Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Once upon a time in a faraway kingdom, there lived a king and a queen. Their names were King Samuel and Queen Colleen, and they were very happy, for they were about to have a son. The whole kingdom rejoiced, but not long before the birth the Queen grew ill. She was near death when one young soldier brought her a miracle: a flower thought to be a legend. Born from a drop of sunlight that fell to the Earth, some said that could cure any illness, heal any wound, even turn back time and grant someone youth or bring the dead back to life. The King had a tea made from it, and the Queen drank it. A day later, a great celebration rang through the kingdom: the Prince was born, a healthy baby boy named Matthew with long golden hair and eyes. To celebrate the birth, the King and Queen released a floating lantern to give thanks to the Sun.

No sooner had the celebration ended when tragedy struck once again. The Prince was vanished, lost into the night. Soldiers searched every home, every shop. No stone was left unturned, no path untrodden, but there was no sign of him. Whoever stole the Prince had vanished from the kingdom entirely. There were no miracles left, it seemed, but the King and Queen never lost hope, and decreed that every year, on the Prince’s birthday, thousands of lanterns would be launched in the hopes that he would see them and find his way home.

As the years passed, the Queen became pregnant again, and gave birth to a healthy baby girl, whom they named Katie. Princess Katie grew up safely hidden away in the palace, protected by guards and stone for many years, until she disguised herself as a boy to join the army as a member of the Paladins—but that is a story for another time.

In a tower deep in the woods, hidden behind enchantments and cunning, a witch called Haggar cackled as she stroked the baby Prince’s hair. She had used the magic of the flower to keep herself young and healthy for centuries already, hoarding it away and hiding it, and now would use the young Prince for the same purpose. As she brushed his hair, she sang a little rhyme.

Flower gleam and glow, let your power shine:
Make the clock reverse, bring back what once was mine.

His hair began to glow, and all signs of age melted away from her. She sighed in pleasure, continuing to stroke his soft locks.

She would never let anyone take him from her.

“Rover? Oh, Rover,” Matt sing-songed, “Where are you hiding?” He glanced under tables and and on top of shelves, but the small bird was nowhere to be found. He drew the curtains on the large window and opened it. Rover was nowhere to be seen. “Well, I suppose he’s not out here.”

Rover, hiding behind a flower pot, preened his soft gray feathers and a lock of hair tapped him on the head.

“Found you,” Matt said.

Rover sighed birdishly.

“Well, what do you want to do?”

Rover ruffled his feathers and fanned his wings.

Matt sighed sadly. “If you want to go, then fine. I won’t stop you.”

Rover grabbed a lock of Matt’s long hair and tugged pointedly. He raised his wings again.

“Nope. I’m not going anywhere, Rover.” He stroked Rover’s head with one gentle finger. “I like it in here.”

Rover looked unimpressed.

Matt sighed as he stared out at the window. The tower was surrounded by high cliffs and mountains. The closest he had ever been to leaving was when he climbed up to the roof at night to chart the stars, and all he could see in any direction were the tops of trees.

“Alright, I’ll ask. But she’s not going to say yes.”

Rover chirped at him.

“I’m not going to sneak out! It would break her heart, and besides, it’s dangerous out there.” Matt shivered a little. “You know, it’s my birthday tomorrow. I’ll be turning twenty-five. Maybe she’ll let me come with her to the kingdom, and we can watch the lights together.”

Mother would be back soon. He had made dinner, swept the floor, put everything away. Everything was as clean as he could get it, but Mother would still find something to tease him for. He knew she meant well, that it was just a joke, but it still stung every time.

“Matthew?” Mother called.

“On my way!” he called back. “C’mon, Rover, we can’t let her see you.” Rover fluttered up to his nest in the rafters.

“I’m not getting any younger down here, Matthew.”

He hooked his hair up on the little peg above the window and and dropped the rest down. Mother grabbed hold, and he started to pull her up.

It took a while to do: the tower was tall, and hair really wasn’t meant for hauling people up towers. He was completely out of breath when she was up.

“Oh, Matthew, how you manage to do that every single day, without fail…it must be exhausting, my flower.”

“Not really!” He smiled at her.

“Then I don’t know why it takes so long.”

There it was.

“Oh, I’m just teasing, darling.”

Matt forced a laugh while Mother inspected herself in the large standing mirror.

“So, Mother, as you know, tomorrow is a big day—“

“Matthew,” she interrupted, “Mother’s feeling a little run down. Will you sing for me? Then we’ll talk.”

“Oh! Of course.” He got a chair for Mother and a stool for himself and sat down. “Flower-gleam-and-glow-let-your-power-shine-make-the-clock-reverse-bring-back-what-once-was-mine,” he sang, all in one breath. His hair glowed, sparkling with light for a moment and then faded.

“Matthew!”

“So, Mother. Tomorrow is my birthday!”

“That can’t be right,” she said, “I distinctly remember, your birthday was last year.”

“Yeah, that’s the thing about birthdays, they’re kinda an annual thing?”

“Matthew, we’ve talked about enunciation. Mumbling and letting your words run together is unbecoming and childish.”

He flushed. “I wanted to ask…every year, on my birthday, there are these lights in the sky, and I don’t know what they are. I know they aren’t stars, since the stars are consistent. They move across the sky in certain patterns, and I’ve charted them. These only appear once a year, and they don’t move in patterns at all. So I thought maybe they were meteor showers, but they don’t match those patterns at all either. These don’t fall, they rise, and I think they start from the kingdom. Besides, none of the books you’ve brought me have ever said anything about these lights, so I was wondering…since they appear on my birthday, and I’m twenty five this year, maybe we could go and find out what they are?”

As he spoke Mother’s smile fell more and more until she was scowling.

“Oh, Matthew. You want to go outside ? Look at you, as fragile as a flower. You know why we stay up in this tower.” She stroked the long strands of his hair. “It’s to keep you safe and sound, dear. The outside world is dangerous and scary. There are all sorts of people who would want to hurt you. Ruffians and thugs, cannibals and barbarians.” Matt shivered. “It’s just not safe, dear. Especially for you, look at you! Immature, clumsy, always mumbling, gullible, naïve…oh, don’t look at me like that, it’s just the truth. Here you’re safe, you’re protected. Mother knows best, after all.”

She held out her arms for a hug, and he complied.

“Matthew?” she said, stroking his hair.

“Yes, Mother?”

“Don’t ever ask to leave this tower again.”

Shiro couldn’t risk glancing over his shoulder to see if he was still being followed, and he couldn’t hear any sound over the pumping of his heart in his ears, but he was pretty sure that they were still on his tail. The satchel by his side beat against his leg, the jewels inside jabbing his thigh.

If he was caught, he was dead, and he didn’t think having saved the kingdom a few years ago—or having been the Princess’ sworn brother—would keep him from the death penalty for this one. After all, he had just stolen the Crown Jewels. Specifically, the Prince’s crown. The last time he had done anything on this scale, he had broken into the palace, and Pidge had lied to save his hide. It would take a miracle to get him out of this one, and everyone knew the kingdom was fresh out of miracles.

And while he was busy contemplating his fate, he had ended up trapped. An ivy-covered cliff rose above him, thick forest on either side and on top—and everyone knew leaving the path was death, in this forest.

The sound of hooves grew louder and louder behind him.

Death, or death. At least in the forest he’d be able to escape the disgrace of a traitor’s execution.

He grabbed onto the ivy, hoping to scale the cliff, and found that there was nothing underneath. He pushed his way through the ivy and found himself in a cave. For a tense minute nothing happened, and then he saw the silhouettes of war-horses. One of them stood out from the rest: taller and broader than the others, and he was certain if he were to glance through the ivy he would see the familiar black hair and white markings of Kuro.

“Did you see which way he went?” one of the guards said.

“From here? Either up the cliff and into the forest or stayed here and went into the forest, and if he went into the forest he’s a dead man.”

Thanks for the stellar assessment of my survival skills, he thought.

“We’ll station men at the nearby towns. If he survives, he’ll have to go there eventually.”

“Yessir!”

The horses all left, only probably-Kuro remaining. Whoever was on her back swung down, boots hitting the leafy ground with barely a sound.

“I know you’re there, Shiro,” Keith said. “You’re an idiot, you know. You could have had a good life. It’s not like they didn’t pay us or something. Even with your arm—you wouldn’t have had to work again, and I know your swordplay was just as good before you lost your arm as ever. So what I want to know is why , dammit Shiro!”

Shiro forced himself not to say anything. He didn’t have an explanation, really. Just that he could pretend he wasn’t still haunted by nightmares and ghosts when he was moving and getting into trouble. He could pretend he wasn’t just good at killing people.

“I’m going to leave Kuro here, and pretend she broke her leg, then we’ll be even for the Marmora incident. Besides, she always liked you better.” Well, that had trap written all over it. “And…” Keith took a deep breath. “If you come back to the kingdom, return the crown, and apologize, I’m sure they’ll forgive you. They’ve forgiven me for worse.” Shiro was pretty sure his little brother had never stolen a dead prince’s crown, though, so he wasn’t too sure what the fuck Keith was talking about. “You’ve done so much. Please, just come home. Whatever happened, whatever reason you’re doing this, maybe we can help.”

Keith sighed. “He’s probably long gone by now, and I’m just talking to trees. Whatever. I’m coming back for Kuro after a day, so I hope you get her before some other thief comes along.”

Keith’s footsteps faded away, and Kuro whinnied. He wasn’t too worried about a thief; Kuro had a nasty habit of biting people she didn’t know, and could buck like no other horse.

Well, time to figure out how deep this cave went, and if he could outlast Keith.

He felt his way along in the darkness, one hand on the wall and one hand out in front of him so that it would reach the back wall before his nose did.

He didn’t hit the back wall. Instead he found himself in a clearing, surrounded on all sides by high, sheer cliffs, and a tower in the middle.

