All the classics were in there.

Keith rolled his eyes again and looked away.  “Do you think they’ll still love me if I flip them the bird and tell them to get fucked on national television?”

“Keith.”

“I’m kidding... Jesus. And you say that I need to lighten up.”

“How was that a joke? You would definitely do something like that.”

Despite what his brother and company thought of him, Keith wasn’t a complete moron. He knew how important this was to their legacy - to the people of Daibazaal. He wasn’t about to undo centuries of work just because he didn’t like his fiancé.

He scowled at his reflection in the mirror and immediately reached for the wet wipes, “Oh yee of little faith,” he sang before scrubbing at his face and removing all trace of makeup the poor artist had just painstakingly finished applying, leaving his skin red raw.

Shiro frowned and watched as said makeup artist burst into tears and fled from the room, “Would it kill you to be nice?”

“I think we both know the answer to that.”

Shiro sighed heavily and Keith knew he was debating whether or not to go and console the girl and apologise for Keith’s behaviour. Instead, he asked, “Do you know your lines?” with an air of forced indifference.

“Yes! God! Stop asking me!” Keith snapped defensively.  He knew what Shiro was getting at. It was obvious. He thought that Keith was going to fuck up. Everyone did.

Shiro raised a hand as a peace gesture, “I just want to be sure--”

“--Well you can be sure,” Keith replied curtly.

He couldn’t.

The truth was that despite being ‘prepped’ for hours by Shiro, Thace, Kolivan AND Coran, Keith didn’t have a fucking clue what he was going to say. He’d forgotten almost everything they had discussed and it would be a god-damn miracle if he could get through the thing managing to remember his own name, let alone answer the question of, ‘What attracted him to Lance?’.

Fuck.

What was he supposed to say to that?

“Well, Diane, it was either that or a 92-year-old, half-dead troglodyte. So I took my chances.”

Oh yeah, the viewers would love that!

Actually, maybe he should have gone for Baron Barclay of Winchester - the other omega. The guy surely didn’t have long left in this world and he’d only have to suffer through what? Like 2-5 years of torture at most before the old geezer croaked it?

Lance, on the other hand, was a spring chicken. Lance was for life. How old did Shiro say he was again? 19?  

Shit. 

How long would it be until Keith could file for divorce? A month? A week? 3 days?

No. Shiro would kill him. He’d make him ride it out for at least a year or five…

Eurgh.

But he could worry about that later. He had to concentrate on how he was going to get through this fucking interview first.

Right, okay. Simple, he’d just say that Lance had nice eyes or something as cliché as that. 

Shit.

What colour were his eyes? Green? He seemed like a green-eyed type of guy…wait, no…brown, they were definitely brown…or were they blue? 

Fuck.

Okay scrap that, maybe he could say something about his kind nature and great sense of humour.

Keith suddenly remembered the room name game…

Okay, it was fine. He just needed a pageant queen response. Something generic that could be applied to literally anything - even a house plant. Easy on the eye, low maintenance, really brightened up a room ya-dee-ya-dee-ya.

It was fine.

It was going to be fine.

Fine, fine, fine.

.....

Fuck.

It was not going to be fine.  

He was terrified. 

Absolutely fucking terrified.

Suddenly it dawned on him that he was going to have to pretend that he didn’t actually loathe Lance and that they were actually ‘in love’.

Fuck.

How!?

How was he supposed to do that!?

There was a reason he was cast as the third reserve to play a dead guy in his school play. He was a terrible actor. He was more wooden than a fucking log cabin. Yet they expected him to go on live TV and trick the whole world into thinking he was in love with someone he couldn’t stand!? Even Meryl Streep would struggle!

“Where is he anyway?” He huffed out in annoyance, trying to mask his panic. The minutes were quickly passing by and he hadn’t seen or heard from Lance all morning, which was unusual. Guy was like a walking megaphone.

Maybe he was feeling exactly how Keith was. Maybe he had woken up and thought ‘Nah, not for me’ and had bailed. Maybe he was already halfway back to Altea.

They couldn’t do the interview if Lance didn’t show up, right!?

Right?!

Just as he was thinking of leaving a trail of cookies out for Lance and then locking him in a cupboard just in case he hadn’t gone MIA and was simply running fashionably late, the fucker appeared in the doorway with a cheery, “The talent has arrived!”

“Fuck.” Keith said, loudly.

“Keith,” Shiro warned, lowering his voice so that only Keith could hear him, “Please, could you just try and be nice to him? Please? For me?”

“I’m not promising anything.”

Lance approached cautiously, as though Keith was a ticking time bomb ready to go off at any given moment and Keith wondered if he had had the pleasure of passing the makeup artist in the hallway. 

“Well don’t you look... um,” Lance hesitated, his face falling as he took in Keith’s appearance, “Why do you look like you’ve just run a marathon?”

“What?” Keith spat, whipping his head to look in the mirror. His face was still comically red from where he had assaulted it with wet wipes, removing the caked on foundation that the artist had said would make him look ‘natural’. Natural his left bollock. Naturally orange more like.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath.

This was all he needed, going on live TV, barely able to string two words together and looking like a gay Satan.

“Do you need to get some air? Are you hot? Is it because of the interview? Are you nervous? Don’t be. It’s going to be fine. Do you want me to get you some water?” Lance rushed out, looking concerned.

Keith blinked at him, “What the fu...you’ve just asked me like 60 questions???” He shouted angrily, as though Lance was to blame for everything.

“Well, it was five actually and excuse me for worrying about you,” Lance bit back, scowling and crossing his arms across his chest.

He was dressed in his formal royal blue Altean clothes which he had worn during their first meeting and Keith hated himself for thinking he didn’t look half bad. Objectively speaking, Lance was a good looking guy. He had long legs that seemed to go on forever, a slender waist and broad shoulders. If he wasn’t such an annoying little shit, Keith might have even said he was attractive.

The angel on Keith’s shoulder was screaming at him to say something nice to Lance, to throw the boy a bone and just give him fucking a compliment. Even a ‘nice shoes’ would have had Lance’s metaphorical tail wagging. Unfortunately, the irate devil on his other shoulder always won out and he looked at Lance as though he was something he had just stepped in.

“Okay, can we get this over with?” He grumbled, flitting his eyes to Shiro with an irritated glare.

The photoshoot and interview were to take place inside the palace in the grand study. It had been chosen specifically, as it was always the place his father recorded his speeches in, that and practically every significant royal event had been captured there: The picture of the newlywed King and Queen surrounded by family and friends and smiling graciously; the first picture of a baby Shiro, cradled in his parent’s arms, as they smiled proudly, followed six years later by the photo of a newborn baby Keith in the arms of his mother, with his father holding a 6-year-old Shiro and gazing down fondly at him; and the annual Kogane Christmas photo which, despite protests from their royal advisors, would always see them wearing tacky festive jumpers at the insistence of their mother - a tradition Keith and Shiro still kept alive.

The room held sentimental value to both the Koganes and the public alike.

They traipsed into the room, which had been transformed to resemble a studio. One half of the room had been set up for photos, the other half for the interview. Keith was happy to see that his own staff members, Pidge and Matt would be assisting with the events. The brother and sister duo were both whiz kids when it came to any technology and usually handled all of the palace’s technical accessories, like the whole computer network, the yearly Christmas card photo, and that time when the peacocks pecked through the broadband cable.

Keith and Lance were shown their marks in front of the fireplace by one of the many palace staff members. Lance smiled and thanked them, earning him another irritated glare from Keith. Did he always have to try so god damn hard!?

“Does it have to be so fucking bright? I can’t see!” Keith scoffed immediately, holding his hand up to the light.

“Quit your bitching, Kogane. I’m making you look pretty,” Pidge quipped, adjusting the light stand. Keith grimaced and turned his head away from the lights, which he swore she had just made brighter. “Put your hand down, you diva and stop squinting. It’s not that bad!” She yelled, frowning at Keith.

“Is she…does she….do you know her?” Lance asked sceptically, and the mere sound of his voice made Keith want to rip his own skin off.

“No. I let everyone talk to me like that,” Keith deadpanned, looking off to the opposite side to where Lance stood.

“Sadly, we do know each other,” Pidge directed at Lance, offering him a small smile, “I don’t put up with his bullshit like the others though.” She was tinkering with the lights, as her brother, Matt kept looking through the camera lens.

“I think you got it, Katie!” Matt said, leaning back from the camera and shooting her a thumbs up.

“Awesome, well let’s get this shit show on the road. We still have to mic you both up for the interview and sort a fuck ton of crap out for that.”

Lance snorted at Pidge’s vulgarity, which earned him a wink from her.

“Okay,” Matt began approaching the pair, “So what we need is a formal yet loving embrace. You know, something sweet but not too saucy.” He grabbed Keith’s hands and put them on Lance’s waist without asking, Keith instantly tensed up. “Perfect,” Matt mused whilst grabbing Lance’s hands and putting them on top of Keith’s, “We don’t want to give Maureen in Balmera Village a heart attack, right?” He stepped back to survey his work before nodding happily and strolling back over to the camera to start shooting.

“Why are your hands so sweaty?” Keith hissed, adjusting his grip on Lance’s waist slightly. He didn’t think they would have to be this close.

“Why are yours like ice!?” Lance retorted through gritted teeth. 

“Because I’m dead inside.”

Lance snorted, “Ain’t that the truth.”

The room filled with the rapid sounds of the camera clicking and Keith did his best not to look like he wanted to stab someone.

“Okay, Lance, I’m buying whatever it is you’re selling. Keith? Could you look anymore constipated?” Matt commented, stepping out from behind the camera.

The room erupted in giggles and Keith felt Lance shake with laughter.

“What the fuck have I done? You put my hands there!” Keith protested, snatching his hands away and crossing his arms over his chest petulantly.

Matt sauntered back over to Keith, grabbing arms and repositioning them in the same way as before, “It’s not the hands, it's your face. You look as if…. As if…Katie help me out here?” He said, turning back to his sister who was watching from the sidelines.

“Keith, you look as if Lance is holding you there against your will.”

“Wow, I wonder why that is,” Keith remarked sarcastically.

“You are aware that I can hear you, right?” Lance commented sounding hurt.

“This is your future husband, Kogane! Show the boy some love,” Pidge yelled from somewhere behind the lights. 

“I swear to god, Katie, I know where you live!” Keith frowned in the direction of where he hoped Pidge stood. It was hard to see anything other than the 10,000-watt bulbs that surrounded him.

“Empty threat, Kogane, I know where you keep your journal.”

Keith flushed with embarrassment, which wasn’t needed as he was still resembling a fresh bowl of salsa from the wet wipes, “Fuck you, I don’t have a journal.”

“Oh really? So if not you, who wrote the latest entry?”

Keith didn’t dignify her question with a response.

“Because, it sounded an awful lot like you,” she smirked, “You know, emo.”

Lance cackled loudly.

“What!?” Keith demanded, whipping his head to glare at Lance.

“Nothing.”

“You laughed.”

“I had something stuck in my throat.”

Keith scowled at him and turned back to face the camera, “Can we please just get this over with?”

“Well, if you didn’t look like a frigid turd, we’d be finished by now!” Pidge quipped, throwing her hands up in despair.

It wasn’t Keith’s fault he suffered from resting bitch face and excuse him for not being entirely comfortable in this situation. What the fuck did they want from him!?

“Do you want me to tell you a joke?” Lance asked quietly.

Keith rolled his eyes, “If it’s as funny as the room name game, I’ll pass.”

“Okay, that was a miscommunication, how many times do I have to….never mind, okay,” Lance looked around as though he was searching his head for his best joke, “Why did the chicken cross the road?”

Keith turned this head slowly, “Are you fucking serious?”

Lance locked eyes with him, “Deadly,” he replied with a straight face.

“Jesus.” Keith breathed out, looking back towards the camera as Matt started to take photos again.

“So?” Lance prompted, resuming his easy smile like he had done this a thousand times before.

He probably had.

“So what?”

“Why did the chicken cross the road?”

Keith scoffed irritably, “I don’t fucking know!”

“To get to the other side, of course,” Lance replied cheerfully, still smiling his perfect smile at the camera.

“Hysterical.”

“Wait, I’m not done.”

Keith groaned.

“Why did the man cross the road?”

“What?”

“Why did the man cross the road?” Lance repeated with a straight face.

“To get to the other side?” Keith said in the most sarcastic voice he could manage.

“Nope.” Lance said, popping the ‘p’.

“Erm… I don’t...to buy some fucking chicken nuggets?!” Keith huffed out exasperatedly.

“Nope.” Lance repeated again, popping the ‘p’ just as obnoxiously as before.

“Okay, fine! Why!?” Keith hissed.

“It’s because he couldn’t get his dick out of the chicken.”

It took Keith about five seconds to digest what Lance had just said. He slowly turned his head and blinked at him, like he couldn’t believe what had actually just fallen out of his mouth.

Lance flitted his eyes to Keith, “I know you want to laugh,” he smirked.

“No, I don’t.” Keith lied.

“Yeah, you do.”

The more Keith thought about it, the more ridiculous it became and pretty soon he had no control over his facial features which seemed to just collapse into a grin. The final straw came from Lance making a ‘Bacawk!’ sound, making him burst out into a fit of giggles.

“You have a nice laugh,” Lance smiled and Keith couldn’t help himself from looking at Lance, still grinning. He noticed that Lance’s eyes were blue. A lovely blue, like the ocean. 

The sounds of the shutter clicking furiously fast filled the room but Keith was oblivious to them. It wasn't until Pidge shouted, “We got the shot!” that he finally snapped out of his unwanted thoughts.

“Finally!” He yelled, yanking his hands off Lance as fast as he could.

In his effort to get away quickly, he accidentally grazed Lance’s hands and brushed past something sharp. Keith’s eyes instinctively flitted down to see what it was he had felt.

What he wasn’t prepared to see was his dead mother’s ring sitting oh so comfortably on Lance’s finger.

“What the…” He rasped, grabbing Lance’s arm and pulling him forcibly towards him.

“Ow, Keith, what the hell—“

“—Where the fuck did you get this!?” Keith demanded furiously. Gripping Lance’s wrist as hard as he could.

“Ow, Keith, let go—“ Lance whined, trying but failing to free himself from Keith’s grasp.

“Take it off, NOW!” 

“Keith, please, you’re hurting me!”

“TAKE IT OFF!”

“Keith what the—let go of him!” Shiro yelled, running to Lance’s aid and yanking Keith's arm off of him, “Have you lost your mind? What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Mom’s ring, Shiro?! Mom’s fucking ring!” Keith spat. He was beyond furious at this point, breathing heavily and still trying to get at Lance who was cowering behind his brother.

“Keith, calm down.”

Calm down? Calm fucking down? He had to be joking.

“I SAID TAKE IT OFF!” Keith bellowed, making everyone in the room jump.

It was clear that Lance was upset. He was visibly shaking and trying his best to take the ring off but Keith didn’t give a shit. He wanted to rip his fucking head off. How dare he wear that ring? How dare he even look at that ring!

“Lance, don’t. Keep it on,” Shiro commanded, standing in front of Keith, blocking his way.

“Shiro I swear to god—“

“—Is this a bad time?” The sound of a woman's voice rang clearly through the room.

All heads whipped to the source of the sound to find the DBC interviewer, Diane Donnelly stood in the doorway with her crew and with a clearly delighted expression on her face.

Keith stared dumbly at her, wondering just how much she had seen or heard.

Fuck.

He’d fucked it and they hadn't’ even started.

He could already feel the disappointment radiating off Shiro in waves.

“Excuse me,” Keith uttered quickly, stepping back. His cheeks were burning from a mixture of embarrassment and anger and he turned away from Shiro and quickly fled the room.

*****

“Diane,” Shiro uttered, breaking the deathly silence that had fallen over the room. “It’s lovely to see you again,” he said, striding over to her and shaking her hand.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” she smiled wickedly, searching Shiro’s face for any telltale signs of conflict.

Shiro blinked dumbly and it was the first time Lance had ever seen his cool demeanour waver.

“No-no,” he stuttered out of character, “Not, um, not at all. Keith was just...um”

Shit. Lance had never seen him struggle with any social interaction. It was clear he didn’t know what to do or say. He had to save him. He had to do something.

“It’s my fault, Diane,” Lance spoke up, plastering a large smile on his face, “It was supposed to be a surprise. Prince Keith didn’t want me to wear the ring before the big day.” He strode over to her and shook her hand vigorously, “He’d had it resized and cleaned especially but I just couldn’t resist, look at it!” He beamed, thrusting the ring in her face, “Isn’t it beautiful!?”

Diane’s penetrating gaze swept from Shiro to Lance and she cocked one of her eyebrows at him curiously, “It certainly is,” she remarked, not fully convinced. “His Royal Highness seemed quite upset, is he okay?”

“Oh, he’s such a perfectionist, honestly. He’ll be fine.” Lance cooed, taking Diane by the hand and leading her over to the sofas, which had been arranged for the interview, “Shiro? Do you mind going to fetch Keith? Tell him, I promise I will take the ring off straight after the interview.”

*****

He had barely closed the door to the library when Shiro appeared.

“I knew you’d be here,” his brother said, flopping down into the armchair beside him.

Keith didn’t respond, it wasn’t like he was trying to hide.

“Look,” Shiro began, “I know you’re angry--”

“--That was mom’s ring,” Keith uttered, failing to mask the emotion in his voice. 

He rarely cried or got upset for that matter. Since his parent’s deaths, he had lost the ability to care about most things. However, what he did care about were the very few possessions he had left of them, which let him know that he hadn’t dreamt it, that he really did have a mom and dad once upon a time. That his fondest memories weren’t some figment of his imagination. They had been real. They had loved him and he had loved them. He couldn’t articulate why those few trinkets were so important to him but he thought Shiro would have at least understood.

Shiro sighed heavily, “It’s just a ring, Keith.”

He was wrong.

Keith raised his head to look at his brother with a furrowed brow, “Just a ring?” he repeated, the hurt clear in his voice and on his face, “If it’s just a ring, tell me, why do you wear your mom’s on a chain around your neck?”

He knew it was a low blow. They never discussed Shiro’s real mother. It was an unwritten rule between them. Just like how they never discussed Shiro’s status.

Shiro was quiet for a while and Keith didn’t know whether or not he had finally taken it too far. His brother put up with a lot of his bullshit. His constant mood swings, his outbursts, his rudeness to strangers, but even he had a limit.

“Because I don’t have the memories of her,” he finally said, looking down in defeat.

Keith immediately felt like an asshole, “I didn’t…I shouldn’t have said that.”

“It’s okay, you’re angry,” Shiro nodded, looking up at him with a solemn expression.

Keith’s eyes glistened with tears he was desperately trying to hold back and he looked away from Shiro, not wanting him to see him cry, “It’s stupid but I don’t think anyone’s good enough to wear it,” he sniffed, blinking rapidly. 

“It’s not stupid, Keith. I’m sorry, I should have asked you first.”

Keith huffed out a laugh, “You know I would have said no.”

“Yeah,” Shiro nodded again, “It’s just…the public will be expecting it, you know?”

“Well, the public can fuck off.”

Shiro barked out a laugh and it made Keith smile.

“If only we weren’t royals, ey?” He said, getting to his feet and holding out a hand to Keith, “Come on, let’s get this over with.”

Keith took it and Shiro immediately yanked him up out of his chair and pulled him into a tight hug.

“I am sorry,” he said and Keith knew he wasn’t just apologising for the ring.

Keith sniffed into his shoulder, “Just so you know, if we get divorced, like fuck is he keeping it.”

Shiro rolled his eyes and stepped back, holding Keith at arm's length, “Keith. You’re not even married yet. Please don’t be thinking about divorce.”

“I said if! Not when.”

***** 

“Good evening Daibzal, I’m Diane Donnelly and you’re watching the DBC,” Diane said confidently to the camera, as Keith and Lance looked on. They were sitting side by side on an elegant sofa, far too close for Keith’s comfort. Diane, who was perched in an armchair, was sitting opposite them holding court.

“Almost eight years have passed since the tragic deaths of King Justin and Queen Krolia. Their sole heir, Prince Keith was just thirteen years old when he lost both of his parents. We all remember watching as he laid them to rest and we were all worried about what the future held for Daibazaal. However, we need not worry anymore. In seven months time, the Prince will turn 21, with his coronation following shortly after. And in just three months time, we will see the Prince marry his fiancé, Leandro Alexander McClain. The palace has been very kind and has granted the DBC an exclusive interview with the prince - his first-ever interview,” Diane grinned smugly, “And with his fiancé no less, who both join me now,” she turned to face them with an overtly sweet-smile, “Well, hello and congratulations!”

There was a brief pause and Keith knew he was supposed to say something but his mind was still festering on the whole ‘sole heir’ dig. It didn’t help that Shiro was stood directly in Keith’s eye line, watching from behind one of the cameras.

“Hello, Diane - thank you so much and thank you for having us, we’re delighted to be here,” Lance jumped in before the pause became too long, smiling warmly at Diane, and putting his hand on top of Keith’s. Keith flinched automatically but managed to recover, making it look like he was simply rearranging himself in his seat. He attempted a smile and nodded stiffly in agreement.

“Well,” Diane grinned menacingly, “Before we get on to hearing all about the wedding plans, the first question I have for you is what everyone is dying to know. How on earth did you meet?”

“Well, we’ve actually ‘met’ several times before,” Lance began, knowing full well that Keith’s brain was still missing in action, “Our families run in the same circles, so it was always a quick ‘hello’ here and there. But we actually had our first full conversation at a polo match about...Oh, gosh when was it, Keith?” Lance asked, turning to face him. He was so natural that anyone would believe the bullshit he was spouting; even Keith found himself wracking his brain for this imaginary polo match, “I’d say about a year ago, right, Honey?”

Keith nodded dumbly like it was the only thing he could do and tried not to dwell too much on the pet name Lance had just given him.

“Which polo match?” Diane asked immediately, barely letting Lance finish his sentence.

“I’m pretty sure it was the Altea Queen’s Cup,” Lance furrowed his brow, as though he was thinking hard, “Yes...it was”

Keith nodded again in confirmation and somehow managed to utter out an affirming but croaky, “Yeah” which didn’t go amiss from both Diane and Lance who gave him a startled side glance, as though they had forgotten he was even in the room with them.

“Well, I must say, how lucky is Prince Keith? One of only two homosexual male omegas in the whole royal family and you just happen to meet at a polo match!” Diane laughed wickedly and Keith knew exactly what she was getting at with that comment. 

He now understood why Shiro and company had prepped them. Diane was going to try and catch them out. She wasn’t stupid. She probably knew from the moment she stepped in the room that it was all a sham, if not before. The fact that she walked in on him about to shank Lance over a ring would have just confirmed her suspicions.

Well, the joke was on her, He had played in last year’s Altea Queen’s Cup. Whether Lance had been there or not, he didn’t fucking know but if Diane tried to trip him up on it, he had the goddamn receipts, which just so happened to be in the form of the winning trophy which was sitting happily on his mantle.

“Yes, well, I think everything happens for a reason,” Lance smiled, squeezing Keith’s hand affectionately.

It took everything in Keith not to snatch his hand away in disgust. He knew he had to let it happen and if anything, Diane’s attitude was making him more determined to prove to her that it was anything but a sham…even though it was.

“Yes, well that’s one way of looking at things, Leandro.” She replied curtly, fixing her gaze onto Keith with a knowing look.

“Oh, please, call me Lance.”

Diane smiled connivingly, still staring at Keith, “Well, Lance,” she said in that tell-tale voice of hers which told Keith she was only just getting started, “Tell me this - what attracted you to Prince Keith?”

Oh fuck. Here we go.

Lance giggled like a schoolgirl and looked over at Keith with a shy smile. God, he was good. How the fuck was he making it look so easy?

“Well, what’s not to notice? I mean, look at him!”

Keith tried his best to smile bashfully but really, he was dying inside. This was fucking awful. He really hoped his grimace came off as an attempt to look humble rather than suicidal.

“I remember playing against him in the polo match and thinking that he was an amazing player. He was definitely the best on the field – everyone was watching him. And then after the game, he took off his helmet and I was like,” Lance paused shaking his head lightly, “I mean, wow…just wow, you know?”

Jesus fucking Christ, kill Keith now.

Diane nodded, looking at Keith with a smirk, “And you, Your Highness? What about you? What attracted you to Lance, other than the fact, you know,” She shrugged flippantly, “he’s an omega?”

Oh fuck. This was it.

Keith blinked at her, scanning his brain for something to say but he had nothing. Absolutely nothing. What was his pageant queen response again? Something about houseplants…

…

What about fucking houseplants!? They’re usually green? Inconvenient? He would no doubt end up killing them?!

Fuck.

He had just started to panic as the silence stretched on when he felt pressure on his hand again. He turned to look at Lance who was offering him a genuine smile, one that said, ‘you got this’ and for some reason, he really needed that.

“Um,” he uttered, swallowing hard and still looking at Lance, “I really liked his eyes. They’re blue, like the ocean.”

The words fell out of his mouth without his permission and he blushed furiously when it dawned on him that not only had he just paid Lance a compliment, he’d also offered the cheesiest fucking response ever.

He watched as Lance’s eyes widened in shock and a matching blush dusted his cheeks too. Keith quickly turned his head away and back to face Diane. “Um, yeah,” He coughed, clearing his throat and trying his best to recover, “His eyes, they’re nice, um…really nice.”

“And how did you propose?” Diane asked without missing a beat.

He felt Lance shift in his seat and knew that he was about to jump in with the answer but somehow, he miraculously found himself reciting the story that they had both been spoon-fed the day before, “I invited him to the palace for the weekend,” he began, trying his best not to sound robotic, “And after dinner one night, I asked him to come for a walk with me in the gardens.”

“We watched the sunset together,” Lance chimed in, shifting closer to him, “and stayed out until we could see the stars.”

Keith could feel Lance’s eyes on him but he couldn’t bring himself to return the gesture. He didn’t think he would ever look at him again after his ‘ocean-eyes’ comment, “And yeah…that’s when I asked him.”

Diane raised her eyebrows, “Did you get down on one knee?”

“Of course he did,” Lance replied easily and Keith found himself nodding along with a small nostalgic smile, as though he and Lance had watched the sunset together until a blanket of stars had covered them, and Keith, the romantic that he was, had dived onto one knee to pop the question.

Good lord.

“How romantic,” Diane taunted with an evil smile ”And the ring?” She prompted, her eyes flitting between the two of them for a reaction.

Keith’s face fell instantly and he felt Lance tense up beside him.

Shit.

To say that Keith was still salty about the issue of the ring would have been a complete understatement. It had literally happened about five fucking minutes ago. The dust hadn’t settled, he didn’t want to be the bigger person, and he was yet to treat it like a bridge and get the fuck over it.

Diane must have known it was a sensitive subject, as she was practically vibrating in her seat with excitement. They had been warned about this. About her interview style. She liked to try and get under people’s skin to get a reaction, to get a front-page story, to go viral. Boring interviews got you nowhere. Nice got you nowhere. She was notorious for a reason.

“I gave him my mom’s,” Keith said quickly, trying to keep a level head.

“Of course! I knew I recognised it from somewhere! Let me see!” She cooed, leaning forward to grab Lance’s hand.

Lance did his best to smile through it but Keith could tell he was uncomfortable, his whole demeanour had changed and he had shifted in his seat so that he was sitting ramrod straight, as Diane caressed his hand.

“Stunning, absolutely stunning!” She breathed, turning his hand obnoxiously so that the ring was directly in Keith’s eye line. “He must be very special to you, Your Highness. Giving him Queen Krolia’s ring? Wow!”

Keith nodded stiffly, “Yeah.”

Diane finally let go of Lance’s hand and sat back, a fake sadness suddenly taking over her, “What do you think she would say if she were here today?”

Keith sucked in a sharp breath. It was inevitable that she would bring up his parents. He thought he would be prepared for it but it was like taking a knife to the heart.

“Um…I don’t know,” he uttered.

“Do you think she would approve of Lance and this marriage?”

Even though Keith detested Lance, he immediately had a problem with the way Diane had referred to him. Like he was something she had just stepped in.

“Why wouldn’t she?” he asked abruptly, failing to mask the irritation in his voice.

“Well, it’s just that some people have raised concerns over whether this is a marriage of convenience rather than love,” Diane shrugged.

“How so?”

“Well, it is convenient, isn’t it?” She smiled cruelly, keeping her stare fixed on him.

Keith threw her a sardonic smile, “Is it?”

Diane cackled, “I’d say so, given the rules of the monarchy, paired with the fact that the only other suitor happens to be a much, much older gentleman. Let’s not forget that there have been zero sightings of the pair of you together at all before today and the first indication we had that you had met someone was that press release which was sent completely out of the blue. The reality is, Your Highness, that the clock is ticking. That you just so happen to meet the only other royal homosexual omegan male, seven months before you are due to take the throne as King – a duty you can only undertake if you are married to an omegan before the age of 21, is either a very, very convenient coincidence, or this is an arranged marriage which has been put in place so that the Kogane dynasty can continue to rule over Daibazaal.”

Ding, ding, ding! They had a winner.

Keith was dumbfounded. Diane had hit the nail on the head with deadly accuracy. Either the palace was bugged or it was just that obvious.

There was a long stretch of silence as Keith processed what the fuck had just happened. He didn’t know whether to shake Diane’s hand or bolt out of his seat and never come back.

“I know I can’t speak for his highness,” Lance said, his voice breaking the uncomfortable pause which seemed to have stretched on for about four months and saving Keith’s bacon one again, “But I would never marry someone I don’t know,” he shook his head sadly, “Or more importantly, someone I didn’t love,” he turned to look at Keith and squeezed his hand again, “Keith has already lived so much of his life in the public eye. I think for him to want to have a little bit of privacy, particularly when it comes to his love life, isn’t too much to ask.”

“Of course not,” Diane replied with fake sympathy, “But you can understand why some people are suspicious, particularly when this has happened before in the family.”

Lance shook his head, “No I don’t understand. I think it would be very foolish to try and repeat history.”

“Would it?”

“Yes. It would. And we would certainly not disrespect the citizens of Daibazaal like that, believe me,” Lance bit back with an air of finality.

“Yes, indeed,” Diane smiled sourly, “Well, moving on,” she fluffed up her cards and rifled through them, “So tell me all about the wedding”

*****

They had made it through the rest of the interview without any further hiccups, Diane had stuck to safe questions, asking all the usual bullshit that no one, except desperate housewives and freaky royal enthusiasts, would be interested in: The wedding, Lance’s family, what the future held etc.

The only question that made Keith really want to die was the one about kids. It wasn’t the fact that Diane had asked if they were going to have kids - that was a given. It was the fact that Lance had replied with an excited, “Yes! At least five!”

Well. He wouldn’t be having them with Keith, that’s for sure.

He knew they were almost at the finishing line and he was actually quite proud of himself for not losing his shit once, even with the question about his mom. If he could just get through the next couple of minutes without flipping a table he would be home free.

“Your Highness,” Diane addressed him smugly and the look on her face told Keith she still had a few tricks left up her sleeve, “Will your half-brother, Shiro be taking up the role of best man?”

Keith frowned at her choice of words, “Shiro is my brother,” he deadpanned, glaring at her in warning.

“Well technically, he is your half brother, after all, you only share one parent.”

“No. He’s my brother.”

She scrunched up her nose, “Well, half-brother,” she goaded, with an infuriating shrug of her shoulders.

Keith could feel himself quickly beginning to lose it.

“I see him as my brother,”

“And I see myself as eternally twenty-five. It doesn’t make it true!” Diane roared before adopting her mock-sympathy voice, “How has he taken it by the way?”

“Taken what?” Keith snapped, barely able to contain his fury.

“This.”

Keith shook his head at her in bewilderment. He didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of pretending to know what she was getting at.

“Well, it mustn’t be easy for him, what with him being your older half brother but having no claim to the throne,” Diane suggested, crossing her leg and leaning to the side.

Keith continued to stare at her in silence.

“And it must be difficult for him, seeing you finally in a position to take the throne. After all, he spent 19 years of his life thinking he would be the next king!” She smirked evilly, “And then to find out that he, not only had no claim to the throne but he also had a different mother. Well it can’t be easy, can it?” She finished with the superficial sympathy that even a blind person would be able to see through.

Keith swallowed, trying to calm himself, “I don’t know, you’d have to ask him.” He had begun to fidget, a habit of his whenever he was in a situation he didn't want to be in.

“Prince Shiro has been nothing but supportive,” Lance began. He squeezed Keith’s hand again in support but Keith couldn’t bear it any longer. He yanked his hand away, pretending to need to scratch his head.

Lance knew nothing about Shiro; about what he had gone through or what he had to put up with. The letters he received, the articles written on him, nothing. He couldn't even begin to understand.

Keith was done. Stick a fork in him, he was done.

Lance didn’t let Keith’s coldness affect him, “He has been such an amazing mentor and we owe him a great deal of gratitude for everything he has done for us,” he continued and Keith didn’t know who he wanted to punch first. Lance or Diane.

“I see,” Diane smirked, watching as Keith shifted angrily in his seat. She probably could sense that she had him exactly where she wanted him.

“So, going back to the guest list,” Diane mused, the corners of her mouth turning up ever so slightly, as she pretended to rifle through her cards, “Will you be inviting King Zarkon and Queen Honerva to the ceremony?”

Keith froze.

A few people in the room let out small gasps of shock, including Lance.

Why the fuck would she ask that?

Why the fuck would he invite his parent’s murderers to his wedding?

Just the thought of them took him straight back to being thirteen years old again, staring at the lifeless bodies of his parents in their caskets. Back to the eight-month inquest that, despite mountains of evidence, couldn’t convict King Zarkon or any individual from Naxzela for that matter. Back to the bunch of celebratory balloons that had arrived on the first anniversary, as Shiro and Keith were trying to comprehend how a whole year had passed without their parents.

“Well, your highness?” Diane prompted, practically on the edge of her seat.

Keith stared at her in disbelief.

How could she stoop that low?

“Your highn—“

“--I think we’re done here,” he said, cutting Diane off abruptly. He sprung up off his seat and quickly yanked his microphone off, ripping the wires from his body.

“Oh, but Your Highness,” Diane protested, barely able to hold back the grin that was forming.

“Keith – wait,” Lance tried to reason with him and lightly touched his arm but Keith yanked it out of his reach.

“No. I’m done,” he seethed, throwing down his microphone onto the sofa and barging past the cameramen.

*****

Keith had barely left the room when Diane started up again. 

“Yikes. Well. I think that was a bit of an overreaction, don’t you,” she laughed mockingly, pulling over the top faces to the camera.

“Actually, I don’t,” Lance replied calmly but curtly, “I think he was fully justified to react like that. And I think you knew exactly what you were doing by asking that question.”

Diane looked utterly flabbergasted.

“I ask the questions people want to know,” She sneered defensively.

“No, you ask probing questions with no regard on how they would make someone feel,” Lance said with a sardonic smile, “Now, is there anything else you would like to know? Or should we wrap this up? Oh, and by the way, you are also not invited to the ceremony, in case you were wondering.”

Diane blinked in quick succession, hardly able to believe what had just left Lance’s mouth.

“I – um…well, I…” She stuttered, looking down at her cards, “Th-thank you for um… joining me.”

Lance smiled sweetly, “You are most welcome.”

Diane turned back to the camera, trying her best to recover but the blush on her cheeks made it apparent that she was mortified, “Well there you have it,” she adjusted herself in her seat, pulling her skirt down self-consciously, “A reminder that the wedding will be televised live on the DBC, so do make sure to um…to tune in. I’m Diane Donnelly. Good night.”

“And cut!” The man, Lance recognised as the director called out.

Lance wasted no time in getting up from his seat, wanting to get as far away from Diane as possible. He was immediately approached by Pidge who needed to take his microphone.

“Thank you,” she grinned, as she started to delicately remove the wires from Lance’s body.

“For what?”

“For defending him,” Pidge winked, removing the final wire and walking off.

Lance started to make his exit, nodding politely at the different DBC and palace employees when he felt a hand on his arm.

“Lance.”

Lance turned and saw Diane standing timidly beside him.

“I hope there are no hard feelings. You see, it’s…Well, it’s my job to ask those questions,” she squirmed, holding out her hand for him to shake.

If she thought that an insincere backhanded apology would wash with him. She was mistaken. He and Keith may not see eye to eye. But Keith was still his future husband and Lance would be damned if anyone was going to treat him with that level of disrespect.

He raised his eyebrows and looked her up and down coldly, “Hmm,” he chirped before completely ignoring the gesture and walking away, leaving her looking like an idiot with an outstretched hand.

God, it felt good.

Chapter Text

The next day Keith woke up in a foul mood. It was bad enough that he had humiliated himself in front of millions of people, not to mention the fact that he had probably destroyed the monarchy single-handedly overnight. But he also had the added pleasure of knowing that Shiro and Company were definitely going to spend the entire day scolding him on how he had let Daibazaal down…AGAIN - like he didn’t already know.  

There was a reason he didn’t want to be king and this was it -  he couldn’t do anything right. Successfully lying to the public about the sham of a wedding? Fucked it. Getting through his first televised interview without losing his shit? Fucked it. Protecting the monarchy and millions of citizens? Absolutely fucked it. 

To top it all off, he was starving. Having locked himself in his room for the rest of the day like the petulant child he was, ignoring anyone who dared knock on his door, he had foregone dinner and his usual late-night snack, lest he accidentally bump into someone who had the audacity to ask him how he was... because, quite frankly, he didn’t trust himself not to stab them.  

How was he? Fucking brilliant, clearly. 

So he was hungry and angry. Hangry, to say the least. Yes, he could have easily picked up the phone and have one of his chefs bring something to him but that would mean actually speaking to people and he never wanted to see or speak to anyone else for the rest of his miserable life. 

Call him dramatic but this was the worst thing that had happened to him since Thace and Kolivan had sat him down at the tender age of thirteen and informed him that his parents had been blown up. 

He wishes he could say that they hadn’t used the words, ‘blown up’ but alas, because they had the emotional intelligence of a dead rat, they had, and it wasn’t until two days later when his parent’s bodies were flown home that it turned out that, whilst they had been caught up in an explosion, they had died from blunt force trauma and not, as Keith had spent the previous two days hysterically thinking, ripped apart with barely an eyeball of them left. 

He still woke up on many nights in a cold sweat from visions of his parents exploding and limbs flying everywhere. 

The sound of his tummy growling angrily reminded Keith of his dire situation. He really only had two options: Spend another day locked in his room, wallowing in self-pity without so much as a Tic Tac in sight or grow a set of balls and go and face the music.   

Well, he actually had three options. He could always call the palace kitchen and get room service – but that was prolonging the inevitable. The inevitable coming in the form of his relentless older brother who may have been thwarted by a chair wedged under door handles yesterday but would no doubt find a way around it eventually. Keith wouldn’t be surprised if Shiro took the doors off their hinges to get into his room, it wouldn’t be the first time he had done it.

He was really swaying with sticking with his first option but the thought of going any longer without food was making him more depressed than knowing that Lance was still his fiancé. At least with option two, he’d get to enjoy a tasty croissant or bagel as he endured Shiro and Company ripping him a new asshole. And being honest, it would be nothing he hadn’t already heard and handled before. 

He sighed to himself before reluctantly swinging his legs out of bed and heading for the shower.

Option two it was.  

*****

Keith dragged his feet all the way down to the dining room, soaking up his last few moments of peace. When he finally got to the door, he held his breath and listened intently for the usual breakfast chitter-chatter, hoping to discover what mood everyone was in. 

Unfortunately for him, he was met with radio silence. There was nothing. Not even a ‘pass the salt’. Keith took this as a grave sign - they were all probably too angry to speak. He took a deep breath and stepped into the room as delicately as he could, doing his best to go unnoticed. He expected heads to turn immediately and stare him down like he was some kind of leper. But that didn’t happen. Thace, Kolivan, Shiro and Lance all had their noses buried so deeply in a different newspaper, that even if Keith had burst in with a bass drum on his back, a harmonica in his mouth and cymbals on his knees, like a shit one-man band, no one would have batted an eyelid.   

Keith should have been relieved but their silence was deafening and more unnerving to him than it would have been to have them all screaming at him from the moment he stepped inside. He dreaded to think what the newspapers were saying about him. 

It couldn’t be good. 

He hesitated nervously, trying to mentally prepare himself for the onslaught that was about to occur and stepped forward, making a beeline for the pastries which were piled high on the table next to a stack of newspapers.

Lance, sensing his presence, snapped his head up from his own newspaper as Keith walked by, “Good morning, Keith!” he chirped happily, grinning at him from ear to ear, “Have you seen the news!?” 

Keith glared at him. No, he hadn’t seen the fucking news! But he didn’t need to, he knew what they would be saying about him: ‘DAIBAZAAL IS DOOMED’, ‘THE PRINCE FUCKED IT YET AGAIN’, “HOW IS HE GOING TO BE OUR NEXT KING?’ Of course, Lance would be pleased about it. How could he not be? Keith wasn’t exactly pleasant to him. 

The other inhabitants at the table looked up at him in acknowledgement and Keith braced himself. This was it – the onslaught.  He quickly grabbed a random pastry and shoved it into his mouth. At least that way he wouldn’t have to answer the idiotic question of, “WHAT WHERE YOU THINKING?!” which always seemed to be what they chose to lead with.

What was he thinking? Gee, where to start… 

He rolled his eyes at the thought and chewed angrily on his pastry which turned out to be an apple danish - not his favourite but beggars couldn’t be choosers.  

He chewed and waited and then chewed some more. They were probably waiting for him to look at them so that he could take in their disappointed faces, as if he didn’t already have them tattooed on his inner eyelids. 

Eventually, Keith caved and reluctantly swallowed his bite, looking up to catch their expressions. What he wasn’t prepared for was Thace, Kolivan and Shiro simply smiling and nodding at him, like it was just any old morning and not the day after Keith had pretty much destroyed the monarchy.   

His jaw practically hit the floor as he watched them go back to reading their newspapers, taking pleasant sips of their coffee here and there in domesticated bliss, without saying one goddamn word to him.  

What the fuck?   

Was he missing something?  

Where was the shouting? The disappointed head shakes? The ‘You’ve let Daibazaal down AGAIN!’ comments?  

Had he woken up in an alternative universe? Or was he still asleep and dreaming it all? 

“Um,” he voiced eloquently, following it with a cough to get rid of the phlegm that was lodged in his throat from not using his voice since yesterday, “What do they say?” He nodded to the stack of newspapers and addressing anyone but Lance. 

However, as usual, Lance didn’t sense that Keith didn’t want to talk to him and practically fell out of his chair with excitement, blurting out, “The public is mad!” before anyone else even had the chance to look up. 

Keith grimaced. Fuck. Of course, the public was mad. How could they not be? Shiro and Co were probably just luring him into a false sense of security before they struck. Let him enjoy a tasty pastry and cup of Joe before handing him his ass. 

“Like really mad!” Lanced grinned, barely able to contain the volume of his voice as he vibrated in his seat, “They’re absolutely furio—“ 

“—OKAY!” Keith threw his half-eaten apple danish down angrily, “I let everyone down, again. I get it!”   

Lance’s face fell comically, “What? No that’s—“ 

“—You don’t have to rub it in my face!” 

“Keith,” Shiro began, putting down his cup of coffee and folding his newspaper in half, as though he had expected the outburst, “They’re not mad at you, they’re mad at Diane.” 

It took about five months for Keith to register what had just been said to him.

“What!?” he all but shouted, his eyebrows almost flying off his head in shock. 

Kolivan looked up from his own paper, “They think her treatment of you was unfair. There are calls for her to be fired.”  

Keith furrowed his brow, thoroughly confused with the situation. He had to be dreaming, this was too good to be true, “ Oh,” he said dumbly after another prolonged pause. "Oh...right."

“Yes - and that’s not even the best part! They absolutely love Lance!” Thace added with a sly smirk and Lance puffed out his chest proudly, beaming from ear to ear. Keith noticed he wasn’t wearing the engagement ring and wondered if Shiro had taken back possession of it.

He hoped so.

“Said he’s your knight in shining armour,” Kolivan quipped, looking at Keith for his reaction. 

“What?!” Keith snapped, finally giving into temptation and grabbing the nearest newspaper to him. 

The front page featured the photo of Keith and Lance; the one that had been taken before the disastrous interview. Keith barely recognised himself. They were both grinning at each other like a set of dickheads and to anyone who didn’t know, they actually looked like a proper couple… a couple in love. How Pidge and Matt had managed to capture that, he didn’t know.  

The photo was accompanied by the headline, “The DBC does the dirty on HRH”. He rolled his eyes and turned to the page with the main story, frantically reading the text as though his life depended on it. 

