Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

“I would like to reiterate—you will not be treated as prisoners. As long as you are with us, you will serve as our guests.”

Keith had difficulty believing anyone these days, and it didn’t come as a surprise considering his current position. He felt like his hands were tied behind his back, but that just wasn’t the literal case. His heritage might have had something to do with what made him so invaluable, but his brother was in the same boat as him. At least he wasn’t going through partial-disownment on his own.

Shiro had a better sense of his emotions than Keith did, which only served to make Keith feel immature for feeling so vulnerable. Shiro was more of a worldly guy than Keith was—he traveled a lot in his adolescence before returning home to learn their father’s trade, all while Keith was stuck with the short stick. Youngest in line for the now-nonexistent throne. It meant that Keith spent less time at home, and more time living elsewhere, closer to the garrison where his general lived. He spent all his time there learning things that didn’t interest him one bit. The more he learned, the less he cared for it.

“I can’t believe Father sold us off like that,” Keith huffed under his breath. One of the Empress’s respected hands was ahead of them, chatting about the architecture. Shiro seemed interested up until the point Keith spoke—Keith wouldn’t have been surprised if Shiro was actually interested in this.

“He didn’t sell us,” he insisted, crossing his arms as they turned the corner of a set of pristine white pillars.

“Do you really expect to see him again?” Keith remarked quietly, raising an eyebrow at his brother as the girl ahead of them went on and on talking about the garden they stood on the brink of. It was dark out, as they could all see through the glass that domed over their heads. The framework of the ceiling windows crossed shadows over the exotic plants, and trapped in the heat like a greenhouse. Keith could feel the collar of his shirt suffocating him.

“Of course I do—since he agreed to the Empress’s terms, he’s required to visit bi-yearly for in-person briefings—”

“Ah, yes, we get to see Father twice a year. Whoop-di-doo,” Keith said sarcastically, twirling his finger around in the air before crossing his arms. “Couldn’t he have given her… I don’t know, the family dog?”

Shiro gave him a flat look, opening his mouth to reply when the girl raised her voice to ask a question, “Would you two prefer that we finish the tour in the morning? It is rather late.”

“That… seems like a good idea,” Shiro agreed, glancing up at the moon overhead as Keith rolled his eyes.

As the girl showed them to their separate rooms, Keith figured he wouldn’t even be here had the Empress not threatened their Father with a forceful swear to allegiance. She started her reign with threats that turned into violence, that turned into pleas for mercy, so now there really wasn’t any reservation when she poised the question: “Do you pledge your loyalty to me, or would you rather die?”

Some instances were more delicate than others—her feud with Keith and Shiro’s country started with war, and turned into a “peaceful alliance,” with the main stars being Keith and Shiro as hostages for their Father’s loyalty. So long as their Father remained loyal to the Queen, no harm would come to them, and eventually, they might even get to go home.

Keith was sure he had the worst luck ever.

When the girl showed them to their rooms, she ended with opening Shiro’s door and saying, “If you need anything, the guards shouldn’t be too far away.”

“I should hope not,” Shiro laughed, taking a look around the room. Keith was just next door, and he knew the moment the girl left, Keith would be hammering on his door for more questions and explanations. “And… if I need to ask for you specifically?” he inquired.

“Then you can ask for Pidge. If you have any questions for Empress Allura, you can send them through me,” she said with a brilliant smile before turning and heading out into the hallway.

She didn’t make it very far before she was turning a corner, and ramming straight into the bane of her existence.

Pidge yelped, clasping a hand over her mouth as she squeaked, “Lance! Stop sneaking up on me like that!”

“Why? Sneaking is in my blood.”

“No it isn’t! That doesn’t even make any sense,” she cried, slapping him in the arm as she turned and stormed around him. He only backtracked and blocked her path. When she turned to the side, he cornered her into the wall with a cheeky grin. “Lance! I have to report to your sister—”

“Aw, aren’t I important?” he whined, grinning as she clenched her fists. Her anger boiled up and turned her cheeks red. “I was wondering what you know about Zarkon’s son.”

“Which one,” she bit out between clenched teeth. “In case you couldn’t see with your shit vision, there’s two of them here.”

“The, uh, the younger one. Closer in age, good in combat, beautiful black mane…”

“Seems like you know enough to me,” she hissed. “Now out of my way.”

She shoved him so hard he lost his balance. She took off at a near-jog, trying not to worry the guards in the process. Still, Lance caught up to her—damn his long legs. The fact that she was in heeled boots didn’t exactly help her pace either. If she took off running, he’d be able to follow the sound of her heels for a mile.

He trailed along beside her and said, “What’s your impression of him?”

“Snarky, rude, and not thrilled about this. Don’t make it harder on him,” she hissed.

“What makes you think I wouldn’t make it better?” he said, clasping his hands behind his back. He retained some of his composure back with a slight frown, which only made Pidge regret having said anything.

She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose as they passed the garden. She was always so thrilled to show their guests the garden, but it didn’t help that the youngest son of Zarkon equated his visiting privileges with imprisonment.

“Look, Lance—I know Keith has a reputation, but can you just go easy on the guy? It’s pretty obvious he doesn’t take too kindly to Empress Allura, so it’s likely that she’ll have guards on him constantly. The last thing he needs is you nagging him trying to get into his pants,” she said.

“Oh don’t worry, I’ll be so easy on the guy,” Lance said with a flourish of his hands, which just ended in Pidge groaning in her hands for him to shut up.

Keith’s reputation was exactly why he wanted this so much more than Pidge apparently did. He heard so many rumors about Emperor Zarkon’s youngest son that he had been thrilled to see the man for himself. And fuck, did Keith live up to the expectations or what? Lance had never fallen so hopelessly for someone in his entire life, which was really saying something considering who his best friend was. Hunk was quite the specimen, but Lance was more than positive that Keith’s taste in men was far more favorable than Hunk’s, considering Hunk was as straight as they came.

When it came to talking to Lance’s sister, he decided to accompany Pidge as they climbed the steps up to her wing of the palace. It was far from where the guests stayed, and heavily guarded at the entrance where they were met with gold-detailed tiles and wall borders, chandeliers and expensive, handmade tapestries. He always loved his sister’s quarters, and didn’t mind lounging in one of her floor pillows while Pidge sat at the tea table with Allura.

Lance perked up at every mention of Keith, but overall, he zoned out and stared at the ceiling. There were a few problems with Lance being who he was, and it was more or less entirely dependent on his heritage, or lack-thereof.

Allura inherited their mother’s position earlier than anyone expected, and it was all due to Lance’s birth being the main complication. Their mother’s pregnancy was unexpected and strenuous, and with Allura’s biological father five years deceased, Lance had no parents. It was a blessing, really, because Allura’s newfound power gave her the ability to absolve Lance of his illegitimacy. It wasn’t long before he started showing signs of who his father could have been, and now there was no question. Allura’s mother had fallen in love with a nymph, and that was that.