Well, in the circumstances, the tower would be better to wait for Keith to get bored in than a cave. The stones were smooth, the whole thing remarkably well-made considering it was a random tower in the middle of the woods with no door or anything.

He pulled a pair of crossbow bolts out of his satchel and stabbed the mortar between two stones. It wasn’t the most efficient way of climbing a tower, and it wreaked havoc on his right arm, at the join of the flesh stump with the prosthetic, but it worked. He pulled himself into the tower window, and in a burst of pain everything went dark.

Chapter Text

Matt inspected his new prisoner. He didn’t look that bad; handsome, even. He had a nice face, a square jaw and a straight nose, and his hair was incredibly short, except for a tuft over his forehead. His hair was mostly black, except for the tuft, which was snow-white, like Mother’s hair. Matt hadn’t known that hair could come in two colors like that. There was a scar over the man’s nose, and his right hand was made of metal.

People didn’t usually have metal parts. He rolled up the sleeve, trying to figure out how far up it went. He had never seen clothes like this before, except in some books about faraway lands. People dressed like this in the Kingdom of Altea, he knew: a dark shirt and pants, with a high-collared vest, edged with silver, on top of it.

Rover chirped and fluttered down to the man’s face, tugging up his lip. His teeth were white, flat, and even: not a single fang to be found. He didn’t look like a monster, either. He just looked like a man.

He needed to hide the body; Mother would be back soon and who knew what she would do if she saw this. His eyes darted around the tower room. There weren’t a lot of places to hide something person-sized except…

His eyes landed on the closet. Perfect.

It took a few (more than a few) tries to get him into the closet, but eventually Matt managed to get him all in with no limbs sticking out. He propped a chair against the handle, to keep him in, and grinned.

“Too weak to handle myself out there, huh Mother? Well, tell that to my frying pan.” He spun it around a few times and hit himself in his head. “Ow.”

Something glinted in his peripheral vision. The man had brought a satchel with him, and it had fallen open, revealing a circle of metal. It wasn’t very large and was made out of panels, all joined together. Each panel was made of what looked like gold and was set with gems. They were arranged in a sun shape, the rays of the sun jutting out a little bit, and when he twisted it, they caught the light and sparkled like a thousand stars. Delicate filigree formed flowers over flat green stones. It was beautiful.

He stuck his arm in it. It hung off his wrist, and he glanced up at Rover, perched on the mirror, for an opinion.

Rover shook his head. He ruffled up his head feathers.

“Oh, a crown,” he said. He carefully put it on his head, looking in the mirror.

It fit perfectly, the band resting on his brow and circling his head. He drew himself up to full height, looking in the mirror. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting: maybe he thought it would make him look older or more dignified. Instead, he just looked like he was a little kid wearing Mother’s jewelry. It didn’t look bad, really, just…didn’t match.

He tugged on the leg of his trousers, remembering how Mother would tease him for being underdressed. He should really make something nicer.

“Matthew,” Mother called from the base of the tower, and he was ripped out of his reflections. He took the crown off, put it in the satchel, and cast about desperately for a place to hide it.

He dumped it in a decorative pot and ran to the window, hooking up his hair to let Mother in.

“I have a surprise for you,” he said while she climbed in through the window.

“Oh, Matthew, you know I hate leaving you after a fight,” she said like she hadn’t heard him, “Especially when I’ve done absolutely nothing wrong.”

Matt winced a little. She was right, of course. The world was dangerous, and he couldn’t fault her for protecting him for so long.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said earlier,” he started, but got no further before she interrupted.

“I hope you’re not still talking about the stars.”

“Floating lights,” he corrected, “And—“

“Don’t interrupt me,” she said. “I really thought we’d dropped this issue, sweetheart.”

“Mother, you think I’m not strong enough to handle myself out there, but—“

“Oh, my flower, I know you’re not.”

“But if you just—“

“Matthew, we’re done talking about this.”

“Trust me—“

“Matthew.”

“—I know what I’m doing—“

“Matthew!”

“—If you’d just—“

“Enough with the lights, Matthew! You are not leaving this tower, ever !”

Matt took a step back, away from her towering rage, not for the first time afraid of her.

“Oh great,” she said, flopping into a chair, “Now I’m the bad guy.”

Guilt stabbed at him. She was just looking out for him, and all he did was ignore her and refuse to listen to what she said.

He glanced at the closet. The kingdom was less than a day away; Mother went to the shops there, and she didn’t like to leave him alone for very long. She usually came to visit at least twice a day. So he could definitely get to the kingdom himself and get there in time for the lights tomorrow and be back the next day, assuming he had a guide that could get him there. And there was an unconscious man in the closet, one who presumably knew the way to the kingdom. All he would have to do was get Mother to leave for at least three days, and she would never even notice he was ever gone.

“All I was going to say, Mother, is that…I changed my mind about what I wanted for my birthday.” She glanced up, and he pressed on. “Do you remember that white paint you brought me once, the one made from those shells? Could I…could I have some more of that?”

“That’s a long way away, Matthew, nearly four days.”

“I know, I just…I thought it was a better idea than the—stars.”

She stood up and faced him, stroking his hair. “Are you sure you’ll be alright on your own?”

He smiled. “I know I’m safe as long as I’m here.”

“I’ll be back in three days. I love you very much.” She kissed the top of his head.

He let down his hair, Mother sliding down with a practiced ease.

Shiro came to in a dark room, tied to a chair. The rope was soft and silken, and he glanced down to find that it was hair , and not rope at all. Yards and yards of golden hair. He struggled against the hair binding him down, but could barely move.

“Struggling is pointless,” a disembodied voice said from the rafters, and Shiro was immediately afraid he’d wandered into a spider-human’s lair. Honestly, he’d seen weirder, and re really, really didn’t want to become spider food. There was a series of soft thuds, like bare feet hitting the ground, and the voice came again from ground level. “I know why you’re here, and I’m not afraid of you.”

“What?” he said, because honestly he didn’t even know what he was doing here.

A figure stepped out of the shadows. Bipedal, thank goodness, and human. A boy—if Shiro had to guess an age, he’d say about eighteen or twenty—and cute. He had long blond hair, really long blond hair, considering it was wrapped around Shiro thoroughly, and was still long enough to cover the room. He wore a dark purple tunic and trousers, cut in a simple style—made sense, he was living in a tower for some reason, he wouldn’t exactly be able to find a seamstress—and he was holding a frying pan.

“Who are you, and how did you find me?” he demanded.

Shiro was dumbstruck by the absurdity of this situation, and couldn’t manage more than a tiny Ah .

“Who are you, and how did you find me?” he demanded again, tightening his grip on the pan. The back of Shiro’s head still ached from what he guessed was the same pan.

“I—I was in a bit of a situation, and came across your tower, and climbed up. I didn’t realize anyone lived here.” Suddenly he realized that there was not a crown jabbing into his leg. “Where’s my satchel?”

“I’ve hidden it somewhere you’ll never find it.” He looked very smug. “So, what do you want with my hair? To cut it? To sell it?”

Honestly, he probably wouldn’t even notice if Shiro did cut some off, but why would he want to cut it in the first place?

“The only thing I want to do with your hair is get out of it. Literally.”

“You…don’t want my hair?”

“Why in the world would I want your hair? I was being chased,” My little brother tried to use my horse as bait in a trap to arrest me and execute me while trying to guilt trip me , “I saw a tower, I climbed it, end of story.”

“You’re telling the truth?” The frying pan was several inches too close to his nose for comfort.

“Yes!”

A bird fluttered off of the boy’s shoulder and perched on the frying pan, stareing Shiro down with its beady little eyes.

It chirped and fluttered its wings. The boy pulled the frying pan back and cupped the bird in one hand, turning away from Shiro.

“I know, I need someone to take me.”

The bird cheeped and chirped.

“I think he’s telling the truth too.”

Was he…talking to a bird ? Shiro really, really wanted to leave. Right now. Immediately. Maybe he could break the chair and untangle himself—

“Okay,” the boy said, turning back around, the bird perched on his finger, “I am prepared to offer you a deal.”

“A deal—are you kidding me? I don’t even know your name, and you want me to make a deal with you?”

“Well, I don’t know your name, either. I’m Matt.”

“My name’s Shiro.” It occurred to him that he should probably have given Matt a fake name.

“So, Shiro,” Matt said. “Tomorrow night, there will be a set of floating lights in the sky.”

“I’m assuming you don’t mean the stars.”

Matt scowled. “No. These lights only appear once a year, in the eastern sky.”

“Oh. The lantern festival.”

The pan was back. “Explain.”

“Every year the kingdom releases thousands of floating lanterns for the lost Prince. It’s a large festival even though it’s for a dead boy’s birthday.”

“Lanterns,” Matt said. “Of course. And you know where it is.”

Shiro blinked a few times. “It’s in the kingdom, yes.”

“Perfect. You’re going to take me.”

“No.”

“You take me to see the lanterns and bring me back here, and then I’ll give you back your satchel. That’s the deal.”

“Look, kid—“

“I’m twenty-five. Or, I will be tomorrow, anyway. I’m not a kid .”

Some pieces were coming together—the same name, the right age, the same birthday, apparently. Not to mention, if it weren’t for the hair, Matt would be identical to Pidge. It couldn’t be, but at the same time…

You wanted a miracle, Shirogane, he told himself. Of course, it would take a miracle to get to the kingdom without getting caught and in one piece.

“It’s the only way you’ll get your satchel back,” Matt said, “Or get out of that chair.” Wow, now that he had realized it, he couldn’t stop seeing the similarities to Pidge. They even glared the same way. It was a little uncanny.

“And all I have to do is get you to the kingdom and back?”

“That’s it.”

“Fine. I’m in.”

Matt stood on the ledge, hair hooked onto the peg. Shiro was already half-way down, using arrows to make hand-holds in the stone. Rover was fluttering around, chirping merrily. All Matt had to do was jump.

The tower seemed impossibly high, the ground miles away.