Yesterday, His Royal Highness, Prince Keith Justin Kogane gave his first-ever televised interview and introduced his fiancé, Leandro Alexander McClain.

The interview was broadcast on the DBC and was the highest viewed programme in the DBC’s history, breaking all previous records.

Unfortunately, HRH did not manage to complete the interview, choosing to leave prematurely when asked whether or not King Zarkon of Naxzela would be attending the ceremony.   

The question was asked by DBC’s veteran host, Diane Donnelly, who has seemingly angered the nation with her direct and insensitive interview tactics.  

Yesterday’s broadcast garnered over one million complaints and viewers have taken to social media to voice their outrage, with the hashtag #FireDiane trending on Twitter. 

One user wrote: “What an awful human being! Diane is a disgrace to Daibazaal. #FireDiane”  

Another user commented, “Hasn’t he been through enough? Stop dredging up the past and let him move on with his life! #FireDiane” 

The Prince’s soon-to-be husband, Leandro (Lance) Alexander McClain, sprung to HRH’s defence, making sure to put Diane firmly in her place – a feat which has not gone unnoticed by the public with the hashtag #KingLance also trending. 

“What an absolute hero Lance is! Prince Keith is one lucky guy! #KingLance” - @BoM2022 wrote. 

“#KingLance putting Diane in her place… Crown him. Crown him now!” Another user wrote. 

Even the Altean Royal Family had something to say: “Everyone get a dictionary and look up ‘knight in shining armour’ if there’s not a picture of #KingLance I will be shook.” @RealPrincessAllura wrote.   

The future husband of His Royal Highness who was sporting the late Queen’s ring, stated that they will not be inviting King Zarkon or Queen Honerva to their ceremony, confirming the suspicions that the palace has not forgotten nor forgiven past events. 

Many of the public still believe that the Naxzela Monarchy was responsible for the deaths of King Justin and Queen Krolia, despite King Zarkon being cleared of all charges. 

Keith stopped reading at that point. He didn’t need to carry on, he’d read it all a thousand times before - King Zarkon cleared despite all the evidence; the shock of Shiro being an illegitimate child; a regent being put in place to rule Daibazaal until Keith reached the age of 21; the palace announcing that Keith was gay. Blah, blah, blah! 

He snapped the newspaper shut, crumpling it in one of his hands and picked up his half-eaten apple danish in the other, taking another hasty bite. He knew that he should be happy or at the very least, relieved - no one was mad at him, he didn’t have to endure any lengthy lectures and he wouldn’t have to spend the day suffering through damage control plans with Shiro and Company. 

Yeah, he should have been happy, ecstatic even… but he wasn’t.  

He was angry.   

Angry at the fact that Lance had stepped in to save the day. Angry that the boy had run his mouth on shit he knew nothing about. Angry that he was now in debt to someone he couldn’t stand.  

When he had stormed out of the interview, Keith had just assumed that Lance had continued to be his angelic self. He assumed that Lance would have apologised for Keith’s behaviour, in the same way Shiro did every time he had a meltdown. He assumed that Lance would have wrapped up the interview with a cheery goodbye and an annoying grin. 

What he hadn’t assumed was that Lance would actually stand up to Diane. Would put her in her place and defend him. Would win over the public so god damn easily. 

He really should have taken the apple danish to go and left the room when he could feel himself getting mad. Go and cool down for a bit and think things through. But that had never been Keith’s style, and instead, he found himself shitting on the domestic bliss and spitting out with pure venom, “I don’t need you to defend me,” glaring at Lance like he was the one who had killed his parents.

Lance blushed instantaneously as embarrassment consumed him, “I was only trying to—“ 

“—You don’t fucking know me so don’t act like you do.”  

The sound of cutlery, crockery and newspapers being put down rapidly filled the room, as Thace, Kolivan and Shiro stopped what they were doing to look over at him with disdain.  

“Keith,” Shiro warned him in that tone he liked to whip out whenever Keith addressed Lance, like it was too early for this shit. Like he couldn’t believe they were doing this again. 

“No. He has no fucking idea what he’s talking about!” Keith directed at Shiro, before turning back to Lance and sneering,  “I don’t need you to go running your mouth about shit you know nothing about. Do me a favour and stay out of my fucking business.” He threw the newspaper onto the table as hard as he could, as if to prove a point. 

Lance stood up abruptly, chair screeching as it was pushed back. He glared at Keith and for a second, Keith thought that he was actually going to say something to challenge him or beat the shit out of him. Keith perked up a bit, hoping it was the latter. He hadn’t had a good fight in months.  

They stared at each other for a prolonged period of time and just when Keith thought he had finally broken the omega, had finally pushed the right fucking button, Lance swallowed, anger seeming to dissipate and quietly said, “Excuse me,” to the rest of the table before heading for the exit.  

Keith couldn’t help the disappointment he felt at the sight of Lance’s retreating form. Not that he wanted to spend any amount of time with the boy but adrenaline was pumping through his veins and he wanted to chase the high. 

“Yeah, that’s right. Play the fucking victim for a change! Go on!” Keith goaded, desperately trying to hang onto the argument, “Knight in shining armour my ass!” 

He didn’t miss the collective sigh from the table nor the exasperated, “For fuck’s sake, Keith” that left his brother’s mouth.

*****

“Honestly, I don’t know what to do anymore…everything I do seems to annoy him,” Lance sighed, taking another lick of the cake battered spoon. 

He was perched atop one of the many marble counters in the palace kitchen, watching the head chef, Hunk Garrett preparing dinner.

Since his arrival, Lance had befriended as many of the palace staff as he could, desperate to create any kind of friendship. They all seemed so lovely and welcoming but none more so than Hunk.  

They had hit it off immediately and Lance found himself wandering down to the kitchen on most days to hang out with him. It beat sitting alone in his room all day or bothering Shiro, who, whilst wanting to make sure Lance felt at home, was busy running the kingdom, not to mention planning the wedding, and didn’t need an attention-seeking omega up in his grill 24/7. But Hunk didn’t seem to mind at all. In fact, he seemed to perk up at Lance’s presence and always asked for Lance’s opinion on the dishes he was making, letting Lance sample anything and everything.

“Just keep trying,” Hunk smiled sympathetically, whisking the cake mix in a bowl, “He’s really nice when you get to know him.” 

“Okay, you’re like the sixth person to use that exact phrase… I feel like you have to say it. Like it’s in your contract or something.” 

“Well, I mean, they do have cameras in here…probably microphones too, so?” 

Lance jumped off the counter lightning-fast and whipped his head around the room, “Shit, seriously?! Fuck! Are there cameras in every room!?” 

“Relax!” Hunk chuckled, “I was teasing. Pidge controls the CCTV – there are no mics,” he said, as he poured the mixture into a cake tin, “Wait…I think she may have put one in Keith’s bedroom one time to fuck with him but she took it out when she heard him listening to porn.” 

Lance snorted loudly, “As if he watches porn. He has like one emotion – anger.  Unless he’s angry and horny…actually, yeah… I can see that.” 

There was a brief pause as they looked at each other before bursting out laughing together. 

That was another thing – he could trust Hunk. They may have only known each other for a few weeks but Lance had told Hunk everything, using him as a shoulder to cry on and seeking him out for any advice possible.  

“Maybe that’s his problem,” Lance shrugged, still giggling at the thought of an irate Keith jerking it furiously. Hunk cocked a questioning brow at him and Lance raised his in reply,  “Maybe he just needs to get laid,” he confirmed with a smirk.

“Are you going to offer?” Hunk grinned at him, knowing full well that option was out of the question. Not only did Keith hate him, but there was also the added bonus of the ancient rules in place that forbade any hanky panky pre-marriage. Not that that was a concern at all – it would be a miracle if there was any hanky panky post-marriage let alone pre. Lance shuddered thinking about the turkey baster again which was becoming more and more likely as the days wore on.

“Oh yeah, absolutely,” Lance scoffed. “I’ll seduce him right after our romantic dinner for two on the verandah,” He said sarcastically, allowing his bitterness at the situation to fully shine through.  

Hunk grimaced sympathetically, “Did you at least ask him about which cake flavours he wanted?” 

When Lance had last visited Hunk, it had been just after the disastrous post-interview breakfast and he was wallowing in a pit of despair. He couldn’t see the light at the end of the tunnel and was fully prepared to admit defeat, throw in the towel and have a crisis meeting with Shiro and Company. Tell them that if things didn’t change, he would have to walk away. Sod the dynasty, sod the kingdom and sod Keith, the fucking arsehole that he was. 

But that was before Hunk had given him the pep talk to end all pep talks. Before he had pumped him up and got him excited. Before he had actually made Lance believe that things could only get better. That he could actually win Keith over. 

“He can’t get mad at cake!” Hunk had reasoned and Lance had nodded, agreeing wholeheartedly. Who didn’t like cake!? Plus, it was their wedding cake, meaning that they could have literally anything they wanted! Any flavour, any decoration and any size. Who wouldn’t be excited about that?! 

So Lance had plucked up the courage to approach the grumpy prince, thinking that maybe this was the day where Keith realised that Lance wasn’t out to ruin his life. After all...who didn’t like cake?

Keith. Apparently. 

Lance nodded at Hunk nonchalantly, “Yeah – he said red velvet for the bottom layer, lemon for the middle and double chocolate fudge for the top, covered in an ivory fondant and finished with edible figures of the two of us on top.”  

Hunk raised his eyebrows in surprise, “Really?!”  

“No. He told me he didn’t give a shit and to fuck off.” 

Lance was still living through the embarrassment that had caused. Yes, okay. So Keith might have been playing tennis at the time when Lance had approached him but Lance wasn’t an idiot. He had waited for the break when Keith was wiping his brow with a towel and getting a drink of water. It’s not like he stormed onto the court at break-point shouting for Keith’s thoughts on marzipan. But even if he had caught Keith sitting in a room, staring at a wall for hours on end, he probably would have still gotten the same reaction from him.

The prick didn’t even have the courtesy to look up at him as he rudely dismissed him in front of several of his peers, including James Griffin, a high-born alpha who Lance was certain had a thing for the prince if his reaction was anything to go by. He had smirked wickedly, taking great delight in watching Lance turn bright red with embarrassment and scampering away as fast as his long legs would carry him. Lance wished he hadn’t heard his comment of, “That’s him?” to which Keith replied with, “Don’t even go there.” But he had. And he had never felt like more of a bellend in his life. 

God, he was an idiot. He was stupid to even dare to think that Keith might have treated him as a human being in front of other people. How dare he wish for common fucking decency? 

“Oh,” Hunk uttered, looking remorseful.

“So it’s dealer’s choice,” Lance threw a small smile Hunk’s way. 

“Well, I mean those options are great, Lance. There’ll be something for everyone,” Hunk nodded with a kind smile.

Sensing the mood take a sour turn, Lance quickly moved on, not wanting to revisit the pit of despair, “But seriously….are there cameras in every room?” 

Hunk’s playful smile returned immediately and he waggled his eyebrows suggestively, “Why? What are you getting up to?”  

“No-no-no!” Lance flushed furiously, “I just…um…I just meant, like…you’re fucking with me again, aren’t you?” 

Hunk laughed deeply.  

“And here was me thinking I was giving Pidge a free cam show.” 

“Ew. Gross, Lance. Hey, I have something that will cheer you up!” Hunk announced, popping the cake mix into the oven and walking away from Lance to the other side of the kitchen. He bent down and made a beeline for something big. 

“Oh yeah!?” Lance grinned from ear to ear, straining to see whatever it was Hunk was holding. It wouldn’t be the first time the chef had cheered Lance up with food and Lance could only imagine what treats he had in store for him.

“Yeah,” Hunk said, standing back up, “How would you like to help me peel these?”  

Lance’s face fell into a static smile as he saw the big basket of potatoes Hunk was holding. He wasn’t one for manual labour, particularly when it involved getting his perfect hands wet and risking them pruning.   

“Um, actually…” He backed away slowly to the door, “Now that you mention it, I have a wedding…um…thing…yeah, I have to…do wedding things…sorry buddy.” 

“Oh yeah, like what?”  

“Um…” Lance uttered, scanning his brain for something, anything to get out of the mundane task, “I have to ask Keith what flowers he wants,” He nodded confidently. 

It technically wasn’t a lie – he did have to ask Keith that and also about their colour scheme but he had been putting it off ever since cake-flavour gate. 

“You’d seriously rather get told to fuck off again than help me peel some potatoes?” 

“Sorry, Hunk, it’s kind of urgent, they have to order them in and if I want junaberries from Altea – well, it’s not even the season for them and—“ 

“—Lance, it’s fine.”  

Lance smiled and opened the door, “I’ll catch you later buddy!” 

Hunk rolled his eyes fondly, “Bye Lance.” 

*****

Keith was sat, lounging on a sofa and watching TV in one of the many sitting rooms the palace had, flicking through channel after channel when Lance found him. It wasn’t a big room but Keith preferred smaller spaces as there was more of a chance that he’d be left alone. Unfortunately, Lance, much like his brother, had a habit of finding him wherever he went, and no matter how many hints Keith dropped to Lance to kindly fuck off, the boy still shimmied into his personal space at every given opportunity.

“Hey,” Lance said cautiously, softly edging his way into the room,  “May I sit?” He asked, nodding to the space next to Keith.

Keith sighed loudly, his eyes never leaving the TV, “Why?”

“Um...I need to ask you a few things...about the wedding,” Lance stammered nervously.

Keith closed his eyes slowly, mustering up the strength to continue with the conversation. He counted to five before opening them again, still staring ahead at the screen, “Do you have to?”

“Well, I mean...no but I would like to get your opinion on a few things if...um...if that’s okay?”

At that, Keith flicked his eyes from the TV to Lance dismissively, “I thought I told you, I don’t care.”

“About the cake, yes but this isn’t about the cake. It’s um...it’s about the flowers.”

Keith stared at him like he was an idiot, “Flowers?” he repeated in the most bored tone he could muster.

Lance blushed but nodded, determined.

Keith huffed out a cruel laugh “You think I give a shit about flowers?”

The blush deepened on Lance’s dark skin, “It’s your wedding too,” he said softly.

“As people keep reminding me,” Keith muttered, turning his attention back to the TV. There was some kind of quiz show playing and Keith did his best to look invested in it, hoping that Lance would get the message.

He didn’t.

“Also, I was thinking about the colour scheme,” Lance started, failing to let Keith’s obvious lack of enthusiasm phase him, “We could explore having violet undertones. Like a few purple flowers scattered here and there. They would definitely bring out the violet in your eyes.”

Keith blinked at the TV before slowly turning his head to Lance and looking at him in disbelief.

The violet in his eyes!?

Jesus fucking Christ, give him strength.

“In fact, we could just go all out and have a purple and gold theme, like in Tangled!” 

Lance still hadn’t sat down and Keith didn’t know how he wasn’t taking the blatant hint to get the fuck out of his sight. He turned his attention back to the TV again and tried his best to tune him out but it was nigh on impossible - the boy was so loud and animated all the goddamn time!

“Do you think we could get purple suits made? Or would they look too tacky? My other idea was like a dark blue and gold colour scheme with burgundy accents because that way, we could both wear navy suits with like golden pocket squares and ties...or should we have bowties? Wait, will we even be wearing suits or will we have to wear our formal royal garments? OH MY GOD! We could have red roses for the flowers and--”

“--I’m going to stop you there,” Keith finally said, pressing pause on the TV and cutting Lance off. He turned to face him for what he hoped would be the last time, “I’m going to say this one more time and I want you to listen, okay?”

Lance nodded obediently at him.

“I do not give one single fuck about the wedding. Not a fuck. Not one. Not the suits, not the cake, not the flowers. I have literally no fucks to give. Zero fucks. None. Do you understand?”

Lance nodded slowly, his face falling in defeat.

“Do you ?” Keith prompted obnoxiously, wanting this to be the last time they spoke about the wedding, until the actual day when it would be unavoidable and even then he wanted it kept to a minimum.

“Yeah,” Lance nodded sadly, “I just thought--”

“--Well you thought wrong,” Keith cut him off again. He thought that after the tennis incident, Lance would back off but for some reason, he kept trying. It was like he was immune to rejection or something.

“Okay,” Lance said, pressing his lips into a small accepting smile. He turned and headed for the door, stopping just before he left. “It’s just,” he started again, turning back to look at Keith who had pressed play and was still pretending to give a shit about the Price is Right, “I’ve dreamt about my wedding since I was a little boy and even though the situation is far from ideal, I still want it to be perfect.”

Keith stayed silent, his eyes burning a hole through the TV.

A perfect wedding? Yeah, right. The whole thing was a fucking mess. A sham. A complete mockery of marriage. How was it ever going to be perfect?

Jesus, it was bad enough that it was even going ahead. To try and drag Keith through the planning process too was fucking torture. How did Lance not get that!?

“Haven’t you?” Lance asked him, snapping Keith out his thoughts.

“What?” he asked rudely as if there was any other way he addressed Lance.

“Haven’t you ever thought about your dream wedding?”

Keith huffed out another cruel laugh, “Nope.” He said, popping the ‘p’ as obnoxiously as he could.

“Oh.”

The room fell silent and Keith stupidly thought that Lance might have already left. He chanced a glance at the door to see that Lance was looking at him with a sad expression like he pitied him or something.

So what if he had never dreamt about meeting the one and getting married? That was normal for a guy, right? Maybe if he hadn’t lost both of his parents at the tender age of thirteen and had the whole fucking world thrust upon his shoulders, he would have been able to fantasise about trivial shit like weddings and boyfriends and the future. But, oh wait, he had and so maybe his outlook on life wasn’t all that peachy but at least he was realistic - life was a fucking bitch and no amount of violet flowers or navy fucking suits or red velvet cake was going to change that. 

Keith turned his head back to the TV suddenly feeling very defensive, “Yeah, so like...just do what you want,” he spat, picking up the remote and resuming flicking through the channels. He suddenly felt very self-conscious and needed to do something with his hands, “Pick whatever colour you want. Whatever cake you want. Whatever flowers you want. I really don’t care.”

There was another stretch of silence and Keith, expecting to see Lance still hovering in the doorway, turned his head, ready to give up and just yell at him to fuck off but Lance had already left.

*****

It had been two weeks since the interview but to the people of Daibazaal it might as well have taken place the night before. Lance and Keith were still trending on Twitter - the imminent Royal Wedding gaining more and more traction as the days wore on. Keith couldn’t believe how excited people were about it. It was just a fucking wedding for god’s sake - it wasn’t that much of a big deal.

He had secretly hoped that he would just be able to rock up on the day and spend the rest of his time in ignorant bliss but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t escape it. The whole palace was on wedding alert. Even Thace, Kolivan and Shiro seemed as excited as the public were. 

“Ahhh, Keith, just the man,” Shiro smiled as Keith entered the library,  “Come here, we need your opinion on something.” 

Keith strolled over, plopping himself down into the free armchair next to Shiro’s. He noticed that Kolivan and Thace were both sitting at the large mahogany table and seemed to be heavily invested in the books that they were reading.

“What are you doing?” he asked, as his brother took off his reading glasses. 

The usual pristine library he was accustomed to was barely recognisable. There were books scattered everywhere. Some open, most closed, some stacked in haphazard piles on the table, the rest thrown cruelly on the floor. Keith tried not to grimace over the treatment of them but it was hard not to - some of them had been in the family for generations and looked to be a blink away from disintegrating as it was.

“Titles,” Thace commented without looking up from the book he had his nose in.

Keith had no idea what that meant but nodded slowly anyway. 

“Lance’s title, more specifically,” Shiro elaborated, gesturing to the piles of books, which on closer inspection, all seemed to be on the subject of the royal family. 

Keith cocked a questioning brow, “Uh-huh.” 

“Yeah, you see, it’s…” Shiro scratched his head, “It’s tricky.” 

“How so?” 

“Well, um, we’re struggling to find out what title he should have when you get married.” 

It took all of Keith’s strength not to get up and leave. All he wanted was one fucking day when Lance’s name or the wedding wasn’t mentioned – was that too much to ask? Also - why did it matter what title he had? Keith didn’t give a shit. Call him the Queen of Sheba for all he cared. Was there really a need to crack out the textbooks? 

“It’s only happened twice before and there’s no real guidance on it,” Shiro continued as if Keith cared or knew what he was on about. 

“What do you mean?” Keith asked squinting at his brother for answers. 

“Well, in the history of the Royal family, there’s only ever been two gay marriages between a current reigning monarch and a royal, and they were each given different titles.” 

“Yes,” Kolivan nodded from the table, “Annoyingly, there are hundreds of gay marriages between royal family members who aren’t in line for the throne but only two who reigned.” 

“So we don’t know what to call Lance,” Shiro concluded, putting his glasses back on and delicately turning the page in his book, “King Consort? Prince? Or just King. We know the public has been referring to him as ‘King Lance’ so maybe that’s the best option…what do you think?” 

Keith smirked wickedly. Were they really going to ask him this? Him? Of all people? 

No, but...Really?

God, it was too easy. 

“I’m sure he wouldn’t mind being called queen,” Keith quipped, not even trying to hide the malice in his tone.

“Don’t be an ass, Keith,” Shiro warned, not bothering to look up from the book that was perched on his knee. 

“What?” Keith replied innocently, “I mean, you can’t argue, he is quite feminine.” 

Shiro shook his head disapprovingly, “I’ll pretend you haven’t just said that.” 

“He got excited over flowers last week.” 

Shiro sighed heavily, “I like flowers.”  

“He said we should explore having violet undertones in our colour scheme as it would bring out my eyes.” 

“Well, how dare he give you a compliment!” 

“He ordered fucking face cream, perfume and a nail file with his credit card.” 

“That’s….,” Shiro relented and finally looked up from his book, scowling at Keith, “Why are you going through his credit card bills?” 

Keith shrugged flippantly, “I like to see what he’s spunking the royal money on.” 

“That’s…Keith. That’s private. If Lance wanted to buy a hula skirt and coconut tits, that’s his business.”

 “Who says he hasn’t?” 

Shiro stared blankly at him before shaking his head once again and going back to his book. 

“And also,” Keith continued, lounging back in the armchair, “He cries all the time. Like every five minutes…on cue.” 

“He doesn’t cry every five min--- do you actually have any suggestions or are you just going to sit here and bad mouth him?” Shiro snapped, once again looking up from his book in annoyance. 

“Okay, okay! Jeez, I’m sorry!” Keith held up his hands in surrender before looking off to the side and thinking hard. Shiro watched him for a while until he was satisfied that he was taking things seriously. 

When he was certain enough time had passed, Keith clicked his fingers and declared, “I’ve got it!” getting everyone’s attention. 

“Yeah?” Shiro asked in earnest and Keith almost felt bad. 

Almost.  

“Lady Kogane--” 

“--Get out.” 

*****

The annual royal charity polo match was being held at the palace this year. It was a huge affair that Keith liked to compare to the Olympics, only on a much smaller scale. Each year, a different royal family would take turns in hosting the match and do their best to try and beat the previous host’s total of monies raised for a charity of their choosing. 

Keith had competed in the event since he was 15 and until last year, had never missed a match. Unfortunately, last year's match had been held in Naxzela and was hosted by King Zarkon and Queen Honerva. 

Keith had conveniently come down with a case of explosive diarrhoea and had sent his apologies in the form of a note explaining that he couldn’t get off the toilet. Shiro, who always took the high road, uncharacteristically added on his apologies, informing the King and Queen that it must have been contagious, as he was also shitting up a storm.

Their absence from the match had been well documented and the public had come to their own conclusions as to why the brothers had missed the event - although it didn’t take a genius to figure out why.

This year, however, was their turn and Keith was determined to not only put on a god-damn show but to also at least double the amount of money raised. 

Tickets to the event had been sold at extortionate prices to the elite, and an open bar meant that the drunker the pompous idiots got, the deeper they would stick their hands in their pockets. Plus, it didn’t hurt that people were dying to get a glimpse of the newly engaged couple (much to Keith’s chagrin) and anyone who was anyone was dying to attend. 

He had been delighted to learn that the event had sold out in minutes and couldn’t help the smug satisfaction of knowing that it would earn the palace some decent press coverage which would no doubt be seen in Naxzela. Hell, he was even prepared to pose with Lance for a picture if it meant that they ended up on the front page. Anything to get one up on Zarkon.

And if the invite to the Naxzela Royal Family never made it to its destination? Well, Keith would simply put it down to their strict custom process which stopped all mail from entering the country without being thoroughly vetted first. The fact that Keith had seen to it personally to shred the invite himself, was another story for another day.

Their chosen charity was the Dabaizaal Children’s Hospital and Keith had already secured a few hefty donations from some large firms. His former enemy turned friend, James Griffin and his family, had kindly donated a very generous sum of money, which already put them close to the total amount made in Naxzela one year ago, and that was before they took into account the other donations and money from the ticket sales.

Keith didn’t really care how much they made, as long as it superseded what the Zarkon Dynasty had raised, that was fine with him.

But if anyone asked him, it was all about the charity and the children, of course.

Aside from his vendetta against the nation of Naxzela, Keith was actually really excited to play. He loved playing polo and it didn't hurt that he had a team that couldn’t lose, made up exclusively of alphas. Shiro, James, and Ryan Kinkade were to be his teammates and they also had two elite players on standby, in case anything went wrong. Not that it would but Keith liked to be prepared. His red team was undefeated and he hoped that this year would be no different. He had seen the blue team's teamsheet and it was, quite frankly, laughable - a mixture of alphas, betas and omegas - they didn’t stand a chance! It would be another victory for the red team and really, that’s what it was all about, wasn’t it?

Winning.

But yeah...if anyone asked him, it was all about the kids and shit.

Once he was suited up, he grabbed his jet black horse, Gizmo from the stables, and was heading to the field to meet the rest of the red team to warm up when he bumped into Lance. 

Luckily for Keith, the guests had yet to arrive, meaning he didn’t actually have to acknowledge him.  To be quite honest, he was fully prepared to ignore his 'fiancé' until the actual event, when he would ultimately have to fake it for the crowds.

Would Lance touch his hand again? God, he hoped not. He was still scarred from the intimacy the interview had forced on him, he didn’t think he could take another hand caressing session. 

He was ready to sail past him to the field, pretend he hadn’t seen him and carry on living his best life when he saw the outfit Lance was wearing which made him stop dead in his tracks.

“What are you doing?” He demanded rudely.

Lance seemed startled that Keith had actually addressed him. That or he hadn’t heard him approach.

“Well hello to you too, Keit---”

“--What are you doing!?” Keith repeated with a sense of urgency.

Lance’s eyebrows etched together in confusion, “Like now? Or in general? Because I’m just standing here now but in general I guess I’m just trying to find my place in the world.” 

“Holy fuck,” Keith breathed, resisting the urge to stab him, “I mean what are you doing dressed like that?” He gestured to Lance’s outfit, more specifically, to Lance’s red team outfit, and unless he was a cheerleader, he could get to fuck.

Lance squinted harder and looked down at his garments and then back up at Keith with the same confused expression, “Oh… did you not know there was a polo match today? Crap… was I supposed to tell you?” 

“What the fu—Yes, I am aware there’s a polo match,” Keith gestured harshly to himself, to the outfit he was wearing which was the exact same outfit that Lance was currently sporting, not to mention the fucking horse he was holding, “I just want to know why you are dressed as though you are playing in the polo match.” 

Lance looked like he was trying to work out what the square root of Sweden was, “Because I’m playing in the polo match?” He replied unsurely. 

Keith’s eyes widened, “Like fuck you are.” 

“Excuse me?” Lance said, still confused at the exchange.

“You can’t play.” 

“Why not?”  

“Because.”  

“Because why?” 

“Because-I-said-so.” 

Lance blinked a couple of times, slowly registering what Keith was getting at and threw him a snarky smile, “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realise you were the captain-oh wait, you’re not the captain, Shiro is.”

Shiro. 

Of course, it had been Shiro. The fucking traitor. He had probably told Lance that there was a spot on the team and that he would be fucking delighted if he could play. He probably wouldn’t have told Keith until the starting whistle, when there would be fuck all Keith could do to stop it from happening. Well, the joke was on him! He had thwarted his brother’s plans. He could stop it from happening and believe him, he was going to.

“I don’t care what Shiro has told you. You’re not playing,” he said stubbornly.

Lance looked totally affronted, “Why? Give me one good reason.” 

“Because the team is made up of alphas and...and…” Keith stumbled, not knowing quite how to phrase what he was getting at without looking like a bigoted idiot.

Lance raised his eyebrows in a challenge, “And what?” 

“Well, you…you’re…” Keith stumbled again, blushing lightly. 

“An omega?” 

“Yeah.”  

Lance huffed out a disbelieving laugh, “Yeah. I am an omega. But you know what I’m not? Disabled,” he said, yanking on his helmet roughly. 

“You’re not playing!” Keith all but shouted petulantly, jostling Gizmo harshly causing the horse to huff out an irritating snort, “We have like 6 players as it is. We don’t need another sub.” 

As if on cue, Shiro appeared. It was like he had a built-in alarm that went off anytime Lance was slightly inconvenienced. 

“What’s the problem,” he asked, strolling over with his own horse, a white stallion in tow and scowling at Keith as though he had already made up his mind of who was to blame. Keith rolled his eyes in annoyance. 

“Oh nothing,” Lance smiled sourly, “It’s just Keith doesn’t want me, an omega, to play on the red team.” 

The scowl on Shiro’s face deepened. It was one thing for Keith to dislike Lance for purely existing, it was another thing entirely to dislike him because of his status.

“Is that true, Keith?” Shiro demanded. 

The other players from the red team had started to appear and were pretending to tend to their horses but were clearly watching the exchange. Keith had half a mind to start handing out popcorn - why was there always an audience present for his meltdowns?

Not wanting people to see him lose his shit, Keith licked his lips and said, as calmly as he could, “It’s just that polo is quite a rough game,” hoping that Shiro would read between the lines.

Because sat between the lines was the fact that Lance was a fucking fragile omega who wouldn’t be able to handle it. For fuck’s sake, Keith had seen him cry over a centrepiece! Imagine if he got knocked off his horse or something? And god forbid someone from the blue team heckled him. Keith would put money on him fleeing the field in hysterics. Not to mention the fact that alphas were just better at everything - it was fucking science. You can't argue with science! Didn’t Shiro want to win?! God, why did everyone have to be so fucking PC all the time? 

Shiro didn’t miss a beat, “I think Lance can handle it. He did play for the Royal Altean Team, after all,” he said, folding his arms across his chest and making his biceps stand out, as if to intimidate Keith. But really, what was he going to do? Throwdown over a polo match?When there were horses mincing about? Get real.

Keith glanced to the other players who were still gawking at the exchange before resuming his stare off with Shiro, “Well I just don’t think it’s fair to…Lance. That’s all.” 

“I think Lance knows what’s best for him, Keith .” 

“Well, I am not comfortable with him playing, Shiro .” 

"Well, it's not up to you, Keith."

"Well, I am only looking out for him, Shiro."

"Well, I--

“--How noble!” 

The sound of a familiar deep but velvety voice filled the area and Keith whipped his head around so fast, he was surprised it didn’t roll right off. 

Prince Lotor, son of King Zarkon and Queen Honerva, was sauntering over to them, wearing the blue team’s kit. His luscious blonde locks were cascading behind him and he held his helmet under his arm, like the pretentious prick he was. He stopped next to Lance, facing Keith and Shiro. 

“It’s lovely to see you again, Prince Shiro, Prince Keith,” Lotor said, bowing deeply. 

Keith was like a deer in headlights, looking at Lotor like he was some kind of shit mirage. It was a miracle he didn’t let out a threatening growl. 

Somehow, Shiro managed to hold it together. He nodded with an air of forced politeness and said, “Prince Lotor,” in acknowledgement.

“Who invited you?” Keith blurted out abruptly. His mouth hadn’t gotten the memo from his brain that it really shouldn’t speak and he said the first thing that came to his head. Actually, the first thing that came to him was, ‘get the fuck out’ but even he wasn’t that much of an idiot to speak such things.

“Keith!” Shiro scolded immediately.

“Always a warm welcome, I see, Your Highness,” Lotor smirked, brushing off the question easily.

“I see you are playing for the blue team, this year, Lotor,” Shiro stated awkwardly as if they all didn’t already know. As if the blue team kit that he was sporting or the helmet under his arm wasn’t a massive fucking giveaway.

Keith stifled a snort -  he hardly ever saw his brother falter with social interactions but when it happened, it was like a car crash. You couldn’t look away. 

“Indeed I am and I couldn’t help but overhear that the Prince does not want his fiancé on his team. So thoughtful, wanting to protect his future beau,” Lotor said with a genuineness that would fool anyone who didn’t actually know him. He turned to Lance and put a hand over his heart, “Why Lance, you are even more handsome in real life than your pictures do you justice,” he cooed, taking Lance’s hand in his own and bringing it to his lips to kiss.

Lance turned beet red and Keith stifled another growl that was aching to escape the back of his throat.

“I would be delighted to have you join my team. We only have four players as it is and the Lady Romelle is not feeling her best,” Lotor continued, addressing Lance, like he was the only person on the field, “Plus, I have seen you play and you are a magnificent player. Any team would be lucky to have you.” 

If Keith thought Lance was blushing before, he had been wrong... dead wrong. Lance practically turned crimson at the praise and looked to be about two breaths away from death. It seemed to be a bit of an overreaction but then again…

Oh.

OH.

A sudden realisation hit Keith in the face like a wet kipper.

Did Lance...did Lance like Lotor? 

Like that?

Like...

No… surely not…

Not that Keith gave a shit or anything but Lotor was the fucking enemy… 

Also, Lance was engaged to him and if he did like him like that….well, that was just fucking rude. 

“Your team?” Keith demanded, suddenly feeling angry for a whole host of other reasons that he couldn’t pinpoint.

“Yes,” Lotor smiled, finally tearing his eyes away from Lance and looking over at Keith, “I am the captain of the blue team, this year.” He flashed his pearly whites at Keith, giving him his perfect signature smile. Keith scowled in reply. 

Captain of the blue team?

Well, wasn’t that just fan-fucking-tastic.

“But what about Princess Allura?” Shiro questioned lightly, clearly trying to keep the peace. 

Princess Allura of Altea was always the captain of the blue team and although she was a great player, she usually had a mixed ability team, meaning she was no match against Keith and his pack of alphas.

“Oh, the poor devil has come down with a case of the flu. She asked me to step in for her and, of course, I obliged.” Lotor replied with a flick of his hair and Keith swore he actually saw Lance swoon. “I'm surprised she didn't tell you? Poor thing must have forgotten - she was practically delirious when I left Altea. Goodness me, would you look at the time? And here's me waffling on! We best start warming up!” He turned to face Lance, “Lance, are you ready?” 

Lance nodded shyly, “Um...” He voiced, turning to look at Keith, “Keith?” He said nervously, as though he was looking for Keith’s blessing to swan off with his mortal enemy.

Yeah, sure, go right ahead! Don’t worry about it! It’s not like his parents murdered my parents or anything.

“Whatever,” Keith spat, glaring at Lance and trying to wordlessly communicate every bitter thought that was currently jogging through his mind.

No. It's not okay.

No. I don't want you to be on his team.

No. Just fucking, no.

“He will be in good hands, I promise,” Lotor goaded with a wink before taking Lance’s hand in his and leading him to the opposite end of the field where the blue team was warming up. Keith was surprised Lance didn’t combust from the contact.

He didn’t realise he was glaring after the pair of them until Shiro’s voice sounded in his ear.

“Happy?” his brother asked with a raise of his eyebrows and an infuriating, ‘don’t tell me I didn’t warn you’ look.

Keith yanked his helmet on his head as hard as he could, hoping to knock himself out or at least give himself a concussion in the process, “Oh, fuck off, Shiro.”

*****

So the thing about polo matches is, it’s really anyone’s game. 

Sometimes your horse is having an off day and nothing you do can rectify it.

Or sometimes your players just can’t seem to get their shit together and you become an uncoordinated mess of limbs, hooves and mallets.

And sometimes, you really underestimate your omegan fiancé’s polo-playing ability and have to endure him beating you to a pulp in front of a significantly large crowd of elite pompous twats and journalists.

Okay so, yes. Lance could play polo...who knew?

Not Keith, that’s for sure.

And when Keith says ‘could play’, Lance might as well have been a fucking centaur with the way he bounded up and down the field scoring goal after goal.

The end result had been mortifying and Keith had wasted no time in dragging his sorry ass off the field, immediately heading to the stables to put his horse away.

Call him a sore loser but he was beyond embarrassed. It was bad enough Lance, an omega, had outplayed him. The fact that he happened to be on Lotor’s team while doing so, was another story altogether.

He took his time putting Gizmo away, hoping that if he took long enough, he might skip the presentation of the Royal Cup altogether. However, deep down, he knew that wasn’t a possibility -  they wouldn’t start without him because of who he was. 

God, why did he have to be the next in line for the throne? Why couldn’t he have just been an earl or something? Or better yet, why did he have to be a royal at all? Life would be so much simpler if he was normal. If he was just like everyone else on this god-forsaken planet. But noooo, he had to be born a future king, didn’t he?

He sighed heavily and practically dragged his feet back out to the field, all the while praying for a very short presentation.

The fact that they had smashed the previous year’s total didn’t register to Keith at all. All he could think about was what the headline would be: ‘Prince Lotor dominates Daibazaal’, accompanied with a picture of the prick holding up the trophy with Keith’s fucking fiancé on his arm.

God, he could just see it now. He would probably get a commiseration gift from King Zarkon and Queen Honerva, mocking him senseless. 

It didn’t matter to him that the children’s hospital was going to benefit significantly from the hefty donation or that countless children’s lives would be saved as a result of the equipment they would be able to purchase.

Fuck the kids, this was personal.

*

Just as he suspected, the presentation was as bad as he had imagined, if not worse. He had to endure watching Lance and Lotor lifting up the cup which was sporting blue ribbons, and grinning at the elated crowd. They even celebrated with champagne - Lotor shook the bottle vigorously and took great delight in soaking Lance and the rest of his team with the bubbles. Not that Keith could complain at all. That’s how the red team usually celebrated their victories but now that the shoe was on the other foot and he had witnessed it first hand, he found it somewhat tasteless and tacky and not at all humble.

Afterwards, Keith had to grin and bear it with Shiro for the cameras, smiling politely and giving them his, “What a fantastic game. We are thrilled that we managed to raise so much money for the Daibazaal Children’s Hosptial,” speech, whilst secretly wanting to kill himself.

He was desperate to escapee to the comfort of his bedroom where he would be able to lick his wounds and wallow in self pity, but he knew Shiro would kill him if he didn’t follow protocol.

So he reluctantly stood in line next to his brother and Lance, shaking hands and thanking the elite guests and players for attending. Lotor waited until the very end and Keith couldn’t help but think he had done so on purpose.

“Until we meet again, Lance,” Lotor delivered, voice as soft as velvet as he caressed Lance’s hand lovingly, bringing it to his lips and leaving a delicate kiss on the skin, just as he had done prior to the game.

Keith watched as Lance turned scarlet once again, his eyes as wide as two porcelain saucers, clearly flustered. Keith would put good money on him being smitten with the Naxzela Prince - he just didn’t know why it bothered him so much.

“Your Highness,” Lotor turned to Keith and nodded with a barely-there smirk resting heavily on his lips, before finally shaking Shiro’s hand and thanking him for inviting him (he hadn’t).  Then he floated away as gracefully as ever and it took every fibre in Keith’s being not to chase after him and drop kick him in the back of the head.

Shiro smiled sympathetically at Keith and put a comforting hand on his shoulder, as if trying to convey that he knew exactly how Keith was feeling. Then he too, sauntered off with Kolivan, leaving Lance and Keith alone together. 

The sun was setting quickly, leaving a deep orange hue in its wake which washed over the grounds beautifully. It was absolutely stunning and in every other sense, would have made for an ideal romantic moment but Keith wasn’t about to let that happen.

He should have left immediately after Shiro but he didn’t. He couldn’t seem to shake off the events that had just transpired and was still absolutely raging with how things had turned out. He needed an outlet to direct his anger at, and since Lotor had already vacated the scene, Lance was his next best target. 

He was still clutching the trophy which Lotor had gifted to him, telling him he could keep it at the palace. Keith suspected he had only done so, so that the Koganes would have a constant reminder of a day they would rather forget. Lance was gazing at it fondly as if he was cradling a newborn baby and not a slab of sterling silver.

“Jesus Christ, you’re disgusting,” Keith remarked in the nastiest voice he could muster.

The dreamy-smitten look that had been resting on Lance’s face soon slid off and was replaced with a look of utter confusion as he looked up at Keith, “Wh-what?” he queried, looking totally bewildered.

“You practically threw yourself at him,” Keith spat, crossing his arms over his chest angrily.

Lance smiled uncomfortably, embarrassed at being called out, “N-no, I didn’t,” he stammered, as a light blush dusted his cheeks. He was probably mortified that Keith had actually noticed how enamoured he was with Lotor, not that it was hard - a fucking blind person would have been able to see it.

Keith huffed out a sarcastic laugh in reply, “Whatever.”

“You’re the one who didn’t want me on your team!” Lance scowled.

“Yeah, with good reason.”

“What are you talking about?! We kicked your ass!”

“Hardly,” Keith scoffed petulantly, knowing full well that Lance was deadly accurate in his description.

“Oh really? Because the scoreline says differently. The trophy says differently,” Lance declared, thrusting the cup at Keith as though he needed reminding that he had lost.

Keith shrugged dismissively, “It’s not like you helped.”

“Bullshit.”

“What? So you passed Lotor the ball a few times? Big deal. He practically carried you.”  Keith knew it was a lie but he wasn’t prepared to acknowledge Lance’s polo-playing abilities. He would rather die than admit that Lance had outplayed him.

“Oh, yeah?” Lance goaded, clearly gaining confidence in the exchange, “Well he said that I was the MVP.”

Keith laughed as nastily as he could, “MVP my ass! He was clearly flirting with you.”

“And?” Lance shrugged daringly and Keith was taken aback. He wasn’t used to sassy Lance. He was used to emotional Lance who teared up after a few quips and excused himself at the slightest hint of confrontation. This Lance was throwing him off his game.

“And you think that’s okay?” He asked spitefully.

Lance shrugged again, “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Um...I don’t know because you’re engaged to someone else!?”

“Oh, you mean the person who didn’t want me on their team?”

Keith ignored the remark. It wasn’t about that. Even if Keith didn't want him on his team, that didn't give him permission to swan off and join Lotor's! No. It was about principles. It was about morals. Goddammit, it was about having enough integrity to not flirt with your fiancé’s mortal fucking enemy.

“So you think it’s fine to flirt with other people. Good to know,” he remarked childishly. 

It wasn’t like he and Lance had established any rules to their ‘relationship’ or anything but even Keith knew that you didn’t blatantly flirt with someone else right in front of your ‘partner’. And certainly not with your partner’s sworn enemy. Not that he cared what Lance did or anything because he most certainly did not. Lance could do what he wanted. 

Keith was upset because of who Lance had chosen to flirt with, that’s all.

“I was not flirting!” Lance protested with a stomp of his foot.

Keith narrowed his eyes, “Oh, you so were.”

“No I wasn’t, he was just...he asked me to be on his team and I asked you for your permission and--”

“--Like fuck, you did!”

“YES I DID!” Lance shouted exasperatedly with another wave of his arms.

Keith had to duck out of the way as the movement caused the lid of the cup to come flying off and directly at him. It fell to the floor with a loud clang.

“Whatever,” he sneered and looked off to the side. The sun had completely set and the outdoor lights which were dotted around the grounds had begun to turn on, leaving them basking in a fluorescent glow.

Lance cocked his head at him, “What...Are you like, jealous or something?” 

Keith let out another harsh laugh, “Yeah, right.”

“You are. You are jealous.”

“Um, no.”

“You know, I can see why you would be," Lance taunted, "I mean he is super nice and super good looking. He has manners and was really kind to me and--”

“--WELL, WHY DON’T YOU FUCKING MARRY HIM!!” Keith bellowed, finally succumbing to the full force of his anger.

He couldn’t help it. It was bad enough that Lotor had even been there today but to see him winning the competition and then parading Lance around like some fucking prize, had wounded Keith beyond words.

Lance mumbled something under his breath and Keith, who was still raging, jumped on it immediately, “What was that? I didn’t quite catch that?!” 

Lance shook his head and looked off into the distance, “Nothing.”

“No go on, what did you say?”

Lance sighed but remained silent which only added to Keith’s fury.