There were some difficult aspects to being part-nymph, though, and Lance couldn’t ignore them. Nymphs were notorious daydreamers, with imaginations that ran wild before he could stop them. His memory was impeccable because of it—every experience he had was vivid and brilliant, full of color and opportunity that was hard for him to ignore, let alone forget. It was one thing for Keith’s reputation as The Most Beautiful Man to strike an average human’s heart, but a completely different scenario for a nymph like Lance to experience Keith’s beauty in person.

Seeing Keith had given Lance new purpose. The excitement hit Lance hard in the chest and turned his heart into a gooey mess that seeped across all parts of his body. The sticky sweetness of Lance’s abrupt love had him smiling sleepily in one of Allura’s floor pillows, thinking only of Keith, and how they would spend the evening out on the oceanside. Lance would pick a dragon’s tongue flower and tuck it into Keith’s hair, and the image was so violently real that Lance could feel the violet petals touch his bare chest where he held a bouquet of them and…

“Lance, are you all right?” Allura’s voice broke through his reveries.

“Hm?” he hummed, his attention bleary, like he had just woken from a long, satisfying nap.

“Are you daydreaming again?” she asked, a smile on her lips. She had her hair tied back, so Lance could see the gleam of her golden earrings that curved along the entirity of her earlobe. They pointed at the ends, highlighting the elvish ears they both got from their mother. “Come on. Up, up,” she said, tugging him by the arm until he sat up.

He blinked away the image of Keith, and the flowers that were caught in the hand he held to his chest. They vanished, but he could still feel them resting on his skin.

“Pidge,” Allura said, calling her assistant over. “Will you take Lance to his chambers?”

Pidge obliged with a courteous bow, dismissing Allura from her sisterly duties. As Allura walked off to prepare for bed, Pidge helped Lance up and dusted him off, effectively banishing the imaginations. “Your head is so full of fluff these days,” she commented as Lance sighed, chest tight with emotion.

“I don’t know why,” he confessed, brow tensing as they left through the closest open door. Allura’s room had six large sets of doors—half facing the third story balcony, and the other half facing the corridor which Pidge and Lance left through. The instant they leave, the guards simultaneously closed the doors, shutting out all visitors from Allura’s personal chambers.

Lance looked back at the closed doors and sighed as Pidge took him by the arm and guided him ahead. Every time he saw his sister, his mind swarmed with memories of her smiles that faded with the years of arduous stress. When her advisor pulled her farther and farther from childhood, Lance cherished their moments together. Unlike most children, he could remember the days he was young and vulnerable, and would hold the hand Allura used to feed him snacks when he couldn’t do so himself.

Lately, she was all wistful grins instead of genuine smiles, like the thought of actually showing happiness was just a memory now.

The day Keith first noticed Lance, his brain said to him, What is this fool trying to do?

Keith and Shiro weren’t exactly high enough on Empress Allura’s radar to warrant daily meetings and conversations. But, as new guests to palace, they were invited to the first feast where Keith was more or less subjected to the doe-eyed stares of the boy sitting next to the Empress. They weren’t exactly close to one another—there were plenty of people in between Keith and that end of the table—but still, Keith could feel the man’s eyes on him as if they were sat right next to each other, and Keith could see his neighbor’s face turning to him in the corner of his eye…

“Who’s that guy down there?” Keith asked Shiro, and relayed to him the location based on where the Empress was sitting.

“Oh, Lance? He’s Empress Allura’s only brother,” he said quietly, attempting to be discrete as he looked over at Lance. Thankfully, though, the man didn’t seem to notice Shiro at all. He was too busy staring at Keith. “Seems like he’s taken a liking to you.”

“Are you sure he isn’t just staring at me because I have something on my face?” Keith whispered.

“Yeah, your perfect eyes,” Shiro teased, and Keith nudged him in the arm. “I’m kidding. Gods, no, you don’t have anything on your face. And I’m guessing you just didn’t notice him yesterday when we were meeting with Empress Allura—he was staring at you then, too.”

“He wasn’t there,” Keith snorted, popping a bit of chicken into his mouth.

“Whatever you say…” Shiro said, and was then lured into a conversation with the person across the table from them.

The table was filled with all languages from the countries nested within the Empire. Keith knew several on his own, but hearing them all at once was overwhelming. He hardly liked talking to people to begin with, even in his own native tongue. Catching Lance staring at him was definitely a breather from listening to Shiro switch languages at the snap of a finger.

So Keith humored Lance. He caught Lance’s eye again, and held it as he raised his chopsticks to his mouth and ate another piece of chicken. The action brought a smile to the man’s face, suddenly flustered as he looked down at his own plate and decided to take a bite of his meal in spite of Keith’s eyes on him. Dinner went on like this, and it amused Keith to no end that he was able to survive the meal just by having a staring contest with the Empress’s brother.

The meal was over once the Empress and her entourage were dismissed through the back room. Keith took a moment to breathe, and turned to his brother, only to find Shiro grinning at him suggestively.

“Stop that,” Keith huffed.

“Stop what?”

“You’re being weird. I don’t like it,” he said, turning away as the servants began dismissing them from their places. He stood up with Shiro and started ahead. If they walked together, Keith knew that he would only be teased for this-or-that and Keith really didn’t want to hear it.

There were plenty of things they still didn’t understand about nymphs. Nymphs were elusive by nature, while at the same time, social creatures who formed passionate bonds with people like Lance did with everyone in his life. There were theories that nymphs were one of the few species to have a definitive soulmate, but even then it was hard to decide considering… certain aspects to a nymph’s psychology.

For example: pureblooded nymphs tended to… kill potential mates using whatever element they had on hand. There were plenty of records of this happening—men and women being found suffocated by vines, strangled and drowned in rivers, turned to stone. Sculptures were once believed to be the deceased mates to nymphs, forever captured by their last pose.

But Lance wasn’t pureblooded, which meant his affections showed in other ways. He went through phases with Hunk—in and out of weeks where Lance would unknowingly court Hunk with extravagant meals and presents that just seemed natural at the time. At least, until Lance came to a day after the phase ended, and realized how much of an idiot he was for putting Hunk through that.

“It’s okay—I really don’t mind. I think it’s really sweet,” Hunk would reassure him with a dismissive wave of his hands, but Lance would wallow in misery until another fanciful thought entered his mind and dragged him out of his depression.

But Lance’s heart never felt like this before.

It ached longingly at every sighting he had of Keith. The night he spent dinner staring into Keith’s eyes, he laid awake, dreaming with his eyes open of Keith’s eyes closer than ever. Keith would lean over him on the bed, bare-chested with a hand laying over Lance’s heart. “Your mind is full of fluff again,” he’d whisper.

“I don’t know what to do—I’m so in love with you,” Lance would say, his breath escaping him as Keith laid flower after flower over Lance’s bare chest, where their hands would brush and Lance would hold the bouquet like it was his funeral guise.