He glanced back at the tower; the dark rooms and the soft glow of sunlight through the curtain. He had lived his entire life in five stone rooms. He closed his eyes, gripped his hair tighter, and stepped off the ledge.

He slid easily down his hair until he was a foot from the ground, when he stopped himself. He had never touched the grass before. Hesitantly, he reached down with one foot and brushed the grass. It was softer than he had expected. He put one foot down, then the other, and wiggled his toes. The ground was soft, yet firm, and the blades of grass tickled the bare soles of his feet.

He had done it.

Matt stared back up at the tower, the place where he had spent two and a half decades. It looked so small, so cramped. How had it seemed bigger when he was in it?

Shiro clapped him on the shoulder. “Alright, then, let’s get going. We might be able to get to the kingdom by nightfall if we move quickly.”

Matt glanced dubiously up at the sun, low in the west. “Are you sure?”

“Well, for one thing, I have a horse, so that’ll be faster than if we go on foot.”

“A horse?” Matt repeated. He had never seen one before, only in pictures.

“Yup, her name’s Kuro. I’ve raised her since she was a foal. My parents trained horses, you see, so when I was a kid, I rode as much as I walked.”

“Woah.” He could barely imagine growing up being able to go outside, let alone growing up with horses and riding them around.

“You’ve never rode a horse, have you?”

“Not a lot of room for them, up in the tower.” He tried for a smile, but it came out strained.

“Well, don’t worry. Kuro’s pretty gentle, and I’ll be there with you.” Shiro put a hand on his shoulder and smiled.

They walked through the cave, past the ivy curtain, to where a horse was waiting. She was as tall as he was at the shoulder, muscle rippling under black hair. She had white markings, tall stockings on her legs and a blaze on her face, and a brand on her flank. Her hooves were about the same as his head, and he could see the enormous teeth in her mouth when she whinnied.

He swallowed hard, clinging to Shiro’s arm.

“Hey, Kuro,” he said, patting her on the nose. “Matt, this is my horse, Kuro.”

Kuro snorted.

Matt hesitantly reached out with one hand, glancing at Shiro for confirmation. He nodded, and Matt put one hand on Kuro’s nose. He could feel her breath on his arm, the softness of her nose under his palm.

“See?” Shiro said. “She’s a sweetheart, really. Alright, up you go.”

“What?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be right behind you. Relatedly, do you have some way to tie up your hair? I’d suggest a braid, but I’m not sure how much good it will do.”

“I’ve never…” His voice trailed off. He hadn’t thought about how hard traveling would be with seventy feet of hair trailing along behind.

“It’s alright, we’ll make it work. Now, come on. Put your left foot in the stirrup, just like that, and swing your right leg over.” Matt obeyed his instructions, and found himself on horseback.

“Um,” he said, “What should I do now?”

Shiro swung up behind him, holding the reins. “Okay, the hair is a bit of a problem. Could you carry it while we ride? We really need to find some way to tie it up, this is ridiculous.”

Matt nodded, gathering it up into his lap.

Shiro flicked the reins, and Kuro started off at a gentle trot.

Chapter Text

Shiro glanced down at Matt, who had fallen asleep on Shiro’s chest as they rode, his little bird tucked into his hair. Affection stabbed at his chest. He really did remind Shiro of Pidge, except older and a little…quieter, maybe, and he was starting to wonder if his feelings towards Matt weren’t exactly brotherly.

The sun sank low behind them, the shadows growing longer. Going along the road at night like this was just begging to be attacked by bandits. Even if they didn’t have anything of value—though, then again, he hadn’t checked Kuro’s saddlebags before they set out—his crossbow was in his satchel which Matt had hidden in the tower, and unless Matt had a dagger hidden away somewhere, they were defenseless.

Of course, there wasn’t anywhere nearby where they could stop for the night. They’d have to keep going, but on this road that would take hours and Kuro was clearly exhausted and hungry, and besides: bandits.

They needed a shortcut. Luckily Shiro knew this area well. There was an old tunnel that lead right into the city that should have an entrance nearby.

“C’mon, girl, time for the secret tunnel.”

Kuro whinnied.

“Alright, alright, you don’t have to go, you can take the long way around if you want. Hey, Matt, wake up.”

“C’ming, Mother,” Matt mumbled.

“Please don’t call me Mother, that’s just weird.”

He startled. “Ah! Shiro! Sorry, I—“

He couldn’t keep himself from laughing a little. “It’s fine, really. We’re going to have to walk for a bit; the quickest way to the kingdom is through a tunnel, and Kuro doesn’t do tunnels well.”

“Oh. Right, got it.” He yawned. “How much further is it?”

“About an hour, and then we’ll be just outside the gates. I told you we’d get there by sundown.”

Matt looked distinctly unimpressed, glancing up at the sky. “Shiro, it is sundown.”

“Semantics.” He slid off Kuro’s back, holding up his hands to help Matt down.

He rummaged through the saddlebags, finding among other things some dried meat and fruit, an unlit torch, some matches, and a leather jacket that looked like it might fit Matt.

“Here,” he said, tossing it to Matt. He caught it and pulled it on, and Shiro nearly died as Matt glanced up bashfully.

“How do I look?” he said.

“Really—really good,” he said, grateful for the dimming light hiding the flush on his cheeks. “Keep it, it suits you.”

“Thank you.” Matt smiled at him, and his heart skipped a beat.

Yeah, those were not brotherly feelings.

“Alright, Kuro, off you go. Meet us by the city gates, got it?”

She whinnied.

“So, where’s this tunnel?” Matt asked.

Haggar walked through the woods, basket over her arm. Her flower would be safe in his tower until she returned from collecting the shells for the paint. His rebellions were quashed, his will to resist broken. Then again, it had barely existed in the first place.

She hummed a little to herself, happily. It was nice, being so young; she barely had time to age. By the time she got back from this little trip, she knew she would look much older. It was the unfortunate side effect of using the flower’s magic to keep age at bay: she aged much faster without it now. Still, if it kept her flower happy and in his tower, where he belonged, this trip would be worth it.

A horse suddenly appeared from the underbrush, and she startled.

“Oh, a Palace horse,” she realized, relieved, noticing in the sun insignia on its harness and the five lions of the Paladins on the cloth draped over its back. Then relief turned to fear. “Where’s your rider,” she breathed.

She closed her eyes, reaching her energy out. One of them—their leader, no less—had a curse on him, she had placed it there when she replaced his arm. If he had been there, she could sense it. There it was: and fresh, too. He had just been by. This must be his horse.

The Paladins reported directly to the King and Queen. Nobody had seen much of them since the war ended, but that didn’t mean much.

Matthew. They were looking for him. They may have already found him.

She turned and ran back to the tower, heart beating fast. Her flower—she had almost lost its power once before. She wouldn’t lose it again.

“Matthew!” she called up. “Matthew, let down your hair!”

Silence answered her.

She ran to the side of the tower, pushing the ivy and the morning glories away until she found where she had sealed off the hidden stair. She pulled stone after stone out of the archway, digging her nails in to get purchase, until she could get in. She raced up the dark staircase, up and up and up.

The trapdoor was hidden under a rug, and she crawled out from under it, ignoring how it got her dress dusty. A dress could be washed. If her flower was missing…that was irreparable.

She gasped for breath in the dark room, feeling like it was spinning. It was dark and empty; no lights were lit, no curtains were drawn.

“Matthew?”

Silence.

If there was ever in Haggar’s heart some long-dormant maternal instinct, starved for so long of any contact, smothered by cruelties and curses, it awoke now.

She raced to Matthew’s room, ripping the sheets of the bed: empty, save for a few pillows. The wardrobe: empty. She tore down the heavy drapery that shielded the window seat, and found nothing. The grayish light of the moon flooded the room, casting faint shadows that served only to highlight how empty it all was.

The tower was silent save for her harsh breathing. Matthew was gone.

Something glinted underneath the hollow bottom step. Matthew kept some papers in there—sketches, mostly—but nothing that would glint. She pulled up the board and found a leather satchel. Inside was a repeating crossbow, bolts for said crossbow, a few folded letters, and—

She dropped it in horror. It rolled on the floor, coming to a stop by her feet. It couldn’t be, but it was: the Iron Crown, the Crown of the Lost Prince.

Matthew’s crown.

She grabbed the letters, opening one. It was written in Altean, and in terrible handwriting—it looked more like chicken scratch than actual characters. It was to someone named Takashi, and was a completely innocuous letter about raising horses from a younger brother, someone named Ryou. The other was written in Altean as well, but in sharp, elegant calligraphy. Someone named Fala was writing to a Shiro about stealing the Iron Crown to break a curse.

She squinted at that for a moment, trying to think of a curse that a crown could break. Most curses would break with either true love’s kiss—an unfortunate and unavoidable side-effect of the medium—or through some clever wordplay, finding some loophole or other. That was why, in Haggar’s experience, it was best to avoid letting people hear the exact words of the curse if at all possible. But speaking of curses…

The whole tower reeked of the energy she had cursed the Paladin with, and the satchel most of all. He had been here, maybe more than once, and she hadn’t noticed it.

No matter. The Paladin wouldn’t be able to get far with her flower before she caught up to them and exacted her revenge. His arm, particularly—if he thought the curse was bad now, wait until he found out what she could do with it when she wanted to.

She stood, a fearsome resolve forming in her chest. She crossed to her own bedroom, to the nightstand by her bed, and opened the top drawer. The dagger was deadly sharp, gleaming in the moonlight.

“So, Shiro,” Matt said. “Where are you from?”

“Altea. I grew up on a farm with my parents and little brother, where we raised horses. It was…” He sighed. “It was a good life.”

“Do you ever wish you had stayed?”

He hesitated. “No,” he said. “Not really. So, Matt, if you want to see the lanterns so badly, why haven’t you gone before?”

“I…well…” Matt looked away, and a rock hit him in the head. “Ow!”