“Fucking share with the group, Lance. What did you say? Huh? HUH!? What did you say? It was clearly something important or else you wouldn’t have said it. So go on, what was it? You wanted me to hear it, didn’t you? So, go on, what did you say? What did you say? WHAT DID YOU FUCKING SAY--"

“--I SAID I WOULD IF I COULD!” Lance snapped turning to look at Keith coldly.

“Like you’d have a chance,” Keith sneered, looking Lance up and down as though he was a piece of shit - totally worthless.

Lance huffed out a cruel laugh of his own, his eyes never leaving Keith’s, “Actually, I do.”

Keith faltered slightly and tried to conceal his shock at Lance’s boldness, “Like fuck you do.”

“Oh, you don’t believe me?” Lance asked with a spiteful raise of his eyebrows, “I had the chance, believe me. But I got forced to choose you out of pity.”

Keith didn’t miss how Lance returned his look from before. He looked Keith up and down as though he was something he had just stepped in, whilst Keith just stood there, still trying to process what Lance had just said.

“W-what?”

“Yeah, go and ask Shiro, or Thace or Kolivan. Ask them to tell you how they begged my parents to give you a chance. How they threw money at us, wined and dined us, put us up in the best fucking suite. How scared they looked when Coran told them about my other suitor. How they almost had a heart attack when they found out it was Prince Lotor and that I was actually considering it.”

Keith stared dumbly at Lance, taking in his words. He opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, doing his best impression of a goldfish.

“Oh…? Shiro didn’t tell you that, did he?” Lance smirked humourlessly, “If I had it my way, I wouldn’t even be here,” he paused and waited for Keith’s retort but Keith was still at a loss for words. Lance’s face fell slightly as though he regretted being so honest but he took advantage of Keith’s silence to end the argument, “Goodnight,” he said bitterly, before bending down to retrieve the lid from his cup and walking back up to the palace, leaving Keith alone in the dark.

*****

“LOTOR!? FUCKING LOTOR!?” Keith yelled.

He had stormed into Shiro's office without any warning, almost taking the doors off their hinges in the process. Shiro snapped his head up in worry.

He looked to be in the middle of reading important documents but dropped them immediately and jumped up out of his seat, walking towards Keith with his hands up in surrender, trying to calm him down, “Hey, hey, hey - I, I didn’t know he would be there--”

“--Not the fucking polo match...LANCE!” Keith continued to shout. He was breathing heavily and could feel the rage coursing through his bloodstream. He wanted to hit something or someone.

“Keith, what are you talking about--”

“--Don’t act fucking dumb, Shiro! I know about Lance and Lotor.”

Shiro etched his brows together in confusion, “What about Lance and Lotor?”

“How about the fact that Lance was going to choose that fucking prick over me!!!” Keith shouted again, glaring at his brother with everything he had.

Shiro’s face fell into realisation and he slowly lowered his hands, “Oh.” 

“Yeah. OH!” Keith repeated harshly.

Shiro calmly walked over to him and gently put his hands on Keith’s shoulders. He led him to the chair opposite his desk and lightly pushed him down so that Keith flopped into the seat. Then he went back to sit in his own chair, facing him.

He was silent for a while, watching Keith, assessing his mood and thinking through what to say. Keith couldn’t wait to hear what excuse he came up with, this time.

“Okay,” he said after a prolonged pause, “It is true that Lotor was interested in Lance, yes--”

“--Why didn’t you tell me?!”  Keith cut him off angrily, “I feel like a fucking idiot.”

“Why?”

“Why!? ” Keith asked in disbelief. Was he really asking why? Where the fuck did Keith start? 

Should he start with the fact that Shiro and company had casually paid his fiancé off just to get him to walk down the aisle? Or the fact that his fiancé actually wanted to choose his mortal enemy over him? Ooo and let’s not forget the star prize in all of this - the fact that they had kept it from Keith this whole fucking time.

Hmmm, decisions, decisions!

“Did you really beg Lance to choose me?” He finally asked, praying that it wasn’t true.

Shiro paused and licked his lips as though he was trying to work out how best to respond. Keith took it as an admission of guilt.

“Keith, we--”

“--This is so fucking embarrassing,” Keith groaned, squirming in his seat. He put his head in his hands in despair.

“Look, we didn’t have a choice.”

Keith tore his hands away from his face and flailed his arms dramatically, “Yes you did! You didn’t have to beg! For all I care he could have chosen Lotor!”

Shiro rolled his eyes, “Yeah, okay and where would that have left you? Engaged to a 92-year-old?!”

“I don’t fucking give a shit!”

Shiro cocked a brow at him, “Oh, really?” 

Deep down, Keith knew that Lance had been his only viable option and what his brother had done for him was for the best. But at that moment, he couldn’t think about that because all he could think about was… 

“Fucking, Lotor.”

“Keith, why do you think Lotor would be interested in Lance.”

“I dunno,” Keith shrugged flippantly, “Maybe he likes whiney omegas?”

Shiro rolled his eyes again, “Keith, seriously. Think about it. Why, would Lotor be interested in Lance, one of only two royal gay omegan males.”

Keith thought hard. It didn’t make any sense really. Lotor could have anyone he wanted. He was always voted number one in those stupid polls the teen magazines ran, and as far as Keith knew, he only dated models… female models, exclusively, “I don’t know... I always thought he was straight.”

“Exactly,” Shiro prompted, staring at Keith with raised eyebrows.

It suddenly hit Keith like a freight train and his eyes widened comically, “To keep me off the throne?” He offered and Shiro nodded slowly.

“Bingo.”

“Ohhhhhhh.”

Well...that made sense. It was no secret that Lotor was the next in line for the Daibazaal throne after Keith. The only thing in his way was.. well, Keith. 

If Keith wasn’t married to an omega by the age of twenty-one, he would have to forfeit the throne to Lotor. If Keith didn’t produce any heirs in his lifetime, the throne would be given to the next in line, Lotor. And if he suddenly died in mysterious circumstances before he could even walk down the aisle, the throne would be forfeited to Lotor.

Well...Fuck.

“So yes, we did beg Lance and his parents to choose you. But you know what? Had you not had your little hissy fit, we wouldn’t have had to.”

Keith dipped his head in embarrassment remembering his first meeting with Lance and his parents. Okay, so maybe he was partially to blame for Lance’s preference of choosing Lotor over himself but had they just fucking told him all of this in the first place, he might have reacted differently!

“Okay,” he nodded his head in defeat. He was no longer angry at the situation but couldn’t help feeling a little bit scared, “Do you think we should up our security?” He voiced flippantly, trying not to convey how he was really feeling.

Because the more Keith thought about things, the more he realised just how serious the situation really was, and he might as well have a big fat red target on his back. 

The Naxzela Royal Family were known to not play fair. They had already started a war and murdered his parents to try and gain control over Daibazaal, he wouldn’t put it past them to come after him too, especially if he was the only one left in their way. Plus, what about Lance? Take him out of the equation and Keith was fucked. What would he do then? Commit to marrying a 92-year-old man or worse, pretend he’s suddenly bisexual and wouldn’t mind trying vagina.

Keith shuddered harshly at the thought. Christ, could you imagine?!

“Keith, what do you think I spend all my time doing?” Shiro gestured to his desk which was littered with paper, “Your safety is my number one priority. Haven’t you noticed an increase in staff?”

Keith frowned, “You mean the housekeepers?”

“Well, they’re not exactly housekeepers,” Shiro smirked wickedly, “But it’s good to know that you haven’t noticed - it means they’re working.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“They’re secret servicemen and women, Keith, posing as housekeepers, waiting staff, drivers, gardeners, maintenance staff. You name it, they’re doing it. They’re all highly trained, of course, and are fully equipped to take down anyone who threatens yours or Lance’s life.”

“Fully equipped?”

“Yes, Keith.”

“As in…?”

“Guns,” Shiro nodded in confirmation.

Keith raised his eyebrows, “Good to know.”

*****

A week after the polo match, Keith was heading to his gym to train. He was in an unusually good mood for once. No one had spoken to him about the wedding all week and he could not have been happier. 

As he approached the door, he heard voices coming from the inside and assumed that Thace and Shiro were sparring as they usually did three times a week. It used to be twice a week but ever since Keith had managed to pin Shiro that one time and call him an old-timer, his brother had upped his sessions. He had tried to laugh off at the time but Keith knew that it had got to him because ever since that fateful day, he had trained harder and longer, and he had downloaded a fancy training app on his phone which tracked his progress - all because his little brother had finally managed to get the better of him.

Keith walked in and looked over to where the sounds of the voices were coming from. Just as he suspected, Shiro was there in his usual blank tank top and track pants, standing on the mats, facing his opponent, ready for their next tussle. Keith’s eyes flicked over to the opposite side, expecting to see Thace in matching sports gear. However, instead of Thace, stood a grinning Lance in a tight white tank top and navy yoga pants that were practically spray-painted onto him.

They were both sweaty, having clearly been at whatever it was they were doing for a while. Keith scowled, his good mood suddenly souring at the sight.

“You ready?” Shiro asked, raising his eyebrows in a challenge. He hadn’t acknowledged Keith’s presence at all. In fact, Keith didn’t think either of them had noticed he was even in the room. Not that he cared or anything.

“I was born ready,” Lance quipped with a grin.

“Okay!” Shiro smiled in amusement, cracking his knuckles teasingly, “Three, two, one, go!”

They began to wrestle with each other. Compared to Shiro, Lance was a twig and if Shiro had been putting even 5% of effort into the match, he could have snapped him in half if he wanted to. Instead, Keith watched as Shiro took it easy on Lance, allowing the boy to get free from his holds and even humouring him in falling to the mat when Lance swiped his legs from under him.

Lance straddled him and pinned his shoulders to the mat, “I think you’ll find that’s game,” he smirked and Shiro giggled - actually giggled. Keith couldn’t remember the last time his brother had made such a noise.

He doesn’t know why but the sight made his stomach turn with an emotion he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

“Enjoying the show?” 

The sound of Thace’s voice in his ear made him jump about a foot in the air.

“What?! No… I wasn’t...I was just…” He spluttered, his face beet red, as he tried to calm his racing heart and regain his composure.

Thace smirked wickedly and turned his head to where Shiro and Lance were getting to their feet, still grinning, “Your services are required, Your Highness,” he called out to Shiro who nodded before reaching for his things.

“Okay,” Shiro replied, wiping his brow with his towel, “Lance has finished kicking my ass anyway.”

Keith snorted obnoxiously at the lie. He had seen Shiro take on guys twice his size. Plus, he was an Alpha prime - no omega would have been able to get near him, least of all Lance who looked like he would blow away in a gust of wind. Why Shiro and Company felt the need to placate Lance just because he was an omega was beyond Keith.

Shiro strolled over to where Thace and Keith were standing and gave Keith a knowing look before putting his hand firmly on his shoulder and growling, “Play nice," in his ear. Then he swung the towel around his neck and followed Thace out of the room.

Keith watched him walk away, turning his attention back to Lance when he was confident they were alone. There was the issue of the ‘housekeeper’ lurking just outside the room in the hallway but Keith was positive that they wouldn’t be disturbed.

He didn’t know how he hadn’t realised before just how fake the ‘extra-staff’ were. Said ‘housekeeper’ was currently trying to vacuum some curtains, glancing into the room every now and then, as if to make sure a ninja hadn’t descended from the ceiling and slit Keith’s throat. 

“I thought I told you, you weren’t allowed in my gym,” Keith called out to Lance, completely ignoring Shiro’s warning.

He didn’t miss Lance, rolling his eyes in annoyance, “Nice to see you too, Keith,” he replied sarcastically. He was in the middle of stretching his arms, pulling one across his chest and using his other arm to hold it in place.

“What the hell are you even doing?” Keith demanded, annoyed that Lance didn’t seem to be intimidated by his mere presence anymore. Ever since their run-in after the polo match, something had changed in Lance and he seemed to swan about with more confidence than ever before. Although, he hadn’t tried to approach Keith about the wedding again. In fact, he hadn’t bothered him at all, apart from his usual pleasantries at mealtimes, he had left Keith alone.

“Training,” he said, as though it was obvious.

 Keith threw him a bemused smile, “Training?” 

“Uhuh,” Lanced voiced patting his toned stomach, “I gotta keep in shape.” 

“I didn’t realise the omegan marathon was coming up," Keith smirked viciously.  

Lance ignored the comment and gestured his head towards the mat, “So you wanna go?” he asked, bending down to pick up his water bottle. 

Keith looked at him in disbelief and huffed out a laugh, “You and me?” 

“Yeah, sure. Why not?” Lance shrugged and took a swig of his water.

Keith looked him up and down and shook his head lightly, “I don’t think so.” 

“What? Don’t think you’d be up to it?” 

Keith raised his eyebrows, “Yeah, right.” 

“Then, let’s go,” Lance said, gesturing to the mat again.

“Yeahhhhhh,” Keith drew out mockingly, “I think I’ll pass.” 

“You’re quite prejudiced against omegas, aren’t you?” 

“What?” Keith scowled instantly, “No.” 

Lance shrugged, “It’s fine. Kinda wish I’d known you were an omephobe before I agreed to this,” he gestured between them, “But you can’t win them all--”  

“--I’m not an omephobe,” Keith protested.

“Sure you’re not,” Lance nodded sarcastically. He went to walk past but Keith put his hand on his shoulder to stop him. 

“Hey. I’m not.” 

Lance huffed out a humourless laugh, “You avoid me like the plague. You barely speak to me and hardly ever look at me, and even when you do, you act repulsed. You wouldn’t let me join your polo team, even though I’ve played polo many, many times before, and now you’re refusing to spar with me? But the fact that I’m an omega has absolutely nothing to do with it? Please, Keith. I’ve spent my life dealing with jerks like you.” 

Keith scowled deeply, “You don’t know anything about me.” 

“I know that you’re a jerk.” 

“Fuck you.” 

Lance laughed wickedly, “I think we both know, that’s never going to happen.” 

It was the closest thing Lance had said to acknowledge that they were actually a ‘couple’. Keith hadn’t let himself think of anything beyond the act of saying ‘I do’ and he had certainly not let himself think about the wedding night or the expectations that it brought. That was a problem for wedding-day Keith.

He threw his hands up in surrender, “Fine! You wanna go? Don’t say I didn’t fucking warn you.”

“Alright!” Lance grinned, “Now, it’s a party.” 

They walked over to the mats and Keith kicked his shoes off and removed his hoodie before stepping onto the mat and facing Lance. 

“Last chance to back out,” he said, cracking each of his knuckles obnoxiously, trying to intimidate Lance who was looking at him in amusement. 

“And miss the chance of kicking the ass of an omephobic dick?”  

“I told you I’m not an omephobe!” 

“Me thinks the lady doth protest too much.” 

“Fuck you!” 

“Keith, buddy, I told you, it’s not going to happen,” Lance cackled, as Keith’s anger quickly got the better of him and he lunged forward, hoping to tackle Lance to the ground. 

What Keith wasn’t prepared for was how agile Lance was. He dodged Keith’s attack with ease, stepping out of the way and forcing Keith to falter as he tried to stop his momentum. The hesitation was all Lance needed and the next thing Keith knew he was flat on his back, staring up at the ceiling with Lance peering down at him, having swiped one of his long legs across Keith’s, knocking him well and truly on his ass.  

“One-nil,” Lance grinned, as Keith performed a quick kip-up so that he was back standing on his two feet. 

He walked back to the starting position, glaring at Lance all the while. 

 “You got lucky,” he spat.  

“You wouldn’t be taking it easy on the little old omega now, would you?”  

Keith smirked coldly, “Maybe.” 

They started again and Keith tried to fool Lance with a false lunge which worked at first and Keith managed to grab Lance’s arm, twisting it around his back. Lance laughed and performed an impossible counter flip to free himself. Keith hadn’t realised just how flexible Lance was and in his moment of shock, Lance once again legged him up and Keith was back to staring at the ceiling with Lance peering down at him. 

“I think you’ll find that that’s two to me, none to you…Alpha,” Lance said with a wink. 

Keith wanted to stab him.  

They carried on like this with Lance easily getting out of Keith’s holds, much like he had seen with Shiro who he had mistakenly thought was taking it easy on Lance. It turns out that he wasn’t... at all. 

Keith’s pride was in serious danger of being wounded. He wasn’t keeping score but Lance was winning. It was the fucking polo match all over again.

And much like the polo match, it didn’t make sense. This was what Keith was good at. Apart from Shiro, he was undefeated. Even Thace couldn’t take him down. Yet he was losing to Lance? The lanky streak of piss, omega?! 

No. It didn’t matter that he was an omega. It was the fact that it was Lance.  

Okay, that was a fucking lie. Of course, it mattered. He was an alpha, he couldn’t lose to a fucking omega. 

They started again and Keith had never wanted to wipe the grin off of someone’s face more than he wanted to wipe it from Lance’s. 

It was infuriating and Keith didn’t do well with controlling his anger, as everyone knew. Sparring usually helped him let his rage out but this was doing the exact opposite. 

He wasted no time going for Lance but instead of one of his fancy martial art holds, he decided to fuck all that off and just get him in a nice and easy and hopefully painful headlock. 

Lance gasped at the move and struggled to free himself, trying and failing to perform one of his gymnastic moves to become unstuck. 

Keith tightened his grip on his neck, smiling with sick satisfaction as Lance began to flail to try and free himself but the more he flailed, the tighter Keith squeezed.

Pretty soon Lance entered panic mode. Gone were the graceful moves he had been performing throughout the session. He looked like a disabled pigeon trying to take flight. It was desperate. His arms and legs were flying around everywhere and Keith would laugh if he wasn’t hell-bent on trying to prove a point. 

Unfortunately for Keith, he really underestimated just how long Lance’s limbs were and in one move one of Lance’s elbows had connected very harshly with his face and more specifically, his nose.  

He cried out in agony, instantly dropping Lance and choosing to use his hands to cup his nose instead which was throbbing in pain. He could feel warm liquid oozing out and when he took his hands away they were covered in blood. 

“Oh shit, Keith!” Lance called out putting his hand on Keith’s shoulder and sounding nothing but genuinely concerned, “I’m so sorry, are you okay?” 

But Keith wasn’t listening. All he could see was red. Literally and metaphorically. His blood-stained hands acted as a red rag to a bull and without thinking he straightened himself up and shoved Lance away from him as hard as he could.

The force knocked Lance clean on his ass and he scrambled to sit up, “Keith, I’m sorry, I--”

“Fuck you,” Keith spat, absolutely livid. His nose was still throbbing in agony and the rage was building rapidly within, he clenched his fists, not even bothering with the breathing exercises he had been taught to try and calm himself down.

Lance didn’t even have time to blink before Keith was on top of him, punching him as hard as he could in the face.

His head fell back against the mat harshly and he whipped his hands to his face, clutching his nose which, like Keith’s, had begun to gush with blood.

Keith would like to say that that was the end of it, that he took it no further. 

But unfortunately, he couldn’t say that because the next thing he knew, he had elbowed Lance harshly in the face, thrown him onto his front and twisted his arm behind his back, using his knee to keep his body pinned down to the floor.

Lance cried out in agony, as Keith continued to twist and pull his arm, higher and higher.

“Keith, please! I’m sorry!!” Lance cried out over and over again but Keith wasn’t listening. He wanted to hurt him. To make him feel pain. 

It was cathartic to Keith; he was releasing everything he had kept bottled inside for the past two months - the unwanted marriage, his mom’s ring, the polo match, Lotor.

He added even more pressure to Lance’s arm and Lance let out a blood-curdling scream which reverberated off the gym walls.

Suddenly, there were rough hands on Keith’s shoulders, yanking him off Lance as though he was a rag doll. He flew across the room, falling to the floor with a harsh thud and when he looked up, he saw the terrifying sight of his brother who looked murderous. The sudden realisation of what he had just done came crashing down on Keith all at once.

“Get out. NOW,” Shiro growled using his alpha voice and Keith scrambled to get away.

He didn’t need to be told twice.

*****

"He has a broken nose, a black eye, and a dislocated shoulder. We thought his cheekbone might be fractured but we got lucky,” Shiro said robotically.   

He had come to Keith’s room, where Keith had remained since yesterday’s incident in solitary confinement. He was leaning against the desk and had barely looked at Keith since he had entered the room, choosing to give his attention to inanimate objects instead. Keith sat on the bed with his head bowed dejectedly he could feel Shiro’s disappointment deep within his bones.

“He doesn’t want to press charges.” 

Keith nodded timidly, “That’s good, I guess.”

“But he should.” 

At that statement, Keith looked up to see his brother glaring at him coldly and Keith felt like the worst person in the world. Sure, Shiro had been mad at him before but this was another level. For the first time in his life, Keith felt like his brother hated him and he had never felt more alone.

He swallowed and offered a small nod in agreement. 

Shiro carried on as if he was reading a report out loud, “They’ve reset his nose and once the swelling goes down, it will be back to normal, so the doctor said.”

Keith nodded again in acknowledgement. 

Shiro was silent for a while, letting the gravity of his statement set in. Then he pushed off the desk and without another word headed for the door. 

“Shiro?” Keith croaked, barely able to hold back the emotion in his voice.  

“What, Keith?” Shiro said dismissively, as though he wanted nothing more to do with him.

“What are we going to tell people?” 

 Shiro paused, his hand hovering above the door handle, “We’re going to say he fell off his horse.” 

Keith nodded for a third time, although Shiro still had his back to him. He knew full well that the doctor Lance would have seen would be on the palace payroll and their silence easily bought, along with anyone else who had witnessed the fallout. They probably all knew that Keith had beat the shit out of his own fiancé but as long as they had the cheques, they would go along with whatever they were told.

He watched as his brother opened the door and knew that he wouldn’t be coming back any time soon. He couldn’t bear it.

“--Can you just yell at me or call me a piece of shit or something?!” Keith blurted out. He would have been happier if Shiro had shouted at him. Screamed at him. Even hit him, for god’s sake. He would take anything over the disappointment he saw in Shiro’s face every time he looked at him.

If he could take back what he did, he would...in a heartbeat. If he could hop in a time machine and make it so yesterday had never happened he would. But he couldn’t. It had happened and he had never regretted something more in his life.

Shiro shook his head slowly and turned, finally making eye contact with him, “What’s the point?” He said quietly with a shrug, then he opened the door and left Keth alone.

*****

Wandering the hallways used to be one of Keith’s favourite pastimes. He’d bring his friends over and they would play manhunt, whilst his mum and dad took care of royal business and Shiro was busy studying for school. The palace was big enough to get lost in, he used to love that.

Now he hated it. Hated how empty it felt, how long the hallways were, how tall the walls were, how it was still decorated the same as it was when he was young. There were too many memories here, good and bad but both made him feel the same sadness. He seldom explored anymore, going only where he needed to, never straying from his final destination.

So it was weird for him to be walking around casually, without a care in the world, and if anyone saw him, they would probably be surprised and wonder if everything was okay. But it was late at night and apart from the odd ‘housekeeper’, he was alone.

He told himself that he was just wandering randomly and that he didn’t have a purpose to where he was going but deep down he knew that was a lie.

He stopped when he got to Lance’s door and hesitated.

His subconscious had brought him here or maybe it hadn’t. Maybe Keith had brought himself here to finally own up to his own mistakes. To face Lance and apologise for his despicable behaviour. To ask for his forgiveness - not only for yesterday but for everything.

He was about to knock on the door when he heard Lance’s voice coming from inside. He tilted his head to the door and strained his ears to listen.

“I hate it here, Ronnie. I just…I want to come home,” Lance sniffed.

It was clear that he was on the phone with someone, as there were long pauses in between Lance speaking and Keith didn’t hear another voice in the room with him. It was also clear that he was crying and Keith’s heart sank heavily in his chest with guilt.

 “I was speaking to Shiro and he said if I really wanted to I could come home and I…” Another sniff,  “Ronnie, I don’t care about the wedding! No. I don’t care that he’s a prince. I couldn’t give a shit. No. I…how can I marry someone I hate?” His voice broke off at the end into a sob.

Keith closed his eyes. He didn’t know why but it actually hurt him to hear Lance say those things about him. To hear that Lance hated him. What was worse was knowing that Shiro had finally given up on him. He was going to let Lance go home and Keith would finally get his wish of being left alone and allowed to make his own decisions. He should have been ecstatic. He would get his own way after all. So why did he feel like complete shit?

“I do mean that, Ronnie. I do. I hate him. I hate him so fucking much!” Lance sobbed heavily, “He doesn’t speak to me or look at me and he acts like I’m the worst person in the world and I haven’t done anything to him other than agree to something I never wanted in the first place,” Lance sniffed again. “It’s not going to get better. I just….I want to come home, I really… I really miss you guys and I’m… I’m really lonely here, Ronnie.”

Keith couldn’t bear to listen to any more. Couldn’t stand to hear Lance’s sobs any longer. It was all because of him. He had ruined everything. Everything his brother had done to try and protect the family and it was all going to be for nothing.

He should have knocked on the door. Should have got on his knees and begged Lance for his forgiveness, begged him to reconsider, begged him for one more chance. He should have. He should have knocked on the fucking door. 

But he didn’t. Instead, he just walked away.

Chapter Text

The week following the assault was one of the worst weeks of Keith’s life, second only to the week immediately following his parent’s deaths. He was ostracised by practically everyone in the palace, save for the few members of staff who had no choice but to interact with him.

Shiro still wasn’t speaking to him, Kolivan and Thace only did so when they had to, and everyone else seemed to avoid him like the plague.

Even Pidge, who, Keith would say was his closest thing to an actual friend, hadn’t spoken to him since she learned what had happened, opting to avoid his texts and conveniently be absent whenever he stopped by her office to visit.

And Lance? 

Well, he hadn’t seen or heard from Lance….at all. Not even a glimpse of him at the breakfast table or an echo of his voice from across the courtyard. He was MIA and Keith would have thought he had gone back to Altea, had it not been for Thace and Kolivan who informed him that under no uncertain terms was he to visit Lance’s quarters or be caught anywhere near that vicinity, meaning that the omega must still be at the palace - God only knows why.

Keith suspected that one of the ‘extra staff Shiro had hired, had let slip that they had seen Keith wandering near Lance’s room in the dead of night.

They probably all thought he had gone to finish off what he had started because God forbid, he might actually be trying to apologise.

Not that Keith could blame them for thinking the worst of him or anything. After all, he had put Lance in hospital but still, it wasn’t a good feeling to know that everyone thought you were some kind of barbaric brute.

He really did want to apologise to Lance, to try and put things right - but he had no idea where to start. How do you even begin to apologise for something like that? And how could he apologise if he wasn’t allowed anywhere near Lance? He didn’t even have his phone number for God’s sake…not that Keith would whizz him a ‘ soz 4 beatin da shit out of u’ text or anything but at least he would be able to make some kind of contact with him.

But no. He wasn’t allowed. In fact, he wasn’t allowed to do much of anything really.

He had been assigned two burly alpha security guards who he knew were not there for his benefit. They escorted him everywhere; to breakfast, to the gym, even when he had the audacity to use the bathroom, they were right there, next to him. He probably could have asked one of them to hold his dick for him whilst he took a piss, that’s how close they stayed. And they made absolutely no secret that people deemed him ‘unsafe’, not that Keith needed help working that out. The rest of the staff gawked at him like he was some kind of freak, as though they were fully expecting him to snap and launch himself at one of them at any given moment. 

He was public enemy number one and for all intents and purposes treated as a criminal. All that was missing was a set of shackles wrapped securely around his wrists and ankles.

*****

“Prince Shiro has asked us to meet with you to inform you of the latest developments,” Kolivan delivered in a serious tone. 

Keith had been summoned to his office, where he found both Kolivan and Thace waiting for him. It was usually Shiro’s office he was summoned to but unfortunately, his title of ‘brother of the year’ had been revoked and Shiro hadn’t exactly made it a secret that he didn’t want to see Keith now…or ever again. So the duty had fallen on the next in command – Kolivan, the man who had helped raise Keith, even before his parents were killed. 

Keith sat himself down in the seat opposite and waited patiently to be told what he already knew; Lance was going back to Altea, the wedding was off and he would have no option other than to forfeit the throne to Lotor. Millions of people would suffer and all because Keith couldn’t control his fucking anger. 

Fantastic. 

 “You will be pleased to learn that Master McClain has decided not to press charges against you,” Kolivan began, folding his hands and peering down at Keith sternly. 

Keith glanced nervously to the side and caught the gaze of Thace who was also fixing him with an icy stare. 

It took him right back to his schooling days, to all those times he got called into the principal’s office for fighting before they too had finally given up on him, and he had to be homeschooled – ironically by the two people sitting in front of him who were looking at him with cold indifference, as though he was a complete stranger.  

He nodded timidly and drew his gaze to the floor, “Yeah – um – Shiro -- Shiro told me.” 

“You will also be pleased to learn that Master McClain has agreed to continue with the engagement.” 

Keith nodded before the words had truly registered with him and he snapped his head up in disbelief once he realised what Kolivan had just said. 

He had fully expected this to be the moment where they broke it to him that Lance had departed for Altea and Shiro had moved to Venezuela.  

“Yes, you heard correctly,” Kolivan confirmed with a raise of his eyebrows, as if he too, were surprised. Keith couldn’t blame him, really. It wasn’t every day you beat the shit out of your fiancé and got a reprieve, was it? 

He closed his eyes and exhaled in relief. He hadn’t realised that this had been an option – another chance to put things right. 

“However,” Kolivan, warned, “You are not to be alone with Master McClain. You are not to address Master McClain unless he addresses you first. You will have separate meal times to Master McClain and a schedule will be drawn up as to when you can use the palace’s facilities. Is that clear?” 

Keith let his words sink in before nodding dejectedly. He really was a prisoner in his own home.

“Your first public appearance as a couple is scheduled for this coming Friday,” Kolivan continued, using the same serious tone, “You will be visiting the Daibazaal Children’s Hospital. They wish to thank you for the monies raised from the polo match.” 

Keith nodded again as obediently as he could. As well as wanting to put things right with Lance, he was also keen to show Shiro, Kolivan and Thace that he took his duties seriously.

Since Lance had come into his life, Keith had been very neglectful of his royal responsibilities, opting to ignore them fully or half-ass them at best. Not that he faired much better before Lance was on the scene, but now it was an absolute shit show. It was Keith’s way of punishing those that were forcing him down a path he didn’t want to go down. 

But that was in the past and Keith was going to make amends… 

For everything.  

“You will also be fitted for your wedding attire on Wednesday at eleven o’clock. A car will be waiting for you at ten-thirty in the courtyard. Do not be late.” 

“Yes,” Keith nodded before tacking on a ‘sir’ causing Kolivan to raise a curious brow at him. It had been a while since Keith had been this polite to...well, anyone. 

“That is all,” Kolivan said with an air of finality and Keith nodded obediently for the final time before getting up and bowing deeply. He was escorted back to his room by his two security guards who hadn’t left his side since the incident.  

Keith got the impression that they wouldn’t be leaving anytime soon. 

*****

Over the next few days, Keith was a good little prince and did as he was told – religiously sticking to the schedule and going only where he was allowed when he was allowed.  

He still got given the wary looks, cold shoulders and one-word responses from his staff but he didn’t really care – it was no secret that most of the employees didn’t like him before he assaulted Lance, now they just had an excuse to be obvious about it. 

The only people that really mattered to Keith were Shiro, Kolivan, Thace and Pidge, and he was determined to put things right with them as soon as he could. Then he could work out what to do about Lance. 

He started with Pidge, knowing she would probably be the easiest to win over, and found her tinkering with some wires in the Great Hall, which had been off-limits since it was announced that it would serve as the ceremony room.  

It was weird to think that in less than a month he would be standing in here, getting married to ‘the love of his life’, pretending to be happy, pretending everything was okay. He closed his eyes, willed away the image and took a deep breath, stepping forward into the room. A deafening silence greeted him immediately. Like in movies when a character walks into a bar and the record scratches and the music ceases, making it blatantly fucking obvious that that person isn't welcome.

The noises Keith had heard outside the room stopped abruptly as the technicians’ eyes all fell on him, the tools in their hands stilling. It would have been comical had Keith not already been at rock bottom and he wanted nothing more than to run right back to the safety and comfort of his own room. Away from prying eyes and hurtful comments and judgements that he could no longer take. 

But he couldn’t run. Not now. Not when he desperately needed a friend.  

It was ironic, really. He thought being isolated from everyone was what he always wanted. How many times had he pleaded with Shiro to just leave him alone? How many times had he told Lance to fuck off? How many times had he rolled his eyes at Thace and Kolivan just because they dared to ask him how his day was going?  

And now he had finally gotten his wish. People left him alone and Keith had learned the hard way just how awful that was. 

It took everything in him to project an air of confidence as he strode across the hall to where Pidge was stationed, determined to make amends with her and have someone back in his life. He tried his best to ignore the stares and hushed whispers that followed him but his heart was pounding wildly in his chest as his nerves got the best of him. His security guards were right on his tail and together, they navigated through the many cables, light stands and electronic equipment lying all over the floor, which served as another reminder that the wedding would be seen by millions of people, and that the same millions of people were also counting on him. 

Keith was certain that Pidge had clocked him when he had first entered the room but her eyes were trained on the monitor she was working on and he didn’t know if she really hadn’t seen him, too lost in her work or if she was blatantly ignoring him, hoping he would get the message to go away. 

“Hey,” he announced shakily when he was within earshot of her. She immediately tensed at the sound of his voice, screwdriver freezing in her hand. 

“Is there something you need?” She spat coldly, her eyes still fixed on the screen.

“Um…no. I just,” Keith began nervously, suddenly aware of just how quiet the large hall was, “I thought you could maybe use some company?” He shrugged self-consciously, cringing into himself. His guards were obviously listening in, as were the rest of the AV team and his voice, quiet as it was, practically bounced off the walls. 

“I’m really busy so…” Pidge trailed off, leaving it up to Keith’s imagination of what she was going to end the sentence with. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what that might be.

She clearly did not want to see him.  

Keith’s heart sank. 

“Oh…okay. I um…I guess I’ll go.”  He turned to walk away, feeling like a complete idiot. He was acutely aware of several pairs of eyes on him, which only amplified his embarrassment and he didn’t miss the subtle smirks his two guards shared with each other. 

“Keith,” Pidge reluctantly called out. It was like she was kicking herself for actually feeling bad for him, “What do you expect?” 

Keith stopped and turned to look at her. She was no longer looking at the monitor but fixing him with a heartbroken stare.

“It was a really shitty thing you did,” she said quietly. 

Keith swallowed the harsh lump that was forming in his throat and battled against the stinging sensation of oncoming tears, “Don’t you think I know that?” he croaked. 

Pidge scanned his face but remained silent. 

“I just,” he paused and looked down at the floor, “I don’t know how to put it right.” 

Pidge shook her head sadly, “I don’t think you can.” 

Keith slowly nodded his head in acceptance. He knew she was right. Even if he was able to get close enough to Lance to apologise, would he even accept it? And even if he did, where did they go from there? Could they just brush it under the carpet, pretend it never happened and go back to Keith ignoring him and only interacting with him when there was a gun against his head?

“Keith, what you did…it was…it…EXCUSE ME!” Pidge suddenly yelled at the top of her voice and Keith jumped about a foot in the air, “Do you fucking mind!? Can’t you see this is a PRIVATE conversation?!” 

She was glaring daggers at Keith’s security guards, who were way too close for comfort, not that he realised, of course. They had practically attached themselves to him since the accident and their breath on his neck, as unpleasant as it was, was, unfortunately, a familiar sensation.

When they didn’t immediately move, Pidge threw her hands up in despair, gesturing obviously between herself and Keith, “Can you give us some fucking privacy, PLEASE!”  

The guards shared a brief irritated look before reluctantly nodding and skulking back over to the entrance to wait for Keith. Pidge glared at them the entire way and then diverted her attention to the rest of the AV crew who scattered like cockroaches under her death stare. Suddenly, the room was once again filled with the sounds of drills, hammers and the quiet murmurings of conversations and only then did Pidge look back up at Keith, once she was satisfied that people were minding their own goddamn business. 

Keith bit back a smile. Pidge could be terrifying when she wanted to be and it helped that she was near the top of the palace’s hierarchy. No one dared argue with her, despite her being five foot fuck all.

“He’s…um…he still wants to go through with it…with the um…the wedding,” Keith gestured around the room like Pidge wasn’t aware that the event was still going ahead. Like she and her team weren’t prepping for it at that very moment. 

She gave him a weak smile. 

“Yeah. I don’t really understand why though. I mean, I thought he’d wanna go back home, you know?” Keith continued nervously, “I mean, I’d wanna go back home if that had happened to me, but I guess… I guess he decided that I was worth giving a second chance…You know because I’m such a good guy and all,” he huffed out a pitiful laugh and bit his thumbnail anxiously, not quite knowing what to do with his hands or how to hold himself.  

Pidge tracked the movement with her eyes.

“Why did you do it?” She asked quietly but Keith heard her words as if she had screamed them at him. 

It was the question he had been waiting for her to ask. The question he had been preparing an answer for since the incident had happened, and the question he still couldn’t answer, despite going over and over and over it again and again in his head. 

Sure, he had plenty of answers but none that really justified why he had done what he had done.

He had been angry.  

Angry at Lance.  

Angry at the situation.  

Angry at his fucking life.  

He didn’t want to get married to a stranger and he didn’t want to be the fucking king. But no one listened to him. They all just made decisions for him and expected him to go along with them no questions asked.  

Keith already knew that his life would never be his own. He would never get to travel the world with friends or get a crappy job or know what it was like to stand on his own two feet and try and survive. Live paycheque to paycheque, eat ramen noodles and shop at thrift stores. Blend in with the crowd and be like everyone else – normal. 

Instead, he’d have to follow the path that was carved out for him long before he was even born. Have people wait on him hand and foot like he was some kind of invalid and never leave the palace without clearing it with fifty people first. Have every movement he made tracked, ride in bulletproof limos and have members of the public fawn over him like he was some kind of god. 

So at the very least, Keith stupidly assumed he would get a say in whom he chose to spend the rest of his crappy pre-determined life with.  

But no.  

How fucking stupid of him to think they would let that happen. Of course, that was decided for him too. 

They wheeled in Lance like some fucking prize without telling him, without giving him so much as a warning. And like every other shitty decision made for him, Keith was supposed to just grin and bear it. Be grateful for it, even. 

It wouldn’t have been so bad if he and Lance had something other than the loss of free will in common. But they didn’t. He was the opposite of what Keith liked. Okay, sure, he’d never ‘dated’ or shown the vaguest of interest in anyone before but Keith knew what he liked…and it wasn’t Lance. 

The boy pushed his buttons. He was irritating, loud and needy and Keith had had enough. 

Enough of people deciding everything for him. 

Enough of feeling trapped. 

Enough. 

So he had snapped and taken it out on the one person who probably knew exactly how he felt. 

So why did he do it? 

 “I don’t know,” he eventually replied just as quietly as she had asked. 

He couldn’t bring himself to look her in the eye, to see the look of sheer disappointment on her face, just like he had seen on Shiro’s.  So he looked past her, feeling her eyes bore into him as if searching his soul for the real reason. Maybe if she stared hard enough, she would find it and then she’d be able to let him know why he had fucked everything up. 

The truth was, there was no real reason for what he did other than he was just a fucking terrible person who had taken out his frustrations on someone weaker than him…simply because he could. 

Pidge let out a long sigh, “Keith,” she said in a stern voice, pausing to take a deep breath, brow furrowed,  “You can’t keep blaming everything on your dead parents,” she began, staring at him with determination, as though she had wanted to say this to him for a very long time. 

She probably had. 

Keith sucked in a harsh breath, his heart skipping a beat at the mention of his mum and dad. 

“Shitty things happen to good people. You don’t have the monopoly on past trauma and you need to stop using it as an excuse to be shitty to people,” she continued, strongly.  

Keith finally let himself look at her but still said nothing.  

“I get that it was hard for you. I get that it still is. But this is life, Keith. It’s a bitch. And you making it harder for yourself and others isn’t going to help anyone. He doesn’t deserve your hate. He never did. And you shouldn’t have blamed him for what happened. You got dealt those cards when you were born, and even if your parents were still alive, you would still have to get married to a royal. You still wouldn’t have had any choice in the matter, regardless of whether or not Shiro’s true lineage had been discovered. You’re naïve if you think you would have.  Your life would still be exactly how it is now, the only difference is, you might have actually accepted it,” she paused, breathing hard, like the dam that was holding her back from saying what she truly wanted to say to him had broken, letting the truth flow freely out of her, “I’ve watched you sabotage yourself for years, shutting out anyone who dared to try and get close to you. Keeping Shiro at arm’s length because you’re so scared of the thought of losing him too that you pretend you don’t care about anyone, because maybe it’ll be easier that way. Maybe you won’t care as much if something happens to him. Christ, Keith!” Pidge’s voice broke and she wiped at her eyes viciously, clearly angry at herself for getting upset. She looked down to her lap and shook her head gently, “I stupidly thought that you would get better… that you just needed time. I really thought you wouldn’t become a cliché and let what happened to you define your whole fucking life. But,” she shrugged sadly, “I guess, you proved me wrong.” 

Keith held his tongue against his teeth, desperately trying hard to stop his face from crumpling with devastation. His eyes were watering but he didn’t even attempt to stop the tears that escaped from them. 

Everything she said was true but no one had ever had the nerve to say it to his face before. 

“God,” he whispered, choking back a sob. 

In all the years Keith had known Pidge, they had never fought before. Their relationship was built on mutual sarcastic comments, dry wit and a penchant for taking insults that would make others wince with hurt. They never spoke about serious topics and avoided anything that would make either one of them actually address their feelings. 

But maybe that was what Keith really needed all along. 

“You know, Shiro was right,” Pidge said, looking back up at him, “You’ve never dealt with it and I don’t blame you for that because you were young… but Keith,” she looked into his eyes pleadingly, “You need to speak to someone about it. You need help.” 

Keith swallowed and nodded reluctantly, finally wiping the tears from his cheeks. He had fought therapy with everything he had since he was thirteen years old. He didn’t want to speak to a stranger about how he felt. How life had handed him lemons and he couldn’t for the life of him make lemonade out of them.  

He could barely admit to Shiro that he missed his parents, let alone pour his heart and soul out to some faceless doctor who would probably sell his story to the highest bidding tabloid. 

“Do you think I’m a terrible person?” he sniffed, picking at the skin around his fingers nervously. 

Pidge sighed deeply and fiddled with the screwdriver in her hand “No. I don’t. I think you’re an idiot,” she huffed out a humourless laugh, “But I don’t…I don’t hate you, Keith.” 

Keith offered her a small, grateful smile in return. 

“But you need to apologise to him.” 

Keith nodded, “I’m working on it.” 

“Did you ever watch the interview?” Pidge asked with a shake of her head as if she already knew the answer. 

Keith let out a self-deprecating laugh and rubbed his eyes again, “God, no.”

“You should,” Pidge nodded with a barely-there smile, “He…” She trailed off, changing her mind over what she was going to say, “You should watch it.” 

*****

Keith had visited The Kim’s Family Tailors since before he could remember. It was the Kogane family’s tailor of choice and had been since Keith’s great, great, great, great grandfather had sat on the throne. It was one of those ancient family businesses that had been passed down from generation to generation, and the current Mr Kim that Keith was familiar with, had taken over the business when his father had died shortly before Keith was born. He had subsequently made every royal garment Keith had ever worn, from his first baby grow right down to the solemn black suit he wore to his parent’s funeral. So it came as no surprise to learn that Mr Kim would also be making the wedding suits too.

The car picked Keith up at exactly ten-thirty just as Kolivan had said it would. Keith had made sure to be there fifteen minutes early and didn’t miss the incredulous looks on the faces of both Kolivan and Thace who came outside just as he was clicking his seatbelt into place. They did a piss-poor job at concealing their surprise that Keith had not only turned up but was actually on time for once in his life. He did his best not to roll his eyes in annoyance and gave a polite wave to them as Dickhead 1 and Dickhead 2 (his security guards who Pidge had fondly renamed) clambered into the limo after him. And then they were off, zooming through the streets of Daibazaal to The Kim Family’s store. 

It was located on the outskirts of the city and although it was common knowledge that the family served the Palace, their prices assured them discretion, with only those who could afford it venturing into the premises – by appointment only, mind you. 