Keith shushed him as soon as love was mentioned. “You can never tell me—I could never understand the way you feel.”

Because Lance never truly slept, not with Keith sitting over him all night, he grew tired in the daytime. He fell asleep wherever he could, and when he wasn’t sleeping, he was daydreaming of dragon’s tongue and violet eyes drenched in that gooey red stuff his heart oozed. This went on for days. It only started to fade when recalling the memory of Keith staring at him over dinner started to become routine. It was still as vibrant as ever, but Lance was so used to seeing Keith sitting at the end of every table that he started to expect the fantasies.

“He’s lovesick,” Pidge informed Allura one day over breakfast. “That’s my only explanation.”

“Do nymphs get lovesick?” she asked, narrowing her eyes at her brother.

Lance raised an eyebrow at her and said, “You know as well as I do.”

“Then I suppose that’s nothing at all,” Allura huffed, perching her chin on her hand as she leaned over the table to look at Pidge. “I always knew nymphs were romantics, but never like… this.”

“We know more about purebloods than we do about… whatever Lance is,” Pidge told her. “I imagine it’s different for halfbloods, considering Lance hasn’t strangled the poor boy yet.”

“Hey! I would never,” Lance whined. “Why do you keep insisting that I’ll ruin this!”

“Because you will,” Pidge said. “You fall harder than anyone I ever know. It’ll take time for Keith to even warm up to you. You’re already planning the rest of your life with him.”

Lance was about to argue that, but his fantasies reeled his reservations back in. “Yeah… you’re right about that I guess,” he sighed, looking to his sister.

“Just don’t let your… lovesickness cloud your judgement,” Allura said. “My guards still consider Keith to be a possible threat.”

“He’s just gloomy because this isn’t his home yet,” Pidge told her. “He’s passed the dangerous stage.”

“Still… I trust my guards over this more than I do you,” she said, pursing her lips as she sat back and looked out over the balcony railing. The air smelled of sea salt and warm, summer air. Lance breathed it in as Allura did the same, and the action brought them both back to each other, sheepish grins on their lips. “Just be careful, Lance,” she said.

“I have no intention of doing anything with this,” Lance insisted, shaking his head. “It’s just—It’s just a crush. I’m sure it will pass.”

It didn’t pass.

The next day, Lance bumped into Keith in the gardens, and the cycle started over again. The worst part: They talked.

Lance wasn’t daydreaming when he ran into Keith—he rarely daydreamed when he was around Hunk. Still, it didn’t stop him from squeaking in alarm when they turned the corner, and walked straight into the path of the one and only Keith, son of Zarkon, The Most Beautiful Man Alive. Keith’s hair was tied up in a bun, and it did weird things to Lance’s heart that he never knew were possible.

“Oh! Sorry, we didn’t mean to disturb your walk,” Hunk said, covering for the fact that Lance was struggling to breathe suddenly. His chest felt impossibly tight, and he clutched at his shirt where his heart hammered against his ribcage.

“Oh, it’s no problem,” Keith said, and Lance thought he might just keel over and die. Even his voice was pretty. It was low and smooth, and was music to Lance’s ears. “I… don’t think I’ve ever properly introduced myself—to either of you. Keith Kogane.”

He reached a hand to Hunk first, and Lance’s attention was gone the second Keith finished talking. It wasn’t until Keith brought his hand over to Lance that he snapped back into reality. “Lance. Brother to Empress Allura.”

“I know—we, uh, saw each other at the feast last week,” Keith said, retracting his hand into a vague gesture before saying, “I should leave you two to it then. Sorry for bothering your walk.”

“Not at all! Come talk to us any time,” Hunk offered, and they watched Keith walk off through the heat of the garden that Pidge loved so much.

The instant Keith was gone, Lance dissolved into a mess of distraught nerves, all in a flourish of groaning and swooning and falling on the path at Hunk’s feet as he exclaimed, “I’m an absolute fool! A fool! I thought I was going to faint the second I saw him!”

“I have to say—this is very amusing,” Hunk confessed.

“I’m serious!” Lance whined, sitting up with his hands holding him up from behind. “I swore my heart was about to fling itself out of my mouth. His hair was in a ponytail! A ponytail!”

Hunk reached down for Lance, and hefted him back onto his feet. He dusted off Lance’s shoulders as he said, “You should have told him he looked nice.”

“I couldn’t. That’s a death sentence for sure,” Lance laughed, waving his hand in front of his face as if the idea smelled bad.

“Why? You did just confessing your undying love for me that one time,” Hunk said. “It was flattering—I’m sure Keith would be flattered, and he’s probably more receptive to the idea than you give him credit for.”

“I don’t care—It’d be humiliating. And Keith couldn’t possibly think the same way as I do about this,” he insisted, crossing his arms with a firm shake of his head. Confessing his love for Keith would surely be the death of him—all of his fantasies of Keith said as much. And while his semi-hallucinations weren’t exactly the best counselors… he trusted them more than Hunk.

Lance could never run after Keith like Hunk wanted. The idea was forbidden due to his reveries of this fantastical, unreal version of Keith.

He delved into another phase of lovesickness, as Pidge took to calling it, and the effect was so profound that he legitimately became ill. The violent stomach bug alarmed his sister and Pidge—it occurred after he realized that he didn’t have an appetite anymore. He felt bloated at every meal and couldn’t eat more than a bite. Afterwards, he would be in and out of hiccups and burps on the verge of vomiting, and when he did at last succumb to vomiting, Pidge ran to Allura in alarm.

“I don’t know what we can do—Lance’s physician isn’t in the country this time of year,” Allura confessed worriedly, tapping a finger to her ear as she paced across the length of her study. She was accompanied by Pidge, who was busy wracking through her memory for anyone else that could help Lance.

Physicians were a common occurrence, but physicians who specialized in treating nymphs were nearly as rare as the nymphs themselves. Lance had the same doctor since he was young and hadn’t seen anyone else since, but the fact that the man’s family lived elsewhere made scheduling difficult. He never had extreme circumstances to worry about until now, so they were always able to plan ahead.

“Coran can search for another,” Pidge offered, gesturing to where Allura’s advisor was walking in through the balcony door.

“What am I doing?” Coran asked, alarmed. He rested a hand over his chest as Allura relayed the issue, and insisted that they needed to find another physician who treated nymphs. “Are you certain this is because of Lance’s heritage?”

“I don’t—” Allura started, but Pidge jumped in, exclaiming, “Yes! It has to be—he’s been.. lovesick for weeks now.”

“It could just be a case of the stomach flu,” Allura said.

“It could also be something more severe than that,” she insisted, clasping her hands behind her back. “Lance has been acting strange ever since the Zarkon boys came here. You can’t deny that his imagination has been running wild since. He’s been in and out of daydreams ever since!”

“He was doing fine the other day when I saw him,” Coran insisted.