The ground beneath them was shaking,  stones clattering against each other.

An earthquake.

“Run,” Shiro said. “C’mon, run!” He grabbed Matt’s hand and pulled him along. Matt gathered his hair up as they went, so that it wouldn’t get caught. Rocks fell behind them, sending up clouds of dust and making them cough. Water started to trickle down the walls, the riverbed above loosened by the quake.

Matt stumbled, and Shiro realized abruptly he wasn’t wearing shoes, but they couldn’t slow down. They had to get out of the tunnel before it collapsed on top of them. He could see light up ahead; they were close to safety.

Matt grabbed his wrist suddenly, yanking him back, and stone crashed down in front of them.

They were trapped, and the trickle of water along the walls turned into a slow flood. Water lapped at the soles of his boots. They scrambled up the wall of stone to a small ledge, trying to pry stones out to let them escape.

Shiro gasped in pain as he sliced his flesh hand open on a rock.

The water grew higher as their torch flickered and died. Even on the ledge they sat on, Shiro could feel the water reach the soles of their feet.

A bird chirped sadly.

“You should have left, Rover,” Matt said. Shiro’s heart broke. This was his fault; Matt was going to die the same day he first left the tower because he had trusted Shiro. Was this the curse? That he would betray everyone he was close to?

Shiro gasped for air and dove into the water, trying to find some kind of outlet or opening, but of course it was pitch black. He nearly panicked as he tried to find the surface, but couldn't reach anything but more water and stone in every direction. Finally his head broke the surface.

“This is all my fault,” Matt said. “Mother was right, I never should have done this. I’m so sorry, Shiro. I never should have left the tower.”

The water was up to their shoulders already. They were going to die here.

“I’m cursed,” he said. “Literally. A witch replaced my right arm with metal and cursed me. That’s why I stole the crown; it was the only way to break the curse. Someone might as well know.”

Matt sniffled. Had he been crying? “I have magic hair that glows when I sing,” he offered.

“You what.”

“I have magic hair that glows when I sing,” he repeated, and Shiro could hear the revelation in his voice. “Flower gleam and glow, let your power shine,” he gasped, only barely holding a tune as he struggled to keep his head above water, and with only one final gasp of air filling their lungs, they dove into the darkness.

A golden glow filled the water. It started near his scalp and spread down the waves of his hair, floating freely through the water, and revealed a small opening where it began to be sucked in. The stones there were more loosely packed, and they pried them off, away from each other, and widened the hole. Stone by stone, it got wider, until the force of the water overpowered the stones and they all tumbled out into a river.

Matt hauled himself out onto the riverbank, sopping wet but alive. Rover chirped miserably in his hair.

“Poor baby,” he said, stroking his sodden feathers. “You weren’t really meant to swim, were you?”

There was a sound like nothing he had ever heard before behind him and he jumped, but it was just Shiro, sprawled half-way onto the bank and coughing up water.

Matt reached out a hand to help him up and noticed that Shiro’s flesh hand was bleeding.

“Your hand,” he said.

“It’s fine.” Shiro gave him a tight smile.

Matt hugged him tightly, and if he cried a little it was just the river water.

“Thank you.”

“What are you—no, Matt, it was my fault we were in that mess in the first place, why are you thanking me?”

“You saved my life. Thank you.”

They set up a camp by two fallen logs and Shiro started a fire. The flickering light cast strange shadows across their faces and the forest around them.

“Here, give me your hand,” Matt said. Shiro extended his right hand, the one made of metal. “No, the other one. The one you hurt in the cave.” He wrapped his hair around and around Shiro’s palm, and he hissed in pain. “Sorry. This will only take a moment.”

“You’re being really cryptic as you wrap your magic hair around my injured hand,” Shiro said.

“It doesn’t just glow,” Matt said as an explanation.

“Yeah, that’s kinda what I meant.”

“Flower gleam and glow, let your power shine,” Matt sang, ignoring Shiro, “Make the clock, bring back what once was mine.” He could feel the magic working. He couldn’t quite explain it: there was a tingle in his scalp, and then a rush of bliss through his body. “Heal what has been hurt, change the fate’s design, save what has been lost, bring back what once was mine.”

The glow faded, and Shiro looked a little dazed. He unwrapped his hand, and saw the smooth, unbroken skin.

He opened his mouth to scream.

“Please don’t freak out!” Matt said.

“I’m not freaking out, are you freaking out? No, I’m just very interested in your hair and the magical qualities it possesses. How long has it been doing that, exactly?”

Matt shrugged. “Forever, I guess. Mother said when I was a baby, people tried to cut it. They wanted its power for themselves.” He pulled back his hair to reveal the shorter reddish-brown lock that curled by his neck. “But once it’s been cut, it loses its power. A gift like that…it has to be protected. That’s why Mother never let me…that’s why I never…”

“That’s why you never left the tower.” Shiro’s eyes were soft. “And you’re still going to go back?”

“Yes. No.” He hadn’t really thought about the possibility of not going back. “It’s complicated.” He took a deep breath. “So, what’s the curse, exactly?”

“Honestly? I’m not sure. A friend of mine knows magic, and she told me about the curse. She told me if I stole that crown, I’d break the curse, but that's all I know.” He sighed and stood up. “I’m going to get some more firewood.”

Matt smiled as he left. Shiro seemed tough at first, but was really soft and shy and sweet. His heart beat fast thinking about the hug and how nice it had felt.

“Finally,” Mother said behind him, “I thought he’d never leave.”

Chapter Text

“Finally,” Mother said behind him, “I thought he’d never leave.”

Matt whirled around, eyes wide.

“Mother?”

“Hello, dear,” she said, moving towards him.

Matt stammered for a minute, backing away from her until he hit a tree. Mother wrapped him up in her arms, stroking his hair. “How did you find me?”

“Oh, it was easy, really. I just listened for the sound of complete and utter betrayal and followed that.”

Matt flinched. “Mother—“

“We’re going home, Matthew. Now.”

“You—you don’t understand, I’ve been on this incredible journey and I’ve seen and learned so much—I even met someone,” he added shyly, tucking his hair behind his ear.

“Yes, the wanted thief, I’m so proud. Come on.” She grabbed his wrist and started hauling him away.

“Mother, wait, I—I think he likes me.”

“Likes you?” she said. “Please, Matthew, that’s just absurd.”

“But Mother, I—“

“This is why you never should have left! Dear, this whole romance that you’ve invented just proves you’re too naïve to be here. Why would he like you, come on now, really? Look at you, you think that he’s impressed?” She gestured to him with her free hand, and Matt suddenly felt small.

Why would Shiro like him? Inconveniently long hair, too dumb to have brought a jacket or shoes, naïve…why would Shiro, who had been all over the place, want to be with someone who had never left his tower? What did he have to offer Shiro, other than his hair? His absurdly long hair that just caused trouble for Shiro was his only good quality.

Mother was right. There was no reason for Shiro to like him. He had just made it up. Shiro pitied him as the poor boy trapped in the tower and Matt just misinterpreted it. Shiro probably already had someone that he really did love.

“Come home, Matthew. Mother knows best.”

He wrenched his arm out of her grip. “No.”

“No? Oh, I see how it is. Matthew knows best, Matthew’s so mature now, such a clever grown-up boy.” She patted his head. “Matthew knows best, fine, if you’re so sure then, go ahead and give him this !” She pulled the crown out of the satchel and tossed it to him.

“How did you—“

“Give it to him, watch, you’ll see! Or ask him about the Paladins, see if you still want him to like you then!”

She dropped the satchel at his feet and turned around. With a twist of her cloak, she vanished into the fog.

“I will!” he shouted into the mist, but it came out less defiant than he had hoped.

He could hear Shiro coming up, and stuffed the crown into the satchel and hid it in the jacket.

Ask him about the Paladins. What had Mother meant by that? What were the Paladins?

“Hey, Matt,” Shiro said. “Can I ask you something about the hair thing? Does it have limits, or could it do anything—hey, are you okay?”

Matt turned around, forcing a laugh. “I’m fine. Just…lost in thought, I guess.”

The crown hidden in the bag felt as heavy as the tower.

The morning dawned bright and clear, and Shiro woke up to Kuro’s impatient neigh. It had been a while since he had slept that well or that long, and that probably had something to do with the warm, solid weight on his left side. Matt’s hair fanned out over them both, forming a surprisingly soft blanket.

He tried to get up, but Matt’s grip was like steel. He was so cute, and really Shiro had never stood a chance against falling in love with him. It was hard to believe he had never left the tower before sometimes, and he was so easy to talk to—their ride yesterday, before Matt had fallen asleep, had been filled with Matt’s nervously excited questions and speculations, his constant stream of chatter about everything they passed: the trees, the animals, the flowers. He was amazing, and—

And he was the lost prince. Shiro couldn’t kid himself on that one; he was identical to Pidge aside from the hair, he had the same name and the same birthday and was the same age as the Prince, and the hair…he didn’t put too much stock in soldier’s stories, even if that soldier was the Princess, but a magic healing flower giving a kid magic healing hair seemed fairly plausible.

He knew how this story would end. Matt would reunite with his family, and Shiro would be forgotten. If he was lucky, it would get him a pardon for stealing the crown and he could get out without any more trouble. He should have gone home a long time ago anyway.

“Matt,” he said, shaking his shoulder gently, “You gotta let me go.”

Matt mumbled something and smushed his face in Shiro’s shoulder.

“It’s morning, Matt. We should get an early start so you can enjoy the festival.”

Rover perched on Matt’s ear and sang, loudly.

“Imawake!” Matt startled, arms going in every direction.  

“Good morning,” Shiro said.

“Good morning, Shiro,” he said with a smile. Shiro’s heart skipped a beat. “ Bad morning, Rover , there are better ways to wake me up.” Rover preened. “So, how far away are we?”

“Not far at all,” Shiro said. “Look across the river.”