It wasn’t unusual for Mr Kim and his son to drop by the palace to take Keith’s measurements, instead of him having to venture out himself. It was much easier in terms of security, not to mention that it required minimal effort on Keith’s part which was always a good thing. It also helped that Keith didn’t give a shit about what he wore or how he looked. Since the age of fourteen, when all of his fucks had well and truly flown the nest, Keith had given Mr Kim free rein to design and create whatever the hell he wanted because...Well, what difference did it make? He only ever wore the creations once in public and a handful of times behind closed doors. Then they were discarded like incredibly expensive used tissues and Mr Kim would be waiting in the wings with a slightly different variation in a slightly different shade (usually black) for the next event. Rinse and repeat. It was always the same.

But apparently, as it was for his wedding, Keith needed to choose the fabric, colour and design himself, which he was positively ecstatic about…

Okay, so that was a fucking lie. He couldn’t think of anything worse and had it not been for his hiccup with Lance, he would have said as much and done anything to get out of it.

But he couldn’t do that. He had no more extra lives to use. It would be game over if he had yet another tantrum. So he had smiled and said ‘okay!’ as enthusiastically as he could, before retreating to his room and screaming into a pillow for a solid five minutes.

He didn’t have the first clue about fashion and the only fabric he could confidently name was denim. So unless he and Lance wanted to rock the double-denim look of Britney and Justin circa 2001, Mr Kim was going to have to step in and guide him to make the right choices.

Lance probably had a scrapbook of ‘lewks’ he wanted to serve. He probably had the exact Pantone colour to hand and correct names of luxurious fabrics ready and waiting. Keith imagined he would be one of those extra grooms who requested multiple costume changes throughout the day - a ceremony outfit, a cocktail hour garment and a first dance showstopper.

Well, he would have been one of those extra grooms….before the incident, that is, when he was still trying to get Keith’s opinion on trivial matters like flowers and cake flavours. Keith wouldn’t be at all surprised if Lance wanted to rock up to the event wearing sweatpants and a ratty old tee, eager to get it over with. The fact that he was still prepared to go through with it was more than Keith deserved. 

When they pulled up outside the store, Keith was delighted to discover that there were no press or members of the public waiting outside for him. He wouldn’t be forced to smile and wave or god forbid, pose for a ‘selfie’ with some middle-aged ‘royal enthusiast.’

He got out of the limo when told, stretched his legs and let Dickhead Number 1 lead the way, whilst Dickhead Number 2 followed closely behind scanning the area warily as he went. Even though his security guards were not the most pleasant of people, Keith couldn’t deny that they took their job seriously.

Once they were buzzed into the building, he was greeted by Mr Kim’s son, Kang-Dae, an attractive Korean boy who was of a similar age to Keith, and who Keith might have let himself have a crush on, had his life gone down a different path. But alas, it hadn’t, so here they were.  

He offered Keith a warm smile and firm handshake which Keith returned and led him upstairs to the fitting area – a large spacious room decorated with lavish curtains, plush shaggy carpet, floor to ceiling mirrors and luxurious velvet sofas. 

Keith could hear voices coming from inside and stupidly assumed that it was just the rest of Mr Kim’s family. He didn’t even hesitate before barrelling into the room right after Kang Dae, with all the grace of a tap-dancing elephant. But had he actually listened to the voices, he would have known not to enter.

Because it wasn’t just Mr Kim’s family at all.

It was Lance. 

Lance stood on one of the raised podiums in front of one of the many mirrors, arms spread out and a huge smile on his face like he didn’t have a care in the world.

Keith’s heart fell from the penthouse to the basement in the space of a second.

Lance’s security guards were sitting on one of the velvet sofas close by and tensed at the sight of Keith and his entourage. But that was nothing on Lance’s reaction when his eyes finally found Keith’s in the reflection of the mirror. 

He instantly diverted his gaze to the floor, his smile sliding right off his face which in no time at all, flushed bright red. Keith could practically hear his heart beating from where he stood. 

The omega was scared...terrified even and Keith had never been so grateful in his life for scent blockers - compulsory in Daibazaal for all alphas and omegas. 

The Kim family were oblivious to Lance’s obvious distress.

Keith stood, frozen, his own heart going a mile a minute inside his chest. He was staring like a deer caught in headlights, unable to look away. He couldn’t take his eyes off the bruising on Lance’s face, masked by layers of expertly placed make-up but still visible even from where he stood on the opposite side of the room. 

There had been no mention of Lance being here. No prior warning.  

He wasn’t ready. He wasn’t prepared at all to deliver his apology, which was a first draft at best, awaiting several rewrites and amends. And even if he did manage to stumble his way through it, it wasn’t like he could mention what had happened in front of Mr Kim and family, aka the fucking Brady Bunch. 

They didn’t know that less than two weeks ago Keith had beaten the shit out of Lance, breaking his nose and dislocating his shoulder. 

They didn’t know that the marriage was a complete sham and was only going ahead to keep Daibazaal free of tyranny.

They didn’t know fucking anything.

All they knew was that he and Lance were ‘madly in love’ and were getting married in just over two weeks time. 

“Ahhh Your Majesty,” Mr Kim greeted, breaking the unbearable silence. He turned his head and offered Keith a large smile, “I am so sorry but we are running slightly behind. We got a bit carried away with Lance’s design,” he chuckled heartily, completely unaware of the shit storm that was brewing. 

Keith willed himself to snap out of the breakdown he was currently having and attempted a smile, “It’s fine. I have nowhere to be,” he said as confidently as he could muster which wasn't very confident at all.

“Come!” Mr Kim gestured to the podium right next to Lance’s, “Kang-Dae can take your measurements and then we can discuss your suit, I’ve almost finished with your fiancé." 

Keith nodded self-consciously, cringing a little bit at the word ‘fiancé’ and looked to his guards for approval to approach the omega. Unfortunately, they looked as lost as he felt, sharing worried glances with each other, and he realised that they also hadn’t expected to run into the one person they had probably been told to keep Keith away from.  

So he stood stock still, not wanting to give people yet another reason to doubt him.  

It took Kang-Dae placing a gentle hand on his shoulder for Keith to actually start moving. He jumped at the contact and blinked rapidly as he was led over to where Lance stood. 

He was aware of people around him talking but he was so horrified by seeing Lance’s injuries up close that he didn’t hear anything except for background noise, like static coming from a broken television.

It had been almost two weeks since it had happened, and although the bruises were fading and his nose wasn’t as swollen as it had been, Keith was under no illusion of what Lance must have looked like immediately afterwards. 

At the time, he hadn’t cared because Lance hadn’t mattered. He still didn’t matter if Keith was being completely honest with himself. He wouldn’t jump in front of a car for him or take a bullet for him, and if he never saw him again, he wouldn’t shed a tear.

There were very few people who Keith actually cared about and he could count them on one hand.  

Lance wasn’t one of them and he couldn’t see that changing anytime soon.

But even Keith had to admit, there was something about hearing him sobbing on the phone, watching the video of the interview and finally seeing him in the flesh, that stirred something in Keith that he had rarely felt before.  

Guilt. 

And it wasn’t a good feeling.

 “Prince Keith?” Kang-Dae prompted, looking at him expectantly. Keith blinked dumbly - he didn’t have a fucking clue what he had just said to him.

“Um…what?” Keith asked eloquently, his heart still hammering inside his chest. 

“If you wouldn’t mind stepping onto the box please,”  Kang-Dae repeated and gestured to the elevated velvet box, right next to Lance’s. 

“Oh um….ok,”  he uttered quietly, keeping his head down as he followed Kang-Dae’s outstretched arm to the box. He stepped onto it and tried his best to act normal, shooting a quick glance over to Lance whose eyes were still trained on the floor, arms still outstretched, as Mr Kim mumbled numbers to one of his daughters who was eagerly scribbling them down onto a small notepad.

Kang-Dae returned with his own measuring tape, along with another one of Mr Kim’s daughters who was dutifully holding a pencil and notepad of her own, ready and waiting. He instructed Keith to hold out his arms, so Keith did, quickly and watched in absolute horror as the movement caused Lance to flinch violently, bringing his arms up to cover his face defensively. 

Everyone saw it happen. 

Kang-Dae, Mr Kim and his daughters laughed in unison. 

The security guards all held their breath. 

Keith wanted to die. 

He dropped his arms immediately, as Lance tried to recover, shaking his head lightly and plastering a fake smile on his face as he stretched his arms back out. “Sorry, I was miles away,” he said with a light giggle, “I thought it was a fly!” 

Mr Kim chuckled again and accepted the blatant lie without question, making a teasing comment on how he thought Lance was braver than that.

Kang-Dae tapped Keith’s arms again and this time, Keith raised them as slowly as possible, avoiding looking at Lance in the process. 

It was quiet for a while as the measurements were taken, with only the low murmurings of both Mr Kim’s and Kang-Dae’s voices filling the room. 

“You have gone very quiet,” Mr Kim commented to Lance after a couple of minutes had passed, and Lance forced himself to laugh heartily. 

“It’s bad luck to see each other in your wedding outfits before the big day,” he explained in a playful tone and Keith was in awe of how easily he acted in front of an audience. 

“Yes, that is true,” Mr Kim nodded, “But you’re not wearing them yet!” 

“Well, you can never be too careful,” Lance replied with another forced laugh, which to anyone else would sound genuine but to Keith, it lacked its usual warmth and his eyes lacked their usual sparkle.

“I see,” Mr Kim smiled, standing back from Lance’s podium, “Well, the good news is you’re done for today.” 

Lance smiled and hopped down from his box, lightning-fast, obviously eager to get away from Keith as quickly as possible. He looked to his security guards who were already getting to their feet and turned back to Mr Kim. 

“Thank you, again, Mr Kim,” he beamed, “I can’t wait to see how it looks!” 

“Well, you won’t have long to wait,” Mr Kim smiled back, “We will be working night and day on your suits and they will be ready for your first fitting, early next week.” 

“Perfect,” Lance grinned broadly as his security guards approached him, “Well, until then. Goodbye, Mr Kim.” He shook the man’s hand and bowed his head gracefully before turning to walk away, with his guards at his heels. He stopped abruptly just after he had passed Keith, turning back to look at him, as though he had forgotten something. 

Keith, who had been watching the whole exchange in the mirror, slowly turned his head and locked eyes with Lance for the first time since the accident.

Even though neither one of them was prepared for this showdown, they were, for all intents and purposes, on the same team, and Keith could tell that Lance was trying to wordlessly communicate something to him. Something important.

Unfortunately, he didn’t have a Scooby-Doo what that important something was.

“I’m terribly sorry, Your Majesty,” Kang-Dae began, stepping away from Keith to give him room, “You obviously want to say goodbye to your fiancé.” 

Oh. Yeah. Obviously.

Keith felt the heat rush to his face, as his heart resumed its frantic beating inside his chest. 

“Oh…um,” he uttered, “Of course.” 

You see that’s the thing about sham marriages, you have to make them at least somewhat believable.

What happened next was the most painfully awkward experience of Keith’s short life. Lance had clearly anticipated the inevitable, knowing full well that they had to keep up appearances for those not in the know, and sheepishly shuffled over to Keith’s podium, prepared to say his goodbyes. 

The only thing was though….they had never practised this.

Well, they had never practised anything...

But this … oh god…. this.

It occurred to Keith, as he was desperately rifling through his memories of how to politely say goodbye to a loved one, that they really should have gone over the basics. Greetings...farewells…how to fucking speak to each other in public….that kind of thing.

Maybe if he hadn’t told Lance to fuck off at every given opportunity, they might have been able to come up with some kind of plan.

Any plan.

But no - as it had already been established, Keith was a prick. 

A monumental prick.

There was no plan.

There was just Keith, standing stupidly on the elevated plush box, bending down awkwardly to meet Lance who had already turned his face to the side – an obvious signal that Keith should kiss his cheek – a textbook farewell. 

But Keith didn’t crack that code. Oh no. Instead, he clumsily placed his own cheek against Lance’s and held it there for several seconds before it fucking dawned on him what he had just done and he quickly turned his head and placed the briefest of pecks on Lance’s skin, before pulling away and mumbling a low, ‘Goodbye’. 

It was absolutely mortifying. 

Luckily no one else seemed to be any the wiser to his social faux pas and obvious discomfort, and the display was enough to satisfy the Kim Family’s curiosity. He heard the daughters coo with delight and Mr Kim sighing happily with an, “Ahh, young love!” comment thrown in. 

Christ, they couldn’t be that dense, could they?

But maybe they mistook his mortification and awkward behaviour for being flustered and lovestruck. As his face was currently beet red, it would be easy to assume that Keith was quite simply overwhelmed rather than suicidal.

But whatever. He wasn’t going to argue. As long as they bought it, that was all that mattered.

He quickly turned back to the mirror and kept his head down until he was satisfied that Lance had left the building. 

*****

Keith’s hands were shaking as he raised one to rapt softly on the familiar oak door to Shiro’s office, just loud enough to be heard.

"Yes?"

“Um...I have…I have the letters that you wanted,” he announced quietly. He usually didn’t bother with the politeness that knocking brought but this time was different. He hadn’t seen his brother since that morbid meeting in his bedroom when Shiro had informed him of the extent of Lance’s injuries. That had been almost two weeks ago and Keith had missed him terribly.

He was sitting at his large desk, head buried in a mountain of paperwork and looked up at the sound of Keith’s voice. 

“What letters?” He answered coldly and gestured to Keith that it was okay to enter and approach him. 

Keith walked over slowly and placed the stack of papers on the edge of the desk.

“Um, well I have the paperwork for the Orion treaty, the RSVP for the Mamora Ball and the letters to the public you wanted me to sign.” 

Shiro raised his eyebrows in surprise, “You signed them all?” 

Keith nodded. It was a blatant peace offering. A ‘please talk to me again’ olive branch that he hoped would win Shiro over.

Each week, the Palace received hundreds if not thousands of letters from the public. Most were just fan mail from their loyal citizens, gushing endlessly about the brothers and their gone but not forgotten parents. However, they also received their fair share of letters from charities, schools and businesses, with invitations to various events, updates on projects, and unapologetic boasts of achievements. It was customary to acknowledge each letter (even the ones from their bat-shit crazy fans) and write back a hearty reply. Of course, they had a team of staff to write the letters for them, but it was down to Keith to hand sign them all, because, after all, he was going to be their king. 

He had protested endlessly about the mundane task, begging to have a stamp of his signature made or better yet, a digital one which would save time and effort for all involved, not to mention spare his poor right wrist from the agony of writing the equivalent of a novel by hand each week.

But no. Both options were shot down because they weren’t ‘good enough’, apparently.

In Shiro’s words, they weren’t ‘personal’ enough. 

Double standards, in Keith’s opinion. If Shiro was that bothered about the replies being ‘personal’, shouldn’t they be writing their own frigging letters?

He had almost pointed out that fact but thought better of it when he realised in doing so, he would also be offering to sit down and write the letters himself.

And...well, fuck that.

If his right hand could barely survive signing his signature a billion times, he dreaded to think what it would be like after writing hundreds of full-on essays.

He’d never get to jerk off again.

So he kept his mouth shut, and every week without fail had to suffer through hours and hours of signing his name on each letter. It was a duty Keith despised doing and one he always took his sweet time with, often missing the deadlines and extensions several times and being scolded in return. 

“I only gave the Orion Treaty to Kolivan to give to you, this morning,” Shiro commented monotonously.  

“I know.” 

“Did you read it?” 

“Yes.” 

“All of it?” 

“Yes.” 

Shiro nodded but Keith couldn’t tell if he was happy or not, as he kept his expression as neutral as possible. 

“Kolivan told me you’ve attended several important meetings in the last week?” 

Keith nodded, “Yeah, I have.” 

“He also told me that you actually blocked out time to do your paperwork and even sat down with the royal planner to confirm your public appearances?” 

Keith nodded again in confirmation. 

Shiro cocked his head at him, “I’m just,” he began with a slight shake of his head, “You hate doing those things? I’ve been trying to get you to do them for years and I…I,” he paused and furrowed his brow, “Why the sudden change of heart?” 

Keith looked down at the floor sheepishly, “I guess I just realised that I need to be better…like in general,” he gestured with his hands. 

“Uh-huh,” Shiro nodded, clearly not convinced, “Why now?” 

Keith reluctantly looked up to find Shiro staring at him coldly. He found himself shrugging self-consciously.

Shiro knew exactly why he was trying, Keith didn’t need to spell it out for him.

“Well, whilst I don’t want to thank you for simply doing your job,” Shiro commented, picking up the letters and putting them on top of another pile, “I appreciate the timely manner in which you completed this duty,” he finished with a barely-there smile.

Keith nodded again and realised that the conversation was over. It wasn’t the outcome he had hoped for but at least Shiro had actually acknowledged him...spoken to him even. He turned to walk away and had just reached the door when Shiro called out to him. 

“Keith, wait.” 

Keith turned back around and watched Shiro sigh and nod to the seat in front of his desk. 

An invitation.

Well, Keith didn’t have to be told twice. He hurried over, plonking himself down in the chair.

“So how have you been?” Shiro asked, his tone slightly warmer than it had been moments before.

“Amazing,” Keith replied as sarcastically as he could.

Shiro rolled his eyes with a practised fondness, “Seriously, how have you been?” 

“Really fucking miserable, actually,” Keith admitted, picking at the skin of his nails, “You know, I hate to say you were right but… being alone really sucks.” 

“I did try and tell you this.” 

“I know.” 

There was a sudden knock at the door and Shiro raised his head to find one of the Palace staff who was assisting with the wedding, looking very flustered and holding a huge folder in his arms. 

“Yes?” Shiro asked politely. 

“I beg your pardon, your Majesty but I was hoping to have a brief word with Prince Keith,” the man said hurriedly. He sounded out of breath and Keith suspected that he had been running all over the palace looking for him. He turned in his chair and beckoned the man over, “Of course,” he smiled kindly and saw Shiro shooting him a curious look from the corner of his eye.

The man looked briefly taken aback by Keith’s uncharacteristic kindness and blinked as if he hadn’t heard him correctly.

“Excellent, Your Highness, excellent,” he said after a short hesitation, hurrying over to where Keith sat and dumping the large folder into his lap. He opened it to reveal hundreds of coloured fabric swatches, sorted into different shades. 

“As you may be aware, Your Highness, we are finalising the details of your impending nuptials and need to know what shade of white and which material you want for the linens at the banquet,” he explained, flipping the large pages to land on the white swatches.  

“Okayyy,” Keith nodded warily, looking down at the swatches and furrowing his brow in confusion.

They all looked exactly the same….he couldn’t tell one from another.  

“Oh um…well…” He looked up at Shiro to find his brother grinning at him, amused to see Keith in such a predicament. He knew Keith hated shit like this.

“I believe that Lance wanted to choose the colour scheme,” he smiled at the man with a small nod and went to close the folder, proud of himself for having found a solution so quickly. However, the staff member stopped him from doing so. 

“Yes, and he has to an extent. But he wanted white linens,” the man explained, reopening the folder and gesturing to the samples, “But we don’t know which shade of white.” 

Shade of white? 

Shade of white?! 

White was fucking white! 

“Oh…can you not just ask him?” Keith asked as politely as he possibly could, even though his patience was already at its limit.

“No, your highness.” 

“And why is that?” Keith gritted out, acutely aware that his relationship with Shiro was still in the infant stages of repair. He had to show him he was capable of change. Capable of being a better person. Capable of not losing his shit at every minor inconvenience.

“Because,” the man said as if that answered anything. 

“Because what?”

“Because it’s best if you make the decision.”

“Why?”

“Because Your Highness.”

“Because….?” 

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“No - I mean...because what? Why can’t Lance choose?”

“Because Your Highnes--”

“--Because what?!” Keith snapped and the guy blinked in surprise, looking very offended. Keith immediately kicked himself for losing his cool. He raised a hand, “I apologise. I just want to know why you cannot ask Lance for his preference when he has made it clear that he would like to choose the colour scheme for the wedding.”

The guy sighed in defeat, “Because, Your Highness,” he started, glancing at Shiro before locking eyes with Keith, “Master McClain said, and I quote, that ‘he does not give a flying fuck about the wedding anymore’ and that we ‘better ask Prince Keith what he wants’.”

Keith was stunned. The guy had clearly been trying to spare him from the embarrassment.

“Oh….right,” he uttered, feeling his face heat up with mortification.

“Yes, Your Highness,” The guy answered with a sardonic smile, “So you see, we had no choice but to come to you. Now, back to the samples,” he gestured back down to the book.

Keith looked up at his brother for help but Shiro who was still grinning shook his head and raised his hands defensively, “Don’t look at me!” 

Keith cringed and looked back down to the samples, squinting at them to try and find the difference between them but it was absolutely impossible. He blindly jabbed his finger at one and hoped for the best, “Um, this one, then….um, please?” 

The man grimaced at his choice, “Are you quite sure, your Majesty?” 

Keith, confused, looked back down to his choice - a simple white cotton (he assumed) - why on earth would that be offensive?

“Why?” 

“That’s more of an ivory, don’t you think?”

“Is it ?” 

The man cackled loudly, “I’d say!” 

“Oh, okay…then, how about…” Keith pointed to another shade and watched as the guy bared his teeth in distaste. 

“Really?” 

“What?”

“It’s very cream, isn’t it?” 

“I don’t know… is it?”

“Yes, Your Highness.” 

“Ok, well…can you just…” he looked up to see the guy shaking his head at him, “You can’t…Okay,” Keith concluded with an exasperated shake of his own head. So the guy couldn’t choose for him but also wouldn’t accept Keith’s choices? That made perfect sense.

Feeling his anger starting to rise rapidly, Keith did his best to stay calm and collected. He could do this. He could be a better person.

“Well, in that case,” he turned back to the samples and ran his finger slowly across them, watching the guy’s reaction for a sign. When his eyes lit up, Keith stopped. “Um… This one ?”

“Perfect, Your Majesty!” The man exclaimed excitedly, “An excellent choice, indeed!” 

Keith sighed in relief and looked up to find Shiro barely able to contain his laughter. He mouthed ‘fuck off’ to him which caused Shiro to burst out laughing. Keith felt a warmth in his tummy that he hadn’t felt in a while. 

He was about to close the folder when the guy piped up again. 

“Ok, now onto the napkins.”

 *****

Friday came around quickly and before Keith knew it, he was being escorted to the limo that would take him and Lance to their first public visit together as a couple.

He was wearing another Mr Kim creation – a fitted black tunic with red stitching and trim which came all the way up to his neck, black tailored trousers and black leather shoes which were so shiny that Keith could practically see his face in them. As always, the ensemble was finished off with his silver family crest which was pinned onto the left-hand side of his chest.

Not that he ever gave a damn about his appearance but for once in his life, he actually thought he looked quite nice - dapper even. He had allowed the palace stylists to tie his hair up into a neat bun and didn’t even protest when the makeup artists approached him with some light concealer. He sat still and even smiled warmly at them, wanting desperately to maintain the good impression he had made over the past few weeks. 

He spotted Thace, Kolivan, Coran and Lance (who was with his own security guards), waiting at the entrance of the Palace. When they saw Keith approaching, the guards instinctively stepped in front of Lance, as if to shield him from Keith – something they weren’t able to do so blatantly at Mr Kim’s store. 

Keith swallowed and tried to save face, giving a small smile to Thace and Kolivan who had rushed over to offer him some last-minute advice. 

“Remember to smile,” 

“--And don’t swear.”  

“Be polite!” 

“--Try not to get angry.” 

"Don't roll your eyes!"

"And for the love of god, try and look like you actually want to be there."

Keith wanted to roll his eyes at every comment but instead opted to grit his teeth and nod his head obediently. 

Did they think he was that fucking stupid? 

“Good luck,” Thace finally concluded, slapping him heartedly on the shoulder. It was the friendliest he had been with him since the incident and Keith couldn’t help but get his hopes up that the frosty attitude of Shiro and Company was finally thawing.

He followed his security guards outside to the awaiting cars and watched as Lance made his way to the opposite side, doing his best not to look at Keith. He was wearing an outfit similar to Keith’s, except his was in the signature Altean royal blue and gold which complemented his dark skin. Just like Keith’s outfit, Lance’s was finished off with his family crest - a roaring lion surrounded by flowers. But unlike Keith, who had only endured a light touch-up to the bags under his eyes, Lance had clearly been assaulted with heavy foundation. His injuries were barely visible and Keith sincerely hoped that by the wedding they would have disappeared altogether.

He climbed inside the limo revelling in the fact that Dickhead 1 and Dickhead 2 would be riding in one of the two escort cars - a precaution that the palace always took for public appearances. 

Unfortunately, just as Keith was celebrating being sans security guards for the first time in over two weeks, Lance’s guards clambered inside the limo and positioned themselves in the seats directly opposite him, fixing him with a cold, hard stare. Coran was sandwiched in the middle of them, sunglasses on and grinning from ear to ear, seemingly oblivious to the palpable tension Keith was certain could be cut with a knife.

“Your first appearance as a couple, ey?” He announced cheerily and Keith smiled politely, not daring to look in Lance’s direction to see his reaction. 

“The first of many, I expect!” Coran continued and Keith offered another tense smile in reply. It wasn’t like he could blurt out a ‘You’re damn right, Coran!’ because now wasn’t the time nor the place. 

Coran nodded eagerly, his head turning from Keith to Lance and back again as if he was desperate for one of them to take him up on his offer of conversation. 

Luckily (or unluckily depending on how you saw things) his phone began to ring and because it was Coran and he was wearing a Bluetooth earpiece, he proceeded to answer the call and talk obnoxiously loud for the whole journey. But Keith didn’t complain, he was able to keep quiet and look out of the window without having to worry about answering pointless questions or dealing with the scrutinising stares from Lance’s security guards.

He couldn’t help but wonder, as he watched Dabazaal zoom by, if he would ever get the chance to apologise to Lance. 

*

When they arrived at the Children’s Hospital, they were met with the sound of muffled screaming. Luckily the windows were tinted, so the crowds couldn’t see Keith’s horrified face at the reaction his mere presence had garnered. 

It was utterly ridiculous. 

There were grown-ass women holding homemade signs with his face plastered on them, some even seemed to be in hysterical tears. They were all squished against metal railings – barriers on either side of the walkway, as though it was a red carpet event and not a simple hospital visit. 

The doors were opened for them and Lance’s security guards exited first, doing a thorough scan of the area. Coran followed shortly after and before Keith could even register that he was finally alone with Lance, a guard was ducking his head back into the car and gesturing to them that it was safe for them to exit.

Keith closed his eyes, took a deep breath and got out of the vehicle.

If he thought the crowds had been screaming beforehand, it was nothing on the sound that met him as the public finally caught a glimpse of him. 

It was deafening.  

It took him back to all those years ago whenever he would accompany his mother and father on visits. He couldn’t tell you how many teddy bears he had been given over the years but he could easily fill a room with them back at the palace.

When his parents died, he donated them all to orphanages, nurseries and hospitals, not wanting to keep any momentum that reminded him of just how ‘special’ he was.

When he turned 18, the gifts he received grew more sinister. There wasn’t a week that went by without several pairs of women’s panties – most of which had been worn - appearing in the palace’s post, and it took the announcement of Keith being gay to make the disgusting ‘gifts’ stop. He still received the odd pair of underwear every now and then but they were mostly from male omegas who had waited until they were in heat to send them, hoping that Keith would be so intoxicated with their scent that it would spur him to abolish the 10,000-year-old rule and marry a commoner.  

Yeah right. Like it was just that easy.

Because of the risk of coming across a pair of soiled briefs, Keith couldn’t remember the last time he had opened his own mail, and his staff knew there was a strict criteria to fill before a letter or package could land in his lap or else there would be hell to pay.

Christ, no wonder they all hated him. 

However today, Keith noticed that many people in the crowd were holding bunches of flowers for him - a far cry from gross knickers and too many stuffed toys. He suddenly felt very small, knowing that complete strangers had gone out of their way to purchase a gift for him with money they probably didn’t have.  

It was very overwhelming.

He did his best to smile and wave, as the crowds screamed his name over and over again. He was so lost in the moment that he didn’t even register Lance coming to stand next to him until the roar of the crowd increased and Keith looked around to see what had caused the commotion. 

Lance smiled at him but it didn’t quite reach his eyes and Keith knew that he was putting on another Oscar-worthy performance, just as he had done in the interview. Keith smiled back genuinely, desperately trying to convey some sort of an apology and then turned to carry on waving to the crowd. 

When Lance slipped his hand into Keith’s free one, he flinched but didn’t pull away, instead, he threaded their fingers together and held onto it tightly.

Together, they walked hand in hand towards the excitable crowd. 

*****

“What happened to you?” The little girl asked, touching her finger to Lance’s bruises which were only visible up close.

They were at the end of their hospital tour on one of the children’s wards where they had gathered on the small carpeted area that housed all the toys. They had an audience of around fifteen children who sat cross-legged in front of them, staring up at them in awe. Lance and Keith were both sat on bean bags – a feat which had made the designated press photographer almost swallow his own tongue in excitement. 

The children were suffering from various illnesses. Some had casts on their arms or legs, some had breathing tubes, others were wearing hats, concealing their hair loss, and some looked absolutely fine. Keith and Lance had been told about the more severe cases and the children who might not make it to their tenth birthday. 

It had been humbling, to say the least. 

There were also dozens of nurses gathered around and Keith suspected not all of them worked on this particular ward. They were gawking at them both as though they were the star attraction of the local zoo. 

“I fell off my horse,” Lance smiled easily, “And I really wouldn’t recommend it.” 

The children and staff all giggled.  

Keith tensed beside him. 

“Did you cry?” Another child with their hand already raised, asked. 

Lance nodded again, “Uh-huh. It really, really hurt.” 

“My brother called me a baby because I cried when I broke my arm,” another little girl said, raising her cast as if they needed proof that she had really broken it. 

Lance frowned, “Well you can tell him that even princes cry. It doesn’t mean that you’re not brave. When something hurts, it’s okay to cry. And if you’re feeling sad, sometimes it’s even good to cry.” 

The children nodded eagerly in agreement, satisfied with Lance’s answer. 

“Are you mad at your horse?” A little boy, whose hand hadn’t yet gone down blurted out.

“I was,” Lance nodded solemnly, “I was really mad at him at first and I didn’t think I’d ever be able to forgive...um...to ride him again but,” he paused and licked his lips and Keith could not look away, “But then I remembered that everyone - even...even...um horses - make mistakes and sometimes, you just gotta get back on that horse because if you don’t...you never will.”

The children nodded once again in agreement and Lance’s eyes flicked to Keith’s. 

“Can you sign my cast?” A little boy blurted out, breaking the tension. He was immediately joined by the rest of the children who started shouting out, “Mine too!” “Mine too!” even the ones without casts on. 

Keith and Lance were more than happy to oblige and they quickly got to work signing the various casts, notebooks and toys that were presented to them. Keith found that he didn’t actually mind it. In fact, he even caught himself smiling.

“When you get married, are you and Prince Lance going to have babies?” A little girl asked Keith who was partway through signing her bright neon pink cast – he almost ruined his signature at the question, pen jolting in his hand. 

He looked up into her big brown eyes, “Um,” he started quietly, “Um, I think so, yeah,” he nodded, unable to do anything else than tell her what she wanted to hear.

“How many babies are you going to have?” she asked and Keith huffed out a laugh at her boldness.

“Well, Lance wants five so we’ll just have to see,” he smiled just as he finished writing his signature. He looked up to see if there was anyone else waiting and caught Lance staring at him with an unreadable expression on his face.

“Well kids, I think it’s time for Lance and Prince Keith to go,” Coran announced delicately.  

“Noooooo!” The children protested collectively, rushing around the couple and enveloping them in a group hug. 

“We’ll come back soon,” Lance chuckled and ruffled the hair of one of the children. 

“You promise?” the girl with the bright pink cast on asked. 

Lance held out his little finger, “Pinky promise,” he said, making sure he shook pinkies with everyone in the circle. 

Keith couldn’t help but smile at the display, Lance was great with kids.

He felt a tugging on his tunic and looked down to see a tiny boy gazing up at him in wonder, “Do you promise too?” he asked.

“Oh, absolutely,” Keith nodded before squatting down next to Lance and offering out his pinky to shake.  

When all pinkies had been thoroughly shaken and Keith and Lance had promised several more times to come back and visit, they left the ward and were escorted back to the entrance by the gaggle of overly excited nurses who - as Keith suspected - did not work on that particular ward.

“Your highness, thank you again for everything you’ve done for us,” said the main nurse who had greeted them, “We will never forget your generosity,” She beamed and bowed graciously as the rest of the staff nodded their heads in agreement. 

“You are most welcome,” Keith smiled back kindly, “We hope to raise even more money for the hospital in the future.”

“That would be wonderful. Thank you, Your Majesty, and can I just say, once again, how honoured we all are for finally meeting you.”

Keith smiled genuinely and shook hands with each and every one of the staff members who had gathered in the foyer to say goodbye.

After one last photo of Keith and Lance with the large group of doctors and nurses, complete with a novelty-sized cheque, they made their way back to the cars. 

“We hope you have a wonderful wedding,” The nurse called out after them, “We’ll be watching!”  

***** 

When they left the hospital, the weather had taken a turn for the worse. Gone was the bright blue sky and shining sun and in its place a blanket of dark grey clouds and the heaviest rain Keith had seen in a long time. Despite the awful weather, the crowds remained in full force, wanting to catch another glimpse of the royal couple. They screamed at the sight of them but Keith barely got the chance to wave back before he and Lance were quickly ushered towards the awaiting cars.

Despite only being open to the elements for less than a minute, the rain had done a good number on the both of them. They were soaked to the bone. Keith’s ponytail was dripping wet and his tunic almost felt like a second skin, clinging to him uncomfortably. He could see Lance out of the corner of his eye, hair plastered to his face and wiping away the rainwater that kept falling into his eyes.

Coran had opted to sit in one of the escort cars on the way home which Keith considered a small victory. He obviously didn’t feel as though Keith was a big enough risk that they needed three people supervising him. However, Keith still had to contend with Lance’s two security guards sitting opposite him and staring at him coldly.

About ten minutes into the journey home, the limo came to an abrupt stop and the security guards put their fingers to their earpieces. A split second later they had both bolted out of the limo, leaving Keith and Lance alone together.  

“What’s going on?” Lance voiced nervously. He had probably forgotten that he wasn’t actually speaking to Keith (unless a member of the public was present), his fear overtaking his other senses. 

Keith gave a light shake of his head and said, “I don’t know,” all the while straining his neck to look out of the window, trying to see the reason for the delay. But it was no use. The heavy rain had caused the windows to fog up and even when he wiped the condensation away using the sleeve of his tunic, he could only see the blurry patterns left by the rain. 

A moment later, the sound of the automatic locks clicked into place and they both jumped out of their seats at the noise, which Keith swore mimicked the sound of a gunshot. It didn’t exactly instil them with confidence but Keith knew that it was probably nothing. There was probably a discarded shoe in the middle of the road or a dead animal or something else that the royal security never took for granted. This wasn’t his first time at the rodeo, after all.

He heard Lance let out a shaky breath and turned to see him biting at his fingernails nervously. He didn’t know whether or not Lance’s nervousness was down to the possible threat of a terrorist attack or the fact that it had dawned on him that he had been left alone with Keith. 

It was probably the latter. 

“Hey,” Keith said gently, getting Lance’s attention, “It’s going to be okay. The limo is bulletproof.”  

He thought he was helping the situation. He thought his words would reassure Lance that everything would be okay but the look of horror on the omega’s face told Keith that it was probably the worst thing he could have said. 

 “Gee, thanks,” Lance muttered before turning his head and looking out of his own window again. 

Keith didn’t realise that other people may not be as used to breaches of security as much as he was. God, was this Lance’s first threat or something? If Keith had a nickel for every death threat he received, well – he’d have a shit load of nickels that’s for sure. 

They sat in an uncomfortable silence for a while and Keith knew this was his best chance - probably only chance - of apologising. He had waited weeks for the opportunity and he didn’t know when he would next get the chance of being alone with Lance...probably never if the security guards had anything to do with it. 

“Lance, um...about...about what happened,” Keith began nervously. He looked down at his lap, unable to face him. 

“Do we have to do this?” Lance asked quietly. He was still staring out the window as if determined not to face Keith either. 

Keith raised his head and looked over at him sadly, ignoring his request, “What I did wasn’t right--” 

“--No shit,” Lance interjected spitefully. 

Keith hesitated. He knew this wasn’t going to be easy.  

“It’s just – I – it’s like…  I don’t really know what happened. All I remember is that you were mocking me and I –  I just – I just lost it.”  

Lance turned his head to look at Keith with an evident scowl on his face, “Isn’t this supposed to be an apology?”  

Keith nodded sheepishly, “Yeah.” 

“But you’re blaming me for making you snap?”  

Keith cringed into himself, this wasn’t going the way he wanted it to. He just wanted Lance to see where he was coming from. Make him understand why he had done what he had done. He had a history of violent outbursts. He didn’t do well with controlling his anger. He was a fucking arsehole if truth be told. So he had taken his frustrations out on Lance. It wasn’t an excuse and he was sorry. Really sorry.

Christ, why couldn’t he just say that?! 

“Excellent. Absolutely incredible. Fantastic apology,” Lance delivered sarcastically, clapping his hands together and giving Keith a sardonic smile, “I’d give you fifteen out of ten.” 

Keith swallowed harshly and tried again, still staring down at his lap, “Look, there isn’t any excuse for what I did.” 

“Really? Because it sounds like you’re trying to find one.” 

“Lance, I’m trying to apologise.” 

“This is you trying?!” 

Keith reluctantly lifted his gaze and locked eyes with Lance, “Look, what I did. I can’t defend it,” he said dejectedly, shaking his head and looking away again. He couldn’t help it but there was something so piercing about Lance’s blue eyes that he couldn’t hold the contact with them. Keith couldn’t bear that the last time he had really stared into them, he had seen fear, pain and sadness, “It was wrong, and I – I –” Keith breathed out heavily, pausing trying to get his words right. 

“You look constipated,” Lance spat coldly. 

“Lance, please. This is really hard for me.” 

“Oh, it’s hard for you?” Lance sneered, “God, I totally forgot you were the one who got their ass kicked and had to spend a painful night in the ER getting their nose reset and their shoulder reconnected to their fucking torso. God, how rude of me? Oh, wait! That wasn’t you, was it? No, no. That was me.” 

“Look, Lance, I’m -- I’m --” Keith paused at a loss for words. Why the fuck was this so hard?! 

“Want some help? People usually lead with ‘I’m sorry’.” 

Keith looked up to see Lance glaring at him furiously and really, could Keith blame him? He couldn’t even get an apology right. 

“I’m sorry. I really am,” he said genuinely. 

Lance huffed out a laugh and looked away, “I don’t accept it.” 

“What?” 

“I said I don’t accept it.” 

“Oh,” Keith voiced – he was at a loss of anything else he could say. He was prepared for Lance not to accept his apology - he knew it was a given. But what he wasn’t prepared for was how to handle it. 

What now?

Lance waited for him to continue, as though he was fully expecting Keith to fight for his forgiveness. When he didn’t, Lance spat out a humourless laugh, “God, you think you can just – God, Keith!”  he began, as if the dam to his true feelings on the matter had fractured and he could no longer keep them bottled up inside, “What about the past two and half months, huh?! You’ve treated me like absolute shit – worse than shit and you sit here and—and fucking dance around it – Christ —I had to prompt you to say it! You couldn’t even bring yourself to say those fucking words to me. Like I’m not worthy of them…like I’m nothing to you,” he reeled, shaking his head violently, “I don’t know where I’ve gone wrong. I’ve been trying so fucking hard with you and  I—I—“ he stopped himself from continuing and closed his eyes as if trying to ground himself. His chest was heaving with exertion and the corners of his eyes were damp with the beginnings of tears. 

Keith just stared, not knowing what else to do. He felt small – pathetically so. Because Lance was right – he couldn’t even apologise by himself. 

“Why do you hate me?” Lance asked quietly, voice wavering with sadness. 

Keith blinked, taken aback, “I don’t… I don’t hate you, Lan--” 

“--Yes, you do.” 

Keith paused and let the sound of the heavy raindrops falling against the limo’s metal rooftop engulf him but he didn’t look away from Lance’s piercing stare. 

“It’s not you.”  

Lance frowned at Keith to elaborate, so he did. 

“It’s… It’s like everything in my life is decided for me and I have no control over anything. Where I go, what I do – it’s already been planned, and that’s always going to be the case for me. But the one thing I thought wouldn’t be decided for me,” he gestured between them, “Was this….But… it was... and…I should have expected it...but for some reason, I didn’t…and it floored me…and I think that’s why I…Look, I… I took things out on you because...because I could,” Keith shrugged, “Because I’ve been taking it out on the people who make these decisions for me all my life and it doesn’t change anything. But with you…,” He swallowed the lump that was forming in his throat, “With you, I know there’s a chance that if I push hard enough you might not come back and then the dominos will stop falling and maybe, just maybe, I’ll get to decide something for myself. I don’t expect you to understand but I think I hate you because of what you represent.” 

Lance scrunched up his nose and looked away, and Keith could tell he was desperately trying to stop himself from crying. 

“I um… I get that,” he nodded with a small sniff. 

The limo fell silent again with the only sounds coming from the pitter-patter of rain against the windows and roof. 

“You know,” Lance began, still staring out of the window, “All I ever wanted was to get married, have a big wedding and start a family of my own. When they told me about you, I was devastated because you were a stranger and I didn’t know you…and that’s not how it’s supposed to go,” he sniffed, “But a little part of me, like a tiny little part of me was excited because you were a Prince and I’d get that fairytale wedding I’d always dreamed of.” He turned and smiled a sad smile at Keith, “But now…” he swallowed down the lump in his throat and turned to look out of the window again and Keith’s eyes honed in on the single tear that fell down Lance’s cheek, “Now I think it’s the last thing I want.”  

They both sat in silence again and Keith let Lance’s words wash over him. He had done that to him. Ground him down. Chipped away until there was nothing left. Ruined his hopes and his dreams. 

“You don’t have to go through with it, Lance,” he uttered quietly. 

“No, I do.” 

Keith etched his brows together, thoroughly confused. 

“It’s not about you or me,” Lance confirmed solemnly. 

“But you’re miserable.” 

Lance huffed out a small laugh, “So are you.” 

“So what now?” 

“Now, we pretend that everything is peachy. We get married, you get crowned king and we live happily ever after.” 

Keith could feel his own tears coming on and blinked to will them away and looked down at his lap, to his left hand, to his ring finger which would soon be sporting a wedding band, connecting him to this person sat beside him. This stranger. 

Happily ever after. 

“For what it’s worth,” he said rubbing the back of his hand against his nose and sniffing quietly, “I am sorry. And not just for… you know… But for everything.” 

Keith swore he saw Lance nod in acceptance but at that moment the sound of the doors unlocking abruptly filled the silence and the doors swung open, as the two bodyguards climbed back inside. 

“False alarm, Your Highness,” one bodyguard said to Keith and Keith nodded politely. 

They must have sensed the tension in the air because Keith caught them exchanging a quick side-eye glance to each other. They were probably worried that Keith had gotten in a few slaps whilst they were away. It really didn’t help that it was obvious that they had both shed a few tears in their absence. He was probably going to be summoned to Kolivan’s office in the morning to inform him that from now on, they would be taking separate cars to events. Not that it mattered.

Happily ever after. 

They rode back to the palace in a palpable silence and Keith used the time to watch Daibazaal shoot past in the blink of an eye and thought about the last time he was truly happy.

But he couldn't remember.

* 

The next morning at breakfast, Keith was eating alone – a feat he had gotten used to when the door suddenly swung open and Lance walked in, also alone. 

Keith immediately dropped the spoon he was holding which made a loud clanging sound as it fell into his cereal bowl. 

“Sorry, I didn’t realise the time -- I’ll go,” he said, shooting a small smile Lance’s way. He knew he wasn’t allowed to be alone with Lance and wanted to get the fuck out of there before one of the ‘housekeepers’ informed Shiro and Company that the omega was alone with the ‘unstable alpha’. He imagined a team charging into the room to save Lance from his beastly ways.

They had only just begun to talk to him again, only just relaxed his supervision from the guards. He didn’t want to go back to square one with cold shoulders and even colder stares. 

“No, Keith it’s fine, stay,” Lance called out lightly and Keith, who was in the middle of standing up and retrieving his things, froze. 

He hesitated for a moment, looking at Lance for any signs of his discomfort but Lance simply offered a small smile in return and made his way over to a chair three seats away from Keith. He sat down and helped himself to a couple of slices of toast and began to smother them heavily with butter.  

Keith’s ass was still hovering inches above his own seat, prepared to bolt at any given moment but after a minute or so had passed, he reluctantly sat back down and tried to carry on as normal. 

Should he say something? Should he try and start a conversation or would that really be pushing his luck?  