“I don’t know what it is,” Pidge said, “but if he doesn’t see Zarkon’s youngest son—Keith—for several days, he gets better, but then he spirals right back into it after seeing him again. It should be getting better, but his guard came to me this morning saying he was puking and hallucinating the entire night and his guard didn’t know what to do. Allura’s nurse tried giving Lance medication, but he won’t take anything.”

“Hallucinations?”

“Of Keith. You know how he is sometimes—remembering people and such—but this is… way more severe than we’ve ever seen,” Pidge explained with a shake of her head. Her distress was clear in the tension of her brow, and how she wrung her hands in front of her.

“I’ll see what I can do about finding Lance a proper replacement doctor,” Coran said. “In the meantime—try what you can to settle his stomach.”

“I’ll try,” Pidge promised. “I’ve been going through my research since I heard the news.”

“Good. And, Empress, try not to worry over Lance too much. In the case that it’s contagious, it’d be best if you stayed away from him until this is over,” he said to Allura, who nearly argued back before realizing that Coran was right in his concern. The last thing they needed was Allura coming down with the stomach flu.

While Coran went in search of a doctor, Pidge hurriedly pulled her stack of books off of Allura’s desk and dismissed herself in preparation for coming up with another concoction with Allura’s nurse. They met at the medicinal greenhouse where they assessed Lance’s symptoms and combatted them with the plants they had on hand. The Empress’s medicinal greenhouse stored a wide variety of exotic plants known to cure a wide range of aliments. It was, perhaps, the most extensive collection the world had ever known, and the greenhouse itself spanned across the rooftop of the entire palace where it wasn’t obstructed by the gardens that spotted the hallways here and there. From afar, the palace was composed of sturdy, reflective glass that made it glow day and night form the horizon.

The nurse, Florona, came running to Pidge from across the greenhouse, exclaiming, “I’ve got it! I’ve got it—this should help with the hallucinations.”

Pidge plucked the stem from Florona’s hand and squinted at the bizarre violet flower. It was accented with soft cream colors and striped red and orange petals, but mainly, its focal color was a vibrant, rich purple. “Dragon’s tongue?” Pidge said, and Florona nodded. “What does it do? I’ve never heard of it being used for medicinal purposes.”

“I’ve seen it grown in households with children—it’s safe to eat and calms a person’s mind. It’s known to temporarily erase overactive imaginations. My mum used to give it to me if we had company over and I was too energetic for the occasion,” she explained with a nervous smile as Pidge narrowed her eyes at the flower.

“Lance would never take this,” she sighed. “But… he doesn’t have to know it’s in there. Tea?”

“Yes, that would be best,” Florona agreed, and together, they conspired to end Lance’s hallucinations and hopefully push back the stomach flu with a touch of ginger.

Pidge was charged with delivering the tea, and she stopped herself outside of Lance’s door, tea tray in hand, and made eye contact with the guards standing out there with her. They silently gave her the best of their luck before opening the door. She steeled herself with a deep inhale, and passed the threshold, into the darkness where Lance was being fondly taken care of by Hunk.

Hunk looked up from where he was about to dump out a bucket of vomit into the toilet—across the entire room and through a set of doors. He peered out, though, at the sound of the door opening, and sighed in relief when he realized it was Pidge. “Oh thank gods. I was so worried wondering where you were.”

“Sorry—Florona and I were just brainstorming on what to do. Coran’s off looking for a replacement doctor for Lance.”

“Re—placement?” Lance hiccuped miserably from the bed. He was half-slouched off of it, clutching to the end table as a shudder went through him. His sheets were stained with sweat, and his face was such a pallid white that he had Pidge grimacing before she even got close enough to see the vomit sloshing in his bucket.

“Yeah, sorry—it’s the best we can manage with your physician off in Thayserix,” she confessed, hastily nudging the tray of tea onto the tabletop nearest Lance. “Florona and I made you some ginger tea to help settle your stomach.”

“N-No—I can’t,” he said, waving his hand. “I can’t eat anything—”

“It’s just tea, Lance. Please?” she said, pouting her lips as she knelt in front of him. She didn’t her best to ignore the smell of vomit, and shook a rag free from her pocket to wipe Lance’s mouth. He took the rag, sitting up a little as he threw his hands down and glared at her. It was a feeble attempt at hostility, so he eventually caved and accepted the cup.

He managed down a few sips and a gulp before shaking his head, clasping a hand over his mouth. “I can’t do any more. Please, Pidge, don’t make me…”

“It doesn’t even taste that bad,” she said. “You love ginger tea.”

“It’s not the taste I- I- I swear—” His words turned all garbled, eyes tearing up as he reached frantically for the bucket. Hunk was coming over with a fresh one, so Pidge grabbed it and thrust it into Lance’s hands just as he started dry heaving and retching, coughing like he had the worst damn cold in the world. Pidge could tell something was clogging his esophagus, so she stood up and pushed him forward, patting him hard on the back until it came loose.

Something not liquid came dropping out of Lance’s mouth. His cheeks were stuffed with it until he spat them all out, groaning at the taste. He leaned over and coughed more, stomach convulsing and turning up more and more of the soggy, damp flower petals.

“Since when were you eating flowers?” Hunk asked as Lance calmed down at last, resting a hand over his chest. Tears were running down his face as he gasped for air.

“I—never ate flowers,” he spat at Hunk. “Gods. I do feel a bit better now, though.”

Pidge squinted at the bucket, taking it from Lance as he used Pidge’s rag to clean his mouth. Pidge took the rag after him and used it to pick up one of the petals and investigate it’s… purple… color… Shit. “These are dragon’s tongue petals,” she said, looking wide-eyed at Hunk, who shrugged.

“I don’t… know what that means. Don’t you use that to pacify children?” he asked.

“Coran used to give me dragon’s tongue when I was little,” Lance said in a disgusted voice, sticking his tongue out in distaste. “They look pretty, though.”

“That’s because you were ridiculous as a child,” Hunk accused, arms crossed. Lance shrugged, running a hand through his sweaty hair with a sigh. He couldn’t deny Hunk’s truths.

“This has got to be one of your weird nymph things,” Pidge accused, and Lance turned away with a pout on his lips. His gaze just happened to fall on Keith, though, who sat beside him on the bed with his index finger pressed to his soft, beautiful lips.

Ever since Lance was a child, he could tell the difference between reality and fantasy, but even still it didn’t stop him from loving that the ceiling was filled with stars when really, it was just stone. He liked the idea of living in a world were such things were possible, and so he entertained his fantasies without fully believing in them. When Pidge and Hunk left him to his illusions, he welcomed the company Keith gave him before Allura’s nurse came back with a crew of servants preparing to clean and wash his bed sheets.

While Lance’s heart muddled all over again at the thought of Keith, Pidge and Hunk hurried to consult the many books they had on nymphs. Allura started collecting them ever since Lance was born and started showing symptoms of being half-nymph. They had every possible resource at the tips of their fingers, and so they started hunting through the recorded illnesses nymphs contracted that had a little something to do with excess romanticism.