The city seemed to shine in the early morning light. The palace stood at the top of the hill, the rest of the city cascading down to the sea like a curtain of stone. Even from this distance, he could smell the feast being prepared.

“We made it,” Matt breathed.

If Matt’s grin got any wider, it would split his face in half. Banners hung out of windows and pennants lined the streets. Garlands had been strung between roofs, and flowers bloomed on every windowsill. It was like nothing Matt had ever dreamed of. Music was playing, people were dancing, everyone looked happy. Matt felt light, somehow, like every worry he had was lifted away.

There was just one problem: his hair. It was trailing in the mud and kept getting caught under shoes and wagon wheels, and every step he took he was jerked back by his hair. Shiro helped him gather it all up, and luckily, there was a clump of small children braiding hair nearby who were overjoyed to help. Matt’s hair was braided up and up and up until it only fell to his ankles. They decorated it with flowers, tucked into the strands and holding up parts of the braid.

Matt bounced from stall to stall, admiring jewelry and sniffing flowers and feeling, for the first time ever, completely free. He wasn’t even worried about his hair getting caught on something or getting in the way.

Something caught his eye, and he wandered over to it: a mosaic of a small family, a mother, father, and infant. The mother was holding the baby close to her face, their cheeks brushing, the father standing with his hands on her shoulders. People had left flowers and bread there, with little notes about how they hoped the lost Prince came home.

The lost Prince. Shiro had mentioned him a few times before.

An emotion he couldn’t identify filled his chest. Longing, maybe? Sorrow?

Shiro took his hand and brushed his thumb across his knuckles.

“Come on,” he said, “There’s still lots to see.”

He wasn’t wrong: every corner they turned seemed to bring more wonderful things, more to see and do and watch and hear and try. For a heart-stopping moment, he lost sight of Shiro, but then he reappeared and hooked a necklace around Matt’s neck. The sun-shaped pendant shone in the light.

“I—I couldn’t—“

“Don’t worry about it,” Shiro said. “It’s a gift.”

Matt smiled up at him. Shiro was so nice, so charming and funny, and handsome as well. Matt’s heart had never stood a chance.

They walked along, Matt trying to commit every detail to memory, when he noticed a statue in a square, showing five people on horseback. One of them he recognized instantly as Shiro, riding Kuro and drawing a bow. He had never seen a bow like it, though; it was larger on the top than on the bottom and almost as big as Matt was. Engraved on the pedestal were the words “The Paladins.”

Ask him about the Paladins , Mother’s voice echoed.

“Hey, Shiro. What are the Paladins?”

“I—well—you see,” he stammered. “They were a team of five elite warriors that reported directly to the King and Queen. During the war against Zarkon and the Galra Empire, they would go behind enemy lines to destroy strongholds and free captured lands. They fragmented his army and weakened his empire.”

“And you were one of them, weren’t you?”

“I—” He faltered. “I was, yes.”

Matt put a hand on his arm and didn’t ask for more.

The sun was beginning to set when a large dance started, and it seemed like the perfect way to end the day.

Matt joined one group of dancers and Shiro joined the other. The dance itself was simple, and Matt got the hang of it quickly. The music picked up speed, and so did the dance, and by the time Matt realized what had happened, he was in Shiro’s arms, their faces inches away from each other. Both of them were breathing hard. Shiro lifted one hand to brush a stray lock of hair out of Matt’s face, and his fingers hesitated over his jawline. Matt leaned in closer, tipping his face up a bit.

“To the boats!” someone said, and they broke apart.

Pidge put a hand over her mother’s. Below them, the ball was at its peak; everyone was dancing and talking, spreading gossip and making deals. Up here, on the balcony, a moment of peace reigned.

She had never known her older brother, but she still felt his absence, especially on this night. Her mother stood behind her, her father beside her mother, and an empty space remained to Pidge’s left side.

She wished she could have known him, even for a moment; wished she could have some small memory of an older brother. The crown on her head was heavy with the weight of being two heirs in one.

A servant appeared on silent feet and said nothing, but merely bowed. It was time.

They went out onto the small terrace where the lantern waited, tethered to the pedestal with orange ribbons. It was emblazoned with the royal seal: the stylized sun that Pidge had seen every day of her life.

The ribbons cascaded down to the stone, and the lantern rose up out of her hands and into the night sky. Beneath them, thousands of other lanterns rose as well, rippling out from the foot of the small tower and out into the darkened streets. The sky was full of light, and Pidge said a silent prayer: if he was out there somewhere, bring her brother home.

The sky was dark as Shiro paddled them out into the lake, the setting sun hidden behind the mountain the palace stood on. The lanterns were about to fill the sky with light, but all Matt could feel now was fear and anxiety.

“Are you okay?” Shiro asked.

“I’m terrified. I’ve spent twenty five years looking out a window, wondering what it would be like to watch the lights rise in the sky. Now I’m here, and…what if it’s not everything I dreamed it would be?”

“It will be,” Shiro promised, laying his hand on Matt’s.

“And what if it is? What do I do then?”

“That’s the good part,” Shiro said, giving him a soft smile. “You get to find a new dream.”

Matt looked out across the water, trying to hide his blush. The first lantern rose in the sky, and he gasped. It was like a star rising out into the endless sky, followed by a crowd of others. They dipped and soared with the wind in a dance across the sky. The still waters of the lake reflected the lanterns’ glow, and is was like they were floating in the air with the lanterns, sitting amid the clouds.

Shiro drew two small lanterns out from under his seat and offered one out to Matt.

“I have something for you, too,” he said, pulling the satchel out from under his jacket. “I should have given it to you before, but…I was scared to.” The lantern light reflected in Shiro’s dark eyes, and Matt smiled. “I’m not scared anymore.”

Shiro put a hand on the top of the satchel and pushed it down into Matt’s lap. “Neither am I.”

They launched their lanterns together and watched as they circled up into the sky.

One of the lanterns—a large one emblazoned with a stylized sun—dipped down towards the water, nearly landing in it. Matt reached out and hooked his fingers under the paper covering, and lifted it back into the sky. It soared high into the sky.

Shiro brushed some stray strands of hair out of Matt’s face. Matt closed his eyes and leaned into the touch. He could feel Shiro leaning in close, and their lips almost met.

“I have to go,” said Shiro.

Matt could feel his heart breaking as Shiro rowed them to the far shore of the lake. It was a little hard to tell in the dark, but Shiro’s eyes looked a little yellow—or was that just the lantern light reflecting in them? He couldn’t put a finger on it, but it didn’t seem like Shiro.

“I’ll be right back, don’t worry.” He took the satchel and left Matt sitting in the boat, trying not to cry.

Chapter Text

Tears welled in Matt’s eyes, but he blinked them away. Rover perched on the side rail of the rowboat, trilling.

“It’s alright, Rover. I’m sure everything is fine.”

He curled into the jacket, away from the cold and the gathering fog.

The necklace Shiro gave him earlier was cold against his palm, the tiny golden rays pricking his skin.

A figure appeared in the mist, tall and broad-shouldered. Matt breathed a sigh of relief.

“There you are. I was starting to think you ran off with the crown and left me.” He laughed a little, nervously, but his smile fell as the figure got closer. There was a strange purple glow around his right side, and one shoulder was higher than the other and perfectly round. A red light glinted through the mist where his eye should be.

Matt took a step back. That wasn’t Shiro. Whoever it was grinned, baring sharp teeth. The points glinted in the moonlight.

“He did,” the monster said.

“No,” Matt said. “No, he wouldn’t.”

“See for yourself.”

The mist seemed to part, and he could see a sailboat, already half-way across the lake. Standing at the helm was Shiro, crown in hand.

Matt’s heart shattered. His knees hit the rocky shore, and when tears welled up he didn’t try to stop them.

The monster stroked his braid. “The boy with the magic hair. How much do you think someone will pay to stay young and healthy forever?”

“What?”

“Shiro told me everything, pretty boy. All you have to do is sing a special song, and you’re healed. Isn’t that right?”

Mother was right. She was right about everything. Right about the world, right about Shiro. Right about him being too naïve.

Matt ran. He ran until his vision swam and his legs shook, ran and heard the heavy footsteps behind him.

He stopped suddenly, pain ripping across his scalp. The braid was caught on a branch. He tugged uselessly at it, heart pounding.

There was a crack, a loud thud, and Mother’s voice, shaking with fear.

“Matthew?”

“Mother?” he said, turning back. The monster was lying flat on the ground, and Mother clutched a branch in her hands.

“Oh, my precious boy.” Matt ran to her, collapsing into her arms and sobbing. She stroked his hair. “Are you hurt? I was worried about you, so I followed you, and I saw that monster attack you and—” She faltered. “Let’s go, hurry, before he comes to.”

Matt looked back out across the lake, where the sailboat had turned to a shadowed smudge. Rover chirped and perched on his shoulder, rubbing his soft feathers against Matt’s cheek.

He turned back to where Mother stood, holding a lantern. She looked old and tired, her eyes lined.

“You were right, Mother,” he sobbed. “You were right about everything.”

She stroked his hair. “I know, darling. I know.”

If he had looked behind him, he might have noticed that the monster’s body was dissolving away.

Shiro was standing on a boat, holding the crown. Matt was nowhere to be seen. The lanterns were gone; the sky was dark.

What just happened?

The boat lurched as it hit the dock. Right by a guard tower. While he was holding a stolen crown.

Shit.

He didn’t even try to resist as they cuffed him and led him away in chains. There was no point to it; even if he could escape, where would he go? His plan, if he could even call it that, was barely a distant hope.

The guards shoved him into a cell, and he tried to piece together the memories. He had been with Matt on the boat, the lanterns around them, and they had been about to kiss, when the stump of his right arm began to ache. After that, nothing.

He tried to remember it. He had switched boats at some point; when, and where was the rowboat now? Matt was probably with the rowboat, unless something else had happened. All he could remember was an old woman laughing and saying something about taking back a flower—

Oh no.