Keith really didn’t know how he was supposed to act. They were alone together which was not allowed. He had repeatedly been told that IT. WAS. NOT. ALLOWED. Yet here he was, trying to eat his bowl of Froot Loops in peace whilst Lance just casually sat three seats away from him, snacking on toast and reading a newspaper, as if everything was hunky fucking dory. 

He should leave. 

He should definitely leave, right? 

Keith subtly checked his watch for the time. It was 7.40am, meaning that technically, it was still ‘his’ breakfast slot. He had been given the early sitting and had made sure to stick to it. So it wasn’t his fault if Lance decided to gate crash, right? 

But even so, he should leave. 

He should definitely leave. 

Just as he was thinking of bailing on his half-eaten bowl of cereal, a genuine housekeeper wandered in to see if they needed anything. Keith didn’t miss her look of ‘surprise’ as she looked from Lance to Keith and back again several times, as though she was checking that Keith didn’t have a gun to Lance’s head or that he wasn’t chained to the chair against his will. 

Lance looked up with a warm smile and ordered some eggs, along with a latte before calling over to Keith to see if he wanted anything. Keith stared dumbfounded for just a bit too long for Lance and the housekeeper not to notice the breakdown he was currently having, before panicking and answering in a high pitched voice, “Another coffee would be great, thanks.” 

To be quite honest, he hadn’t really touched his first coffee so fuck knows why he thought it was a smart idea to order a second. 

Lance went back to his newspaper and Keith waited for Shiro and Company to come flailing in with security, to rescue the delicate omega from the big bad alpha’s clutches.

But that…that never happened. 

Instead, Lance’s eggs came, followed shortly by the drinks and then they were left alone once again. 

So they ate in amicable silence – Keith was waiting for the other shoe to drop the entire time but it never did. 

The next day, the same thing happened and then the day after that, and the day after that.  

By the end of the week, Lance only sat one seat away from Keith.  

Chapter Text

**Two days after the incident**

“How are you feeling?” Shiro asked gently.  

It was the fourth time in two days that he had visited Lance’s room. Since he had gotten back from the hospital - well - the private clinic in the ass-end of nowhere, where nobody could have possibly seen him, Lance was treated like he was made of glass.

And in any other circumstance, he would have welcomed the attention.

But this wasn’t any other circumstance...

“Honestly, Shiro, I’m fine,” Lance replied nasally for what felt like the tenth time that day. He was propped up in his bed by way too many plush pillows, having been ordered to a week’s worth of bed rest at the insistence of the dodgy doctor he had seen. 

It was completely unnecessary.

Shiro shot him his signature guilt-induced smile and didn’t look at all convinced with his response. Lance couldn’t blame him, after all his nose was still sporting the large (and bloodied) bandage which, when paired with his two black eyes - the fallout from having emergency plastic surgery to put his nose right (that and the result of Keith’s fist connecting with his face) - not to mention the added bonus of the harsh bruise on his cheek, looked anything other than fine. 

But he was fine...Well, fine in the sense that he was doped up on the best industrial-strength painkillers that money could buy, not so fine that he was mentally ok with what had happened. But hey, at least he was going to get to go back home, right? The wedding would be called off and he had been told that he would never have to see Keith ever again. 

So yeah, he was fine. More than fine actually. He was fucking ecstatic if truth be told. Had he known that Keith kicking his ass would have guaranteed him a one-way ticket back to Altea, he would have made His Royal Highness snap a long, long time ago.

“Honestly, Shiro, I’m fine ,” he repeated and Shiro attempted to give him another smile - this one was slightly less guilty but no less sympathetic.

Lance didn’t understand why Shiro felt so bad. It wasn't like he had beaten him up. Just because he had the unfortunate burden of being related to his shit stain of a brother, didn’t mean that he had to take the blame for every single one of his mistakes too.

“You’ll soon be healed in no time,” Coran smiled kindly from where he was sitting on the other side of the bed and patted Lance’s ankle awkwardly.

“Yeah,” Lance nodded in agreement, “And then it’s home to Altea.” 

He didn’t miss how Shiro and Coran locked eyes at his statement and shifted uncomfortably in their seats as if Lance had just announced that he was changing his name to Lord von Dickface.

“What?” He asked bewildered, looking between the pair. Was it something he said?

Shiro coughed, clearing his throat, “Lance, um….about...about what I said to you,” he began, looking extremely uncomfortable.

“About me going back home?” Lance prompted and Shiro gave one small nod in reply, “What about it?”

“Well, um…I was hoping you might reconsider?” he asked tentatively and it took Lance about a fucking month to register what he had just said...what he had just asked him.

He blinked at him gormlessly.

…

He had to be joking.

In the silence that followed, Lance waited patiently. Waited for Shiro to crack up with a ‘Gotcha!’ or ‘I’m yanking your chain!’ but the prince just blinked right back at him with another guilty/pleading expression on his face, waiting for Lance’s response to his question, and okay... So this really wasn’t a joke.

Was he seriously asking him to give his fiancé - sorry - his attacker who had put him in the hospital, who had broken his nose and dislocated his shoulder and almost shattered his face - another chance at romance?

Was he fucking serious!?

“You can’t be serious,” He breathed out, eyes going comically wide as he looked to Coran for support. Unfortunately, Coran, the fucking traitor that he was, was also sporting the same pleading expression on his face, fixing Lance with his best ‘do it for Altea’ face. 

Lance shook his head in disbelief, “This isn’t happening...I’m dreaming this...the drugs ... this is the drugs, isn’t it? I’m hallucinating, I must be because you...you wouldn’t ask that of me--”

“--Now, Lance,” Coran interrupted, holding his hands up in surrender, “Please hear us out.”

Hear them out? Hear them out!?

Absolutely not!

“Absolutely not!” Lance voiced his thoughts aloud, looking around the room desperately. Was he being filmed!? Was this an elaborate prank?!  

It had to be.

He had started breathing heavily and was aware that he was shaking badly. Shiro and Coran seemed to notice the rapid change in his demeanour and kept exchanging furtive glances, which was doing nothing to sedate the anger that was rapidly rising within him.

How they had the nerve to even ask him--

“Lance, come on now, calm down,” Coran remarked, as though Lance was being just a tad too dramatic.

“FUCK-YOU-CALM-DOWN!” He shrieked hysterically, anger suddenly exploding all at once.

It was completely out of character for him and had he given one single fuck about how Shiro saw him, he might have found it in himself to be somewhat embarrassed. But he didn’t have one fuck left to give, that was the point.

You see, he had been very amenable in this shit-show of a situation up until now. He had done what he was told, grinned and bared every issue that was flung his way. Took a fist to the face and hadn’t pursued any justice. Enough was enough.

The taken-back looks of both Coran and Shiro informed Lance that they weren’t expecting this reaction. They were probably expecting Lance to bow down gracefully, take it on the chin like he always did, be a good little omega and just obey, obey, obey.

Well, fuck that! He had taken it on the chin quite fucking literally, hence why he was holed up in his room, in his bed, smacked off his tits on oxycodone. He was done. Stick a fork in him. He. Was. Done.

“Now, Lance. Really, you don’t have to be--”

“--Don’t, Coran! Just, don’t.”

The real kicker of it all though was that he actually thought Coran was on his side. That he had at least one person in his corner. But no, the ginger-haired coot was and had always been rooting for Team Kogane. 

“Lance--” Shiro tried but Lance cut him off abruptly.

“--I’d like you both to leave...NOW,” he demanded, crossing his arms over his chest in an effort to stop the shaking.

“Lance, please--”

“--GET OUT!” 

“If you would just listen--”

“--I DON’T CARE! I don’t want to listen! I’m--I’m going home. Back to Altea. I never should have come here -- I didn’t want to come here. I want to go home. Why won’t you let me go home!?”

He could feel himself starting to tear up, out of frustration rather than sadness. Why tell him he could go home if they were just going to cruelly retract the offer? They couldn’t make him stay. He’d go to the press if they did! Sell his story to whatever tacky magazine would take it - how he was kept against his will. How the future king of Daibazaal beat the living shit out of him for daring to best him in a sparring match. How His Royal Highness was nothing more than a fucking bully who would run the country into the ground, no doubt about it.

Shiro looked utterly heartbroken, “Lance, if you leave--”

“-- WHEN I leave!” Lance spat, voice laced with venom. 

Shiro sighed in defeat, “When you leave, Lance, the throne will be forfeited to Prince Lotor.”

To say he was shocked at the words that had just left Shiro’s mouth would be an understatement. It was like someone had sucked all the air out of the room and Lance had gasped desperately trying to get the last of it.

His mouth fell open involuntarily as he processed what he had just been told. He looked to Coran for confirmation and saw that the man looked as defeated as Shiro did. He nodded stiffly.

“Lotor?” Lance breathed out, anger dissipating immediately. “What? ”

“It’s true,” Coran began, shifting in his seat like he was making himself comfortable for a long explanation. “Do you remember our conversation in the limo? The first day you arrived in Daibazaal?”

Lance shook his head. That seemed like a lifetime ago. So much had happened since then that Lance could only conjure up hazy memories of the fighting pits, a giant foam finger and Keith flipping him the bird.

“You asked me why you had to marry Prince Keith and we...well we--”

“--Wouldn’t tell me,” Lance concluded bitterly, the memories of said conversation coming flooding back to him all at once.

Coran licked his lips, “Lance, every decision we have made has had your best interests at heart.”

Lance snorted and gestured to his bruised face, “Clearly.”

“Look, the less you knew, the better. We didn’t want to scare you off with politics and a war that wasn’t yours to fight.”

“But the war’s over?”

“Is it?” Coran asked rhetorically.

Lance looked to Shiro who was watching him intently. He shook his head.

“To the public, Lance, yes. To us, far from,” he said solemnly and Lance frowned. He had no idea what the fuck was going on anymore.

“I don’t...I don’t understand,” he said, brow pinched tightly, trying to make sense of it all.

“Lance, as you know, there are certain rules that must be followed if Keith is to be king,” Coran started, fixing Lance with a serious stare, “Ancient rules that cannot be changed. He has to be married before he is 21 to a royal omega, otherwise, he cannot claim the throne.  I don’t know whether or not you picked up on what Dianne said to Keith during the interview but there are only two homosexual royal omegas in the whole world. You are one of them.”

“And the other?” Lance asked.

“Is not an option.”

Lance frowned heavily, “Wait, wait, wait...that doesn’t explain anything …Why the hell would the throne be given to Lotor if I don’t marry Keith?”

“Because he is the next in line.”

Lance’s eyes widened.

“It’s true, Lance.” Shiro confirmed sadly, “It’s complicated but as my father was an only child, and his father too, it means if anything happens to Keith or if he is unable to meet the requirements to become king, it will be passed onto one of our surviving relatives.”

Lance blinked a couple of times, slowly getting with the programme, “Wait a minute,” he announced, a look of realisation falling on his face, “So….you’re….you’re related to Zarkon!?”

Shiro sighed heavily, “Distantly, yes.”

“Shit.”

Shiro huffed out a bitter laugh, “Yeah.”

“Wait - but why wouldn’t it be passed onto Zarkon?”

“Because he is already the king of Naxzela - he can’t rule both, they’re two different kingdoms,” Shiro shook his head lightly, “Like I said it’s complicated but all you need to know is that if Keith cannot be king, Daibazaal will be handed over to Lotor and subsequently Naxzela as a result.”

Lance was quiet for a while, digesting the information, “I don’t understand why you never told me this?” He directed at Coran sadly. He was hurt that they didn’t trust him with the information.

“We didn’t want to worry you,” Coran replied in earnest.

Lance furrowed his brow again, “Why would it worry me?”

Shiro bit his lip anxiously and exchanged a nervous glance with Coran, “Lance, there’s only one thing standing in Zarkon’s way of getting his hands on the throne.”

They both fixed him with a knowing stare and Lance’s eyes widened when the penny finally dropped, “Me?!”

They nodded.

“WHAT!? No...wait.... surely it’s Keith?”

Shiro shook his head, “I thought so too. And he is… of course he is. However, it’s much harder to take the future king of Daibazaal out of the equation than it is to--”

“-Get rid of me,” Lance breathed.

Shiro smiled sadly.

Suddenly everything made sense. His parents rehearsed responses to his questions that didn’t answer anything. Their cold attitude towards him when he expressed his reluctance to go through with it. The reason why Lotor had been interested in him.

“Lance,” Coran voiced and Lance was snapped out of his thoughts, “There’s a reason why you are only one of two royal gay omegan males.”

“Huh?”

“There were others - not many but enough. Enough for there to be a choice, if you will.”

Lance swallowed, “What happened to them?”

“They all died - in ‘freak accidents’,” Coran chuckled a humourless laugh, “Conveniently, it wasn’t long after the palace confirmed Prince Keith’s sexuality. One by one they fell. Car crashes, hunting accidents, overdoses. We couldn’t prove anything, of course. But we knew. We all knew.” He paused to let the gravity of his words sink in. Lance was horrified. He couldn’t look away. “When you came out to your parents, they informed me immediately. You see, there’s a royal database containing information on every royal from every monarchy across the world. It helps royals match up - you can think of it almost like a dating site. Part of my role is keeping Altea’s database up to date. We have to enter everything about each royal. Everything. Hair colour, blood type, sexuality... But I...I decided not to change your sexual preference because - I knew what that might mean for you.”

“But you...you told Naxzela? Lotor knew about me?”

Coran sighed, “Unfortunately, Naxzela has spies everywhere. We were already well on our way to Daibazaal when I got the call.”

“Wait…” Lance frowned, looking down at his lap. His head was hurting from all the information he had to process, “But you threatened Shiro? You gave them a day to change their minds?”

“--Lance, I’m still your royal aide. I wanted to get you the best deal.”

Shiro snorted and Coran shot him a playful grin.

“As I said to you in the limo, Lance. We would not let you go to Naxzela even if you weren’t to marry Keith.”

Lance nodded slowly in understanding. His head was spinning.

“Look, Lance. I know I said that you could go home and if you really want to do that, I won’t stop you,” Shiro assured him, “But if you do, we’re….well....we’re fucked.”

Lance let out a delirious laugh at Shiro’s use of the ‘F' word, “You and me both by the sounds of it.”

What was stopping Lance from having his own ‘freak accident’ the moment he stepped back in Altea? Even if he didn’t go through with the wedding, who's to say he would be left alone? Surely they’d want to make sure there was absolutely no chance of Keith becoming king. 

He was damned if he did and damned if he didn’t.

“Is this why Naxzela started the war with you?” Lance asked, slowly putting pieces of the puzzle together. He’d always been told it was over land and who owned said land - or thought they did.

It was complicated.

Or maybe it wasn’t.

Shiro nodded, “Yeah. The war was Zarkon’s attempt to gain control over Daibazaal without having to go through the proper procedures. If you invade a country and overthrow whoever’s in charge, rather than waiting - hoping - that eventually one day, by some miracle it might be passed onto you fairly, then that cuts out years and chances that may never come. You have to understand, Lance, at the time of the war, my father was alive and had two heirs--,” He stopped himself abruptly, realising what he had just said and coughed in embarrassment, a light blush dusting his cheeks, “Well um...They um...they didn’t know about me at the time, so Zarkon was desperate. My dad had two sons who would grow up and have their own families - their own heirs to the throne - Daibazaal was getting further and further away from him. Starting a war and masking the real reason for it was his way of getting Daibazaal once and for all. Obviously, it didn’t work in his favour but he did get rid of several obstacles in his way...and now only you and Keith stand between him and the throne. Getting rid of you would mean Keith has no more options. We can’t change the rules and we can’t create royal omegas that don’t exist. But we can protect you. We will protect you, Lance.”

Lance fell silent again. He knew they were waiting for him to give them an answer but he didn’t know which way was up and which way was down. He now understood why Coran and his parents had kept this from him. By the sounds of things, he might as well be walking around with a big red target on his back.

“Keith and I were supposed to accompany our parents on that royal visit, you know.”

Lance looked up at Shiro and furrowed his brow in question.

“The visit that killed them. We were supposed to be there with them. But I...I had exams at college and Keith didn’t want to go without me, so we stayed behind.”

“You mean?”

“Yeah, I think he had plans to wipe us all out at the same time,” Shiro nodded in confirmation.

“But Keith was just 13….”

“Yeah,” Shiro voiced and looked away.

“Why does he want Daibazaal so badly?”

“Lance, he doesn’t just want Daibazaal. He wants the world,” Coran explained, “And he won’t stop until he gets it. Daibazaal is merely a stepping stone - the easiest stepping stone for him. He has plans, big plans and we cannot let him succeed.”

Lance nodded and fell silent again.  Basically, what they were saying was that it was down to him. The fate of an entire country fell solely on his shoulders.

“Look, Lance. I...none of this is your fault and I don’t want you to have to go through with something that you don’t want but,” Shiro sighed dejectedly, “You are our only hope.”

He wanted to be angry. Wanted to scream. Why was it down to him to save the day? His head was throbbing - overloaded with too much information and still sore. He had so many unanswered questions. So many missing pieces of the 50,000 piece puzzle. 

Why had Lotor been allowed at the polo match? Why had they been able to swan about openly in Daibazaal when he arrived if he was such a hot commodity? Why wasn’t the other omega an option?

Coran and Shiro seemed to sense his conflict. 

“Lance - I know I touched on Naxzela in the limo but I don’t think you realise just how bad it is,” Coran explained, “There are work camps for anyone who steps a toe out of line. Ridiculously long prison sentences for so much as jaywalking and let’s not forget the ongoing genocide,” he threw his hands up and Shiro nodded knowingly.

“Genocide!?” Lance squawked.

“Well, no one has been able to prove it but people in Naxzela go missing every day and are never found again. Not in the prisons, not in the work camps - not anywhere.”

Lance shuddered.

“The few people who have been lucky enough to escape the country have had to change their identities completely or go into hiding.”

“That’s awful.”

“Yes, it is,” Coran agreed heartily, “Now, can you imagine the people of Daibazaal living that way?”

Lance shook his head.

“Because that’s what will happen if Keith doesn’t become king and produce heirs to continue the Kogane Dynasty.”

The thought of producing heirs made Lance’s heart sink. He couldn’t stomach the thought of being in Keith’s presence again, let alone being intimate with him.

“But….but why isn’t anyone doing anything about Naxzela? About how they treat people?”

“They’re reluctant, of course. The ten-year war that Naxzela started with Daibazaal is enough to put any country off from trying to do the right thing. Politics, Lance -  I don’t pretend to understand them either. I imagine every other country is waiting until Naxzela fires the first shot before acting.”

Shiro nodded solemnly in agreement, “The only reason the war ended with Daibazaal was because Olkarion and Altea reluctantly had to step in. They knew they would be next if they didn’t stop them. We were almost defeated.”

“But you said the war is still going on?” Lance questioned.

“Oh, it very much is,” Shiro nodded again, “It’s obviously been getting worse as Keith approaches his birthday. And obviously the...um...the wedding.”

Lance cringed.

“Lance, we’re not going to make you do anything you don’t want to do. And we will understand if you don’t want to go through with it,” Shiro promised him again and Lance really did believe him.

But how could he not go through it?

How could he let the millions of people in Daibazaal down? How could he possibly live with himself knowing he had resigned them to an awful fate?

He couldn’t.

He wouldn't.

“No,” Lance shook his head slowly, “No, I will, um...I will go through with it.”

*****

Present-day

“And then the orchestra will start up and Lance will enter, escorted by his father - who - for the purpose of this rehearsal will be played by Thace,” Coran called out and gestured to the large set of regal double doors which were hauled open by two members of staff, revealing Lance and Thace who were linked by the arms.

“And then they will slowly walk down the aisle as so.”

Lance and Thace began to move elegantly down the aisle to where Keith and Shiro were standing at the end of the grand hall which had been transformed into a stunning wedding venue. The colour scheme Lance had decided on was a simple white and gold theme to complement the already heavily golden room, and even though the staff were making the last few finishing touches to it, Lance couldn’t deny how breathtaking it was. 

There were hundreds of luxurious white and gold chairs which had been set out into dozens and dozens of rows, either side of the makeshift aisle which, he had been informed, would feature a custom white runner with his and Keith’s initials embroidered in gold in the centre. 

At the end of each row of chairs stood intricate golden stands with gorgeous displays of stark white flowers. The chandeliers had been cleaned, polished and re-bulbed and every other inch of the room had been meticulously cleaned and touched up.

Pidge and her team had done a great job at masking the many cameras and monitors required for the live taping. Lance barely noticed them, as they were cleverly disguised by the many decorations. The wires had been concealed under the expertly placed tape and covered in theme-fitting colours so as to not stand out.

“Then Lance’s father will hand Lance over to Keith who will take Lance’s hand in his own as so,” Coran directed, placing Lance’s hand in Keith’s, “And then you will both turn to the officiant and begin the ceremony.”

He started to read out the script that the minister would be reading in less than 24 hours and Lance did his best to follow. They had each received their own copy to pour over which Lance had, memorising his lines as to not look like an absolute knob jockey in front of the tens of millions of people who would be tuning in to watch them.

“He will ask if anybody here knows of any lawful reason as to why these two people may not be joined together in holy matrimony,” Coran continued and Lance rolled his eyes as Keith went to put his hand up but was promptly smacked on the back of the head by Shiro.

“Then Shiro will step forward bearing the rings,” Coran held out his arm towards Shiro who was still scowling at Keith. He stepped forward and pretended to give the rings to Keith, roughly placing nothing into his hands, as if warning him that he better start taking the rehearsal seriously. 

It amused Lance to no end that they were not practising with real rings. Not wanting to tempt fate on the already cursed wedding, they had decided it was best if they kept the rings locked safely away in the vault where they would remain, along with Lance’s engagement ring, until an hour before the wedding ceremony. 

“Keith will repeat his lines after the officiant and slip the ring on Lance’s finger, like so.” He gestured to Keith who blinked and reluctantly nodded in acknowledgement. He looked beyond bored with the proceedings.

Not happy with the lack of theatrics, Coran gestured to Keith for some sort of action and Lance swore he could hear Keith’s eyes rolling in their sockets as he half-heartedly mimicked placing the ring on Lance’s finger.

Satisfied, Coran nodded, “Then Lance will do the same for Keith.”

Lance, who was no stranger to theatrics, did his best to mime putting a ring on Keith, slowly sliding his thumb and middle finger delicately down Keith’s ring finger as sensually as possible. Mostly to annoy him but also to remind everyone that he was a goddamn professional who would pull out all the stops to flog this fucking dead horse of a wedding.

The prince cocked an unimpressed brow at him that screamed, ‘Was that really necessary?!’ But Lance just shot a sarcastic smile right back.

“Then the officiant will say, ‘By the power vested in me by the Kingdom of Daibazaal, I hereby declare you husband and husband. Prince Keith, you may now kiss your groom!’ And then you will kiss,” Coran finished, looking expectantly at Keith whose eyes widened comically at the request.

“What...like now!?” He spluttered, turning bright red.

Lance stifled a snort.

“What’s the problem?” Coran asked, thoroughly amused. “You’ll be doing it tomorrow in front of millions of people!”

“Yeah, I...I know and I will,” Keith nodded defiantly, although he was still resembling a cherry tomato.

“And it has to be a good kiss, mind you!” Coran insisted, still looking expectantly at His Royal Highness, “No quick pecks and pull-aways. A good five seconds of smooching - give the audience what they want. But don’t forget, you can’t slip Lance the tongue either - that’s way too tacky for a royal wedding. Save it for the bedroom!”

“Oh my god,” Keith breathed, looking away, mortified.

Coran, who was smirking from ear to ear, shot a cheeky wink at Lance as though he had just told the joke to end all jokes. However, the real joke was that they wouldn’t be saving anything for the bedroom, apart from sleeping which Lance assumed would be done, stiffly and as far away from each other as physically possible.

“Anyway, that was a good first rehearsal. After the kiss, the officiant will introduce you as Prince Keith and Prince Lance Kogane and you will walk arm in arm down the aisle to the exit. Bish, Bash, Bosh!” He smacked his hands together on each word, “As soon as Lance’s family arrives, we’ll do another run through with all of the wedding party present, just to be safe.”

Everyone nodded and started to make their way out of the room. Coran, Shiro, Thace and Kolivan walked on ahead, leaving Keith and Lance lagging behind, walking in an awkward silence which would have been fine, had it not been for the small fact of them getting married tomorrow and living ‘happily ever after’.

Lance grit his teeth at the thought, “You do know you’re going to have to actually kiss me,” he muttered bitterly, just loud enough for Keith to hear him.

“Yes - of course - I know that,” Keith bit back tersely.

Since their visit to the hospital, something had changed between them. There was an unwritten understanding that they had to put whatever differences aside and get on with things. Keith was still his usual grumpy self but even Lance could admit that he was at least trying. It was baby steps at best and whilst Lance still hadn’t forgiven Keith for what he had done, he was willing to be civil and most importantly, do what was right...not for his sake but for the millions of people of Daibazaal.

“And it can’t be just a peck, Keith.”

“Yes! I am aware. ”

“Like, it’s going to be seen by millions of people. And I’m not about to look like a fool because of y--”

“--YES! God, okay!” Keith hissed, stopping abruptly so that the others wouldn’t witness his outburst. His behaviour was still being monitored closely, something they were both acutely aware of, and even though their guards had relaxed somewhat (they were no longer breathing down their necks), they were still ready to step in if needed.

If Lance needed, that is.

Lance came to a halt too and looked at Keith. He was still sporting a blush from Coran’s earlier teasing and Lance wondered if the embarrassment went beyond having to kiss someone he wasn’t completely comfortable with. Did the mortification stem from a lack of experience too perhaps? 

It was no secret that Keith wasn’t the most sociable person and Lance couldn’t imagine him flirting with anyone, let alone getting to first base with them.

He shrugged his shoulders casually and decided to test the waters, “I think we should practise it,” he proposed flippantly, hoping that Keith wouldn’t be able to see through his blatant pity masked as nonchalance offer.

However, from the look on Keith’s face, Lance wished he hadn’t bothered being polite. You would have thought that Lance had just stormed into his house on Christmas Day and pissed on his kids - he looked absolutely horrified at the thought of it!

“Well, don’t look too eager!” Lance scoffed and folded his arms angrily.

He was annoyed at himself for having the audacity to be surprised. You would have thought that unwanted rejection number 73 wouldn’t have come as that much of a shock to him...but alas. It did.

Was the prospect of kissing him really that horrific? Was he that repulsive to Keith?

He began to stalk off but Keith caught up to him quickly and softly placed his arm on Lance’s shoulder to stop him.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered sheepishly and Lance had to stop himself from falling over in shock.

Keith? Apologising!? And without being prompted? Well, blow him down with a feather!

Keith dropped his hand and shifted awkwardly as if he didn’t know how to hold himself.

“It's just...Do we have to?” he pleaded, looking down at the ground.

Lance stopped himself from screaming 'WHAT THE FUCK IS YOUR PROBLEM!?' in his face, not wanting to throw away what little progress they had made. But Christ, was it tempting.

“Keith, I’m not going to make you do anything. I just thought that it might be good for the both of us if we knew what was coming,” he explained diplomatically. 

It was quite surreal when he thought about it. Standing here with his soon to be husband, discussing whether or not they should practice their first kiss, like it was a business proposal and not, what it was supposed to be - a symbol of their love for each other.

Happily ever after.

Keith shook his head lightly, declining the offer for a second time, “We’ll be fine. It’s just a kiss,” he shrugged, finally looking Lance in the eye.

Lance stared straight back, mouth pinched, desperately holding back what he really wanted to say. If it was ‘just a kiss’ then why was Keith making it into such a song and dance? It’s not like they had to fuck in front of a live audience or anything. Plus - it was probably the most innocent of acts to do as a couple, besides holding hands! Like yeah, if tongues were involved, he could understand Keith stressing about it but they literally had to press their lips together for all of five seconds. Jesus fucking Christ! Give him strength. 

He reluctantly relented with an ‘Okay’ and a gentle shrug of his shoulders. He wasn’t going to push it. He’d offered and if Keith didn’t want to take him up on that, well, more fool him. Lance would just have to pull off another A-list performance tomorrow. As long as one of them knew what they were doing, they’d be fine.

They left the room and started walking down the long hallway together to their next destinations. Lance planned to hang out by the pool until his family arrived; his sister Veronica had texted him to say their flight had been delayed and that they wouldn’t be arriving until dinner, so Lance had the whole day to himself.

Coran, Shiro, Kolivan and Thace were still in front of them, talking animatedly about the wedding.

Keith was silent.

“So...what are you doing for the rest of the day?” Lance asked politely, desperately trying to alleviate some of the awkwardness that had descended following kiss-gate.

“Oh um…I have...I have a thing,” he replied vaguely and Lance stopped himself from rolling his eyes for the fiftieth time.

Why he kept trying with His Royal Highness was beyond him. He needed to accept that he would never get through to him. That this was his life now and that the best he could hope for was polite greetings at meal--

“--How about you?”

Lance tripped up slightly and snapped his head to look at Keith to make sure that he hadn’t just imagined the morbid bastard actually addressing him.

Sure enough, Keith was blinking expectedly at him, waiting for his answer.

“Oh um...I was going to hang by the pool. You know, catch some rays, enjoy a cheeky margarita. You’re welcome to join me lat--”

“LANCE!!!!”

The booming sound of a foreign voice came from nowhere and before Lance even had the time to process the sound or turn around and see who had made the outburst, Keith had leapt in front of him protectively, thrusting him behind his back with his arm.

Lance blinked and in another heartbeat, Keith leapt through the air and onto the owner of said voice, spearing them to the ground and twisting their arm behind their back.

It all happened so fast.

Suddenly Shiro, Kolivan, Thace and Coran were crowding Lance asking him if he was okay, and out of nowhere a team of security guards appeared with guns pointed at the alleged intruder.

“Who the fuck are you?!” Keith demanded to the guy he had held face down on the floor.

“AGHHHH!” The man yelled in pain as Keith applied more pressure to his arm, “What the fuck, man!? Is this any way to treat your future brother in law?”

Wait a minute…

Wait...

Lance knew that voice...

“LUIS?!” he yelled in disbelief, pushing his way past Shiro and Company to get a better look at the man. Sure enough, it was one of his older brothers, Luis, with his face squished against the floor, struggling to squint up at him.

“Yeah, it’s me. Hey, bro,” Luis said with great difficulty, as Keith had not let go of his arm nor got off of him. He attempted a small wave with his free hand and Lance waved back apologetically.

Keith blinked dumbly, head-turning from Lance to Luis, in confusion.

“Keith, this is one of my brothers, Luis,” Lance offered.

“Oh,” Keith uttered, dropping his hold quickly and getting off of him, “Um...sorry,” he murmured, helping Luis to his feet.

The security guards, however, still had their guns trained on him.

“Seriously guys, he’s my brother!” Lance waved, looking to Shiro for help.

“Stand down,” Shiro commanded sternly, although his tone wasn’t directed at them. They reluctantly lowered their weapons as Shiro stepped forward, “Hello, Luis, can I ask who let you in?” It was a polite demand rather than a question and ever so obvious that he was thoroughly pissed off.

Luis brushed himself down, “Oh...um one of the staff members, I guess?” he answered, rotating his shoulder and wincing in pain.

Lance knew the feeling well.

“Which one?” Shiro pressed in the same serious tone.

“Errr...I dunno?” Luis replied awkwardly, his eyes flitting around the group, “I just said I was Lance’s brother and they directed me this way.”

Kolivan muttered something to Thace who shook his head angrily. They looked at Shiro whose brow was furrowed deeply. He leant towards them and whispered something before turning and straightening himself up, as though suddenly remembering his manners. He extended a hand out to Luis and tried to plaster a smile on his otherwise furious face.

“I have to apologise, Luis,” he began, shaking Luis’s hand, “We’re all a bit tense today, as you can imagine, and there are strict procedures in place for visitors.”

“Or there are supposed to be,” Thace muttered.

“It’s lovely to finally meet one of Lance’s siblings. I’ve heard a lot about you,” He smiled kindly, “Your room is all ready for you and I’m sure Lance would love to show you around the palace,” he continued and Lance nodded eagerly at the suggestion, “If there’s anything you need, just ask any of the staff members. Are you hungry at all?”

“Well, I’m not, not hungry.”

Shiro let out a light laugh, “Great. I’ll have the kitchens prepare you something. What would you like? A sandwich? Pasta? Steak?”

Luis’s eyes widened, “S-Steak?” he stuttered and the group chuckled collectively.

Shiro nodded in amusement. Lance had had a similar reaction when Shiro had told him he could order whatever he wanted whenever he wanted. The novelty had yet to wear off.

“That would be great, thank you so much,” Luis said in awe.

“How do you take it?”

“Medium rare.”

“Perfect,” Shiro smiled warmly, “Now you must excuse me, I have some business to take care of, but I’ll leave you in your brother’s very capable hands.”

With that, Shiro and Company departed, followed by several guards, obviously on their way to sort out the breach of security, leaving Keith, Lance, Luis and the obligatory guards alone.

As soon as he could, Luis tackled Lance into a rough hug, pulling him tightly to his chest, “I’ve missed you, bro,” he declared into Lance’s hair.

Lance could have cried. He smelled like home.

“I’ve missed you too,” he said, clinging tighter than he ever had done to another person before, “Wait, I thought your flight had been delayed?”

“Pfffffff!” Luis sounded not letting go of him, “I got an earlier one. You think I’m stupid? Travelling with that many people...and kids!?”

He pulled away, keeping Lance at arm’s length and beamed at him, “I cannot believe my baby brother lives in a fucking castle, are you kidding me right now!?”

Lance laughed, “You knew where I was going!”

“Yeah but like...I didn’t think it would be like.... Like… it’s an actual castle, bro! Like straight out of Beauty and the Beast or something! Hey…” he turned to Keith who was standing awkwardly watching the exchange. Lance blinked. He had forgotten he was even still there. “Which way to the West Wing?”

Keith looked utterly bewildered, “Uh....What?”

“They don’t have a west wing, Luis - I’ve already asked," Lance smirked.

“Oh,” Luis lamented, head twisting in all directions still trying to take it in, “This is insane,” he remarked in awe and Lance couldn’t stop himself from grinning.

“You want a tour?”

“Are you kidding me!? Of course, I do!”

“Awesome! Let’s go.” Lance nodded his head in the direction for Luis to follow him but before they could go, Keith cleared his throat. Why he was still lingering like a fart, Lance had no idea. He usually couldn't wait to get away from Lance. 

They both turned to look at him.

“Um,” He said, as eloquently as ever, “I’m sorry about...um...before.”

Lance cocked an eyebrow at him. Okay, this was weird. It wasn’t even lunchtime and Keith had apologised twice already…

This was the boy who couldn’t bring himself to say sorry to Lance after severely injuring him but now he was handing ‘sorrys’ out for the fucking fun of it.

“Oh man, it’s no problem. If anything, I’m glad my baby brother has someone so protective of him,” he punched Lance in the arm lightly.

Keith and Lance shared a brief look.

“I can tell how much you care about him,” Luis smiled genuinely and it took everything in Lance to return it.

Keith looked constipated.

“Well, let’s go,” Lance announced, clapping his hands together in an effort to quickly change the subject.

“Awesome! You coming?” Luis asked Keith who looked at him like he had just arrived from Uranus.

“Oh um...I can’t…I have um...I have a thing,” Keith muttered, cheeks flushing crimson.

Lance cocked his head at him again. Just where was he going exactly? What was this thing he had?

“Say no more, man,” Luis winked, “I got you.”

Keith blinked in confusion and Lance took the opportunity to escape the painfully awkward conversation.

“We’ll see you at dinner, Keith,” He smiled and took hold of Luis’s hand, pulling him in the opposite direction to where the prince would be heading.

“Catch you later, man!” Luis called out to him, staggering after Lance.

When they were out of earshot, Lance hissed into his brother's ear, “What did you mean by ‘Say no more, man, I got you?’”

Luis snorted, “Bro, it’s the day before your wedding. He’s probably off to get waxed or tanned or...I dunno, get his nails done or something!”

Lance couldn’t help the cackle that escaped him and he burst out laughing for the first time in a long time. It was just so fucking funny. The thought of Keith doing anything other than rolling out of bed and reluctantly getting dressed for the wedding neither of them wanted to happen was ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous.

He wiped a tear from his eye, “You really don’t know him at all.”

*****

“I want to go in alone.”

They had pulled up to the address Keith had given his driver. It had taken well over an hour to reach Balmora village - to the cottage they now sat outside of.

His security guards exchanged worried glances and looked back towards the small building with its thatched roof and picket fence. They were probably wondering what the hell was waiting for Keith inside.

Well, that made the three of them.

Even though the rules had been somewhat relaxed for Keith, he still had to endure the constant supervision. Shiro had told him it was a security precaution, particularly as the wedding was so close. They didn’t want to risk anything, he had said and Keith knew for a fact that he wouldn’t have been allowed to leave the grounds if he had asked.

So he made a point of not asking.

“I’m sorry Your Highness but that’s not permitted,” Dickhead Number 1 finally replied, still looking at the cottage as though he was hoping to suddenly gain the ability to see through walls.

Keith frowned in annoyance, “Can’t you just wait in the car?”

“Afraid not, Your Highness,” Dickhead Number 2 confirmed with a shake of his head.

Keith sighed in defeat. 

He hadn’t implicitly told his guards where he was going - just that he had an emergency appointment he needed to get to.

Yes, it was urgent. 

No, it couldn’t wait.

And yes, he had cleared it with Prince Shiro.

All lies, of course, but his two bumbling buffoons that called themselves his security guards swallowed every lie he fed them.

He should have felt bad.

But he didn’t.

With another sigh, he reluctantly stepped out of the car.

Keith didn’t know what he was expecting when he had been given the contact for the appointment but a quaint little cottage in the middle of the quiet village of Balmera hadn’t been it. 

It was made up of stone walls with ivy growing up the sides and was surrounded by a luscious green garden, filled with every kind of flower Keith could think of. Whoever lived here was a keen gardener. Sounds of running water from a decorative watermill sloshed gently, whilst birds chirped and bees buzzed in the background. It was extremely peaceful.

Keith unlatched the whimsical wooden gate that proudly displayed a sign for ‘Holly Cottage’ and slowly walked down the stone garden path, with Dickhead 1 and 2 at his sides. The cottage was completely sheltered by trees and hedges, giving him privacy from the distant neighbours further down the road. When he got to the front door, he was met with a novelty owl door knocker, which he rapped three times and tried to mentally prepare himself for the reveal which would inform his guards of the real reason for his visit.

Footsteps sounded from inside before the door finally creaked open revealing a short, thin woman with curly chestnut hair that fell to her shoulders, and perfectly round glasses. If Keith had to guess she was in her mid-50s or early 60s. Her eyes were kind and when they landed on him she gave him a warm smile.

“Hello, you must be, Keith?” She held her hand out for Keith to take, “I’m Mrs Ryner. It’s lovely to meet you.”

Keith took her hand and shook it gently. A variety of chunky bangles jangled on her arm at the motion. 

Squirming with embarrassment at having to actually announce that he was here for a therapy appointment, Keith shifted uncomfortably, trying to psyche himself up. But before he could even open his mouth, Mrs Ryner had clocked his security guards and her face lit up.

“How delightful, you brought friends. Will they be joining you for your singing lesson?”

Keith blinked at her. 

Singing lesson? 

Was he in the right place?

“Um,” he managed, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot and looking around, “I think I’ve got the wr--”

“--I do have a rule though gentlemen, if you stay, you sing,” Mrs Ryner said loudly, as though purposely drowning out Keith’s protests, “Come on through, I’ve just made some tea.” 

She gestured them all inside and shot Keith another warm smile, and it was at that moment that Keith realised he was, in fact, in the right place. 

It had been Pidge who had recommended Dr Ryner to Keith, informing him that contrary to popular belief, he wouldn’t actually have to visit some stuffy office, right in the centre of the city and risk being spotted by members of the public or worse, get papped by the press. She probably knew that the only way he would entertain even the thought of finally going to therapy was if it was made incredibly easy for him and no one would ever find out. She had used the word ‘discretion’ far too many times when recommending Dr Ryner so Keith had had his doubts. However, even he couldn’t argue, this was the definition of discreet. 

“Your Highness,” Dickhead Number 1 mumbled, placing his hand on Keith’s shoulder, “If you would rather be alone for this, we --we can make an exception.”

“Providing you don’t tell anyone, sir,” Dickhead Number 2 confirmed, as Dr Ryner looked on grinning.

“Oh...um, ok,” Keith said, biting back a smirk, “Only if you’re sure?”

“Absolutely, your Highness,” Dickhead Number 1 nodded and turned to Mrs Ryner, “Mrs Ryder--” 

“It’s Ryner,” the woman smiled kindly.

“Er - sorry, Mrs, um, Mrs Ryner. May we just take a quick look around your home to make sure it’s secure?”

“You’re not staying?” She asked, sounding thoroughly disappointed.

“Well, it’s just that... His Majesty would rather participate in the um...in the singing lesson alone and um... as long as we can check that your home is secure, we can wait in the car for him,” he stuttered, looking to Dickhead Number 2 who was nodding along in agreement as though his life depended on it.

“Oh, very well then. Do come in,” She opened the door further and retreated inside. 

Keith followed her blindly, as did his guards. She had entered a room down the hallway which Keith was amused to discover contained a piano, music stands and sheet music ready and waiting. 

The guards did a quick sweep of it before setting off to check the rest of the house.

“As soon as your friends are finished, we’ll begin,” She smiled again, sitting down at the piano and playing a quick scale on it, fingers flying across the keys easily.

“Do you play?” She asked as Keith stood stock still, staring at her curiously. She was wearing a burgundy bohemian dress which complimented the many bangles, too many necklaces and overly large earrings she wore. Keith couldn’t help but think she was somewhat of a hippy.

“Marvellous skill to have, piano playing. Did you know that people who play an instrument are more intelligent than those who don’t?” She started to play an upbeat tune, one that Keith was more than familiar with. “It also relieves stress and improves patience.”

Keith looked away as a series of fuzzy yet painful memories came flooding back to him with every key she played. Memories of being a child, sat beside his mother at the grand piano, watching her in awe. Trying his hardest to follow the sheet music when it was his turn, grinning happily when he got it right. The feeling of his mother’s arms around him. The sounds of her voice in his ear telling him how proud she was of him. The scent of her perfume that he could still smell to this day. He turned his attention to the window, more specifically to the garden, where he watched a yellow and black bird land on the novelty birdfeeder which seemed to be a miniature replica of Dr Ryner’s cottage. It was delightfully tacky.

“Do you play?”

Her voice broke Keith out of his thoughts and he jerked his head back to look at her.

“Huh?” he voiced eloquently.

“I asked you if you played,” she repeated, staring him in the eye. Her fingers continued to glide over the keys expertly.

“Not since -- it’s been years,” Keith admitted reluctantly and looked away again, unable to maintain eye contact with her.

His mother had taught him piano. He used to be quite good at it.

“All clear Your Highness,” Dickhead Number 1 announced, appearing in the doorway, “We’ll be in the car. Just press your alarm if you need us.”

Keith cringed and nodded quickly. He didn’t want his therapist knowing he had the equivalent of a rape alarm on him at all times. How pathetic did that make him look?

The security guards quickly disappeared and as soon as the sound of the front door clicking into place reached them, Dr Ryner stopped playing the piano.

“I thought they’d never leave,” she announced, getting to her feet, “Shall we?” She gestured to Keith to follow her as she exited the room and walked the short distance to the opposite side of the small hallway, to the living room.  It was obviously a lot smaller than the rooms at the palace but it was also cosier than anything Keith had back at home. There were two squishy armchairs and an equally squishy sofa which Dr Ryner gestured for Keith to sit down at, whilst she sat in one of the armchairs opposite, with a small table next to her - a porcelain tea set, set upon it.

The room was littered with pictures of what Keith assumed to be Dr Ryner’s family and cabinets filled with way too many trinkets and knick-knacks. The bookshelves were overflowing and every surface had something upon it - opened mail or gardening magazines. A set of keys, a potted plant, and what looked to be a thoroughly used chew toy for a dog.

It was lived in and a far cry from the plain and perfect rooms at the palace with not so much as a pillow out of place.

As he looked around the room, taking in the clutter, Keith noticed that there was nothing that would give any indication that she was a doctor. Not a framed medical degree, not a book on Freud, nada.

Instead, she looked exactly how an eccentric music teacher would look like.

The woman was a genius.

“What would you have done if they had taken you up on your offer to stay and sing?” He asked, still looking around the room.