That was where Coran found them in the morning, burrowed in books. Hunk had fallen asleep on one of the window sill cushions, and leapt awake at the sound of Coran announcing, “I’ve found someone who could help!”

Pidge stood up from the table as Hunk fell on the floor with a shout. He scrambled up, and in his sleepy daze, he saluted the man who’s stepped out from behind Coran, hands clasped in front of him.

“Pidge, Hunk, this is Thace. He was just visiting in the area, but we’ve commissioned him to help Lance. I’m sure Thace will do everything he can to heal him.”

Thace smiled amiably, but Pidge could already tell just where this man came from. “Don’t you think it’s a coincidence that he’s Galran?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at Coran.

Coran scratched the back of his head, trying and failing to say anything before Thace defended himself, hardly insulted by Pidge’s suspicions. “I know it’s a strange background for someone who has a history of treating nymphs, but all of my schooling was in Thayserix. Nymph biology was a requirement while I was there, and it’s come in handy,” he explained.

He had the same dark hair and sculpted features that Shiro and Keith had, and while Pidge didn’t know many Galrans to begin with, she found herself wondering if they all looked this beautiful. Seeing people like Thace, Shiro, and Keith around the palace was certainly putting the staff into a tizzy trying to contain the breaths they lost at the sight of them.

“Has there been any development with the Prince’s state?” he asked then, startling Pidge back into motion.

“More or less,” she confessed, grimacing as she pulled a book over.

Hunk stepped forward and explained, “He’s been… coughing up flowers. Florona—our nurse—has been keeping an eye on him all night, and it’s started to calm down.”

Pidge was about to show Thace an article on dragon’s tongue when she noticed how his pale complexion turned even paler. “Flowers?” he repeated, clasping a hand to his neck. He reached it up over his face and dragged it down with a sigh. “How long?”

“How long has he been throwing up?”

“How long has he been in love,” he reiterated.

“Two weeks,” both Pidge and Hunk said, and looked to Coran, whose eyes were wide as he watched Thace think through the dilemma.

“And he’s halfblood?” Thace asked, and with the confirmation of all three of them in the room, his decision was final. “Purebloods instinctively kill the people they love, but with halfbloods, it’s a bit more complicated than that. There’s not much on halfbloods, but I’ve seen a few cases in Galra halfbloods before. The instincts more or less backfire.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Pidge said, eyes wide. “You mean—he’s killing himself?”

“Unintentionally,” Thace said, as if that would reassure them at all. “And with cases I’ve seen—we call it hanahaki, as it’s become a common trade among halfbloods I know—it can be fatal if left untreated. The only cure is for a confession—the person Lance loves has to love him back.”

“Oh,” Hunk hummed, sharing a look with Pidge. “I… don’t know if that’s a good or bad thing, if I’m completely honest.”

“I doubt Keith would confess his love out of pity,” Pidge huffed.

“He’s also still a threat—he could use this weakness as a way to negotiate with Empress Allura,” Coran said. “As in, he won’t help us unless the Empress agrees to certain terms.”

“Fuck, you’re right,” Pidge huffed.

“It’s… not that simple,” Thace interrupted. He paced back towards the center of the room, tapping a finger to his chin. “Regardless of whether or not this… Keith agrees to love Lance, this entire time Lance’s mind is convincing him that Keith could never love him at all. Which means he will continue to suffer unless he can come to terms with loving Keith as a reality and not a fantasy.”

“So… convincing Lance to confess his undying love for Keith?” Hunk reiterated, and Thace nodded his head. “Oh. I mean, he’s done it plenty of times to me and other people. But something is so different about Keith. He’s never contracted hanahaki before with me.”

“There’s no rhyme or reason to it, as far as I can tell,” Thace confessed. “Though, of the two cases I was involved with, both ended up married and happy when all was said and done.”

“Two cases?” Pidge said, jaw dropping. “This is all based on two cases—!”

“Pidge,” Coran sighed.

“No! This is bullshit, we can’t—How do we know any of what you said is surefire?” she demanded. “We are entrusting the life of the Empress’s brother with someone who’s only seen this thing twice.”

“To be fair, both of them are alive now. Right Thace?” Hunk said, and Thace nodded. “See? I’d say that’s a success. Two-for-two.”

“Hunk, be realistic. This is your best friend we’re talking about,” Pidge sighed, scuffing her foot on the wood flooring. “And if Lance dies under my supervision, guess who’s getting fired and likely hung to death.” She jabbed a thumb at her chest before flinging her hands up exasperatedly. “A lot at stake, in case you couldn’t tell!”

They lapsed into silence. None of them could deny the strict way Empress Allura controlled her people. Someone with that much power had to. It was commendable and just, and effective, though it still didn’t stop her closest advisors, friends, and servants from worrying about the state of their necks. Coran rubbed at his own neck in worry, and ended the silence with a loud sigh and clapped his hands together, startling them all.

“Right! So Thace, I suppose I should show you to Lance so you can decide for yourself what our next action is,” he said, and though they all knew what needed to be done, Allura wouldn’t accept anything less than a formal confirmation.

Later that day, when Lance met Thace, Thace laid the flat metal surface of his stethoscope to Lance’s chest and his upper and lower back. Lance tugged his shirt back down after Thace leant back with a relieved sigh. “Good news?” Lance asked.

“Well, better than what I was expecting. As long as the roots stay in your stomach, you should be fine. But we can expect that this will happen again in time—which means that your stomach will cleanse itself by vomiting the flowers.”

“And… worse case scenario then?” Coran asked from the side, leaning over to inspect Lance closely. Lance leant away, and raised an eyebrow at Thace.

“Worse case scenario would mean that the illness takes root in your other systems. This seems to be a usual case, and I’ve only ever caught it as far as affecting the respiratory system. If the roots extend to your lungs… you will likely suffocate to death,” Thace warned, a pitiful look on his face as he watched Lance worry over the thought. With his vivid imagination, he could already start to feel the tendrils sinking in and staking their claim on his life.

“And… what’s the cure?” he asked quietly. “Since you haven’t said it, it can’t be fun. Surgery?”

Thace hesitated, and Lance was already mentally preparing himself for it. He never had to go through surgery before, but… if he had to do it, he would.

“Surgery isn’t recommended. And I am no surgeon,” Thace confessed with a wave of his hands. He settled back in his chair, sharing a look with Coran. Lance watched his sister’s advisor nod his head in encouragement. “Ultimately… the cause of all of this is your love for Keith. The only way to resolve this would be to… speak with him about this. See if you all could come together on good terms and hopefully… establish a romantic bond with him.”

The instant Keith’s name was dragged into the equation, Lance could already feel himself drifting away, curling in on himself as his head grew lighter and lighter. Coran said his name, but he just waved a hand at Coran, and tried to shake off Thace when he insisted Lance lay back. He was so woozy that even that much was enough to cause him to faint.