The flower. The flower that had saved Queen Colleen’s life when she was pregnant with the Prince, the flower that could heal anything, the flower that was Matt’s hair right now. Matt, who lived in a tower in the woods with his over-protective mother.

If his mother—kidnapper, since he was the Prince—was taking him back, he would be back in the tower, alone and miserable, and probably being punished for trying to escape.

And he was the only person who knew where the tower was, and he was facing execution. Matt’s location would die with him unless he found some way to tell someone, someone who would believe him and wouldn’t just think he was trying to avoid death.

Allura sat in the sunroom, sipping tea with Pidge and her parents, when the messenger arrived to tell them that Shiro had been arrested for the theft of the Iron Crown.

She stared down at her teacup, at the murky brown liquid, as though it would tell her the future.

“My friends,” she said, “I have something to confess to you. Shiro did not steal the crown out of desire for it. I told him to.”

Pidge nearly dropped her teacup.

“I had foreseen…” She glanced up at Colleen and Sam. “I had foreseen the possibility that him stealing the crown would result in a reunion between you and Matthew, as well as breaking the curse on his arm.”

Pidge did drop her teacup, this time, the porcelain shattering and tea spilling out onto the tile floor.

“I would not have him punished for my error,” Allura concluded, folding her hands in her lap.

Shiro looked up when he heard footsteps approaching, and found himself looking up at Queen Colleen.

“I know where your son is,” he said.

She didn’t say anything, just nodded to the guards. One opened his cell and pulled him out. They made a strange parade: the Queen, looking as serene as she ever did; Shiro, still chained, with a guard on either arm. He didn’t bother to struggle.

The gallows were waiting for him in a quiet courtyard. He could see them out the window, a single noose swaying in the wind. At least, he thought bitterly, they wouldn’t make it a public spectacle. He would quietly disappear. Would they even tell his parents or his brother that he was dead?

They weren’t going to the courtyard. Of course not, they would have to have a trial first, for all that everyone knew he was guilty.

She led him through the dungeons and into the palace proper, through far too familiar hallways until they stood outside a room he knew far too well: the War Room.

Trials didn’t happen in the War Room. He had just enough time to be confused before she motioned to the guards, and his hands were freed. He pinched himself; this wasn’t a dream. What was going on?

“I have one last mission for you, Shiro. Bring my son home.”

She pushed the door open.

Assembled around the table were four familiar faces: Lance, grinning, his quiver full of arrows and his bow across his back; Hunk, axe strapped to his back and armor gleaming; Keith, his twin swords by his sides and a fire in his eyes; Pidge, who didn’t appear to be armed but Shiro knew she had knives squirreled away somewhere. Queen Allura and King Samuel stood at the head of the table, with Coran and the other advisors. A map of the kingdom was laid out on the table. It was just like old times.

“Hey, Shiro!” Lance said. “Ready for one more ride?”

He grinned, despite the shock of going from ‘about to be executed’ to ‘rescue mission’ and his worry about Matt. “You know I am. Alright, here’s the plan. Matt’s been kept in a tower around here.” He pointed to the map.

“That’s where we…um…lost you, the other day,” Keith said. “If we had pursued…” He looked abruptly guilty.

“You couldn’t have known,” Shiro said. “Also, thank you for not pursuing, because I would have gotten executed if you had caught me then.” He went back to the map. “The tower is in a clearing, and the only entrance to it is a hidden cave. The witch who captured him knows I know, but not about the rest of you, so here’s the plan…”

Matt sat on his bed as Mother combed out the last of the flowers and dropped it into a basket.

“There,” she said. “It never happened. Now, wash up for dinner. I’m making hazelnut soup.”

“Yes, Mother,” he said, curling his knees up to his chest.

She sighed, one hand on the doorknob. “I did try, my dear. I tried to warn you what was out there. The world  is dark and selfish and cruel. If it finds even one ray of sunshine, it destroys it.” She closed the door, and Matt was left alone.

He pulled the pendant out of his tunic, letting it hang from his fingers. The gold glinted in the candlelight. He smiled, remembering how gentle Shiro had been as he hooked the chain around his neck, how soft his eyes were and how his rough hands at the back of his neck had made him shiver and—

He cut off the train of thought harshly. Shiro had been using him, gaining his trust to get the crown and then selling him out.

Rover laid a wing over the back of his hand, and Matt stroked his tiny head in thanks.

He flopped back onto the bed, watching the light dance on the golden sun. It was the same one that had been on the crown, and on all the flags that he had seen in the kingdom. He glanced over at one of his star charts. He had drawn the exact same sun there, and he had never seen that symbol in the books; the sun there was just a circle with a dot in the middle.

The sun was a symbol of the royal family, and every single one of his charts had the sun. He flung open a drawer, pulling out pages and pages of sketches. Some of them had nothing but that same stylized sun, the four crosses for rays and the square center: some were fancier than others, but that same basic shape was there.

How had he known? How had he used the same symbol again and again without even thinking about where he got it?

His vision filled with a golden glow, and he remembered: a golden sun, hovering over him, a man and a woman, reaching down to pick him up. The glow faded, taking the memory with it, and Matt stumbled back into his wardrobe with a crash.

“Matthew?” Mother called from the main room. “Is everything all right in there, sweetheart?”

I’m the lost Prince, he thought.

He opened the door, leaning heavily on the frame.

“I’m the lost Prince,” he mumbled.

“Oh please, Matthew, enough with the mumbling. You know how I feel about the mumbling!”

“I am the lost Prince,” he repeated, standing up straight and enunciating carefully. “Aren’t I?” Her eyes widened with a sharp inhale, just shy of a gasp. “Did I mumble, Mother? Or should I even call you that?”

Quickly, she schooled her face back into an indulgent smile. “Do you even hear yourself, Matthew? Why would you ask such a ridiculous question?”

Shiro hadn’t known about his hair keeping people young, just that it could heal injuries, but the monster had known about that and the only person who knew about that other than him was…“It was you ,” he said. “It was you all along!”

All pretense of kindness melted off of her face. “Everything I did was to protect you.”

“I’ve spent my entire life hiding from people who would use me for my power when what I should have been hiding from was…you.” He felt sick just remembering every time Mother had stroked his hair, patted his head, kissed the top of his head. Had she ever cared about the person underneath all that hair?

“Where will you go? He won’t be there for you.”

“What did you do to him?”

“That criminal? He is to be hanged for his crimes.” The world seemed to spin. Matt stumbled away from her, his back hitting the wall. “Now, now, it’s alright, listen to me. All of this is as it should be.” She reached out to pat his head. He grabbed her wrist.

“No,” he said. “You were wrong about the world and you were wrong about me and I will never let you use my hair ever again!”

She wrenched her arm out of his grasp, stumbling backwards and into a mirror. It fell to the floor, shattering into pieces.

Shiro blinked twice as he saw Kuro saddled with the other horses and glanced at Queen Allura.

“She turned up about an hour before you did,” she said. “It was very confusing, especially since Keith said she…broke her leg.” She had a mischievous smile, but it quickly faded. “I—Shiro, I’m sorry. This mess is my fault. I told you to steal the crown because I had seen a vision of Matthew’s reunion with Samuel, Colleen, and Pidge. I hadn’t thought that you would nearly be executed.”

“If all goes well, that vision might still come true.”

“Shiro,” King Samuel said, holding something covered in cloth. “You left this behind when you left the first time.”

Shiro took it and gasped when the cloth fell away to reveal his bow.

After the disaster that had been the Paladin’s final mission he had left quietly in the night, unable to face his team and everyone’s disappointment. It hadn’t been his finest moment, to be sure, and he had left behind his bow because he hadn’t been worthy. And now it was back in his hands.

Shiro didn’t pay much attention to signs, but when an enchanted bow you left behind once came back into your hands, that was definitely a sign.

King Samuel put his hands on Shiro’s shoulders. “Bring him home, son.”

“I will, Your Majesty.”

Chapter Text

Matt struggled against the chain, fighting to work his hands free. Mother was in the kitchen, shoving food into a sack and muttering to herself about how she should have gone farther away to begin with.

A particularly hard tug made the metal cut his arm, but his cry of pain was muffled in the gag. Blood ran down his wrist and palm, making his fingers slip against the chain.

He pushed himself up on one foot, trying to get better leverage against the chain, but slipped back down again, jarring his knee against the floor.

Rover darted over to Mother, to where the key was hidden in her pocket. He grabbed it in his tiny beak and flew out to reach Matt.

Mother reached out with one hand and caught Rover. He dropped the key in surprise, trilling desperately.

Her fingers closed around him, crushing his wings. She dropped him.

His tiny body hit the ground with a thud.

“Rover!” he cried, but the gag muffled it into an unrecognizable mumble.

He chirped, struggling to move.

Matt watched in helpless horror as Mother’s foot came down. There was a crunching sound as his delicate bones broke.

His eyes filled with tears. Mother stalked over to him and gripped his chin, forcing him to look at the tiny broken body and the pool of blood on the wood floor.

“Why are you crying? It’s just a dumb animal. It’s not even that anymore. Grow up.”

She slapped him across the face, leaving streaks of Rover’s blood behind, and went back to the kitchen and the half-full sack. His cheek burned and his vision swam with fresh tears.

He had found Rover one winter’s night a few years ago, dazed, half-frozen, and with one wing broken from crashing into the tower window. Matt had healed his wing and spent weeks nursing him back to health, until spring arrived. He had opened the windows for him, but Rover stayed perched on his hand.

Rover could have left him a long time ago and could have been safe. All Matt had done was put him in danger. All Matt had done was kill him.

There was a scratching sound at the window, like someone was trying to open the shutters from the outside. Mother unlatched the shutters,  drew a dagger, and stood just to the side.

The shutters opened and Shiro stepped in, a little winded but alive.

“Shiro!” he tried to scream. The gag forced the words back down his throat.

The tip of Mother’s blade appeared through the thick cloth of his vest, the black fabric growing darker with blood. He collapsed to the floor.