“No one ever takes me up on the offer, Keith,” she said with a wry smile, “That’s okay to call you, isn’t it? I don’t suppose you enjoy being referred to as ‘Your Majesty’ or ‘Your Highness’?

“I don’t mind it, I guess.”

“Really?”

“Well, I don’t have a choice so….”

“Hmm,” Dr Ryner hummed, “You’re probably not aware of this but you tense your shoulders whenever you are addressed royally.”

Keith blinked at her.

“But you don’t do that when I call you Keith,” She cocked her head at him.

Keith shifted in his seat uncomfortably, suddenly feeling very exposed. This was the reason why he had put off therapy for so long. They had barely met and she was already psycho-analysing him.

“Have you ever been to therapy before?” She asked, in an attempt to break the tension she had created.

“Um,” he said, biting his lip. He was at war with himself over how much he was going to allow himself to reveal to her. Saying too much would be a recipe for disaster. Not saying enough was--

“--I assume you were seen by a child psychologist after your parent’s deaths, yes?” She asked, leaning over to the small table and pouring herself a cup of tea. “Tea?”

Keith eyed the teapot in her hand warily, still stewing over the ‘child psychologist’ comment...how the fuck did she know that? “No...thank you,” he answered stiffly.

“Not a fan of tea, eh?”

“It’s...I’m indifferent.”

“I imagine you’re ‘indifferent’ to a lot of things, these days.”

Keith didn’t respond. His apathy towards most things was well known to those he was close with... but he had just met this bitch. How had she got that from him simply declining a cup of fucking tea!?

“So, back to the question, I asked,” she took a sip of her tea and placed it delicately on a saucer in her lap, “Therapy. You tried it - or, dare I say, it was forced on you?”

Again, Keith said nothing, not wanting to give her the satisfaction of telling her she was right.

“But you’re here now. Willingly.”

He reluctantly nodded once when the silence had stretched on just a bit too long.

“May I ask why?”

He licked his lips nervously, “I… um...it’s--” He voiced before trailing off, unable to finish the sentence.

Where did he begin?

“Complicated?” Dr Ryner offered and Keith closed his mouth. “Isn’t it always?” She mused, taking another sip of her tea.

They sat in silence for a while, staring at each other. It was freaking Keith out just how much she seemed to know about him...and he had literally walked through the door five minutes ago.

He wouldn’t have been at all surprised to learn that Dr Ryner could read minds. How was she able to see right through him...or was he really just that transparent? Had the tacky magazines and front-page stories revealed more about him than he ever thought they could?

“You have a big day ahead of you tomorrow,” she smiled kindly at him as if knowing exactly what he was thinking, “I imagine it's very stressful for you.”

Keith nodded stiffly.

“How are you feeling about it?”

“About what?” Keith spat defensively, unable to help himself. It was always his reaction when anyone tried to pry into his life. And let's be fucking honest, she probably already knew the answer, anyway.

Dr Ryner smiled, “Keith,” she began, setting her cup down on its saucer for a second time, “I want you to know that anything you say to me here is strictly confidential.”

Keith let out a light scoff and threw her a sardonic smile. How many times had he heard that before?

“If I were to reveal anything you happened to tell me to anyone, I would not only lose my licence as a Psychiatrist but I would also lose my job and be unable to make the mortgage payments on this cottage which I love so dearly," she gestured around the room with a fond smile, "I would also go to prison for breaking patient/doctor confidentiality - it carries a hefty sentence, I assure you. My life, in simple terms, would be ruined. So, you see, I have just as much to lose as you do by being here.”

Keith continued to stare at her but remained silent.

“You know, people are worried that they will be analysed from the get-go when they start therapy, and it’s true, they are. I look at you and I can tell immediately that you are uncomfortable. That you don’t want to be here. That you don’t want to tell me anything. But I have to say, Keith. You get out of therapy what you put into it. You chose to come here. No one forced you, this time. You made the call to me. You booked the appointment. I cannot force you to tell me things about yourself. About what you’re struggling with. But I also cannot help you if you don’t. If you insist on hiding behind these walls you have put up. We can happily sit here in silence for the hour. I can drink my tea and you can continue scanning the room, desperately looking for that hidden camera or recording device,” she smiled softly, “Or we can talk about you and what’s bothering you. You never know. It might actually make you feel better. So. What’s it going to be, Keith?”

Keith’s heart was hammering wildly in his chest and his palms had started to sweat profusely. He so desperately wanted to believe that he could trust her.

He took a deep breath and nodded, “Okay,” he croaked.

He knew he had to do this. Knew that he needed to do this.

“Okay,” Dr Ryner repeated with another kind smile, “Let’s begin.”

*****

“Your sister hates me.”

After the longest hour of his life at his first-ever therapy appointment, Keith had to endure another torturous activity when he returned home. 

The rehearsal dinner.

It had been bad enough meeting all 30+ members of Lance’s family, maintaining a smile and trying hard to remember all their names and how they were related to him, but it was made so much worse due to the fact that Lance’s sister, Veronica, had shot daggers at him from start to finish.

His hand was still throbbing from the ‘handshake’ she had given him when they were first introduced. Paired with a derisive smile, Veronica had squeezed Keith’s fingers as hard as she could which turned out to be very fucking hard indeed - Keith had a brief moment of panic that she was actually going to break them but fortunately for him, she reluctantly had no choice but to let go when Lance's other sister, Rachel, had barged her out of the way to introduce herself.

Lance laughed in amusement, “Which one?” and oh yeah, Keith had momentarily forgotten just how many people Lance called 'family'. He had four siblings, fifteen cousins, a hoard of nieces and nephews, and aunties, uncles and grandparents galore.

It made Keith’s head spin.

He had Shiro. Just Shiro.

“Veronica,” he mumbled, turning his head towards Lance discreetly, as to not alert the girl (who was still glaring at him) to the fact that he was talking about her.

They were finally on the last course of the dinner - coffee and mints, and the huge table in the Dining Hall was at its capacity - they even had to bring in an extra table and chairs to house the large group of children. It had been years since they had hosted a dinner like this and Keith hadn’t missed it.

Murmurings of conversation assaulted his ears from every angle and he was completely overwhelmed by being in the presence of so many people. Luckily, he had been placed next to Lance, with Lance’s brother, Luis sitting on his other side, so he didn’t have to try too hard with conversation. 

Shiro had insisted they split up, in order to ‘get to know’ Lance’s family. Kolivan was down one end of the table, engrossed in a conversation with a couple of Lance’s uncles. Adjacent to them sat Thace, who seemed to have most of the women in Lance’s family giggling and hanging onto his every word. Shiro was at the opposite end of the table with one of Lance’s cousins. They appeared to be in a world of their own and every time Keith spared a glance in their direction, he was surprised to find Shiro looking flustered - his cheeks rosy with a pink flush and a shy smile on his face.

“Oh,” Lance voiced guiltily and Keith snapped his head back from where he had been watching Shiro flirting with Lance’s cousin again. “I didn’t tell her about... you know .”

“Oh?” Keith voiced in mock surprise, hoping that Lance wouldn’t be able to see through his piss-poor acting skills. He couldn’t exactly tell him, he had been eavesdropping on his late-night private conversations with his family and overheard him pouring his heart and soul out to his sister. She definitely knew. There was no doubt about it. In fact, he wouldn’t be surprised if the whole table knew about it too.

“I told her you’d been mean to me but I didn’t...I haven’t told anyone,” Lance admitted with a shrug and Keith’s eyes widened a fraction.

There was nothing to suggest that Lance was lying to him and all Keith had heard on the phone was exactly what Lance had just told him.

“Why not?” He asked with a slight frown, not understanding why Lance would spare him like that. He didn’t exactly deserve it.

“I don’t want them to hate you,” Lance replied, looking up and locking eyes with him.

Keith stared at him at a loss of what to say but he was saved by the bell - or rather - a light clinking as Coran rose to his feet, rapping a knife gently on the side of his champagne flute.

The conversations instantly died down as every head turned towards him.

“I hope you’ve all had an enjoyable meal,” he began, grinning broadly around the table, “Before you all leave, I’d like to say a few words.”

Keith cringed into himself. They were going to toast to 'the happy couple', weren’t they? He was going to have 40 pairs of eyes trained on him and have to grimace through it, just like he did every year on his birthday when Shiro, Thace and Kolivan would sing to him. 

Fuck. 

“Don’t worry, the longer speeches will be reserved for tomorrow,” Coran joked, as some of Lance’s family outwardly groaned at the announcement, including Lance himself.

“Yeah, right,” Lance muttered, as if this was a familiar occurrence.

“On behalf of the Duke and Duchess Mclain of Altea, I’d like to say how thrilled we are that two historical houses have come together in unison. I remember the days of the late King Wesley of Altea who loved nothing more than to visit Daibazaal to see his good friend, King Alexander. He would often talk about his trips to Mamora City where he would…”

Keith zoned out quickly. Despite the promise of this not being a long speech, it seemed to stretch on for aeons. Most of the table had glazed over expressions, except for Shiro, Kolivan and Thace who were being as polite as always and appeared bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, hanging onto Coran’s every word. Keith unfortunately, was more in tune with the McClain tribe, resting his cheek on his hand and desperately trying not to fall asleep. 

“...AND LONG MAY THE KOGANE DYNASTY CONTINUE!” Coran finished with a yell, waking up the whole table. Several people almost dropped their champagne flutes in surprise and one of Lance’s teenage cousins actually fell off his chair. Coran raised his own flute up high, “To Keith and Lance!”

“To Keith and Lance!” Everyone repeated in various states, clearly trying to cover up for the fact that they had almost dozed off. They clinked their flutes delicately with one another and Keith did the same with the few people in his immediate area, doing his best to smile through it. When he turned to Lance, he was surprised to see him grinning broadly, as though he was loving every fucking minute of the attention.

He gave Keith a tiny shrug, “When life gives you lemons,” he muttered, clinking his glass against Keith’s and Keith huffed out a laugh in surprise.

“When life gives you lemons,” he agreed quietly, clinking his glass against Lance’s.

After the toast, everyone started to turn in for the night. Shiro made an announcement that there would be drinks in the lounge should anyone want to join and Keith was not at all surprised to see Lance’s cousin jump at the chance. The couples with young children retreated to their rooms, leaving only a handful of Lance’s family, and Keith, milling about.

He couldn't stop thinking about that morning's rehearsal. About Lance's offer. Before dinner, they had had another brief run-through of the proceedings so that the bridesmaids, flower girls and ushers knew where they were going and where they had to stand. Unlike the first rehearsal, however, Coran hadn't spent a lot of time going over Keith and Lance's parts, directing his attention to the supporting party members instead. But as he stood there, with Lance by his side it suddenly dawned on Keith that this time tomorrow, they'd be married.

And he wasn't at all ready.

“Hey, um Lance?” Keith called out to him.

Lance, who was about to embark on tour number five that day with several more members of his family, turned to him, “Yeah?” he asked and Keith tried to ignore Veronica's icy glare from over his shoulder.

“Um….can I….can I talk to you, real quick?” Keith asked. He was holding one of his arms, self-consciously, as if to keep himself grounded.

Lance nodded slowly, “Sure,” he agreed warily, not at all hiding the fact that he was surprised Keith willingly wanted to talk to him. He turned back to his family, telling them to give him a minute. 

He jogged over to Keith, “What’s up?”

“I think you’re right,” Keith said, as if that told Lance anything.

“About?”

“The kiss. I--I think we need to practice it.”

“Now?” Lance whined and Keith’s eyes darted over to where his family were waiting, to where Veronica was still glaring. “I was about to give my family a tour of the palace.”

“Oh um -- okay -- just forget it, it doesn’t matter...it's not like we get married tomorrow or anything,” Keith muttered childishly, his cheeks flushing red from embarrassment. He knew this was a stupid idea. Why did he even bother putting himself out there? He should have accepted Lance’s initial offer to practice earlier in the day, but no. As always, he was his own worst enemy. 

He was going to look like a complete idiot tomorrow in front of millions of people when he gave the worst kiss in the history of kisses. God fucking damn it, he could practically see the memes they would make of him now.

He started to walk away, to retreat to the comfort of his room so he could overthink everything and get himself nice and anxious for the next day but Lance stopped him.

“You really pick your moments, don’t you?” He sighed in defeat, “Hang on. I’ll just... Give me a sec, okay?”

Lance jogged back over to his family and made his excuses. Keith watched as Veronica narrowed her eyes at him and he was certain that Lance mouthed an ‘I’m fine’ at her, to get her to go away. They left for the lounge and Lance sauntered back over to Keith, 

“So,” he said with a raise of his brows and a sly grin, “Your place or mine?”

*****

They were perched on the edge of Keith’s bed where they had been for the past ten minutes, sitting in an uncomfortable silence that seemed to stretch on and on and on.

Lance was waiting for Keith to make the first move. He had been the one to ask Lance to practise with him and it was his room, after all. However, time was not on their side and if Lance wanted to get to see his family sometime this year AND get a good night's sleep, he was going to have to take the bull by the horns and lead the god damn session himself, because Keith had been scowling at the floor since they had sat down and seemed to be having a heated argument with it mentally.

He really needed to chill the fuck out, after all...it was just a kiss. No need to have a fucking panic attack about it. 

Unless...

“Have you ever kissed someone?” Lance blurted out accidentally.

Keith whipped his head up to look at Lance, lightning-quick, “YES, LANCE! GOD!” he snapped loudly, flushing crimson and Lance nearly fell off the bed at the outburst.

“You don’t have to be so touchy about it, I was only asking.”

“Well, I have. So...”

“Keith...look, it’s okay if you haven’t...it’s really not a big deal.”

“I know it’s not a big deal but I have!” He protested, “I’m not some tragic twenty year old who’s never been kissed, Okay?”

“Okay, so let’s do it then.”

Keith eyes widened in panic, “What now!?” 

Lance threw his hands up in despair, “You asked me to practice with you!”

“I know but...can we just…”

“Keith,” Lance put his hand on top of his reassuringly and felt Keith tense beneath it, “I honestly don’t care if you’ve never kissed anyone. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. I can’t imagine you’ve had many opportunities.”

Keith’s shoulders sagged in defeat and the action cemented what Lance had already figured out about him - that he was a hopeless virgin with zero experience who probably hadn’t expected to be thrust into a relationship so soon. It didn’t help that the relationship was strictly business either, and the fact he had no choice in the matter.

He licked his lips nervously, “I’ve never kissed a boy,” he admitted quietly.

“Okay,” Lance nodded kindly, “That’s fine, I’ve only kissed a few," he lied, trying to make the inexperienced prince feel better about the situation.

Keith huffed out a self-deprecating laugh, “A few…”

“I just meant...I...look, I’m no Casanova either.”

The corners of Keith’s mouth turned up in the briefest hint of a smile but then he crumpled, hiding his face in his hands.

“This is…God. This is so….humiliating,” he mumbled, pressing his fingers into his eyes.

Lance watched him and felt a pang of pity. He didn’t have the heart to admit to Keith that he had been kissing people since he was eleven years old and had more than double-figures worth of experience under his belt - boys and girls.

“So you never?” He asked as gently as he could.

Keith slowly peeled his hands away from his face, “No...I...there were girls...two um….two girls. But I.... I obviously wasn’t into them and um,” he coughed lightly and Lance noticed that his cheeks were red again, “I just haven’t had the opportunity to date anyone...I’ve never really wanted to.”

Lance shot him a small smile, “Maybe you’ve just never met the right person.”

This time, Keith did smile at the irony, “Yeah, maybe.”

“Unless...I mean, you could be Ace?”

“Asexual?” Keith confirmed and Lance nodded, “No...um...no, it’s not...it’s not that.”

Lance suddenly remembered Hunk’s comment about the microphones and the porn.

“Oh.”

“I just...it’s whatever,” Keith shrugged.

Lance could feel Keith’s walls rapidly starting to go back up and he knew he’d have to act fast before Keith came to the conclusion that this was a shit idea after all and kicked him out of his room.

“Ok,” he clapped his hands, making Keith jump slightly, “Close your eyes for me.”

Keith cocked an accusatory brow at him, “Why?”

“Keith, I’m not going to bite your nose off, just close your eyes.”

Keith pulled another face.

“Okay, trying really hard not to take offence at the lack of trust here but--”

“Fine!” Keith relented, closing his eyes tightly, like a child who was counting to ten in a game of hide and seek would do. Lance felt another pang of pity. Keith was almost childlike. His lack of experience was as endearing as it was tragic.

He hesitated for just a second before lunging forward and capturing Keith’s lips with his own, planting a brief kiss on them before pulling away. It wasn’t long enough for Lance to feel anything other than a quick smash of skin against skin but he hoped it would do its job of breaking the ice.

“There,” he said triumphantly, as Keith’s eyes fluttered open, “Now you’ve kissed a boy.”

Keith blinked a couple of times, registering what had just happened. He looked away quickly, as another blush dusted his cheeks.

“So now that that’s out of the way, we can get onto what we’re going to do tomorrow,” Lance started, twisting towards Keith, “So obviously you’ll be standing on the right-hand side and I’ll be on the left. To keep things simple, I think we should both stick to leaning to our right so you don’t get confused.”

“Leaning right?”

“Yeah, like…” Lance tilted his head to the right and slowly inched towards Keith’s face.

Keith recoiled as though he had just been burnt, “Wait, wait, wait!” He stammered, snapping his head back, “I wasn’t….I wasn’t ready. Give me a sec.”

He seemed to be psyching himself up and Lance could tell he was overthinking it again. Christ, if he was like this with a simple kiss, what was he going to be like when it came to them having sex?

A shudder ran through Lance as he realised that the fateful wedding night was T-minus tomorrow. But fuck it, that was a problem for tomorrow night Lance who he hoped would be smart enough to drink enough vodka not to remember anything.

“How is it gonna work if we both lean right?” Keith asked, sounding thoroughly confused and snapping Lance out of his unwanted daydream.

“Because we’re opposite?”

The dent in Keith’s frown got deeper.

“Look, like this.” Lance went to lean in again and Keith quickly turned his head away.

“Keith --”

“--Do you not find this like the weirdest thing you’ve ever done?” Keith asked, glancing back at Lance with a slightly pained look on his face, “Like...I just...I can’t believe it’s actually going to happen.”

Fucking hell. If he couldn't believe the kiss, just wait until Lance broke it to him that they also had to play hide the sausage with each other.

“It’s just a kiss, Keith--”

“--Not the kiss! I mean..,” he waved his hand, “The whole thing.”

Lance huffed out a laugh, “Has it only just hit you?”

Keith flinched at his choice of words and Lance felt himself flush from embarrassment. The incident was, for all intents and purposes, the elephant in the room. They didn’t acknowledge it but they knew it was there.

Oh, how they knew it was there.

“Yeah, I guess so,” Keith voiced quietly, looking down at his lap. 

He seemed to be having a silent breakdown, as though it had only just dawned on him what had been made apparent to the both of them on a daily basis for the past three months.

Lance had made his peace with it a long time ago. He’d done his time. Gone through the five stages of grief for the life he would never have. Denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance.

Keith only seemed to be on the denial stage...

They sat in silence for a while. Lance waited patiently again for Keith to snap out of his funk but as the minutes slipped by, he realised that he was going to have to be the one to take control of the situation once and for all.

“Look, Keith. As much as I’m enjoying witnessing your existential crisis - and believe me, I am. I haven’t seen my family in a really long time and I would like to spend some quality time with them before my life changes forever...You know what I mean?”

Keith shook himself out of his thoughts, “Yeah, sorry, yeah… you should...um…you should go and be with them….um.” He awkwardly turned so that he was sitting facing Lance, “Can we...um... Just practice once?” He mumbled quietly and Lance hated himself for thinking it was endearing.

He also hated the fact that as he watched Keith nervously lick his lips and blink expectantly at him, the thought of ‘god, he’s pretty’ flashed through his mind.

He may have been no Lotor but Keith was gorgeous in his own way. His dark, violet eyes, high cheekbones, porcelain skin and jet black long hair were all so striking that Lance found himself staring, at a loss for words. 

It’s not like he hadn’t had the time to check Keith out before but the boy was usually frowning, sulking or saying something derogatory to him. It was a rare sight to see Keith like this, open, vulnerable - human almost.

“Lance?” Keith prompted and Lance blinked a few times.

“Ye-yeah. Yeah, sure,” Lance stuttered, hoping that the blush he could feel forming on his face wasn’t too obvious.

“Okay - so, I go right, yeah?” Keith asked timidly and Lance really didn’t need him being this fucking cute. 

Jesus Christ...did he really just think Keith was cute? He must have fucking Stockholm Syndrome or something.

“Yeah,” he breathed, watching Keith tilt his head gently and start inching closer to him.

Lance did the same, tilting his head to the right and leaning forwards. He expected Keith to close his eyes but he didn’t. He was watching Lance’s every move, making sure he didn’t slip up and do something wrong. It was as endearing as it was heartbreaking and Lance tried not to think too much about it as he slowly closed his own eyes and waited for the gentle press of Keith’s soft lips against his own.

And they were soft. Surprisingly so. For how often Keith bit them, Lance was shocked that they weren’t at all dry or hard which was definitely what he expected. He had experienced more than his fair share of typical ‘boy lips’ but Keith’s….Keith’s really did surprise him.

Lance held him there, pressing gently forwards to deepen the kiss and waited just long enough before slowly pulling away, leaving Keith’s lips with a gentle smacking sound.

He opened his eyes to the sight of Keith with his eyes still closed and his lips still puckered. 

Lance blinked. He couldn’t help but think that if things had been different. If he had met Keith earlier. If Shiro and Company had actually informed Keith of what was coming. Would they have stood a chance?

Keith’s eyes fluttered open and when he saw Lance staring at him, he coughed and looked away quickly.

Probably not.

Willing away the sour image from his mind, Lance forced himself to smile, “See? Nothing to it,” he said, hoping that Keith couldn’t tell how bitter about the situation he really was.

“Can we do it again?”

Lance snapped his head back to look at Keith who seemed to realise what he had just said.

“I meant -- can we--can we practice it again--I just--I wanna make sure we get it right,” he tried to explain. The familiar blush settling nicely on his cheeks.

“Wow, first you jump in front of me to save me from a rogue intruder and now you actually wanna kiss me. Who are you and what the hell have you done with the real, Kei--”

“--You know what? Just forget it!”

“Oh, wait. There he is,” Lance grinned, thoroughly amused. Keith had turned away from him with a petulant huff, arms crossed tightly over his chest defensively. It was way too easy to rile him up and although Lance had the urge to tease him some more, he was reminded what had happened the last time he had 'pushed' Keith's buttons. “I mean, yeah, sure,” he offered kindly, “Couldn’t hurt, right?”

He watched as Keith’s shoulders sagged, tension instantly leaving them at his words. He turned back towards Lance, unfolded his arms and waited for his cue.

“So remember. Go right, yeah?” Lance prompted gently, sensing that Keith needed the reminder.

Keith nodded stiffly, looking down at the floor.

“Okay,” Lance said, “On three.”

He counted them down and watched as Keith tilted his head to the right and leaned in. This time, however, his eyes fluttered shut before Lance’s did. They kissed again, with Lance leading, making sure Keith knew how much pressure to give and how long it should last.

Lance then pulled away, eyelids fluttering open. He was surprised to find that Keith was already looking at him and when their eyes met, the prince quickly turned his head away again, embarrassed at being caught staring.

Lance coughed lightly, “I um...I won’t be able to count us down tomorrow so, as soon as the guy says, ‘You may now kiss your groom’ just turn to me, tilt your head to the right and go for it and I'll do the same...okay?”

Keith licked his lips and nodded, “Okay.”

There was another moment of awkward silence before Lance decided that his job was done and it was time to leave. He slapped his hands on his thighs and stood up bring the lesson to an end.

“Well, goodnight,” he said, walking over to the door.

“Hey, Lance?" Keith called out to him just as Lance's hand landed on the door handle.

He turned back and locked eyes with Keith. With his soon to be husband.

"Yeah?" He asked and Keith gave him a small, genuine smile - the first he had ever given him.

"Thank you."

Chapter Text

Keith couldn’t sleep. 

After a long night of tossing and turning and barely getting more than an hour's worth of uninterrupted shut-eye (if that), he finally decided to throw in the towel somewhere between midnight and the ass-crack of morning, knowing that it was a lost cause. 

Peeling himself out of bed, he trudged over to his en-suite bathroom to survey the damage. He flicked the light switch and instantly recoiled like a vampire seeing sunlight, as the harsh fluorescents assaulted his senses. With a groan, he cracked his eyes open and chanced a look at himself in the bathroom mirror. But he really wished he hadn’t bothered. Because staring back at him was his haggard self, looking more like a walking corpse than a functioning human being.

He looked like shit. Complete shit. Worse than shit, if that was possible. He had huge dark bags under his eyes and his usually pale skin was almost grey. Not only that but thanks to the nervous sweats he had suffered from throughout the night, his hair was so greasy it was practically plastered to his scalp.

Brilliant. Just brilliant. 

It wasn’t like he was getting married in a few hours in front of tens of millions of people and needed to look his best or anything. 

For fuck’s sake.

Shiro was going to kill him. All he had asked of Keith was to make sure he got a good night’s sleep and he couldn’t even manage that.

No, as usual, Keith had to fuck up on the basics. 

He pushed his fingers into his eyes and groaned heavily, thinking through his options. He knew there wasn’t a chance that he would be able to go back to sleep but the alternative was lying awake, staring up at the ceiling and getting himself nice and anxious for the day ahead.

What he needed was a distraction, something to take his mind off the fact that in less than...wait what time was it?

He padded back into his bedroom and grabbed his phone from the bedside table to see just how many hours he had left before his life was officially over.

He was offended to see the time of 4:07am staring back at him and he cringed to himself on discovering he’d had even less sleep than he originally thought. God damn it. He at least assumed he’d managed to make it past the 5am mark.

Groaning again, he tossed his phone aside and collapsed face-first onto his bed. 

So he’d had like what? Three hours of sleep, tops? And that was if he was being generous. Whatever the amount, it wasn’t going to be enough. He needed as much energy as possible if he were to stand a chance at getting through the day without having a complete mental breakdown or losing his shit. And something told him that a cranky-sleep deprived Keith wasn’t going to be the best person to be around...just a hunch, he had.

Cursing himself, Keith sat up. He was restless and nervous and needed to do something to stop himself from thinking about the wedding.

Urghhhhh. The wedding.

His heart started beating frantically inside his chest, just as it had been doing all fucking night whenever he thought about it , which, wouldn’t ya know, happened to be all the god-damn time.

Christ - was it too late to run away?

He could do it, you know. It would be so easy.

All he’d have to do is pack a small bag. You know, just a few essentials. Money, a change of underwear...his knife. Then he’d climb out of the window and shimmy down the drainpipe. He knew the security guards’ patterns like the back of his hands so sneaking through the gardens wouldn’t be a problem. Then he’d climb the large oak tree that he used to scale daily as a child and leap onto the tall wall where the drop to the outside would most definitely result in at least one broken ankle. But fuck it. What was one broken ankle if it meant his freedom? From there, he’d hobble to the port, sneak aboard an unsuspecting fishing boat and wait until they were way out at sea before stealing the life raft. Then he’d sail away into the unknown. Shave his head, grow a beard and change his name to like Steve or something and start a new life. One where nobody knew him and where he wasn’t special. Just another average Joe, going about his average life.

If only.

His heart was still pounding rapidly and - oh great - now his hands and knees had started to sweat too. 

What was he supposed to do? Sit here? Drive himself insane as the seconds ticked by? 

No. Fuck that. No.

He changed into his workout gear quickly, making the executive decision to head to his gym for an extra-exhausting session in an effort to take his mind off his impending demise.

Could he afford to waste the energy?

Absolutely not.

Was he going to do it anyway?

Abso-fucking-lutely.

In for a penny, in for a pound, right?

Right.

Look, if he was going to look like shit, he might as well go all out.

*****

Two hours later, Keith was heading back to his room, drenched in sweat and barely able to stand. It was still early, not even 7am and he died a little inside knowing that he probably wasn’t going to get to bed that night until the early hours of the morning, after a lot of fake smiling and - Christ - Keith cringed to himself... dancing.

He was nearing Shiro’s room when he heard the telltale sound of the door clicking open. Ever the early riser, his brother was usually showered and dressed by this time, making his way to breakfast. 

Keith knew that. He fucking knew that.

God, he was an idiot. Why hadn’t he gone the long way round? Oh yeah, because he was exhausted...

He waited with bated breath for Shiro to emerge, ready with his excuse as to why he thought it was acceptable to nearly kill himself with exercise at 4am on the morning of his wedding. However, no excuse was necessary, as the person who crept out of his brother’s room was surprisingly not his brother.

Keith couldn’t fight back the wicked smirk that made its way onto his face if he tried. 

He watched as the stranger attempted to make his silent escape, edging his way out of the room as delicately as possible and making sure to check that the coast was clear first, albeit in the opposite direction to where Keith was standing. 

Pffff. What an amateur.

It was quite comical watching his attempt to be stealthy. He held the door as if he was cradling an atomic bomb rather than a slab of wood and inched it closed at a glacial pace, determined not to make a sound. It shut with the faintest of clicks and the guy let out a silent sigh in relief. Satisfied, he turned and started to tiptoe towards Keith, and only then did he look up and had, what Keith would describe, as a fucking heart attack.

“JESUS CHRIST!” The man screeched, jumping out of his skin and holding a hand to his chest, as if to stop his heart from bursting out of it.

“Hi,” Keith grinned evilly.

The man who Keith recognised as one of Lance’s cousins - the cousin that had been hanging on Shiro’s every word at last night’s rehearsal dinner - tried to recover quickly, but the heavy breaths and shaking hands made it blatantly obvious that he was absolutely shitting himself at being caught.

Oh-ho-ho. This was going to be good.

“Um...hi...hello,” he stuttered nervously, scratching the back of his neck with his hand, “I was just...um...I…I” He was fumbling. Desperately searching for a plausible excuse as to why he was leaving Keith’s brother’s bedroom at 6.30 in the morning.

It really wasn’t necessary. They both knew what this was.

Keith cocked his head at him and took in his disheveled appearance. He was wearing the clothes he had been in the night before but they had clearly been thrown on haphazardly. He hadn’t buttoned up his shirt properly, leaving a couple of buttons open at the top which unknowingly revealed the several small but fresh bruises on his neck and collarbone. His glasses sat slightly askew on his face, as if he had rushed to shove them on, and his hair was, for all intents and purposes, giving off major just-fucked-chic vibes.

Not that Keith would know what that looked like but even a blind person would be able to see that the guy had just been laid.

“I was…um...I...” He finally sighed in defeat, head drooping low, knowing it was fucking useless to try and disguise the fact that he was clearly doing the walk of shame, after spending the night boning his brother.

“Adam,” he relented, holding out his hand to Keith who shook it happily, completely in his element, “We didn’t get a chance to talk last night.”

“No,” Keith agreed, his grin widening, “I see you managed to... talk to my brother though.” 

Adam grimaced and flushed from head to toe at his words.

But Keith couldn’t help himself - it was just nice to have the upper hand on Shiro for the first time in his life. 

Shiro - the perfect prince. The better one of the two. The noble one. The sensible one. The one that had dirty one night stands with the cousin of his younger brother’s soon to be husband.

“Yep, yeah. I….did,” Adam coughed lightly, as the blush settled nicely on his deep bronzed skin, “Well um….I better get going...got to...um...get ready...see you later, I guess,” he mumbled quietly, embarrassment oozing out from every fibre of his being. It was obvious that he couldn’t wait to get away from the conversation.

Keith was fucking delighted. 

“Bye, Adam. Lovely meeting you,” he remarked menacingly, watching as Adam limped away towards his own room. Keith was already thinking about how badly he was going to tease Shiro later on.

Maybe today wasn’t going to be so bad after all.

*****

A long shower, several hairstylists and a couple of makeup artists later and Keith was back where he began that morning, looking at his reflection in his bathroom mirror. Only this time, the bags he had been sporting were nowhere to be seen, having been assaulted by layers of expensive concealer and setting powder. He knew they had used the good shit on him, as it didn’t even look like he was wearing any make-up at all. 

His hair had been pulled back into a neat low bun and a fuck load of bobby pins were keeping the abundance of stray hairs in place - that and half a can of hairspray. 

On top of his head sat a small golden crown which would be replaced by a much larger one when he became king - something he was dreading more than he cared to admit.

He was wearing the outfit Mr Kim had created for him - a royal red tunic with golden cuffs, buttons, epaulettes, collar and stitching. Black pants with a thick red seam running down the outside of each leg, and black patent shoes. The ensemble was finished off with stark white gloves and Keith had to stop himself from touching his face, not wanting to risk staining them with foundation.

“You ready?” Shiro asked, popping his head into the en-suite. He was wearing a similar outfit to Keith’s but instead of the red tunic (only the heir to the throne got the privilege of wearing red), he sported an all-black outfit with golden accents similar to Keith’s.

Keith nodded, unable to speak, and with a final glance at himself in the mirror, followed Shiro out of the bathroom into his bedroom.

“We have about three minutes before we need to leave,” Shiro said with a quick check of his wristwatch.

“That’s very precise,” Keith croaked out, mouth as dry as the Sahara, trying desperately to calm the surging nerves that were causing his hands to shake terribly. His heart had gone back to its frantic beating and he wondered if he would make it through the day without going into cardiac arrest.

Shiro, sensing his fears, reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small silver hip flask.

“Here.” 

He tossed it to Keith who caught it easily, looking down at it in surprise. Nevertheless, he unscrewed the cap without question and took a large swig.

“Whiskey,” he hissed as the alcohol burned his throat on the way down.

“I figured you could use some dutch courage,” Shiro reasoned with a guilty smile. He turned away and strode over to the desk to retrieve a small velvet box.

Keith took advantage of having Shiro’s back to him and gulped down the rest of the whiskey, hoping it would make him drunk enough not to care.

“Here,” Shiro said again, turning back to face Keith, but instead of tossing the box to him, he approached him with it.

“What is it?” Keith asked curiously, screwing the cap back on the flask, “Cocaine? Ecstasy? Heroin? ”

“Ha-ha, you’re hilarious.”

“Hey, you’re the one giving your underage brother hard liquor. Who knows what else you’ll try and ply me w--”

The words died on his tongue as Shiro opened the box, revealing the familiar Kogane family crest pin - a hand holding a sword within a circle.

However, unlike the silver ones, he and Shiro both sported for formal events, this one was solid gold. Keith’s eyes widened as he realised who it had belonged to.

“Dad’s pin?” he asked in awe as Shiro took it out of its box and unclipped it. He gently pinned it to Keith’s tunic on the left side and nodded his head, a warm smile spreading slowly across his face.

“He’d be really proud of you, Keith.”

The words caught Keith off guard and he swallowed the lump that seemed to form from nowhere and quickly looked away.

“I highly doubt that,” he managed to croak out without spilling any tears. He hadn’t allowed himself to think about the wedding as anything more than an inconvenience. It hadn’t occurred to him, until last night at the rehearsal dinner, as he looked around the table at Lance’s huge family, that weddings were supposed to be about celebrating with loved ones. 

Loved ones that he didn’t have anymore.

“I’m proud of you too,” Shiro said in earnest and Keith let out a disbelieving laugh.

“You don’t have to lie.”

“Keith.” 

But before his brother could reassure him with yet another pep talk, there was a knock at the door.

“Come in,” Shiro called out, stepping away from Keith and looking over to where Kolivan had stuck his head into the room.

“It’s time.”

*****

“Well hello and welcome to the DBC’s exclusive live coverage of the Royal Wedding,” the announcer - not Diane - greeted warmly.

The picture on the screen was currently showing an external birds-eye view of the palace, as guests flitted in slowly, stopping several times at the various security points along the way. 

Every now and then, the camera would cut to a close up of a guest, usually someone noble or worthy enough for the camera to linger on them and for the commentator to make some throwaway remark regarding their outfit of choice or mere presence.

“Princess Allura of Altea, accompanied by Prince Lotor of Naxzela,” the commentator announced, just as the camera focused on the couple, walking arm in arm into the palace.

“Prince Lotor is the only royal representing the Kingdom of Naxzela today,” he continued, stopping short of giving any reasons as to why that was. 

Since the interview, the DBC had treaded incredibly carefully around the royals, not wanting their coverage deals to fall through. The announcer - who revealed himself to be Declan Carey - another of the DBC’s top presenters, made a quick recovery and went on to wax poetic about how stunning Allura looked in her custom pastel pink Dior gown, as the camera cut to inside the grand hall where the white and gold chairs were rapidly filling up.

“Traditionally, the Koganes have favoured the Mamora Cathedral as their venue of choice for weddings, baptisms and funerals,” Declan went on to say, drifting into dangerous territory once again, “But perhaps today marks the start of a new tradition.”

Everyone had probably worked out why they were keeping the wedding close to home. They simply couldn’t take the risk. Declan glossed over that fact easily, choosing instead to rim on about the Victorian chandeliers and how much each one was valued at.

“The distant cousin of the Princes and currently third in line for the Daibazaal throne, Lady Axca.”

The camera cut to Lady Axca striding down the aisle alone. She bore a striking resemblance to Keith, sharing his porcelain skin, violet eyes and jet black hair - although hers was styled into a neat bob that stopped at her shoulders. Dressed in a navy pencil skirt, matching jacket and a white blouse, with a delicate navy blue fascinator on top of her head and sky-high black patent Christian Louboutins on her feet, she took a seat next to Allura and Lotor, offering them a small smile in acknowledgement.

Thace and Kolivan followed shortly after, prompting Declan to give a lengthy description of the part they played in the running of the kingdom.

“...Although that will of course change once Prince Keith becomes King. His coronation taking place shortly after his twenty-first birthday and yes, you will be able to watch it live on the DBC.”

They took their seats on the front row, leaning over to exchange pleasantries with members of Lance’s family. They were both sporting war medals which were pinned proudly to their tunics, although Kolivan had twice as many as Thace did.

The last few stragglers made their way into the room and were quickly shown to their seats by the smartly dressed ushers.

The hall was packed. There wasn’t a free chair in sight. Declan compared being invited to the wedding akin to finding one of Willy Wonka’s golden tickets in a chocolate bar, “But unfortunately, unlike Miss Veruca Salt, no amount of money could afford you an invite,” he commented bitterly, sharing the same sentiment of millions of Daibazaal residents who would have probably given their right arm to attend.

As if on cue, the camera cut to the streets outside of the palace where a legion of loyal fans was bunched in their thousands behind metal barriers, waving homemade signs and Daibazaal flags, as close to the castle as security would allow (which wasn’t very close at all). In normal circumstances and had Keith and Lance chosen the Cathedral as their venue of choice, the public would have been treated to the scenes of the grooms exiting their vehicles in person. 

As it stood, several large HD screens and speakers had been placed outside, streaming the DBC’s coverage like a music festival, so that the fans wouldn’t miss out.

“The next to arrive, of course, will be his royal highness, Prince Keith and his brother and best man, Prince Takeshi.”

The cameras faded back to the great hall and just as Declan predicted the double doors were flanked open by two immaculately dressed attendants, revealing Keith and Shiro. All heads turned towards them as the brothers slowly made their way down the aisle, nodding, smiling and waving to the guests as they went by.

They stopped as they reached the front and greeted the officiant, taking turns to shake hands before standing in their designated spots and waiting patiently.

“A six-year age gap separates the siblings, though I’d dare you to find a closer pair,” Declan remarked just as the camera zoomed in on the brothers who were talking quietly amongst themselves. Every so often, Shiro would lean in close to whisper something into Keith’s ear, conscious that the camera was on him.

“His big brother no doubt giving words of support,” Declan cooed as Keith nodded at Shiro with a small smile, “It’s not every day you get married in front of millions of people.”

The camera kept its focus on the brothers, knowing that it was what the people wanted to see. It was obvious that Keith was nervous. He shifted from side to side occasionally and didn’t chance a look at the crowd, keeping his head facing forward. Shiro, on the other hand, was making small talk with Lance’s brothers, giving them warm smiles and waving to a guest he made eye contact with.

Several minutes ticked by as everyone eagerly awaited the arrival of the second groom. Declan found an abundance of topics to fill the time with, giving lengthy descriptions of the princes’ outfits and the significance of the golden pin Keith was wearing.

“And of course, King Justin wore that same pin twenty six years ago when he married Queen Krolia.”

At last, the orchestra came to life, adjusting themselves accordingly as the conductor made the motion to get ready. The guests rose expectantly from their seats, all heads turning to face the double doors at the end of the aisle. Prince Keith kept his eyes forward and inhaled deeply.

Suddenly, the double doors opened and the orchestra started to play, as the bridesmaids, flower girls and page boys were revealed.

“Leandro’s twin sister Rachel and his elder sister Veronica McClain, accompanied by nieces, Nadia and Julia, and nephews, Sylvio and Carlos Mclain,” Declan announced as the group made their way down the aisle. Rachel was holding the hands of both Nadia and Julia, with Veronica walking behind with the boys. The older girls were wearing elegant golden halter-neck dresses, whilst the flower girls wore pretty white dresses with golden belts, white tights and shoes and flower crowns in their hair. The boys had white shirts on with dull golden shorts and matching suspenders, white tights and black shoes with golden buckles. Even with the music playing, the sound of the ‘awws’ from the delighted guests could be heard as the group walked by.

The attendants shut the doors behind them and once the group had taken their positions at the front of the hall, the music changed seamlessly into Mendelssohn’s Wedding March.

“And this is the moment we’ve all been waiting for,” Declan exclaimed excitedly as the trumpets sounded and the doors were open once again, revealing Lance arm in arm with his father.

“And my goodness doesn’t he look absolutely stunning!?”

Lance was dressed all in white from head to toe, including shoes. His tunic which fit him like a glove had delicate flowers and swirls embroidered in gold running down one side of his chest and on his other side, the Altean family crest was proudly displayed. His slim fitted trousers were plain and his white shoes immaculate.

His father, who was grinning from ear to ear, was dressed similarly to Shiro, all in black, but also sported a sash in the signature Altean royal blue.

“No bouquet or boutonniere for the groom, however, the intricate flowers on his tunic more than make up for the lack of actual flowers,” Delcan commented, as Lance and his father started to move slowly down the aisle. Lance grinned at the guests as he went by, flashing his perfect white teeth at them.

It seemed to take them an age to reach the altar. Lance, clearly in his element, was milking the attention for all it was worth, sauntering down at a snail’s pace. Poor Declan seemed to have resorted to spouting off a list of facts about the future prince, having run out of things to say about his outfit when Lance wasn’t even halfway down the aisle.

“Leandro is, of course, the youngest child of the Duke and Duchess, born seven minutes after his twin sister, Rachel who, like Leandro, is also an omega,” Declan waffled as Lance neared the end of the aisle at long last.

It was then that Keith finally turned his head to look at him. They locked eyes and smiled at each other shyly.

“Have you ever seen a more perfect couple in your life?” Declan sighed happily as Lance’s father shook hands with Keith and handed Lance over to him. Keith took Lance’s gloved hand in his own and murmured something to him. The camera cut to Lance’s reaction just as he mouthed ‘thank you’.

“One can only imagine the compliments being given,” Declan breathed as the two turned and took the few steps forward to the officiant, ready to begin the ceremony.

The guests sat back down gracefully, waiting for the orchestra to finish.

“Well, this is it, ladies and gentlemen,” Declan proclaimed excitedly, “History in the making!”

The officiant smiled broadly at the crowd, as the final few notes of the orchestra sounded off.

“Dearly beloved,” he began confidently, “We are gathered here today to join Prince Keith Justin Kogane and Leandro Alexander McClain in holy matrimony.”

*****

Lance was on cloud nine. 

For a brief moment, he even forgot that the wedding was ‘supposed’ to be a sham.

The day had been perfect.

Utterly perfect.

Nothing had gone wrong.

The rings had fit, neither he nor Keith had fumbled their lines, and the kiss?

God, the kiss - where did he start?

When the officiant had declared them husband and husband, Lance had turned to Keith, fully expecting to have to be the one to initiate it. But Keith took him by complete surprise and stepped forward confidently, leaning in without being prompted. He slipped one of his hands on the small of Lance’s back and the other came up to cradle Lance’s face delicately, as he kissed him, not robotically but passionately.

When Keith pulled away, Lanced was left dazed and more than a little confused but he didn’t have time to digest what had just happened because the room erupted into cheers and then Keith was slipping his hand into his, threading their fingers together tightly.

Before Lance knew it, they were walking hand in hand down the aisle, grinning like a set of dickheads and waving to every Tom, Dick and Harry as they went by.

He didn’t have the chance to ask Keith just what the heck he was playing at because then it was time for photos. Lots of photos. Too many photos actually. 