“I seriously cannot face Keith. That’s just… impossible!Gods, every time I see him I lose control,” Lance cried out from the bathroom as he showered later that next day. He hadn’t thrown up in several hours and was feeling better—if not hungry, now that his stomach was no longer filled with all the fluff Pidge always claimed was stuck in his head.

“You’ve honestly confessed your love for me on seven different occasions. Seven!” Hunk said, leaning back against the wall beside Lance’s bathroom door. A tapestry was hung there, cushioning his head as he tipped it back against the stone bricks.

“That- That is totally different! Don’t bring that into this!” Lance complained as he shut the water off and stepped out of the shower for a towel. He scrubbed it over his face and hair before reaching over the sink to clear the fog out of the bathroom mirror. He rubbed the water out of his pointed ears and ducked down to dry off the rest of his body as Hunk started talking again.

“Okay, fine, but I’m just saying that I always thought you were being super genuine, and if what you’re saying is that you never were genuine—”

“I totally was!”

“—then I don’t see why confessing to Keith is any different if they were all genuine love confessions,” he finished, and Lance stood up with a groan and grabbed the nearest robe folded up on the wooden stool nearby. He pulled it on and tied the sash.

“You’re a natural improvisor though,” his friend insisted as Lance eventually left the bathroom. Hunk stepped away from the wall, and followed Lance as he crossed the room. His bed was changed again—fresh sheets and all, and a tea tray was left at the end of his bed. He poured himself a cup and took a sip as he turned and realized that Hunk was fiddling with his fingers like he always did when he was nervous.

“What? I’m not gonna faint on you like I did with Thace,” Lance said with a scoff. “Stop looking so worried about me.”

“It’s not… that, really,” Hunk started, worrying his lip between his teeth as he wondered for far Pidge and gotten, and how much longer he needed to stall their friend. He couldn’t think of anything else except for the conversation he stood in on with Empress Allura.

Anything that could cure her brother was top priority, even if that something happened to be Keith Kogane, son of Zarkon, potential threat to the throne…

Pidge was off on strict orders from Allura. She intercepted Keith after following the directions of the guards along the way, and nabbed him in the garden as he was in the middle of a conversation with Shiro. “Urgent business from the Empress,” Pidge said, bowing respectfully to the two of them before perking up at the sight of Shiro stepping forward. “For Keith.”

“Me? Why?” Keith questioned, slim violet eyes narrowing.

“I’m… afraid I don’t know the details,” she lied, and offered an apologetic smile. “But I have orders to lead you there. If you don’t mind, that is.”

Keith scoffed and passed his brother with a nudge of his elbow to Shiro’s side. “Urgent business and she says ‘If I don’t mind.’”

“Don’t be rude,” Shiro sighed.

“And Shiro,” Pidge started. “Seeing as this concerns your brother, the Empress wants to meet with you and discuss it. You could be of some help in this situation.”

“The… Empress wants to see me?” Shiro repeated, eyes wide as Keith crossed his arms from where he now stood behind Pidge—where she couldn’t see his smug smile. Shiro rolled his eyes at Keith and sighed, “All right. Lead the way, Miss Pidge.”

And so, as Lance took a sip of his tea, Hunk strayed closer to the door. “So what is it then? My sister’s got to be worried. I feel fine now, though,” Lance was saying, rubbing a hand over his stomach through the silky fabric of his robe. “Hunk?”

“Hm?”

“You’re… gettin’ a little lost over there. Are you okay?” Lance questioned, prowling closer after setting his tea aside. Hunk gave a little squeak and shook his head before realizing what he was doing, and nodded fast. “What’s got you so frazzled?”

“I- Um- It was your sister’s idea! I had nothing to do with it!” Hunk cried, clasping his hands over his mouth as Lance came closer, eyes narrowing. “You’re gonna maim me!”

“No I’m not!” Lance exclaimed, throwing his arms down. Hunk took off sprinting towards the door.

“Keith’s on his way! I’ll see you later!” Hunk shrieked, and Lance’s heart plummeted into his empty stomach as he watched his best friend take off sprinting through the open doors of Lance’s room.

Lance gathered his bearings and ran after Hunk, screaming, “You what!? You enabled this! I just know it!”

“I didn’t!” Hunk cried down the hall, and screamed as he turned the corner, skidding to a halt. Lance skidded into the hallway on bare feet, hopping a little with the effort, and nearly fainted right then and there as two people turned the corner, and he heard Pidge saying, “Calm down, Hunk! Gods!”

“Hello Hunk—Or… not?” Keith said, waving at Hunk as he took off sprinting away from the room.

Lance had just enough time to run into the room and escape detection. He flung his arms up at the guards, saying, “Close the doors! Close them!”

They followed his orders, and stood stationed outside of the bedroom until Pidge and Keith approached. Pidge eyed them all—all four of them, two for each set of doors—and put her hands on her hips. “I come on Empress Allura’s orders,” she said, chin up.

Distantly, she swore she could hear Lance shriek from the other side of his room, “Traitor!” because a moment later, the guards shared a look with one another and reached to open the doors again.

“What’s this about?” Keith asked, but he couldn’t hide his amused smile, especially after seeing the Prince’s friend book it down the hallway faster than a race horse.

Pidge only guided him into the room a few steps before saying, “I’ll leave you two be then. Guards! Close and lock the doors.”

She slipped out as she said the words, and waved smugly at Keith as he lunged for the doors then. His hands hit the wood as it closed. He dropped to the handles and yanked on them, but the guards were already securing them in place.

Keith turned back around, hands going to his hip. They hadn’t disarmed him—and he knew Alteans were rich for an honest fight. They wouldn’t kill a man if he wasn’t armed. He looked around the room and realized that he wasn’t at all trapped, necessarily. He was on the second floor of the palace in a room with a balcony, a view of the ocean, and… a bed, and floor pillows, and couches and chairs meant for luxurious comfort…

Am I… in a bedroom? he wondered, pushing himself away from the doors with every intention being to escape from the balcony.

At the time, he simply thought he was stuck alone in the room. He had to admit—he loved Altean interior decorating. He always had a soft spot for intricate, handprinted tapestries. They were everywhere in the palace to muffle the echoes, and it made the entire room feel warm and homely. He passed the heavy red curtains at the balcony doors, and reached the railing where he leaned over and judged the distance…

“I wouldn’t recommend the jump,” someone said beside him, and Keith leapt away, startled by the sound. It was Lance, and Keith really shouldn’t have been as shocked as he was. A room like that had to have belonged to royalty. “Sorry for startling you,” Lance said, the words weighing on his shoulders so he leant against the railing with a sigh. “The jump. I tried it once—broke my arm.”

“No kidding,” Keith breathed, his heart still hammering in his chest as he looked back at the closed, locked doors. “Do you… know what this is about?” he asked.