Matt screamed and started to struggle anew.

“Now look what you’ve done, Matthew. Oh, don’t worry, dear. Our secret will die with him.” She took the chain off the pillar and pulled him back towards a trap door. Every one of her tugs was met with a tug from him.

He could still save Shiro. All he had to do was get to him, and he could heal him.

“Stop— fighting— me!” Mother said, trying to get him down the trap door.

Matt yanked himself away hard enough that the gag slipped off his face.

“No!” he said. “I’ll never stop. For the rest of my life I will fight!” He ripped at the chain to punctuate it. “But if you let me heal him, I’ll go with you. I’ll never fight, never try to escape. Just let me heal him, and everything can be the way it was.”

Mother’s eyes narrowed.

“No—Matt—“ Shiro groaned.

“I promise,” Matt said.

Mother plucked the key from where Rover’s body lay and unlocked the chain from Matt. She chained it to Shiro’s wrist, instead.

“In case you get any ideas about following us,” she snarled. Shiro grinned, bloodstained.

Matt rushed over to him, kneeling by his side. He pulled Shiro’s hand away from the wound. Blood had soaked through everything and he could see the ragged edge of the wound moving with every breath Shiro took.

“Matt, don’t—“

“It’s alright, we’re gonna get you fixed up, don’t worry, everything will be fine. You have to trust me.”

Shiro pushed at Matt’s hands, curling away from his hair.

“I can’t let you do this.”

“And I can’t let you die,” Matt whispered.

Shiro reached up to his face, brushing his fingers against Matt’s cheek and gathering his hair together in one hand. Shiro sat up halfway, wincing at the pain, and in one fluid motion brought up his other hand.

He sliced cleanly through Matt’s hair.

The shard of mirror clattered to the ground.

“Shiro, what—“ Matt reached up to his now short hair, feeling it curling up. His head swam.

“NO!” Mother screamed. Already she was turning older, shriveling up like a raisin. She grabbed desperately for the still-golden ends as though she could save them, but it turned brown in her hands.

She rushed over to the broken mirror. A thousand eyes stared back at her, a thousand wrinkled hands reached out from the glass. Horror transformed into fury.

She grabbed Matt by the shorn ends of his hair and lifted him off of Shiro’s body. Her hands were shaking with age, but her aim was true enough and her blade stuck home, piercing Matt’s stomach. She cackled as he fell, limp but not yet lifeless, back onto Shiro.

She was still cackling as her skin turned thinner and thinner until there was nothing left but bone, and as the bones dissolved into dust the wind cackled for her.

Nothing was left but a cloak, a dress, and a pair of boots.

Matt pressed down on his wound, blood seeping between his fingers. He pulled Shiro into his lap, even though it made his wound ache. Shiro’s breaths were growing fainter and fainter.

“Stay with me, Shiro,” he said. He grabbed Shiro’s hand and pressed it to his head, even though he knew that it wouldn’t do anything. “Flower gleam and glow, let your power shine,” he gasped out. “Make the cl—clock reverse, bring back—“ The words were overtaken by a sob.

Shiro’s eyes opened slightly, glazed with pain. “Matt?”

“I’m here, I’m here.”

“You were my new dream,” he whispered, and his eyes went dark.

“And you were mine,” Matt said to his body. Tears fell from his eyes, the mingled pain of losing everything and the knife wound in his stomach. Shiro was gone. Rover was gone. Mother was gone.

“Flower gleam and glow, let your power shine,” he sang, every word making his would ache and burn. “Make the clock reverse, bring back what once was mine. Heal what has been hurt, change the Fates’ design; save what has been lost, bring back what once was mine.”

Shiro’s body stayed limp as tears splashed on his face. Matt’s vision began to fade.

A soft glow suffused the room, growing brighter and brighter. Golden light bloomed from Shiro’s wound, curling up and out like the fronds of ferns, swirling around the two bodies. A flower made of sunlight bloomed over the wound, filling the chamber with the last glory of the sun-flower.

Shiro woke up to find his wound healed and Matt bleeding on top of him. He checked for a pulse and found one, still strong, but Matt wouldn’t wake. He needed a healer, fast.

First, he needed to stop the bleeding. Matt wouldn’t be able to get down from the tower like this, not and still survive.

Shiro had a pad of clean cloth in his pocket, and he ripped away at Matt’s tunic to get at the wound. He tied the pad on to the front and back of the wound, wincing in sympathetic pain as Matt made a tiny noise of pain.

“It’s okay, it’s going to be okay,” he said. “You’re going to be fine, I promise. We’ll get you home.”

“How long has it been?” Pidge asked for the twentieth time.

“Forty-five minutes since we got here,” Lance said, “And five minutes since you asked that last.”

“I’m worried about him,” Pidge snapped.

“We all are!” Keith snapped back.

“Hey, hey.” Hunk put his hands on their shoulders, pulling them apart. “We’re all worried, and you two need to chill.”

“I’m going up there.” Pidge squirmed away from Hunk’s grip.

“He said an hour,” Lance said, catching her arms and holding her to to his chest. Her feet left the ground when he stood up straight.

She kicked at his shins. “I don’t care! He could be hurt, we need to get to him.”

A door on the side of the tower opened, and Shiro appeared, carrying a body in his arms. His bare feet dangled over one arm, his head resting on Shiro’s bicep.

He was also not moving, his eyes closed. A large pad of cloth had been tied over his side. If it weren’t for the steady rise and fall of his chest, Hunk would think he was dead.

Pidge tumbled out of Lance’s arms.

“Is that…” Hunk said behind him.

“He’s alive, but he’ll need to see a doctor. I’ll explain everything on the way.” Shiro made like he was going to get on Kuro, which was frankly a terrible idea.

“Shiro,” Lance said. “No offense, but Kuro isn’t exactly a smooth ride. If that wound is as bad as it looks, Kuro’ll just make it worse.”

“Ore is smoothest, out of all of them,” Keith said. “Hunk, do you mind?”

He shook his head. “Ore can carry us both, but he’s not exactly fast.”

“We’re not going far, and if Kuro would be bad, Aka would be worse.”

“Standing around arguing isn’t going to help anything,” Shiro said. “Hunk, you take Matt and make sure he doesn’t die before we get to the palace. Keith, Pidge, you go on ahead and make sure they know we’re coming and get a doctor. Lance and I will make sure nothing else goes wrong.”

“Fine,” Pidge said, getting onto Kruana, “But I still want to hear what happened and how you found him.”

“I’ll tell you all when we get there.”

They rode off; Matt’s head lolled against Hunk’s shoulder, his body limp. A few times Hunk checked his pulse to make sure he hadn’t died.

Matt made a tiny sound of discomfort and opened his eyes.

“Wha…” he mumbled.

Hunk smiled at him reassuringly. “I’m Hunk, one of the Paladins. You’re safe.”

“Shiro?”

“Shiro’s fine, he’s right over there.”

“Good,” he said, and closed his eyes again.

Colleen hadn’t slept since Shiro said he knew where Matthew was. Katie and Keith had arrived already, bringing with them news: Matthew was alive but injured, and would arrive with Hunk. Samuel was out on the parapets, looking to the woods for three horses and four riders, and Colleen was preparing a room. She had called for the royal doctor, and now all that was left to do was to make sure Matthew would have a room.

They had guest bedrooms, of course, and Matthew would be in a healing room while the doctor worked, but his bedroom would have to be special. Her baby boy was home at last.

She unlocked the room next to Katie’s and threw open the window to let the air in. They would need curtains, of course: white, she decided, and jotted down a note to pull some out of storage. The walls were yellow, though the color was hidden behind dust; once cleaned, that would do until she could find out what colors he liked. She pulled the white covering cloth off the mattress. Sheets would be a necessity, and pillows. Quilts could wait until the weather turned.

He would need clothes, as well, but for that she would need measurements.

She tied up her hair beneath a kerchief and got a bucket. It wasn’t quite seemly for a queen to do a maid’s job, but she had been a maid long before she was a queen. Besides, this would keep her from worrying about any number of things that could go wrong.

The room was clean, the sheets and curtains fresh from the laundry and smelling faintly of lavender and sunshine, and there was a commotion at the gate.

She picked up her skirts and ran, not caring who saw her in maid’s clothes. There was Shiro, Lance beside him. Hunk was behind them, holding someone carefully.

Her vision narrowed to the limp body in his arms. Matthew. It must be. He was pale and thin, his hair messily cut short and his feet bare. He wasn’t moving at all.  

“Is he—“

“He’s alive,” Hunk said, “He even woke up for a moment while we were getting here.”

All the air left her in a rush.

Matt woke up in an unfamiliar room. He thought back, trying to remember what happened.

Mother. Mother had stabbed Shiro, had stabbed him, because without his hair he was useless. He couldn’t remember anything else, just vague flashes and impressions. There had been a bright light, he remembered.

So how did he end up here, on a soft and warm bed, in a sunlit room? Hadn’t he just been in the tower?

Maybe he was dead. Maybe this was what death was like.

There was a weight on his legs, and he panicked until he saw that it was just Shiro, half on a chair and half on the bed.

Further evidence for being dead, then.

He tried to sit up, but pain burned through his side where he had been stabbed and he cried out.

Shiro startled awake.

“Matt?” He looked over at Matt like he couldn’t believe what he saw. “You’re awake!”

He tried to answer, but his mouth felt like it was full of cotton.

“Let me get you some water.” Shiro poured some water from a pitcher on the nightstand. Everything looked so fancy here. The pitcher was silver, the cups crystal.

Shiro held the cup to his lips, tipping it gently. It felt so good to drink something.

“Thanks,” he said.

“Don’t mention it. How are you feeling?”

“Isn’t it not supposed to hurt when you’re dead,” he said, too tired to care about mumbling. Trying to put his thoughts into words right now seemed impossible. “‘Cause. This hurts. Not supposed to.”