After the 20,000 or so individual photos he and Keith had posed for, the families turn came, and whilst Keith’s family had taken an embarrassingly short amount of time, Lance’s family was like the fucking Neverending Story.

When they had finally finished, it was then time for the dinner and the speeches and Lance’s head was fucking swimming because if he thought the kiss had surprised him, it was nothing on Keith’s speech which was the right length, the right amount of funny, and romantic where it needed to be and….just what the fuck was going on in here on this day!?

Lance prided himself in being a good actor but even he couldn’t help the utter look of bewilderment on his face when Keith raised his glass to him with a genuine (well, it seemed genuine) smile and asked the audience to join him in toasting to his new husband, which they all did, gladly.

Lance had blushed furiously and had been uncharacteristically quiet for the rest of the meal, as he tried to work out what it all meant.

Maybe Keith had had a change of heart? Maybe he had decided to take a leaf out of Lance’s book and finally make some lemonade out of the lemons life had decided to pelt them with. Or maybe, he had hit his head and had amnesia and Shiro and Company had taken advantage and convinced him that Lance was actually the love of his life and that Keith couldn’t wait to get married to him.

Whatever the reason, Lance wasn’t complaining. It was the nicest Keith had ever been to him and that was...well, it was nice, okay!?

After the dinner, it was then time for their first dance, and just like everything else that had happened so far, it went well...surprisingly so. Lance could barely hide his shock at Keith’s ability to move around the dance floor without looking like he had shit his knickers. But he did - he practically glided!

Keith must have seen Lance’s confused expression because he had smiled and whispered in his ear, “Do you know how many fucking balls I’ve attended?” which earned him a genuine laugh from Lance, who was then dipped expertly, before Keith brought him back up with practised ease.

They cut the cake, smiled for more photographs and eventually were able to just enjoy the party, which is what Lance was currently doing, having just left his sisters on the dance floor to take a breather and finally check out the buffet.

Several hours had passed since the meal and due to all the dancing, talking and smiling he had been doing, Lance was starving. Unfortunately, every time he had tried to indulge himself, he was pulled away by yet another distant relative or guest for yet another photo or painful conversation.

Fortunately for him, it was the point in the night where everyone was slightly buzzed. Most people had filled up on food and the dance floor was currently packed with people drunkenly dancing to Whitney Houston’s, ‘I wanna dance with somebody’. As such, it was the perfect time for Lance to fill his boots on Hunk’s amazing assortment of party favourites. He made a beeline for the honey-glazed cocktail weenies and wasted no time in shoving two in his mouth at once, forgoing a plate and cutlery. He had just grabbed another two when a familiar velvet voice sounded in his ear.

“I believe congratulations are in order.”

Lance was so startled that he wheeled around lightning quick which caused the other two cocktail weenies he had in his hands to come flying off their sticks and go careering across the room. 

But he didn’t have time to worry about if someone had taken a glazed weenie to the face because standing in front of him wearing a sultry smirk was Prince Lotor.

“Um,” Lance said eloquently through a mouthful of partially chewed meat, cheeks full and looking like a hamster who was getting ready to hibernate. “Fank-eww.”

He gulped down the rest of his weenies quickly.

This was the first time he had come face to face with Lotor since he had learnt all about the politics behind the wedding, and the ongoing secret war between Daibazaal and Naxela, and of course, the bounty on his and Keith’s heads.

Was it even safe for Lotor to be here?

How had he managed to wangle himself an invite?

Shit! What if he had poisoned the weenies!?

“Beautiful ceremony,” Lotor purred, oblivious to Lance’s inner turmoil, “And may I just say how stunning you look? Not that you don’t always look stunning, of course.”

Lance blushed furiously but unlike the last time they had met, it wasn’t because he wanted to climb him like a tree - on the contrary, he was mortified - it was his wedding day for fuck’s sake - Lotor couldn’t seriously be hitting on him, could he?

“Prince Keith is a very lucky man.”

Lance’s eyes widened a fraction. Yes. Yes, he was hitting on him.

He forced himself to laugh good-naturedly at the flirtation, “Yep, yeah ha-ha, he is,” he squeaked nervously, eyes darting to the side, hoping to spot someone who would save him. Unfortunately, the DJ had just whacked on the Cha-Cha-Slide….he didn’t have a prayer.

“Is there something wrong, Lance?” Lotor questioned, eyebrows raised with concern.

Lance snapped his eyes back to the prince. 

“Nope. No. Why um….why would you think that?” He said quickly, doing his best to give a genuine smile. 

The last thing he wanted to do was to piss Lotor off. He probably had his own secret service with him, posing as guests. There were quite a few strangers milling about now that Lance thought about it. And knowing that Keith had 0.2 relatives didn’t fill him with much confidence. 

Just who the fuck were all these people!?

It would be so easy for one of them to just whip out a knife or a gun and---

“BANG! BANG! BANG!” 

Lance let out a blood-curdling scream and yanked his arms up to shield his face defensively at the noise. When he didn’t immediately feel intense pain from what he assumed were impending bullets or hear any of the other guests screaming in fear, he slowly peeled his hands away from his face and took in the sight of his nephew, Carlos who was grinning up at him with his hands posed as if holding a gun. 

Lance almost chinned him.

What were the fucking odds!?

“We’re playing army!” Carlos stated proudly, waving his arms around manically, showing off his invisible gun.

Lotor, completely unfazed, chuckled and ruffled his hair fondly.

Lance tried to force his heart back inside his chest.

“Well, we surrender, good soldier!”

“Okay!” Carlos beamed and then as quickly as he appeared, he was gone, running through the ballroom and ‘shooting’ at unsuspecting guests.

Lance wanted to die. Not only had he come incredibly close to punching his own nephew in the face but he had also been scared shitless, looking and sounding like a complete idiot as his heart practically fell out of his ass, whilst Lotor hadn’t even flinched.

The prince cocked his head at him curiously and inched closer, “Are you sure you’re okay, Lance? You seem anxious?”

“Oh um…no I’m...I’m….um…I’m just overwhelmed,” Lance explained, trying his best to lean away without it looking obvious.

Lotor smiled kindly. “I understand. It has been a long day, after all.”

Without warning, he reached out and swiped a thumb across Lance’s bottom lip.

Lance froze and felt himself flush from head to toe. 

Lotor brought his thumb up to his mouth and sucked on it seductively, “A fan of the honey-glazed sausages, I see?” he mused and it was a miracle Lance didn’t burst into flames at the action. It was practically pornographic!

As if the situation couldn’t get any fucking worse, at that moment, the DJ thought it would be a banging idea to change the party tempo and transition into the love songs.

It went from being the last time to get funky to when your legs don’t work like they used to before, which was ironic because Lance was mere moments away from keeling over.

This couldn’t be happening. Honestly, kill him now.

Lotor lit up like a Christmas Tree at the change in atmosphere, “May I have this dance?” he asked, his eyes piercing as they held Lance’s gaze.

Oh yeah, of course. That would be a fucking great idea, wouldn’t it? Slow dancing to Ed Sheeran with his husband’s mortal enemy on their fucking wedding day.

How did Lotor not know that this was highly inappropriate!? 

Or maybe he did know.

Maybe he knew exactly what he was doing.

Lance gulped, his heart beating furiously in his chest. Why hadn’t anyone come over to save him? Surely Shiro and Company were keeping an eye on Lotor and his shenanigans. And where the fuck was Keith?! He wouldn’t stand for this shit!

Unfortunately for Lance, no one came to his rescue and Lotor remained where he was, still staring, still patiently waiting for his response. 

So he did the only thing he could think of doing.

“Oh my god!” He shouted far too loudly, making Lotor jump slightly, “I’ve just remembered...I’m a vegetarian,” he gasped, clutching at his stomach for effect, “Excuse me.”

He spun around on his heel before Lotor could respond and practically levitated out of the room towards the bathrooms, where he locked himself in a cubicle and remained there for about half an hour to make his excuse believable.

*****

“Having fun?” Shiro asked.

He’d sidled up to Keith at the bar, just as Keith had finished another painful conversation with one of Lance’s aunts.

It was painful because he had to be nice and enthusiastic and everything he was not. 

His cheeks hurt from all the fake smiling he had to do.

“The time of my life,” he deadpanned, causing Shiro to laugh out loud.

They quickly fell into a comfortable silence, content with people watching. But like everything good in Keith’s life, it didn’t last.

“That was some kiss before,” Shiro commented, his eyes still focused on the crowd in front of them.

Keith blinked, “What can I say? Guess I got caught up in the moment.”

He knew what Shiro was getting at. They had all expected Keith to drag his feet through the proceedings. Do everything with obvious reluctance. Have to be poked, prodded and prompted at every stage of the day.

They probably expected him to look constipated during the kiss. 

They probably expected him not to kiss Lance at all.

It was kind of nice to exceed everyone’s expectations for a change.

“Thanks again, for the speech,” Keith continued, still people watching. His attention was drawn to the dance floor, where the increasingly drunken guests were quickly losing their inhibitions.

“You’re welcome. You sold it well,” Shiro replied, his attention also focused on the dance floor which had just dispersed into organised lines as the Macarena came on. 

It was quite tragic that Keith had relied on his older brother to write his own wedding speech for him but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. If it had been left up to him, he would have stolen some generic template from the internet, changed the names and pronouns and called it a day.

“You know, it could be worse,” Shiro mused, taking a sip of his champagne and leaning against the bar.

Keith turned his head to him and cocked an unimpressed brow, willing him to elaborate.

“Well, just think. You could have been married to a 92-year-old.”

He was barely managing to keep the hysterical smirk from his face and Keith wanted nothing more than to wipe it off him. 

He shot him a sarcastic smile, “And just think, it could have easily been you standing here, married to Lance,” he delivered sinisterly, hoping that a flurry of unwanted and compromising images were currently racing through his brother’s mind.

His words had the desired effect on Shiro who pulled a horrified face. “Why would you say that?!”

Keith shrugged, “You can’t honestly tell me the thought never crossed your mind.”

Because it had certainly crossed Keith’s.

If Shiro’s true lineage had never been discovered, he would have had the same pool of omegas to choose from...except Lance would have been 14 and Lord-What’s-His-Face would have been a spritely 86.

Either way, it would have been a SCANDAL.

“No...it hasn’t,” Shiro protested, although the light blush that dusted his brother’s cheeks told him otherwise. “Anyway, he’s way too young for me.”

“Maybe he has a relative old enough for you?” Keith voiced flippantly just as Shiro spotted said relative in the crowd. “Perhaps a cousin?”

Unfortunately, Shiro had tuned Keith out, his attention solely focused on the man in question on the other side of the room.

“What did you say?” Shiro asked, blinking back at Keith dumbly.

“Nothing,” Keith smiled slyly as Adam finally looked over to where they were both standing. He locked eyes with Shiro and smiled shyly before clocking Keith who, being the dick that he was, gave a dainty little wave to him.

Shiro was none the wiser to the clear panic in his hookup’s eyes, however, and waved him over enthusiastically. He dragged his feet the entire way, shooting a nervous glance to Keith when he was near.

To be fair to Adam, he looked a lot better than the last time Keith had seen him. He was wearing a fitted black tux and his hair had been tamed and gelled back stylishly. Even his glasses sat on his face perfectly straight instead of at an angle like they had been.

Keith cocked his head at him and glanced towards the dance floor to where Lance was currently partaking in the macarena with his two sisters.

The resemblance was uncanny.

Bronze skin, chestnut hair that was slightly curly at the end and long, long legs. Heck, he and Lance could have easily been brothers, not cousins.

Keith might have been half-joking about Shiro having a thing for Lance but now he wasn’t so sure.

“Keith, this is Adam, Adam, Keith,” Shiro gestured between them both.

Keith smirked with delight and looked at Adam knowingly, “Oh, we’ve met.”

Shiro raised his eyebrows in surprise but didn’t question it, seemingly oblivious to Keith’s devious tone. Adam squirmed where he stood.

“Nice to see you’re feeling better,” Keith said in mock sympathy and Adam gave him a pleading look that silently screamed `please don’t do this’. Unfortunately for him, Keith was still smarting from Shiro’s earlier remark about the decrepit old man he could have been saddled with and Adam just happened to be caught in the crossfire of the brother’s tit for tat. He waited for the moment Shiro took another sip of his drink before finishing his train of thought, “That was some limp you had this morning.”

Shiro choked on his champagne and clumsily spat it out, barely missing some of the party-goers on the edge of the dance floor. Adam, who was completely mortified, patted his back in a comforting manner, his face as red as a glazed cherry.

“Let me get you another drink, Kashi,” he said quickly, lifting Shiro’s flute out of his hand. Without another word, Adam fled the scene, off towards the other side of the room, as quickly as his long legs would carry him.

“He does know that the bar’s here, right?” Keith commented as Shiro coughed and spluttered, trying to recover.

A few guests passed them by with looks of concern but Keith waved them off.

“Went down the wrong way,” he explained and they nodded sympathetically before sauntering off. “So, Kashi, ey?” he continued, taking a slow sip of his own champagne. He couldn’t wipe the shit-eating grin off his face if he tried, his muscles moving on their own volition. “What is he? An alpha?”

“Beta,” Shiro coughed one final time with a thump to his chest. His cheeks were blazing red from embarrassment.

“Tsk, tsk,” Keith tutted in mock horror and raised his eyebrows, “What will the monarchy say?”

Shiro straightened himself up and scowled briefly at Keith before it morphed into a sly smile. 

“Oh, my dear brother. Didn’t you hear? I’m a bastard,” he remarked casually, and this time, it was Keith’s turn to choke on his champagne.

And choke, he did.

Shiro had never, ever referred to himself using that word. Heck, it was even banned from the palace and had been since the day the story had broken all those years ago. To hear him refer to himself like that so casually was beyond insane.

Keith was gobsmacked.

Shiro grinned hard, “You see, Keith, I can date and marry whomever I please.” 

Keith’s mouth fell open and Shiro cackled loudly, delighted with his reaction and knowing full well that he’d won the battle.

“I think that’s the cruellest thing you’ve ever said to me," Keith said, pouting in defeat.

Shiro was still grinning as he looked around to see where Adam had got to, when the smile suddenly slid right off his face.

Keith instantly turned his head to see what sight had offended his brother and immediately wished he hadn’t bothered.

On the other side of the ballroom, next to the buffet table and standing very close to one another was Lance and Lotor.

He watched in absolute horror as the prince leant towards his husband, as if he was going to kiss him. But then he stopped and brought one of his hands up to Lance's face, swiping his thumb across his bottom lips before bringing it up to his mouth and sucking on it. 

Lance turned bright red at the action and Keith wanted to set fire to the fucking rain.

Sensing his brother’s rapidly building rage, Shiro tried to calm him down, “Keith,” he pleaded but Keith had already made up his mind to remove himself from the situation, not wanting to make a scene and ruin an otherwise ‘perfect’ day. He stormed out of the ballroom, knocking into Adam as he went.

“Is everything okay?” Adam asked delicately, handing Shiro a fresh glass of champagne.

Shiro shot him a tight-lipped smile, “He’ll be fine.”

*****

After cowering in a bathroom stall for the best part of half an hour, Lance finally felt it was safe to exit it. He crept out and over to the sinks to wash his hands, fully committing to his lie in case Lotor was lurking somewhere in the shadows. He chanced a glance at himself in the mirror and almost had his second heart attack of the night.

Keith was standing directly behind him.

“Jesus Christ, Keith!” He exclaimed, jumping out of his skin and splashing water everywhere, “How do you do that!?”

Keith didn’t move and it was then that Lance realised that the prince was glaring daggers at him.

For fuck’s sake...what had he done now?

Lance shook his hands dry and reached for the paper towels, “Is everything okay? You look like someone just pissed on your chips.”

“I don’t know, Lance. You tell me,” Keith spat, careful to keep his voice low, knowing they were in a public space.

The bathrooms were swanky as shit. All plush carpets, marble sinks and heavy wooden cubicles that drowned out noise so that you couldn’t hear people having a shit next to you, which was good, because from the way Keith was looking at him, there was a shit storm brewing, that’s for sure.

But even with the noise-cancelling cubicles, if they were about to have a domestic, it probably wasn’t the smartest place to have it in.

“What have I done now?” Lance practically whispered, doing his best to match Keith’s volume.

Keith scoffed like Lance was an idiot for not being able to read his goddamn mind.

“You’re really asking me that?”

“Yes,” Lance hissed, brows pinched together in confusion, “I have no idea what’s going on.”

Keith went to open his mouth when suddenly, one of the cubicle doors swung open and Lance’s Uncle Joe drunkenly staggered out.

“Boys!” He cried happily, flinging his arms into the air. 

Unfortunately, he had neglected to zip his pants back up and they comically fell to his ankles, revealing his red satin boxer shorts.

“Oh, bollocks,” he muttered, bending down to pull them back up. Lance bit back a grin and looked over to Keith who looked less than impressed which made the situation ten times funnier.

It took what felt like three hours for Uncle Joe to finally sort himself out. Keith and Lance waited patiently for him to vacate the premises so that they could continue their first argument as a married couple - for what - Lance didn’t know but he could tell Keith was dying to tell him.

Uncle Joe eventually bid them farewell and had just left the bathroom when Lance’s eldest brother, Marco, came waltzing in.

“Wheeyyyyyyyyyyyy!” He called out drunkenly when he spotted them and Lance had to stop himself from bursting out laughing. Keith looked like he wanted to commit a murder.

But what did he expect? First of all, they were in the bathroom - the public bathroom. And secondly, everyone was fucking wasted, of course it was going to be like Picadily Circus! If Keith wanted privacy, the bathroom was not the place to have it in.

“What are you two doing in here, ey?! EY!?” Marco winked suggestively and Lance cringed.

As if he would even dream of getting it on in a public bathroom with skid stains galore and the stench of stale urine wafting through the air.

Keith, who looked like he was going to combust, tried his best to smile politely and Lance could tell how much effort it was taking him.

Not wanting to have a repeat of Uncle Joe and desperate to get away from any more hints about their sex life, Lance gestured to the exit and Keith reluctantly nodded his head in agreement.

They managed to get away from Marco with minimal small talk, although they did have to endure a group hug before he would let them leave. Keith also had the added bonus of having a condom thrust into his hand, because in Marco’s words, kids were ‘a fucking nightmare’.

Luckily, Keith seemed to be more embarrassed at the gesture than Lance was and shoved the condom into his pant’s pocket so fast, Lance was surprised his fist didn’t rip right through it.

They both exited the bathroom hurriedly and Keith stalked off down the hallway. Lance followed him obediently.

They walked just far enough to be away from prying eyes and eager ears. A few of the catering staff gave them curious side-eye glances as they went in and out of the kitchen with more canapes and items for the buffet but they knew not to linger.

“So?” Lance questioned, still oblivious to what it was that he had supposedly done to make Keith mad at him. You know, apart from continuing to exist. 

God, he knew it was too good to be true. Keith being nice to him and all. He was probably under a spell that wore off at midnight just like Cinderella. But instead of turning back into a peasant, Keith just went back to being a nobhead.

“What were you doing talking to him?” Keith instantly demanded, his scowl quickly morphing into a fake smile as one of Lance’s relatives walked past.

So that’s why Keith was mad. He had seen the interaction with Lotor after all.

Brilliant.

Lance matched the forced grin, waving to his Auntie Sandra who was staggering past, twelve mimosas deep. Fortunately for them, she didn’t stop to chat or force any condoms on anyone.

“Look. He came over to me--”

“--You seemed awfully close,” Keith interjected, barely letting Lance get his words out.

Lance scowled, “What are you implying?”

“You tell me.”

“If you must know. He came over to congratulate me...I mean us.”

“How convenient.”

“I did nothing wrong," Lance bit back. He should have known that Keith would have jumped to conclusions - how silly of Lance for even considering the fact that his husband might have come to his rescue instead.

Keith huffed out a spiteful laugh, “Really? So do all guests go around touching your lips or…?”

Lance blushed furiously.

“Wow,” Keith drawled sarcastically, “You're almost as red as you were with him.”

He had clearly made up his mind about what had happened so there was no point of Lance even trying to argue his case. He held his tongue instead but the words ‘fuck you’ were on the very tip of it. How dare he. 

Keith held his gaze and waited to hear his excuse. When it didn’t come, he sneered and said, “Look, I know you like him.”

Lance scoffed angrily, too irate to even dignify him with a response. Okay, so yeah, he may have been attracted to Lotor once upon a time but that was before he had been informed about everything. And you know what? Fucking sue him for having the audacity of gravitating towards a person that was actually nice to him. Maybe if Keith treated him differently….treated him like an actual human being, he never would have even considered Lotor.

But alas. Here they were. Keith talking to him like he was something he had stepped in...again.

“But I just want you to know that the only reason he’s interested in you is to keep me off the throne.”

The spiteful way Keith had emphasised the word ‘only’ made Lance want to punch him in his fucking face. Like there couldn’t possibly be any other reason why Lotor would like him.

He threw him a sardonic smile and nodded his head slowly, “The only reason, huh?”

Keith laughed nastily, “Haven’t you worked it out, yet? You are one of only two eligible omegas. If I didn’t get married to you, the throne would have been his. Why else would he have been interested?”

Lance couldn’t believe it. Could Keith not hear the words that came out of his mouth? How could anyone be so cruel?

And why…. why was he surprised?!

He huffed out his own spiteful laugh in return, “It’s good to know how highly you think of me.”

Keith’s eyes widened as if it had just dawned on him that his words might have hurt. He snapped his mouth shut and Lance took it as his cue to leave.

“Lance - wait - I didn’t mean--”

But Lance didn’t want to hear it. There was a free bar with his name on it.

*****

It was nearing 2am when Lance and Keith finally left the party. Not wanting Lance to miss out on any time with his family, Keith had waited patiently until Lance had come over to him and asked to leave. Most of the guests had called it a night somewhere near 1am, leaving only a few hardcore partiers either drinking the bar dry or requesting that the DJ play some nostalgic hits from yesteryear. 

Shiro had disappeared a while ago and although he did his damndest to be discreet, Keith still saw the moment he gave Adam a pointed look from across the room and nodded his head towards the door. Adam had quickly excused himself from the group of people he was standing with and followed Shiro out of the room like a little lost puppy, albeit through a separate door. No doubt Keith would be running into him again tomorrow morning, as he completed walk of shame number two. He cringed as the mental image of his brother actually having sex flashed through his mind and he was once again reminded of what expectations lay ahead for him and Lance. 

He tried to busy himself with playing with the leftover confetti on the round table he had taken refuge at, as well as watching Thace, Luis, Marco and Coran who had their ties wrapped around their heads, suit jackets discarded and shirts hanging out of their trousers, drunkenly dancing to some god awful tunes from the 90s.

Kolivan was slumped in the chair next to Keith’s, trying and failing not to fall asleep. He had his head propped up by one of his hands and his eyelids were begging to meet each other in the dance called sleep. Keith had told him to go to bed several times but each time he would jerk himself awake and protest that he was absolutely fine, not even remotely tired.  Keith resisted drawing a cock on his face with the sharpie one of Lance’s brothers had handed him when they passed by and saw the easy target.

He perked up when he saw Lance walking towards him, stifling a yawn.
“You ready to go?” He asked coldly and Keith could tell he was still annoyed from their earlier conversation.

To be fair to Keith, he hadn’t meant to insult Lance. He just wanted him to know that Lotor was using him as a means to get to him.

Yes, he could have worded things better but he was furious and not thinking straight and he was functioning on barely three hours’ of sleep, so give him a fucking break.

“Are you?” He asked in return as kindly as he could, not wanting to push Lance to leave.

“Yeah.”

Keith got up from his seat and placed a gentle hand on Kolivan’s shoulder, jostling him awake. He blinked rapidly several times coming back to his surroundings.

“Are you going?” He asked drunkenly and Keith bit back a smile and nodded. Kolivan stretched his arms and tried to widen his eyes to make himself more awake, “Goodnight, son,” he said unknowingly and Keith shot him a small smile.

“Goodnight.”

They made their way across the ballroom floor towards the exit nearest their rooms, narrowly avoiding Coran, Thace, Marco and Luis who tried to get them to join in with their 4-man conga line in the process. Keith opened the door for Lance and followed him out into the hallway.

They walked in silence back to Keith’s room. Well, technically, it was their room now, as they had been informed that they would have to share a bedroom once they were married - it would be weird if they didn’t, Shiro had said.

Keith unlocked the door and allowed Lance to enter first. Lance’s things had been packed for him and delivered to the room sometime during the ceremony. They sat at the foot of the bed which for some ungodly reason was covered in rose petals.

Christ.

Keith closed the door, locking it behind him and the click of the bolt seemed to startle Lance  out of his trance. He had been staring at the bed either horrified or curious, Keith couldn’t tell.

All he knew was that it was awkward.

Very awkward.

“So,” Lance tried, folding his arms across his chest nervously.

Keith remained quiet, looking anywhere but at Lance.

They both knew what was expected of them but neither of them wanted to say it.

Sex.

They were supposed to have sex.

Hot, passionate, just married sex.

Keith couldn’t think of anything worse.

“It’s...um...it’s fine, we don’t have to…” he trailed off, blushing furiously.

Lance looked as mortified as he felt, “We do,” he reluctantly disagreed with a shake of his head. “We have to.”

Keith bit his lip.

This was fucking ridiculous. Neither of them wanted to do it!  They’d be forcing themselves to go through with it which was what...consensual rape? And even if they did agree to go through with it, who’s to say Keith would even be able to get it up for Lance? Like not that he wasn’t attractive or anything but nothing killed a boner more than an obligation. An obligation to get naked, get hard and lose your virginity to someone who couldn’t stand you.

Keith’s penis remained pathetically flaccid in his pants at the thought.

“But we don’t want to,” he reasoned, looking at Lance pleadingly.

Lance licked his lips and looked at the floor unable to maintain eye contact with him, “Look, we can turn the lights out and put on music or something and--”

“--No one will know,” Keith shrugged, “If we...don’t do it.”

“Keith...we’re married.”

“And?”

“We have to like...consummate it,” Lance gritted out, his cheeks as red as a fire truck.

Keith raised his eyebrows in despair, “Lance, you and I both know that this marriage is a fucking joke.”

The silence that followed his comment was deafening. 

Lance looked crestfallen.

“What?” Keith questioned, confused as to why Lance would be upset at that revelation. Of course, it was a joke...a joke he assumed they were both in on.

But apparently only Keith seemed to find it funny.

“Lance, what?” he prompted, hoping to understand why Lance was staring at him like he had just slaughtered his first born.

But Lance didn’t respond, he just shook his head sadly.

“Look, it’s bad enough that we had to go through with it, I’m not going to make you have sex with me too,” Keith reasoned, hoping that Lance would see it from his point of view.

Because despite what Lance thought of him, Keith wasn’t a complete asshole. There was no way he’d force Lance to do something he didn’t want to, just because of his status as an Alpha.

“But,” Lance began in a very small voice, “We’re going to have to sleep in the same bed?”

“I guess but--” Keith stopped abruptly, eyes widening as he suddenly remembered his get out of jail free card, “Shit, I totally forgot!”

Lance flinched slightly at the sudden raise in volume, “What?”

“Look,” Keith announced excitedly, walking over to the bookshelf next to his bed. He skimmed his hands across the books, blindly searching for the odd one out as Lance stood stock still, watching him with a puzzled expression on his face.

He probably looked mental. Stopping the sex conversation to stroll over to his shelf and finger some books. 

Shit. Lance didn’t think he was looking for his copy of the Karma Sutra, did he?

No. Keith had made it abundantly clear that sex was not on the cards this evening...or any evening for that matter.

His hand finally fell on the thing that he was looking for and Keith grinned in recognition, pulling the haggard copy of, ‘Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland’ expectantly. He stood back and the bookshelf went with him, swinging open to reveal another room.

Lance’s jaw dropped open, “What the f--”

“--It’s a secret passage...you probably um….worked that out,” He mumbled, turning his head to the room, “I’ve had it for ages - I used to use it as a games room...but I had them turn it into a bedroom a couple of week’s ago,” he explained gesturing for Lance to come and take a look.

Lance walked over slowly and through the door.

It was a nice room, Keith had made sure of it. It was smaller than his own room but not massively so. There was still enough space for a king size bed, desk, chair, small sofa, plasma tv, en-suite bathroom and even a walk-in closet.

“I told them we wanted somewhere you could go during um….your heats,” he explained awkwardly, as Lance blinked, taking it all in.

It wasn’t unusual for alpha and omega couples to have a heat room. In fact, if you could afford it, it was stupid not to have one. Shiro and Company hadn’t even batted an eye when Keith had asked, too busy kicking themselves for not thinking of it first. They hadn’t cottoned on that Keith might have an ulterior motive for wanting such a room.

“So, um...we won’t even have to share a bed,” Keith continued, allowing a small laugh to escape from him and waiting for Lance’s equally relieved reaction.

But it never came.

“There’s no door,” Lance remarked, still looking around the room, “Or windows…”

“No. You’d have to use the bookcase and go through my room to get in and out - that way, people won’t suspect anything. And it’s a secret room,” he smiled sheepishly, “It wouldn’t be a secret if there were windows.”

Lance furrowed his brows, “Right.”

“Yeah, and it has locks on both sides, so you can lock it from your side too, if you wanted to.”

“If I wanted to,” Lance repeated stiffly.

“I mean, you’d have your privacy.”

Lance huffed out a sarcastic laugh, “Thank you, Josef Fritzl, that’s very kind of you,” he spat.

Keith blanched at his words, “What?” he asked, frowning. Surely Lance didn’t expect Keith to invite him into his bed. They barely knew each other for fuck’s sake. He thought they were on the same page. He thought Lance would be over the moon to have his own space. Away from him. It was obvious that he couldn’t stand Keith - why in God’s name would he want to put himself through more torture.

Lance shook his head bitterly, “I don’t know what I expected from you.”

He stormed back into Keith’s room, grabbing a couple of his bags, Keith followed him and picked up the ones that Lance couldn’t manage himself which earned him another scoff from the omega.

“Hey,” he said as Lance stomped back towards the secret room, “Lance - what...I don’t understand - why are you mad?”

Lance threw his bags down onto the plush carpet and whirled around to face Keith, “What about the marks, Keith?” he demanded, throwing his hands up in despair.

Keith drew in a breath.

Right. The marks. Mating marks to be exact. Bonding you to your partner for life. That’s what Lance meant when he said they had to ‘do it’ because they had to bite each other. A dry bite was excruciating, everyone knew you were supposed to do it at the height of sexual pleasure - just as you climaxed. It was said to be euphoric. The other option was unthinkable.

Fuck. Everyone would be expecting it too, after all, it was tradition to wait until your wedding night and display the scars proudly afterwards - as if you’d willingly want everyone knowing that you’d spent the previous night banging.

Keith frowned again, “No one’s going to know, Lance.”

It’s not like they couldn’t cover up - Keith rarely wore anything other than high neck tunics around the palace, apart from when he went to the gym or took a shower - and really, who the fuck was going to see him then!?

Lance nodded angrily, “Perfect. Yet another secret to keep.”

He turned and knelt down on the floor and unzipped one of his bags angrily, yanking out random items as Keith just stood there like a lemon, watching him.

“Anything else I should know?” Lance huffed out when he realised Keith hadn’t yet left.

“Um,” Keith swallowed. He didn’t understand why it was such a big deal, “Um...could you, could you like knock before you come into my room? I might be getting changed or something.”

“Why don’t you just lock it?” Lance sneered.

“Well I could but it might get annoying for you, so l thought knocking would be easier?” Keith reasoned.

Lance stopped unpacking and huffed out another sarcastic laugh, “Sure, honey . Anything for you.”

Keith frowned again and decided against arguing with him. If he was just going to be a dick about things, then there was no point. It was fucking 2.30am in the morning. Keith didn’t need this shit. The day had been exhausting as it was - worse than exhausting. It had taken a toll on him emotionally, physically and mentally.

“Okay so...um, Goodnight I guess?” He said and waited a while for a response that never came, “Um...just...just let me know when you want to go to breakfast and we’ll go down together.”

He was certain he heard Lance hiss out a snide remark but he thought better than to acknowledge it. Instead, he turned and walked back through the bookcase door to his own room, closing it softly behind him. 

He had barely walked two steps away from it when he heard the resounding click of the door locking from the other side.

Chapter Text

“Keith! Hold sti- for god’s sake!” Lance huffed out exasperatedly.

They were sitting shirtless on the edge of the king-sized bed in their deluxe hotel suite. Lance had his phone in one hand, makeup sponge in the other, doing his best to try and replicate a fresh mating mark onto Keith’s scent gland. Luckily for them, Google had more than enough images to use as reference, and if Keith could just sit still for five freaking minutes, Lance might have a chance at making it look authentic.

“I can’t help it, it tickles!” Keith winced, scrunching his neck into his shoulder again, as Lance barely grazed him with the moist sponge he was holding.

It had to be their ninth attempt.

“Keith! Seriously! Stop moving!”

“It’s really sensiti-- shit!” Keith hissed, jerking away from Lance as the cold sponge made the briefest of contact with his skin, “Sorry,” he mumbled as Lance let out an exasperated sigh.

Lance had already applied his own mark with expert precision, thanks to the years spent watching and replicating makeup tutorials. It looked so good, anyone would be fooled into thinking it was the real thing. Keith’s attempts, on the other hand, were pathetic to say the least and it was on his fifth try that Lance took mercy and stepped in.

“Seriously, can we not just bite each other?” Lance huffed out when Keith couldn’t stop himself from recoiling once more at the slightest touch.

It’s not like he was dying to be bonded to Keith for life or anything but if they had to go through this every single time there was a chance someone might catch sight of their exposed necks, then Lance would take it. After all, he had already signed his life away with the marriage, he might as well go all out with an unbreakable mating bond too.

Keith rolled his eyes, “It’s only for a week, Lance,” he stated, as if Lance was the one being ridiculous here.

“Ten days,” Lance corrected petulantly.

They had been sent to an exotic private island that boasted a 5-star all-inclusive resort which they had exclusive access to under the pretence of a ‘honeymoon’. Whilst Lance had initially been excited for ten days of lazing in the sun, swimming in the infinity pool, and drinking himself silly, Keith had quickly crushed that dream by breaking it to Lance that unless they could fake convincing bite marks, they would have to remain indoors, confined to their suite, less get papped and blow their whole cover.

So, Lance being Lance and not prepared to miss out on topping up his tan or making use of the swim-up bar, had brought all of his make-up supplies along for the ride, and spent the entire flight studying pictures of fresh mating marks.

“You know, you still won’t be able to get wet in case it comes off,” Keith commented, as Lance finally managed to make and maintain contact with Keith’s ivory skin.

“Keith,” Lance smirked without breaking away from his work, “If you think I am going our entire honeymoon without going in the pool, I have some bad news for ya.”

“We can’t risk it!” 

“Look, I won’t get my neck wet. Waist only, scouts honour,” Lance said, dropping the sponge and holding up three of his fingers as a promise. 

“Lance,” Keith said through gritted teeth, as Lance swapped the sponge for a thin makeup brush which tickled like hell, “Shiro said the palace has made a deal with the paparazzi - so we need to be careful.”

“And we are! These marks look exactly like the real thing!” Lance beamed proudly, taking a moment to admire his work.

“But they’re not the real thing!” Keith protested, flinching as Lance began the fine detailing of the mark with another thin brush,  “And who’s to say you won’t forget and dunk your head underwater and have it all running down your neck?!”

“Well, this could easily be avoided if we actually just bit each other--”

“--Just be careful, okay!?”

“Fine! GOD!” Lance seethed, finally finishing.  He drenched the mark in extra-hold hairspray so that it had more of a chance of staying on and then clapped his hands together, “Done.”

Keith rolled his shoulders a few times, getting used to the sticky sensation, “Thanks,” he mumbled and Lance flashed him a forced smile before starting to pack away his makeup and brushes angrily.

It was bad enough that they were going to have to pretend to be the newlyweds that everyone was expecting them to be. The fact that Lance wasn’t going to be able to use all of the resort’s facilities whilst doing so seemed awfully unfair.

“Look,” Keith began, breaking the awkward silence that had suddenly descended, “We could go surfing or scuba diving one day… if you wanted to?” He muttered and Lance had to stop himself from falling off the bed at the offer.

“Really!?” He said, failing to mask his shock at the prince’s uncharacteristic display of kindness.

“Well, I mean...that way, we could wear wetsuits...and um, our necks would be covered…plus, I know how much you like to swim… and stuff.”

Lance gawked at him like he had two heads. 

“What?” Keith asked self-consciously.

What did he mean, ‘what!?’, Lance didn’t know whether he was coming or going. It was exhausting being around his ‘husband’. He blew hot and cold like it was no one’s business. One minute he was locking him away in a secret room, pretending he didn’t exist, the next he was offering to partake in one of Lance’s favourite activities. To say that he didn’t know where he stood with Keith would be an understatement.

He shook his head lightly, “Nothing. That...that would be great, yeah.”

Keith shot him a small smile, “Okay. So, um, you ready?”

“Give me 5 minutes.”

*

“Ok, I’m ready,” Lance said, strolling out of the bathroom and putting his sunglasses on top of his head. He didn’t miss the double take Keith did in his direction. 

“That’s what you’re wearing!?” The future king squawked, eyes going comically wide.

“Um…yeah?” he replied, eyebrows raised in question. He was dressed for the pool. He had his flip flops on, an oversized beach bag slung over one of his shoulders, and was sporting a very small pair of royal blue speedos that didn’t leave anything up to the imagination. Where he was from, this was the standard pool attire.

“Isn’t it a bit, um. You know… revealing?” Keith blushed, eyes honing in on the itty bitty speedos before darting to the nearest inanimate object in the room.

“Oh!” Lance laughed, “Don’t worry, I’m putting a robe on to go to the pool!” He said with a flap of his hand and grabbed one of the fluffy oversized bathrobes from the closet.

“Right,” Keitch mumbled, still crimson.

He, on the other hand, was wearing a tank top, swimming shorts that reached just below his knees and sneakers with tube socks. 

Lance cocked his head at him, “What?” he pressed innocently, knowing full well that Keith wasn’t used to the ‘European look’. To see the Prince flustered was becoming a favourite pastime of Lance’s. It was just too easy to rile him up. Not that he wanted to push him too far, but he had to get his kicks somehow, right?

Keith shot to his feet, “Nothing, let’s go,” he said, making a point of not looking in Lance’s direction.

They made their way through the luxurious hotel to the pool hand in hand, knowing that they had to keep up appearances of being a loved up newlywed couple to the resort staff and security guards. The reality was, however, that as soon as they had stepped foot inside their suite, Keith announced he’d take the sofa and let Lance have the bed for the duration of the stay.

But no one needed to know that.

They got to the pool and Lance picked out the two best sun loungers - directly exposed to the blazing hot sun, and only a hop, skip and leap away from the fully stocked bar. He had barely pointed at them before a pool attendant was falling over himself, bringing them multiple towels and laying them out for them. Before they could even say thank you, a waiter appeared seemingly out of thin air to take their drinks order, and another attendant was dragging over a parasol in case they wanted shade from the sun. There were several security guards dotted around the pool, dressed all in black and probably, Lance presumed, sweating their tits off. He wondered just how much this trip was costing the taxpayers.

They settled on their loungers and were silent for a while, enjoying the peace and quiet that exclusive use of a luxury resort brought. Lance was two chapters deep in the romance novel he had picked up at the airport when he saw Keith from the corner of his eye finally make a move to take his tank top, sneakers and socks off. Keith then switched to lay on his front, to continue basking in the sun and it was a couple of minutes later that Lance’s eyes drifted over to his lounger. He raised his sunglasses to get a better look at him.

“You’re going to burn,” he stated with concern.

Keith, who seemed to be nodding off, made a questioning hum.

“Have you put on lotion?” Lance asked, already knowing the answer.

“I forgot,” Keith mumbled, face squished into the bed.

Lance tutted loudly, “Keith, it’s like a billion degrees out here and you’re practically transparent!”

“It’s fine.”

“It is not fine, you idiot,” Lance huffed, sitting up and rifling through the oversized beach bag he had brought along with him. He took out the sunscreen he had purchased at the airport, specifically for Keith - SPF 50 lotion, 5 star approval rating - the best they had.

“Here,” he said, standing up and moving over to Keith’s sun lounger. He swung his leg over and casually straddled him, sitting just below his ass. Keith's eyes shot open and he froze immediately at the action.

“What are you doing?” He demanded urgently.

“Two things,” Lance replied, popping the cap of the sun screen and squirting a generous amount of the lotion into his hands. He rubbed them together to warm up the product, “Preventing you from getting skin cancer and giving the paparazzi some grade-A content.”

He had spotted a photographer in one of the bushes when he stood up to move to Keith’s lounger. Yes, he could have applied the lotion in a much more family-friendly way. But this was the content people would be expecting from a newlywed loved-up couple on their honeymoon. This shit would sell magazines, and Lance LOVED to sell magazines.

He began massaging the cream into Keith’s back and shoulders as Keith lay stock-still beneath him, like a plank of wood.

“Just enjoy it,” Lance grinned, bringing his hands up to stroke Keith’s neck sensually, making sure to avoid the fake mark he had created. Keith shuddered beneath him as he moved his hands along his back, getting dangerously close to his ass. He applied more product and continued his ministrations, kneading the many knots out of Keith’s tense muscles in between strokes and caresses. 

“Is this really necessary?” Keith gritted out after a while, shifting slightly. He seemed determined not to enjoy his free massage which was unfortunate, as Lance’s massages were legendary and almost always ended with sex. Not that that was the goal here. He just wanted to ensure the paparazzi got what they came for.

“Absolutely,” Lance grinned again with a final stroke to Keith’s lower back, “Okay, turn over,” he said, patting Keith’s hips lightly.

“What?!” Keith all but squawked.

“I have to do your front.”

“I-can-do-that-myself,” Keith replied quickly.

Lance let out an airy laugh, “Yeah, I know but we have to give the paparazzi what they want and then they’ll leave us alone,” he explained in a low voice, tapping Keith’s hip again.

You see, Lance had it all planned. He had read enough gossip magazines to know what people wanted to see. If Keith flipped over, Lance would not only be able to apply more sunscreen but he would also be able to lean down for a kiss - the money shot, if you will.

But that wasn’t going to happen any time soon because Keith was still frozen beneath him, refusing to move.

“Keith, come on,” Lance prompted, as Keith remained still, doing his best impression of a corpse, “It’s not a big deal, just flip ov-”

“--Um...can you just...can you give me a minute?” Keith muttered quietly and Lance furrowed his brow in confusion.

“Um...okay?” he agreed, somewhat puzzled as to why Keith would need to wait before turning ove-- oh.

Oh.

The realisation hit Lance like a train.

He had given Keith a boner.

Keith - the virgin prince who Lance was certain had zero interest in sex was currently sporting a raging hard-on caused by the briefest of touches.

“Oh, yeah...um sure…” Lance rushed out, flushing red and hopping off of Keith as quickly as he could.

For some reason, the thought of making Keith hard was also making Lance hard which was absolutely crazy because Lance didn’t like Keith like that and Keith certainly didn’t like him like that either.

Unfortunately, his dick didn’t get that memo and all too suddenly, Lance’s speedos got that much tighter. 

“I’m just going to go for a dip in the pool,” he squeaked out in a voice he didn’t recognise, several octaves higher than his own. He rushed rapidly towards the water, hoping that the paparazzi hadn’t honed in on his semi which had breached the elastic of his teeny-tiny briefs, the head of his cock trying to break free.

He dived in without thinking, the blast of cold water a  welcome distraction from the unwanted erection.  When he came up for air, he realised he had done the one thing Keith had asked him not to.

Shit.

*

The rest of the honeymoon passed by without any other incidents. Luckily, Keith had thrown a towel Lance’s way when he realised what had happened, although not before his boner had gone down. Lance got an unexpected eyeful of the next in line’s sizeable peen, before being smacked in the face with luxurious cotton.

They made a pact not to go to the pool again.

They also didn’t speak about the massage...or the boners.

Instead, they spent their time exploring the island. Going on hikes up the mountains, visiting a local vineyard, scuba diving in the crystal clear ocean and surfing. Well, Lance had surfed, Keith could barely stand on the board for two seconds before being wiped out by the smallest of waves.

All in all, it was, and Lance hated to admit it, actually kind of nice? He thought the days would drag on but they went by rather quickly.

Keith stuck to his promise of sleeping on the couch, but he made the effort of speaking to Lance like a human being. It was stilted and often awkward, but Lance appreciated the attempt nonetheless. They even shared a couple of jokes and Lance couldn’t quite believe that Keith’s emotional range went beyond apathy and anger. He actually laughed, like a normal person. 