“Just a little more than you do, I imagine,” Lance said, stepping closer.

Keith looked back at the motion, and the way Lance’s brilliant eyes were bluer than he initially thought. He had the pointed ears of Altean royalty—it was an elvish trait that was passed down to all generations for the past several centuries. It was difficult to notice during a brief chat in the garden, or from across the dining table at that first feast he saw Lance.

“How do you like it here?” Lance asked as the ocean breeze came in. Keith’s eyes were suddenly stuck where Lance’s bath robe exposed his soft brown skin.

“It’s… fine,” Keith said, swallowing hard as Lance came closer, and made it difficult to focus on his chest when his eyes were so up close and personal.

There was something hypnotizing about Lance’s eyes that made it impossible for either of them to turn away. Later, Lance couldn’t be entirely sure of what had happened, aside from the fact that it was riddled with his incredible emotions like during those weeks he courted Hunk blindly. But for Keith… Keith was just along for the ride.

“You know…” Lance started, eyes now half lidded as he smiled softly at Keith. Keith was certain his face had never been closer to another person’s in his entire life. “The first time I saw you… I was so certain you were the most remarkable person I had ever met. I had never met you before, I know nothing about you, but…”

“What’s this a—” Keith started, and was swiftly silenced by Lance’s lips falling on his.

Keith let out a gasp that Lance stole and clung to. He leant into Keith for full support, but Keith lost all of his gracefulness, his agility, his common sense. He fell against the railing with a cry, shoving Lance away. The extra space gave Keith a second to grab his knife from its holster. The instant he saw Lance coming for him again, he slashed the blade in the first place he could reach—Lance’s thigh.

“Fuck!” Lance shrieked, slapping his hands over the deep cut as Keith fell completely on the ground. He scrambled back, and pushed himself to his feet. He scrambled for the railing and swung over it without a second thought. “Keith! Oh Gods!” Lance screamed.

Lance tried to chase after Keith, but he didn’t even make it to the railing. His leg gave out and he dropped to his knees with another curse. He clasped a bloody hand to one of the railing dowels. “Guards! Guards!” he yelled, panting as the agony of the cut started to seep like hot, burning tar across his thigh.

As the guards ran to Lance’s aid, Keith hit the ground with a roll and popped back up without an issue. Unlike childhood Lance, Keith had experience in this sort of ordeal. And, generally, the Galra were a resilient race that made it possible for Keith to drop from a third story window and come out just fine on the ground. It took some experience, but Keith perfected his landings, and his climbing, which was what brought him to the forest where instincts told him to do so. It wasn’t until he settled in one of the high branches that he was finally able to relax for a moment and realize what an idiot he was.

His breath stung his chest like nothing else. The run did wonders to embellish his idiocy. It felt like he was being punished for his stupidity. He put a hand to his forehead as he propped the knife up into view and swore under his breath. Of everyone he could have practically-stabbed, it had to be the Empress’s brother. He didn’t even think when he did it. Even if he claimed it was self-defense, he couldn’t imagine anyone would buy it. What imbecile would call a kiss from Lance a bad thing? In hindsight, Keith couldn’t even claim that. He had just been so startled that his adrenaline kicked him in his own ass and sliced open Lance’s leg.

“I’m such an idiot,” he groaned, shoving the heels of his palms against his burning eye sockets.

He dragged a hand over his mouth as the thought of Lance came back. I can’t believe he called me ‘remarkable,’ he thought, flushing bright red up in the tree while the Empress’s guards fanned out across the palace grounds in search of him.

“Holy shit that hurts! Fuck—This is why I was never raised for war. Someone could trip me on the battlefield and I’d run home crying,” Lance prattled on to distract himself from the fact that Thace was stitching a needle through his skin. One thing was certain: the pain made it impossible for Lance to let his imagination “run wild,” so there was no escaping this little endeavor.

“I’m so sorry this happened—I- I acted too rashly. I shouldn’t have—This is all my fault,” his sister said, head in her hands. Lance reached a hand out to her, pulling it from her face so he could clasp it tight. He felt the moisture of her tears stuck in the palm of her hand, and offered an encouraging smile that came out as a grimace as Thace tugged on the thread. “Keith will pay for this—I swear it.”

“Oh gods, you’re so dramatic,” Lance sighed, looking away. He had half a mind to drop her hand right then and there. “This is my fault, if anything. One second I was panicking, and the next I just… let something come over me. I was too forward with him. I think I scared him.”

“Scared him?” Allura blurted out, furious. “How can you blame yourself for this? Lance!”

Lance rolled his eyes, only to squeak when another nip of pain pinched his irritated wound. “I swear to you that this was not Keith’s fault. He’s probably too terrified to show himself in fear of you beheading him or some… medieval shit like that.”

“I would not behead him,” she hissed, sitting back in her chair with a huff. “Besides, I’m more for hanging than anything.”

“Allura!” Lance squeaked, blushing at the thought. He had always been an empathetic, emotional guy, and anything that had to do with his sister’s dark side had him curling in on himself.

“I’m sorry, Lance, but it’s true. And I don’t want you defending this man simply because you don’t want to see him suffer the consequences of his actions. I will keep that as far from you as possible,” she said.

“You can’t! He didn’t mean it!” Lance cried, and when Allura stood to walk away, he held onto her hand tighter, forcing her to stay by his side. “When Keith comes back, let me talk to him.”

“If you wouldn’t mind, Empress,” Thace started, looking up at Allura for permission to speak. She sighed, and nodded to him. “I cannot be entirely sure that Lance’s hanahaki would disappear if Keith was no longer in the picture. We would have to risk surgery, and even then I have no sure answer for the outcome of that. I wouldn’t want to risk it, ma’am.” With that, Thace clipped the end of the knot, and softly cleaned around the wound before wrapping it and packing up his things.

As he stood up, Allura gave him a stern look and said, “I don’t know you very well, Thace… but I can’t help but trust your judgement here. We would be at a loss without you.”

Thace turned red at the compliment, and bowed his head to hide it. “I’m glad I could be of service to you. I’ll continue checking up on Lance and monitor for another unsettling… episode.”

Thace left the two of them, and the moment he was gone, Allura had the guards close the doors and leave them, prompting Lance to groan in annoyance and turn over on his side so that he could weave the blankets between his legs and cushion his wounded one. “Lance… don’t turn your back on me,” she said.

“All you’ll see is my back if you decide to punish Keith for this. I’m fine. I’m not dead. I’m sure if he wanted me dead, I’d be dead already,” Lance said, voice partially muffled by his pillow.

A moment of silence passed in which Allura twisted her hands around in front of her, and paced to the other side of the bed so she could see Lance’s face. She tipped her head to the side and studied her brother’s complexion, and how elegant his features were. Even when Lance was just an infant, she found him beautiful. Normally, she despised children and hated the fact that her advisor was already setting the date for an arranged marriage if she didn’t decide herself. She was certain she would never find a child more beautiful than Lance, and so, even at five years old, she raised Lance like he was her own. There was no way for her to be emotionally mature enough to support a child—no one was ever truly ready for it, but for Lance, she wanted to be.