“You’re not dead.” Shiro sounded pained.

“But you’re dead. So if I’m not dead, then why are you here.”

“I’m not dead either, Matt. You saved me, remember?”

“Oh.” He really didn’t remember anything like that. He remembered not saving Shiro, the heartbreaking minutes where he had lost everything and everyone before he knew nothing more. “Where am I?”

“We’re in the palace.”

Matt’s brain stopped working. “The…palace?”

I’m the lost Prince. He hadn’t quite thought about everything else that meant. He had parents, two of them, and neither of them were Mother. Parents who lived here in the palace.

Shiro took his hand. “Matt, you’re…”

“The lost Prince,” he finished. “I, uh, figured it out this morning. Or—how long was I asleep?”

“A full day. So that would be yesterday morning.”

“Right.” A full day, without any memory of it passing. “So—the King and Queen, they’re my parents?” The thought of meeting them was unbearable. What if they decided they didn’t want him?

“That’s right. And you have a sister, about ten years younger.”

Oh no, that was worse. What if they didn’t get along, what if he made a horrible brother and—

“Hey, hey, don’t worry.” Shiro brushed his fingers against Matt’s cheek. “They’ll love you.”

“How do you know?” His voice was hoarse.

“Because I do.” Shiro’s eyes were soft and adoring, and his lips were even softer.

A ring of light encircled Shiro’s right bicep, and another one, black and oily, appeared around his wrist. The pure light ran down the grooves in the metal, blinding-bright, to meet the other. It grew and grew until it was blinding bright and they had to look away. When it faded and they could see again, his arm had changed form. What once had been skeletal became smooth; what was iron gray became white, the black patches lightened to a soft blue. It was still metal, but was warm to the touch and Shiro stared at the hand in amazement.

“I hadn’t even noticed how much that hurt,” he said.

“Was that the curse?” Matt said. “The black stuff, I mean.”

“I think it was. I—Matt, I think you just broke the curse.”

He grinned. “We should make sure there aren’t any other curses.” Shiro curled a hand around Matt’s shoulders and gently pulled him closer.

Kissing Shiro was even better the second time, and the third time was even better than that.

Chapter Text

Shiro and Matt were interrupted by a knock at the door.

“I’ll go see who it is,” Shiro said. “It’s probably your family, are you ready to meet them?”

He shook his head, the ends slapping him in the face. “Not like this. Can you—”

“I’ll ask them to wait.”

Matt’s jaw dropped a little. “You’d do that for me ?”

“Wha—yes, of course, it’s not like—” Things clicked into place. “Matt. Do you think I’m going to get punished for telling them to wait?”

He hesitated for a minute before he nodded, looking like wanted to hide. Shiro put a hand on his shoulder.

“Trust me, Matt, nobody’s going to get punished. I’m going to go tell them to wait, okay?”

Matt nodded, looking away.

Shiro crossed the room, stepped through the door, and closed it gently behind him.

“How is he,” Queen Colleen asked. “Is he awake?”

“He woke up about a half-hour ago and he seems fine to me, just shy and very nervous about,” he gestured to the palace at large, “This.”

“So I suppose that the grand ball will have to wait, then.” She gave him a teasing grin.

Shiro choked. “Yes, definitely.”

She took his hands in hers. “Tell me about my son.”

Matt wasn’t ready for this.

He tugged at his clothes; the orange doublet and the white tunic, brand new and a little stiff. His feet were starting to chafe from the shoes. He hadn’t worn any since he was little and he tried on Mother’s boots when she was asleep, but the palace floor was unforgiving stone and shoes were a requirement.

“You can do this,” Shiro said. “I’ll be right there beside you, don’t worry.”

“What if I’m not really…”

“You are.” He pushed Matt’s bangs back and kissed his forehead. “For one thing, you and Pidge are nearly identical.”

“That doesn’t mean that I’m anything. It could just be coincidence—”

“Matt.”

“—what if they hate me, what if they decide they were better off without me—”

“Matt!” Matt’s mouth clicked shut. “They already love you, and you can do this. I know you can. You’re braver than you think you are.”

“I’m really not,” he said.

“You are . Remember when we first met?”

He thought back, trying to figure out what his point was. “You mean when I knocked you out with a frying pan and tied you to a chair?”

“And then demanded that I take you to see the lanterns. You could have hid, or just dumped me out the window, or any number of other things. But you were brave, Matt.”

“I wasn’t brave, I was just…curious and I had to see the lanterns. The frying pan thing was just panic, really.”

“Aren’t you curious about your parents?”

He was, but not as much as he was terrified of them.

“Okay. Here’s what we’ll do. I’ll open the door, and they’ll come out to see you. That’s all, okay? Take a deep breath. Are you ready?”

He really wasn’t.

“Yes,” he said.

Shiro’s smile made it seem almost like a good idea.

The wooden doors swung open easily under Shiro’s hand, and for the first time, Matt saw his parents.

His mother—Her Royal Majesty Queen Colleen, and the name alone was terrifying—was only about as tall as he was, with graying hair cut in a bob around her head. Her dress was sea-green and white and Matt should really not be this terrified of someone who wasn’t even taller than him.

Her footsteps were silent—or maybe that was the blood rushing in his ears, he wasn’t really sure—as she crossed the terrace to stand in front of him. Her eyes searched his face and if his feet didn’t feel like lead he’d run. What if—what if—what if, his heartbeat seemed to say.

There were tears in her eyes, but she was smiling. Had he done something wrong? Was he supposed to do something?

His hands fluttered at his side, uncertain.

She hugged him tightly, and his anxiety faded into the background. He hadn’t realized how much he needed that. He hugged her back, just as tightly, and tried not to start crying. If he closed his eyes, he could believe this was Mother. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to,

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, and if he was talking to her or to Mother’s ghost he couldn’t say.

Over her shoulder he could see a man—his father, he had a father, a father who had a title longer than Matt was tall. He didn’t look like Matt expected a king to look, didn’t wear a crown or cloth of gold. He was just a tired-looking man with spectacles who joined in the hug, wrapping his arms around both of them.

Matt’s breathing hitched, and the tears he had been fighting back spilled over.

His mother held out a hand towards Shiro. He took it like he was expecting a handshake, and she yanked him into the embrace.

They stayed like that for a long while.

Matt knelt in one of the smaller palace gardens, beside a bed of gladiolus. He held a small, flat stone in his hands.

Rover, it said.

He placed it carefully on the edge of the bed, so that it could see the sky.

Matt scrubbed at his eyes, leaving streaks of soil behind. He couldn’t cry yet, he still had another stone to place. It wasn’t bigger than Rover’s, but it felt much heavier.

He put Mother’s stone beside a yew tree, nestled between two roots.

He couldn’t stop the tears. Everything hurt. Mother had been awful, he had the scar to prove it, she had tried to kill him and Shiro, she killed Rover, his first friend, she had kidnapped him as a baby and had used him for twenty five years, keeping him inside a tower so that he would never find out the truth about himself. But…she had also raised him. She had cared for him when he was sick, had comforted him when he had nightmares. They had inside jokes that no one else would ever get, had two and a half decades together. He loved her, despite it all. He loved her and hated her in equal measure, and he couldn’t figure out how to feel about her.

Someone was hugging him, turning him around so that he could cry onto her shoulder. He clung to his mother desperately.

“When I was young, my mother died and my father remarried,” she said. “My stepmother was cruel, both to me and to her daughters, my stepsisters. She passed away about ten years ago. I know you miss her, and I know you don’t know what to feel about her. It’s like your head and your heart are telling you different things, right?”

He nodded mutely, sniffling.

“That’s okay. It’s okay to feel like that. It’s okay to be conflicted.”

He broke into fresh sobs.

“Shh, baby, it’s okay. It’s okay. Let it out.”

Pidge fiddled with the lace cuff on her sleeve.

“What if he doesn’t like me?”

Lance sighed. “He will.”

“But you don’t know that! What if he thinks I’m—”

“Oh my god. Do you have any idea how ridiculous you sound? He’s your brother .”

“Just because you and your siblings get along great—”

Lance burst into laughter. “Have you met my family? I can’t spend more than five minutes with one of my siblings without wanting to kill something.”

“But—you always talk about them like…”

“Like we’re best friends? Well, yeah, that’s the thing about siblings. You love them, but you also want to kill them. You and Matt have nothing to worry about.”

Pidge glanced at the door. She had wondered what he would have been like, but now there was a real person on the other side of the door. A real person she barely knew anything about.

“Seriously, Pidge. All you’re doing is meeting him.”

“I can’t do this.”

“Yes, you can. Here, close your eyes. I know a trick that will help.”

Lance’s tricks tended to not work that well, and often ended in horrifying, embarrassing failure. The less said about the Needle Incident, for example, the better.

“It works on all my siblings. Especially when they’re younger than me. Just trust me for a second?”

She closed her eyes, and Lance gave her a shove. She opened her eyes to find herself on the other side of the door, facing Matt. Lance stood behind her, and she could feel his smug smile.

Bastard.

Matt looked about as nervous as she felt, which was something of a relief.

“Um,” she said. “Hi?”

The celebrations for the return of the Lost Prince lasted for a full month. All the kingdom rejoiced. Matthew was beloved by the people, and loved them in turn.

After a round of magical testing, it was discovered that while his hair had lost its magic, and would no longer glow or heal, his tears could still heal injuries. They decided to keep that a secret, to prevent anyone from getting clever ideas about towers.

Shiro went to visit his brother and parents in Altea, but came back after a year. The Paladins—both as a team and seperately—went off on adventures every so often, fighting dragons and cannibalistic ogres, saving children abandoned in the woods, and that sort of thing.

Pidge rescued a princess from a poisoned apple on one of her adventures and fell in love with her. Allura had an adventure of her own involving a princess that had been turned into a cat. Lance, Hunk, and Keith all married each other, and—of course—Shiro and Matt married.

And they all lived happily ever after.