Before he knew it, they were boarding the private plane back to Daibazaal. Back to reality, to start their new lives as rulers of the realm.

***

“Your schedule, your highness,” the servant bowed, presenting an envelope to Lance with both hands.

It was their first day back after their honeymoon. They had been in Daibazaal all of 5 minutes before Shiro and Company pounced, informing them that their royal duties would start the very next day. Which is how they found themselves fully dressed and attempting to force down some breakfast at the ungodly hour of 7am. Well, Lance was struggling, Keith seemed to revel in waking up at 5.30am to work out. To him, this was normal. Lance, on the other hand, preferred to snooze through the twenty alarms he set on his phone, and leave it until the last possible second to peel himself out of bed.

He put down his cup of tea and smiled at his new title, “You know, that’s going to take some getting used to,” he said before thanking the man and taking the envelope. He quickly opened it and found it contained several sheets of royal letterhead with various dates, times and locations on. He scanned each entry quickly, eyes darting from side to side.

“Holy sh– is this for one week!?” He asked, horrified at the sheer amount of royal visits they were expected to complete.

“Uh-huh,” Keith nodded, not looking up from the newspaper he was reading. His own envelope lay unopened beside him, “ Fun . Isn’t it?” He asked sarcastically.

Lance’s eyes were still glued to the papers, brow furrowed in disbelief. He was only on page one of the four-page document and was struggling to process just how the heck they were expected to attend almost 20 events in—

“--Wait, wait, wait!” He squawked in outrage, eyes going comically wide, “We have to work weekends too?!”

Keith, unruffled, sipped his coffee, his gaze never straying from the newspaper, “I take it you didn’t read the full terms and conditions of becoming a royal,” he remarked, a faint smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Of course, he was used to this, he’d been doing it since birth. But Lance was not used to this, like at all. Talk about throwing him in the deep end. One minute he was sipping a margarita without a care in the world, the next minute, BAM, welcome to the first day of the rest of your life. Christ, he’d barely had time to unpack his speedos from his suitcase. 

He slumped his shoulders in defeat as he reached the last page. The overwhelming list of security protocols and royal expectations was more than his brain could handle so early in the morning.

“Guess it’s too late to back out now, huh?” he mused, still staring at the endless details. It was overwhelming, even for an extravert like him. He knew that the title of prince would come with a few caveats. Knew he’d have to put a shift in and show his face at important events. He just hadn’t realised how many events that applied to. Because it seemed to be ALL of them. 

The schedule was so tight he wondered if he’d even get a chance to fart. Maybe they’d gone easy on him before the wedding, not wanting to give him another reason to bolt. Considering Keith’s volatility and the literal bounty on his head, they were probably afraid he’d throw in the towel once he saw the neverending parade of responsibilities too. He should have known that first hospital visit was just an amuse-bouche for what was to come.

Keith held up his hand, showing off the single golden wedding band on his ring finger, eyes still on the newspaper. “For better or for worse,” he said, his tone flat.

Lance bit back a grin. He still wasn’t used to Keith having a sense of humor or cracking jokes. It was a complete 180 of the person he had been when they met, and although this version rarely made an appearance, it made the whole situation that much more bearable.

“For better or for worse,” he agreed.

***

“They seem to really like him, which is good… I guess?” Keith said with a shrug. He was sitting in Dr. Ryner’s lounge, in the same spot he’d occupied the last time he was there.

This whole talking-about-your-feelings thing was still alien to him. He wasn’t used to saying more than the bare minimum in conversations. Why waste energy? And unlike the majority of the population, he actually thought about what he was going to say before he said it, keeping his answers short and to the point. He said what needed to be said—nothing more, nothing less. Unfortunately, that approach didn’t seem to work in therapy - kind of the opposite, actually. But luckily for him, Dr. Ryner had the patience of a saint and seemed not to care that half of their sessions were spent blinking at each other in what Keith would describe as an expensive staring contest.

“Yes, it seems that way,” she agreed kindly when the silence stretched on too long, even for her liking.

It was like a game of chicken—whoever spoke first, lost. So far, Dr. Ryner was on a steady losing streak, repeatedly throwing out prompts to coax Keith into elaborating on the meager scraps of conversation he offered.

He decided to throw her another bone.

“He just… it’s like he was born to do it.”

The conversation had landed on Lance, which was inevitable. Keith was waiting for her to bring him up, and was surprised it had taken her this long.  After all, the omega was the main reason Keith was here in the first place. Well, that and the series of traumatic events that had turned him into a bit of a dickhead. 

They had just finished their second week of royal duties, and Lance had aced every single one. Whether it was a ribbon-cutting ceremony for a new school gym, touring a huge but excruciatingly boring recycling plant, or awarding members of the public with various honors, Lance always knew exactly how to act and exactly what to say. The public adored him.

Of course, Dr. Ryner had picked up on all this. Of course she had. And when Keith failed to offer a subject for discussion, she saw her chance and took it.

“And how does that make you feel?” she asked, tilting her head to the side in that way she always did when she was trying to psychoanalyse him. 

He hated it.

“I don’t know. Fine, I guess?” Keith replied eventually, stroking his arm self-consciously.

It was fine. Fine in the sense that Lance had no training in this area but still took to it like a duck to water, while Keith—who had been doing it practically since birth—floundered like a disabled pigeon in the background. Yeah. Totally fine.

“Because it doesn’t come as easily to you, does it?” Dr. Ryner stated, her gaze fixed on his.

Keith huffed out a self-deprecating laugh. “I think that’s an understatement.”

He had always been terribly awkward, even when his parents were alive. He hated the unwanted attention and never knew what to say or how to hold himself. Over the years, the tabloids spun it in his favor—he was just a "shy child" or a "mysterious teen," and the public ate it up, finding him endearing. But now, there was a new sheriff in town. Now there was a Lance. Keith’s shy and mysterious traits had morphed into standoffish, awkward, and rude, whilst Lance’s outgoing, charming, and kind personality, made him fan favourite.

“Is it hard seeing him take to it so well?” Dr. Ryner asked, her tone gentle but knowing.

It creeped Keith out when she did this—like she could read his mind and know exactly what he was thinking.

He could lie and say no, it wasn’t hard seeing Lance excel at something he was terrible at. That no, he wasn’t jealous of the attention the new prince was getting. That, on the contrary, he was elated that the public had a shiny new toy to fawn over and would finally leave him alone. But Keith knew that wasn’t the point of therapy. Why waste time bullshitting when you could put yourself through a world of pain. He had to be honest, even if it made him look like a grade-A prick.

“I’m supposed to be their king,” he admitted quietly, his face burning hot with shame.

Dr Ryner nodded in understanding, “And you’re worried they like him more than you.”

It wasn’t a question.

Silence filled the room, broken only by the steady ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner. Keith fidgeted with his hands, his fingers twisting nervously. Finally, he gave a sheepish smile. “What a crappy thing to think,” he muttered, staring at his lap.

Because it was.

“Because you’re the first human to feel jealousy?” Dr. Ryner’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “The only person who’s ever felt possessive over something they don’t even want? It’s nice to be adored, Keith. It’s nice to have millions of people think you’re the best thing since sliced bread. I imagine it’s immensely hard when that’s no longer the case.”

The problem was, it wasn’t just the fact that Lance was better than him or that the public loved him. Lance got the reaction he deserved; adoration from simply being himself. It came naturally to him, just as it did to Shiro. But that was the problem. It didn’t come naturally to Keith, and seeing Lance flourish served as yet another reminder of just how unqualified Keith was to take the throne. To be king of the realm. The awkward and angry King of Daibazaal. It also didn’t help that since they met, Lance hadn’t put so much of a toe out of line. Every mishap, every fuck up was down to Keith. Lance shone in everything he did, leaving Keith bitter and twisted in his shadow. But that was his problem. Not Lance’s.

“It’s still a shitty thing to think.”

“Yes, it is,” she agreed, “But the fact that you recognise your jealousy and understand it’s a wasted emotion shows a great deal of maturity.”

Keith blushed lightly at her admission. Mature wasn’t exactly how he’d describe himself—or how anyone else would, for that matter. It had been a while since anyone had paid him a compliment, and although he knew he didn’t deserve it, it was still nice to hear. 

“I guess,” he shrugged shyly. 

Dr Ryner, sensing his inner turmoil smiled kindly, “The goal here is progress, Keith. Not perfection.”

***

Keith had fallen into the routine Shiro and Company had given him quite nicely. Every day it was the same. He worked out at the crack of dawn, showered, ate breakfast, did his royal duties, came home, ate dinner, and slept. Rinse and repeat. It wasn’t exactly thrilling, but it kept him out of trouble. 

Things with Lance were going as well as they could be. They seemed to have reached a point of mutual understanding. They kept out of each other’s way, only speaking when they had to, but put on a united front for the staff and public, understanding that too was a duty. Their relationship was strictly business, clinical at best.

Keith was also making progress in other areas of his life too. Gone were the days of the staff looking at him like he was a walking shit stain. Now, he was rewarded with polite smiles and willing curtsies, rather than the obligatory forced motions, lest they lose their jobs.

He was on his way back to his room after his morning workout, mentally running through the day’s schedule. He and Lance were attending a big charity benefit later, something he wasn’t exactly looking forward to. A sea of formalities and small talk wasn’t his idea of a good time. In fact, he’d probably rather die but alas, that wasn’t an option. As he rounded a corner, lost in thought of speeches and awkward introductions, he nearly collided face-first with a sheepish Adam, who jumped comically in alarm.

Keith couldn’t help the wicked smirk that spread across his face as Adam, realising who he had run into… again , froze, his expression caught somewhere between exasperation and resignation.

“We really need to stop meeting like this,” Keith said solemnly, “People are going to talk.”

“Hi, Keith,” Adam replied reluctantly, his voice just a touch strained.

"What brings you to Daibazaal?" Keith asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Adam grimaced and began spluttering out some excuse filled with plenty of 'ers' and 'ums' as Keith looked on, thoroughly amused.

Unfortunately, as tempting as it was to drag the interaction out and watch his brother’s new piece squirm — Keith had somewhere to be. Fortunately for Adam, that meant a rare display of mercy.

“In future, I usually work out early. Between six and seven, and this is the quickest way back to my room,” he gestured down the hallway,  “Do with that information what you will.”

“Noted,” Adam responded flatly, his cheeks tinged pink. When he realised Keith wasn’t going to torture him longer than necessary, he gave a grateful but curt nod and retreated down the hallway, his strides just a little too quick to look natural. Keith couldn’t help but grin as he watched him scuttle away.

He was about to continue his journey back to his room but paused mid-step when the door to Shiro’s room creaked open. He took great delight in watching Shiro comically look from left to right to make sure the coast was clear, before creeping out into the hallway.

“Hi Shiro.”

Shiro jumped about a foot in the air at the sound of his name, “Keith!” he exclaimed, flushing pink. “What are you doing here!?” 

Keith tried desperately to hold back his smirk, “I don’t know if you’re aware of this or not. But I live here,” he said dryly.

Shiro fumbled for a response, “Right, yeah but it’s um….it’s,” he stuttered, looking at his wrist watch and face falling, “It’s your workout time,” he said in resignation.

“Just finished, actually,” Keith replied, no longer able to hold back his grin. “I see you finished yours.”

Shiro’s face turned crimson, “So I take it that you ran into Adam?”

“Mm-hmm,” Keith nodded. He was thoroughly enjoying every excruciating second of this interaction, “Not for the first time, mind you.”

They hadn’t spoken about Adam since the wedding. Sober Shiro wasn’t nearly as loose-lipped as drunken Shiro, and although he’d admitted that something had happened that night, the topic had been firmly off the table by morning. Keith had assumed Adam had gone back to Altea, never to be seen again — just a fleeting chapter in Shiro’s past, destined to fade into history.

“He was just… he needed to er… he just..,” Shiro stuttered again, unable to stick to any sort of excuse.

Keith was elated.

He finally stopped and groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Keith…it’s um…Look, it’s complicated.”

“I bet,” Keith agreed enthusiastically.

“I wanted to do this properly. Tell you in a more…,” he cleared his throat, “Formal setting.”

Keith raised his eyebrows in surprise, “Ohhhh, so it’s official?”

“Well….um…yes…it…he’s my…um…my…well, I’m courting him,” Shiro squirmed.

Keith snorted loudly, "Courting? What century are you from? Is this your way of confirming that he's your boyfriend?" 

Shiro nodded stiffly.

“Have you issued the press release?”

“Kolivan is working on it.”

“Wow,” Keith grinned wickedly,”It really is official…So, when’s the wedding - three months?”

Shiro’s eyes widened, “Okay, good talk,” he said, clapping his hands together. He spun on his heel and made for his door, as quickly as he could.

“Oh my god!” Keith cackled, following at his heels, “I was kidding! Are you really thinking of–”

Shiro made it inside and slammed the door in Keith’s face.

“Shiro!” Keith knocked on the door, grinning from ear to ear, “Let my assistant know the date and I’ll check my diary, okay?”

A muffled shout came through the door.

“Fuck off, Keith!”

***

“Are you ready to go?” Lance asked, glancing over to where Keith was standing. He was adjusting the gleaming cufflinks on his immaculate new outfit and checking himself out in one of the grand mirrors of the lounge they were situated in.

“Yes,” Keith replied, straightening up. He too was wearing a new outfit, not that anyone would be able to tell. It looked identical to all the rest.

“You both look dashing!” Coran enthused. He had popped along as he often did to check in on Lance and undergo important royal business with Shiro and Co that Keith and Lance weren’t privy to…yet.

Lance smiled at Coran before turning to face Keith, “And you have your speech for the—”

“—Crap,” Keith winced, “Give me one second.”

Keith was expected to make a short speech at practically every event they attended. They were always the same—short, boring, and more or less forgettable. Shiro usually wrote them for him and always made sure Keith had them well in advance so he could ‘practice.’ Not that Keith ever did, but Shiro didn’t need to know that. He’d gotten into the habit of leaving them on his desk and, despite Lance’s reminders, forgetting to pick them up on the way out. Today was no different.

He bolted out of the lounge and up to his room, grabbing the speech from the desk and flying back down stairs, knowing they were already cutting it fine for time. As he approached the hallway leading back to the lounge, the sound of voices stopped him in his tracks. He didn’t mean to eavesdrop—it just happened.

“I mean, it’s fine…” Lance’s hushed voice was tinged with frustration. “It’s just… we’re roommates. No, actually, scrap that. I’d say cellmates.”

Keith froze, his heart skipping a beat.

“Oh, it can’t be that bad, lad!” Coran’s cheerful tone responded.

“Oh, it’s bad,” Lance shot back, letting out a dry laugh, “I thought things would be different after the honeymoon but he just…it’s like we’re total strangers!’”

“Things will get better, Lance. You need to just give it some time.”

Lance scoffed, “Time, my ass. He hates me! At least Lotor would have actually spoken to me.”

“Oh, you’re not still upset about that, are you?” Coran asked dismissively.

“Honestly, Coran. Sometimes I think it would have been the better option – don’t pull that face at me - I do!"

Keith’s stomach twisted.

“You’ve always been so bloody dramatic, you know that?” Coran seethed, “You haven’t given it any time. You didn’t know each other four months ago for goodness sake! Some of the strongest marriages I’ve seen are the ones that were arranged between people who had nothing in common. Opposites attract as the saying goes.”

“That’s the thing, Coran,” Lance said, his voice quieter now but still sharp. “I wouldn’t even know if we have anything in common. We don’t speak. Like, at all .”

“Well, there are plenty of people in the castle you can talk to, Lance, and we’re only ever a phone call away,” Coran offered.

“Great,” Lance replied sarcastically, a heavy sigh punctuating the word.

Keith’s grip tightened on the speech in his hand as the words settled over him, each one cutting deeper than the last. He thought Lance was fine with the way things were between them. He kept his distance because he thought that was what Lance wanted—what they both wanted. Did he really think Lotor was a better option? He hadn’t realised he’d been holding his breath until the faint creak of the door broke the moment.

“Where the bloody hell is Keith?” Coran’s voice was closer now. A moment later, his head appeared around the corner, eyes scanning the hallway.

Keith stepped forward quickly, pretending that he had just arrived back at that very second. He held up the speech like a trophy. “Got it,” he said, forcing an even tone.

“Ah, there you are!” Coran beamed, retreating back into the room.

Keith followed him inside, his expression carefully neutral. Lance glanced over briefly but said nothing.

“All right, shall we?” Coran asked, motioning them forward and they both nodded, forced smiles on their faces.

They moved to leave, and Keith walked beside Lance, the speech clutched tightly in his hands. Each step felt heavier than the last, Lance’s words looping in his mind like a cruel echo. He would have actually preferred Lotor. To live under tyranny. That would be better than a life with Keith. The bitter disappointment gnawed at him slowly, an ache he couldn’t shake.

By the time they reached the car, Keith plastered on a polite, stoic mask—the same one he’d perfected over years of public appearances. But inside, he felt like he was cracking.

***

Lance was beginning to feel off. He had the all too familiar queasy feeling in the pit of his stomach, and knew exactly what was coming.

His heat.

Luckily, Lance’s heats were short and regular. He knew when to expect them and had never had an early or late occurrence. He was punctual and apart from wanting to fuck anything with a pulse, they were always fine. Plus, he could control his urges - it wasn’t like how it was portrayed in porn. He didn’t become a desperate cock slut begging to be bred. It just made him extra horny, a little bit queasy and more parched than usual.

He declined Keith’s invite to breakfast, shouting through the bookcase that he didn’t feel great. Keith asked if he wanted him to bring back anything but the thought of eating made Lance want to vomit, so he said no. By some sort of miracle, they had the day off so Lance didn’t need to call down and make the humiliating announcement that he would be out of action until further notice, at least, not right now.

He spent the majority of the day in bed, trying to sleep it off but by dinner time he was starving. After a quick shower and a change into some clean clothing, Lance emerged from the bookcase into Keith’s room. Unfortunately, the prince had already departed for the dining room, so Lance had to make his own way down, which would have been absolutely fine any other day but for some reason, something felt off. Every single member of staff he encountered seemed to freeze, their eyes going wide at the sight of him. They’d stop whatever action they were doing - be it polishing the bannisters or dusting the many ornaments, and gawk at him until he was well out of range. And not one of them returned any one of his smiles.

It was weird.

When he got to the dining room, he wasn’t at all surprised to find everyone already there, tucking into that evening’s meal. What he was surprised to see, however, was the reaction to his arrival. Everyone collectively dropped their cutlery in unison, head’s snapping up to look at him.

“Um….hi?” he said shyly, feeling his cheeks going red from embarrassment. Shiro, Thace, Kolivan and even Keith gawked at him in the exact same way the staff members had, eyes practically falling out of their sockets.

He went to sit down but Shiro jumped up, abruptly, stopping him.

“Lance, may I have a quick word?” He asked, not even waiting for an answer. He grabbed him by the elbow and led him gently outside, into the hallway.

“Have I done something wrong?” Lance asked nervously. He was feeling hot and bothered like he always did whenever he was in heat. It was so embarrassing. He could be sitting in a freezer and there would still be beads of sweat rolling down his forehead.

“Are you on your heat?” Shiro asked, bringing his hand up to his nose and rubbing it lightly. He was trying to be discreet about it but it was at that moment that Lance realised he must have reeked of pheromones.

“Shit,” he breathed, flushing from head to toe,  “Can you all smell me?”

Shiro swallowed and nodded his head stiffly, “Why haven’t you taken your scent blockers?” He asked as politely as he could, albeit through gritted teeth.

“I ran out of them but I read somewhere that married omegas don’t have to take them as your scent dulls when you--” Lance stopped abruptly, realising that he had royally fucked up.

Your scent dulls when your partner bites you.

Keith hadn’t bitten him.

Fuck.

Shiro narrowed his eyes at him, not understanding what Lance had just said - had just confessed to.

“I think you should go back up to your room,” he said, as kindly as possible, “I will get some food sent up to you, okay?”

Lance nodded quickly. His cheeks felt like they were on fire.

No wonder the staff had all looked at him like that. He was a walking sex doll.

He scurried away as fast as his legs would carry him, head down, not wanting anyone to see his humiliation.

“Wait, Lance,” Shiro called out, jogging up to him.

Lance waited for him to speak again but he was looking sternly at the security guards who were openly staring at Lance.

“I’ll...I’ll escort you,” he said, blushing profusely.

*

The doors to the dining room almost flew off their hinges as Shiro came storming back in. Keith had the briefest of moments to think that they really should start being kinder to the doors lest they break for good, before Shiro started shouting in his direction.

“KEITH. A WORD. NOW!” he barked out and Keith immediately got to his feet and followed him out of the room.

Shiro didn’t waste a minute, storming into a nearby lounge and whirling around to face him.

“Care to explain!?” He demanded with a slam of the door, face like thunder.

He didn’t need to spell out what he was asking because it was obvious. The stench of an unclaimed omega in heat still wafting in the air. It made Keith dizzy with lust. It was unlike anything he had ever smelled before.

“Um,” he said, looking to the floor unable to maintain eye contact knowing full well what was coming, “Look - we um...we,” he struggled out, finding it almost impossible to explain to Shiro that not only had they not bitten each other but they hadn’t even consummated the marriage.

Shiro’s face contorted into horrified understanding at Keith’s inability to say anything, “But the marks...I saw the marks,” he said as if trying to convince himself.

The pictures of them on the sun loungers had made the front page of every broadsheet and tacky magazine known to man. The paps had zoomed in, getting a nice but thankfully blurry shot of the forged mating marks on their necks, and no one had suspected a thing. If anything, it was the exact opposite.

“It was makeup.” Keith admitted, still looking at the floor.

The gasp Shiro made was like something from a Spanish soap opera. In fact, this whole situation could have been a plot in one of them. The sham marriage, the forged marks - they had everything going to keep an audience hooked.

“Please tell me you’re joking.”

Keith had the decency to finally look up at Shiro to confirm that no, he was not, in fact, joking.

Shiro looked like he was going to murder him.

“Do you know what would happen if this got out!?” He seethed, eyes wide with rage.

Keith bit his lip but said nothing. 

“Do you have any idea how fucking bad this is, Keith?”

“It’s--”

“NO! You don’t realise how much--” he stopped himself from fully losing his shit, putting a hand to his head in despair, “Please tell me you at least consummated the marriage.”

Keith’s silence spoke volumes.

“For fuck’s sake, Keith!” Shiro raged on, flinging his arms out dramatically, “You cannot be this stupid!!!”

“It’s not my fault he didn’t take his scent blockers!” Keith countered, more than a little bit bitter that Lance had revealed their secret. 

They had gotten away with it up to now. No one had suspected a god-damn thing. 

Stupid Lance and his stupid heat that smelled stupidly good.

Why hadn’t he taken his scent blockers? It would have been bad enough if he had forgotten to take them on a regular day. But during his heat? That was beyond idiotic - even Keith knew that!

“That’s not the point!!!” Shiro bellowed and Keith flinched, dropping his head in shame. Shiro rarely used his alpha voice - in fact, Keith could probably count the occasions on one hand. But when he did, Keith knew not to push it.

“Right, we can fix this,” Shiro declared, pacing up and down the room, muttering to himself like a mad man. After a few minutes he stopped abruptly in front of Keith, “Okay. Here’s what’s going to happen.”

Keith raised his head to look at him and at least had the decency to look remorseful, grateful even that his brother had a plan B.

“You’re going to go upstairs - immediately - consummate the marriage and bite Lance--”

Keith was horrified, “--Shiro, please--”

“--You don’t have a choice, Keith!” Shiro interjected and Keith closed his eyes in despair, “You’re not going to leave that room until the deed is done, do you understand?”

It was at that point that Keith’s soul left his body. He never imagined, not in a million years, that he’d be standing here with his big brother, having this conversation. His brother, telling him to go have sex with someone who saw him as a total stranger. It would’ve been bad enough if they actually liked each other, but this… how the hell was he supposed to do this?!

“DO YOU UNDERSTAND!?” Shiro boomed in his alpha voice.

Keith nodded his head dejectedly.

“And whilst you’re doing that, I will deal with the staff...AGAIN!”

It hadn’t occurred to Keith that after every single one of his fuck-ups, Shiro and Company had to undertake some crisis management. He wondered just how much they had to pay the staff members for their silence, or give ‘bonuses’ just to ensure the non-disclosure agreement wasn’t broken.

“ Well? ” Shiro voiced and Keith snapped his head up to look at him. His brother looked angry for sure but there was also a nice red blush on his cheeks, informing Keith that he too, was mortified at the situation.

Keith didn’t say anything, just nodded for a second time in acceptance and defeat.

“Okay,” Shiro agreed to himself, seeming to calm down significantly.

Keith, not wanting to chance his luck any further, started toward the door.

“Um, Keith…” Shiro called out, and Keith stopped in his tracks, a glimmer of hope daring to escape him. He slowly turned to look at Shiro, thinking maybe—just maybe—his brother had taken pity on him and was about to suggest another plan that didn’t involve unwanted intercourse from either party involved. Unfortunately, as such was his life, that’s not what happened, because instead Shiro said, “Remember, a dry bite hurts. You’re…um supposed to do it right as you…right as you…” he stammered, the blush on his cheeks deepening, “Right as you… climax.”

Keith wanted the ground to swallow him. The only saving grace was that Shiro looked as mortified as Keith felt. They both stood in awkward silence, letting the full weight of words settle in.

Right as you climax.

Kill him now.

When he realised that Shiro had no other pearls of wisdom to offer, and once he was sure that nothing would ever be this embarrassing ever again, he turned and started making the long walk to his bedroom.

If he dragged his feet the entire way, well, that was his business.

*

Keith entered his bedroom at a glacial pace, wishing for some sort of miracle to happen and save him from this fate. He’d even welcome one of Zarkon’s assassins to descend from the ceiling and finally put him out of his misery. But alas, no one was saving him from this, and no one was waiting in the wings ready to slaughter him either. He was truly out of time. 

His legs almost buckled beneath him as he breathed in, taking in the fresh scent of Lance’s heat which sat thick and heavy in the air, despite the omega being separated by the secret bookcase door.

Keith inhaled deeply, allowing himself to indulge in the scent and letting his primal instincts take over. It smelled heavenly.

As if in a trance, he found himself gliding over to the bookcase.

“Lance?” he called out, voice shaking. He reached for the haggard copy of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland but hesitated. He didn’t want to barge into Lance’s room but he couldn’t exactly knock either. He decided to gently open the bookcase and called out again, making sure to breathe through his mouth.

“Yeah?” Lance called back but Keith couldn’t respond right away because breathing through his mouth did nothing, absolutely nothing; in fact, it was worse. The scent of Lance and his heat was so powerful, he could taste it on his tongue. It was making him dizzy.

It took all of two seconds for his resolve to break before he allowed himself to breathe in deeply again, indulging in the sweet scent. As he did so, his pants quickly tightened as all of his blood seemed to rush south to his dick.

He had never had the pleasure of experiencing an omega in heat before. He now understood the hype, the legendary tales told on the playground, the porn he consumed. It was like he was under some kind of spell.

“Keith?” 

The sound of his name snapped Keith out of his drunken haze and he opened his eyes (when had he closed them?!) to see Lance standing in front of him, looking utterly confused but also fantastically handsome.

“Is everything okay?” he asked, and Keith just blinked at him like he was seeing him for the very first time. 

Had he always looked this good?

“Keith?” Lance prompted nervously again when Keith didn’t reply. He probably thought he was having a stroke, “Keith?”

“Um,” Keith swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing deeply. He saw Lance’s eyes tracking the movement which made him hungrier, “We have to...um…we have to…” He trailed off helplessly.

Even though he was the most aroused he had ever been, he was still mortified. How the fuck was he supposed to tell Lance that they had to mark each other? That they had to make sure that the marriage was consummated? Gee, Lance, I know you can’t stand me and would rather be married to that piece of shit, Lotor, but do you mind bending over real quick!?

“We have to what?” Lance pressed after Keith was unable to finish his sentence.

“Um,” Keith said eloquently again. He was trying to find the right words but quickly realised there were no right words for this scenario. There was no hallmark card to mark the occasion of forced sexual contact, and he didn’t think a barbershop quartet would cut the mustard either, “Christ,” he breathed and looked away, face burning from humiliation.

From the corner of his eye he could see Lance searching his face for the answers, his brow furrowed in concern. When it finally dawned on him, his expression shifted comically, eyes going wide in horror at the realisation.

“Oh,” he breathed, and Keith was grateful to see that the situation was as mortifying for Lance as it was for him.

Lance swallowed nervously, “Ri-Right,” he confirmed and Keith nodded stiffly in reply.

So that was good. At least they were both in agreement that this had to happen. That they had to… get down so to speak…

Oh for fuck’s sake, please, for the love of God, kill him now.

In the silence that followed, both of them just stood there, neither one capable of making the next step. 

Because it was weird. Really, fucking, weird.

They were strangers cosplaying as lovers.

”I guess we should… um,” Lance uttered, finally breaking the silence and gesturing towards his bed.

But Keith couldn’t move, he was shell shocked.

“Unless you want to… um,” Lance tried again and Keith knew he had no idea what he was saying or where he was going with it, but the awkward silence stretched on and by golly, Lance needed to fill it. He looked around the room helplessly and then back at Keith, “Okay, so,” he said and took Keith by the hand as gently as possible but Keith still flinched hard at the contact, “Let’s just sit down, okay?”

He slowly led Keith over to his king sized unmade bed and gestured for Keith to sit down, which he did, albeit stiffly, completely unable to comprehend that this was actually going to happen.

Like surely, he had to be part of some sick and twisted social experiment? 

He hadn’t realised how violently he was shaking and it was only when Lance sat down next to him and put his hand on top of his own, that he registered it. Because truth be told, he was terrified. They had barely kissed for God’s sake and now they were expected to… he was expected to…

“I mean,” Lance started, licking his lips, “We don’t have to…” he trailed off.

Keith swallowed again, his mouth was bone dry, “No, Um…We do. We have to bite each other,” he managed to say, although he couldn’t look at Lance when he said it.

“Yeah,” Lance agreed, “But we don’t have to have… you know.”

Keith nodded stiffly in understanding.

They didn’t have to have sex.

They could get away with it. Could simply bite each other without doing the deed. It wasn’t uncommon, in fact there was a weird movement of people who willingly opted for this method. Said it meant more. A raw bite to show how serious you were for your partner, that you’d endure agony for them.

“It’s going to hurt,” Keith uttered.

“I know,” Lance replied.

They sat in a terse silence, as the seconds then minutes ticked by. The wait was agonising. Keith was a mixture of petrified and unbelievably horny. You would think that one would cancel the other out, but here he was, shaking like a shitting dog, and sporting the boner to end all boners.

It was Lance who finally moved first.

“Just do it,” he stated in defiance, as though he had been psyching himself up to get it over and done with. He moved to take off his shirt while Keith watched, still frozen in fear, still shaking. 

The process took longer than expected, Lance’s trembling fingers fumbled with each and every button. Oddly, it was a small comfort to Keith to realise that Lance seemed not only as mortified as he was but also just as scared too. When the shirt finally came off, Lance tossed it to the floor and turned his head, exposing his scent gland.

Keith’s mouth, which had been dryer than the Sahara, started to salivate at the sight of the now shirtless Lance, and the exposed scent gland which was nestled in the space where his shoulder met his delicate neck.

He had the sudden and overwhelming urge to mount Lance and fuck him into oblivion. The feeling caught him off guard and it was only with herculean effort that he managed to curb his instincts and stop himself from climbing on top of Lance - that and the fact that he was a pathetic virgin who didn’t have the slightest clue of what to do or where to put it. His dick throbbed regardless in his stupidly tight tailored trousers.

Still, he instinctively inched closer to Lance, who was visibly trembling now, like a rabbit who had been cornered by a fox. A sharp pang of guilt settled deep in Keith’s chest.

He didn’t want to hurt Lance. Not again.

“What if I…um… you know,” he said quietly, and Lance, who had been bracing himself for the worst, slowly turned his head back to look at him, eyebrows etched together in question.

“I’m not following.”

“You know…” Keith said again and made the crude gesture for jerking off.

Lance flushed from head to toe with embarrassment, eyes going wide, “Oh, um…you don’t…you don’t have to do that,” he said with a shake of his head.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

That was the other option. They didn’t have to have full blown sex but they didn’t have to have a dry bite either. There were other ways to avoid the pain. It definitely wasn’t common but it wasn’t groundbreaking either.

Right as you climax. Shiro’s words echoed in his head.

He didn’t say how you climaxed though.

Keith watched Lance consider his options. He looked uncomfortable, not just with the situation but in himself too. He looked as though he was too hot. Beads of sweat dotted his hairline, and Keith was close enough to feel the heat radiating off of him. He was like a furnace. He didn’t know much about omegas’ heats, only what he’d heard in the school yard, from Kolivan’s god awful sex education sessions, and of course, from the unrealistic porn videos he sometimes consumed. Unlike Kolivan’s matter-of-fact explanation of the birds and the bees, porn told a different story, of desperate omegas begging to be bred. But here he was, sitting with Lance who seemed pretty much in control of himself, bar the temperature he was running up and the…

He made the mistake of looking down at Lance’s lap.

He was sporting a similar erection to his own, confined in his pristine royal blue trousers that Mr Kim had tailored for him, begging, like Keith’s, to break free. Keith looked away, quickly. His face was flushing with a mixture of embarrassment and lust. He had only ever seen erect dicks in porn.

“Ok,” Lance finally uttered, and it took Keith a while to remember what he had offered.

Oh. Right. A hand job.

There was another moment of awkward silence between them because Keith didn’t have the faintest idea on how to start this party. Unfortunately, the library didn't have any books on dick etiquette, and having been home-schooled since he was 13, he'd missed out on all the first-time opportunities. He'd never played spin the bottle, never endured seven minutes in heaven, and never had the awkward yet much needed teenage experience of a senior prom night. He'd done nothing. And now he was expected to do everything. He was spiralling, and not at all prepared for the moment when Lance stood up and whipped his pants, boxers and socks off in one fluid movement.

His mouth fell open comically at the sight of Lance’s fully erect and sizeable cock.

He wasn’t expecting it.

He doesn’t know what he was expecting.

Lance, clearly embarrassed at being naked as the day is long and painfully erect, quickly sat down on the bed, next to Keith who was doing his best impression of a marble statue.

He waited for Keith to take the reins but he might have had more luck waiting for the second coming of Jesus, as Keith showed no signs of moving. With a small sigh, Lance reluctantly started to jerk himself off which finally lit the much needed fire under Keith’s ass.

“Let me,” Keith found himself saying. He had an out of body experience as he reached his hand towards Lance’s dick which had started to leak pre-cum, and wasn’t that a whole thing in itself.

Lance removed his hand and waited for Keith to take control. He closed his eyes and leant back on his elbows, bracing himself for the contact.

Keith took a minute to take in the sight of Lance in heat, sprawled out naked and hard.

He was gorgeous.

He must have stared for way too long, when Lance cracked open his eyes to see what the hold up was, Keith took it as his cue to get the show on the road. He finally gripped Lance’s cock tightly in his hand. Probably too tight to feel good. But the gasp that Lance let out was of pleasure, not pain and Keith knew he’d do anything to hear that sound again.

He started jerking Lance off. It was clumsy and uncoordinated but he was doing it. He was actually doing it. With every stroke, his own dick throbbed agonisingly in his pants. God he wished he wasn’t wearing pants.

He was concentrating so hard, he barely registered that Lance was squirming underneath him, body twisting and eyes scrunched tightly shut.

“Shit,” Lance breathed out, and it was the sexiest thing Keith had ever heard in his short life, “Shit…this is embarrassing….shit, I’m already close,” he stammered, chest heaving.

Before Keith could comprehend what that meant, Lance came hard. So hard that Keith jumped in surprise at the massive amount of cum that spurted out of the head of Lance’s cock. It was mesmerising. There was so much of it that he couldn’t look away. He thought he could hear someone saying his name but it didn’t register with him because holy shit! He had just made Lance cum.

“Bite me!” Lance panted “KEITH-FUCKING-BITE-ME!”

Keith snapped out of his reverie and realised that he wasn’t just here to give his first ever hand job. He had another job to do. And weirdly, he somehow knew exactly what to do. He lunged forward, sinking his teeth into the delicious space between Lance’s delicate neck and shoulder. He bit down hard making Lance moan again and was surprised to feel even more cum shoot out from his cock, coating his hand which was still wrapped firmly around it.

Just like before, he instinctively knew what to do next. It was strange. Without thinking, he stopped biting and began to gently lick the blood away from the fresh wound on Lance’s neck, drawing a soft, contented mewl from his husband. Once he was sure the bleeding had stopped, he nuzzled the new mark with care, his touch tender and considerate and completely out of character. Lance sagged against him, his breaths coming in heavy, uneven bursts.

They stayed like that for what felt like an eternity. Lance took his time recovering but Keith didn’t mind in the slightest. He could have stayed like this forever, wrapped in the quiet comfort of the moment. For the first time in a long time, he was content—a feeling he’d almost forgotten. It was only when Lance’s cock finally started to soften that Keith reluctantly let go, the movement of which seemed to bring Lance back down to earth.

"Wow," he murmured shyly with a small smile. He pushed himself up from the bed and wandered over to a set of drawers, pulling out a pair of plaid pyjama bottoms. Keith quickly averted his gaze as Lance changed, even though every part of him wanted to keep looking. When Lance finally settled back onto the bed, Keith let himself look again—his eyes drawn to him like gravity.

There seemed to be a new glow to Lance’s flawless skin - he somehow looked even better than before, like something had changed within him but Keith couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Lance’s scent, still mouthwateringly good, had also changed. He smelt even better than before if that was possible, and Keith’s mind went to possessive thoughts of ‘mine’. He wanted nothing more than to hold Lance and nuzzle his face into him, so that he could consume him.

Lance smiled again sheepishly before looking away and Keith realised he probably looked mental. Staring like a psychopath, still sitting with his cum-soaked hand. What the fuck was wrong with him?!

“I’ll um… I just gotta,” Keith mumbled, peeling himself up from the bed and making towards Lance’s en-suite. He washed the cum off his hands, and splashed some cold water on his face too for good measure. He had finally stopped shaking but his boner was still standing strong, rock hard in his pants.

When he emerged from the bathroom, Lance looked up at him, “Okay. Now I have to do you,” he said flippantly.

“What?!” Keith squawked, almost tripping up. He thought they’d agreed that full sex wasn’t on the cards.

“I have to bite you,” Lance confirmed, and Keith, who had all but forgotten there was a second act to this play, reluctantly shuffled back over to the bed.

“Oh, yeah…um… you don’t have to um…” He said, unable to string a full sentence together.

Even though he had just jerked Lance off, the thought of Lance returning the favour was sending him into orbit.

“It’s fine," Lance shrugged, "You scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours. Or you know, you jerk me off and I’ll jer—”

“--Yeah I get it, Lance,” Keith cringed. 

“Okay, then,” Lance nodded, as though it was a done deal. But it wasn’t a done deal, because Keith had never done this with anyone before. He had never done anything with anyone before. It was one thing to do it to someone, it was an entirely different thing to have it done in return.

The level of vulnerability required for the task violently replaced any feeling of contentment, and Keith once again found himself shaking in fear at the prospect of intimacy.

The shoe was on the other foot and he did not like it. Not one bit.

But fair is fair. 

He somehow managed, with great difficulty, to take off his own tunic, fumbling with the buttons and making a fucking meal out of it, worse than Lance had. He eventually shook it off and let it fall to the ground before starting on his pants. Unfortunately, his hands had stopped working at this point, and he couldn’t quite undo his belt. His fingers felt like spaghetti.

“Here, let me,” Lance said. He gently put his hands on top of Keith’s and moved them aside. He undid the belt with ease and popped the button of Keith’s pants open but stopped short of unzipping his fly, as Keith’s shaking had intensified. He was practically vibrating and had begun breathing very hard - a panic attack was imminent.

“Would it help if you lay down?” Lance asked and Keith nodded stiffly.

“Um…yeah, that would…yeah” He uttered. He kicked off his shoes and shimmied up the bed, lying back with his head on the pillows, and eyes scrunched firmly shut, bracing himself for the worst.

To his surprise, Lanced followed and laid down beside him, his scent proved soothing to Keith’s distress and he found himself calming instantly.  

He felt Lance’s hands gently guiding the zipper of his fly down, providing instant relief to his cock which took full liberty of the alieved pressure.

Lance was careful with his touches and when it was time for Keith to lift up his ass so that Lance could get his pants off, he did so without hesitation, eyes still firmly closed.

He was certain he heard Lance whisper ‘wow’, but before he could dedicate any time on whether the omega thought he was well hung or not, Lance wrapped a hand around his cock and Keith couldn’t help the gasp of ecstasy that escaped his mouth.

The feeling was euphoric.

Lance was more gentle than Keith was. He seemed to know what he was doing, like he had done it before. 

He started out slow and sensual and fuck. Keith was already about two strokes away from blowing his load. It was the best hand job he had ever had.

Well...it was the only hand job he'd ever had. But it was so different from doing it to yourself.

“Ahh, Lance I’m gonna, ahh…”

Keith’s back arched off the bed as he climaxed hard, so hard that he didn’t even register Lance hovering over him until the boy’s mouth was attached to his scent glands. He felt a brief but sharp pain that was immediately overtaken by another wave of pleasure which rippled through him. He cried out and felt his cock pulsate against Lance’s hand, which was still holding onto it.

He had never felt anything like this.

Without thinking things through, Keith put his arms around Lance, and brought him to his chest, hugging him tightly. He nuzzled his face into the scent gland he hadn’t marked over and over again.

It was only after about ten minutes had passed, when his orgasm had worn off, and all delirium caused by being marked for life had cleared that he realised what he was doing.

As if he had been zapped with electricity, he let his arms flop to his side.

“Sorry, instincts,” he mumbled, mortified.

“It’s fine,” Lance said, muffled into his chest. He slowly peeled himself off of Keith and sat up. “Honestly, it’s fine.”

It was far from fine. All of Keith's primal instincts had taken over any sense that he had, and he was fucking horrified by it. This wasn't him. He didn't do intimacy.

He sat up, quickly and realised he was completely naked except for his socks. He thought the moment couldn't get any more embarrassing, yet here he was. The guy who didn't take his socks off during sexy time.

Fantastic.

He scrambled for his pants and yanked them on so fast, he probably held the world record. Fortunately, Lance had the good grace not to stare.

“Okay, so yeah. Um…Yeah… I’m gonna, I’m gonna take a shower,” He said hurriedly, picking up his shirt and staggering towards the bookcase.

He stumbled out of the room as fast as his jelly-legged body would allow, slipping back into his own room and throwing out a rushed and barely coherent, "Goodnight!" behind him.

He shut the bookcase and slumped against it, cringing into himself as he replayed everything that had just transpired. He wanted to disappear.

Later, as he stood in the shower, hot water streaming over him, he tried—and failed—to quiet his mind. All he could think about was Lance. The warmth of him. The way he smelled, the way he felt. Every cell in Keith’s body ached to turn around, to push back through the bookcase, to be near him again. But he couldn't. He was too proud. Too embarrassed.

So instead, he stood there, hollow and restless, like he’d left a part of himself in the next room.

That night, Keith barely slept. Every second away from Lance felt wrong. He lay there, staring at the ceiling, restless and aching, counting the hours until morning—until he could see him again.

***

“So, did you?” 

Keith had barely stepped foot outside of his room before his brother pounced. It was like Shiro had been camped outside, waiting for him to emerge.

He turned crimson at the question. 

“Yes! Oh my God, Shiro, yes!” he hissed, looking around to make sure no one was within ear shot. 

Luckily, Lance was still fast asleep in his room. Keith knew this because after the worst night's sleep of his life, he had finally admitted defeat, caved into his urges and crept into Lance’s room, to find the omega sleeping peacefully. Not wanting to look like a serial killer, Keith had torn himself away—though it felt more like ripping off a limb. Every step back to his room had been agony, his body screaming at him to turn around, to crawl back into bed beside Lance where he belonged. But sheer force of will was dragging him to the gym instead, where he hoped exhaustion might dull the ache.

From the corner of his eye, Keith saw Shiro breathe a huge sigh of relief.

“Good,” he said, nodding, “Good. Because I didn’t want to break it to you but your coronation clothes are made to show off your bite.”

Keith snapped his head up to look at him in horror. Not only had he had to endure the single most embarrassing moment of his life but now it would be on show for all to see.

Fuck this country.

Honestly, fuck this.