And being a mother figure to Lance meant that she decided she had to make hard choices for him. This one wasn’t her decision.

“Fine,” she sighed. “I’ll let him pass.”

Lance sat up a little, startled by her swift yield. He expected to fight her over this until the moment Keith was found. “Really?” he all but rasped.

She looked up to the ceiling as if to say, Gods help me. But, the hug Lance gave her was definitely a blessing, and it did wonders in convincing her that she was doing the right thing. “Yes, but I still need to have a stern word with Pidge. You’ll be getting new guards, and I want one with you at all times—either that, or to have Pidge supervise you whenever Keith is around. This is as lenient as I’m going to get—”

“Thank you. That’s fine. I’m okay with that,” he promised, rubbing his cheek against her shoulder as she laughed at his compliance. “And I stick to what I said—I want to speak with Keith the moment they find him. I have to apologize for the way I acted.”

“Fine. I’ll see what I can do,” she promised, and as she left his quarters, she was already planning on what she would say to Keith before she’d let the guards fetch Lance. But first—she had a bone to pick with Pidge.

Keith thought the coast was clear, but he didn’t really have a plan on how to turn himself in. For an hour there, he suspected that he’d have to disappear from the Empire completely, find a small town to disguise himself in, maybe become a farmer or something crude like that where the Empress wouldn’t think to look.

The fact that the guards found him straight away made the “turning in” part easier than he thought it’d be.

The second his feet touched the ground, someone was shouting in the distance, and the footsteps came faster than Keith thought possible. He tensed up in fear, and, frozen in place, he didn’t even fight when the guard grabbed him by the arm and disarmed him in one swift movement. The sheath for his knife was ripped from his waist. The guard shoved him forceful ahead, securing his hands behind his back for the walk back to the palace. All the while, the guard’s partner was sent ahead to shut down the search for Keith.

The second they were back on the premises, Keith was certain there was a dungeon or something they were preparing a cell for him in, but instead of all that, they were confronted by a frantic man with an orange mustache running down the corridor. Keith was barely through the door when one of the guards kicked the back of his knees out. He dropped to the ground with a gasp, and before he could attempt to wrench himself free, the man came yelling, “Hey! Enough of that—Empress Allura wants to speak to him.”

“Aw, c’mon Coran,” the guard said, shoving Keith’s head down with a forceful push. Keith grunted, teeth grinding together as the guy said, “You really expect me to believe she’s gonna let this guy off easy? After what he did to her brother?”

The orange-haired man—Coran—stomped over and slapped the guard on the back of the head, and whipped his hand against the shoulder of his comrade, who had been chuckling behind his hand. “I’ll take him from here. See to it that the guards return back to their normal stands. Understood?”

The guards grumbled their agreements, and left nursing the bruises Coran gave them. The moment the doors creaked shut, Keith was brought back to his feet and dusted off. “Terribly sorry about that,” the man said with a genuine smile.

“Coran, huh? Imperial advisor to the Empress?” Keith asked, and after having the restraints taken off, was given Coran’s hand to shake.

“That would be me. We met briefly the day you got here,” he said, clasping his hands together as he started off down the hall. After a moment, Keith followed suit, and made sure to stick close on every occasion they passed Allura’s guards. “Oh, don’t mind them. They’re just worried about the safety of the Empress and her family. We all are. These are dangerous times.”

“I know. I doubt they’ll smile at me again—not that… they ever did it’s just… they’re stoic at all times,” he stammered, pinching his fingers against his hair as Coran laughed. “I was… wondering if it’s at all possible that I might… ask for Prince Lance’s forgiveness? And offer my apologies, that is.”

“You’ll have to take that up with the Empress,” Coran said as they turned down a familiar path. It was the same one Keith took with Shiro during their first night, when Pidge showed them around the palace. They were getting closer and closer to the throne room where Keith’s fate would be decided.

Meanwhile, it was difficult for Allura to keep her temper in check. She knew she’d regret it if she decided to act on her first impulse—Lance would never look at her again, and if he did… there was the ultimate threat that it would be on his deathbed. It didn’t help that this entire shitshow started and ended in the presence of Keith’s eldest brother, who showed all of the signs of someone who hadn’t expected any of this to happen. It made condemning Keith an even more difficult task.

“I have absolutely no reason to suspect that Keith did any of this out of malicious intent,” Shiro insisted. “If you could give me a moment to speak with him about this—“

“I know, Shiro, but I cannot guarantee anything until I speak with him first,” she said in passing, stepping beyond Shiro’s level near the throne. The room was significantly more empty than the day Shiro first set foot in it, but it just served to echo his feelings and emotions, which resonated in the hollow shell of his shock. He had been in a daze since the sun had gone down, and now that it was nearly dawn, he had exhausted himself with worry.

Allura’s servants straightened out her robes when she turned to face the center of the room. She sat after they backed away, and a solemn expression came to her face. She rested in the silence before the doors opened, and footsteps echoed into the hall.

The servant beside her took a step forward to relay her titles, but Allura simply raised a hand to skip the formality. The last thing she wanted to do was waste time. “Coran, go fetch Lance,” she ordered. “See that he doesn’t have to walk.”

The clarification had Keith putting a hand to his face, hoping that then he wouldn’t have to witness the look of disappointment on his brother’s face. In the end, he was forced to stand his ground, and confront the loathsome glare on the Empress’s face.

“You could have killed my brother,” she spat at him. “Not only that, but you ran like a coward. I hear my guards found you descending from a tree.”

Keith ducked his head, murmuring, “I know, I wasn’t thinking straight. I wasn’t thinking at all, really.”

“I don’t care who you are—if you hurt my brother again, Keith—”

“The world wouldn’t miss me,” he said, raising his chin up to meet her gaze. “I’m not the heir, so I have no significant title. I’ve come to terms with my worth, so… you can rest easy knowing that I support your decision. Lance was hurt by my hand—I accept the consequences.”

“Keith—” Shiro started, but Allura swiftly interrupted him.

“Are you saying you aren’t remorseful over this?” she said.

“No—not at all,” Keith exclaimed, shaking his head. “I didn’t intend to hurt him! I didn’t even know where I was or if anyone was with me when I was put in the room. None of this could have been premeditated.”

Allura relaxed back in her seat with a sour look on her face. “So… I guess you could say you were scared,” she said, and in that moment, the doors to the throne room opened.

Keith turned to look back at it, and his heart sank at the sound of wheels creaking on the tiles. A nurse came in, pushing a wheelchair with Lance sat in it. Despite how he looked, Lance had the biggest goddamn smile on his face.

He was barely close enough for Keith to whisper an apology before Lance was saying, “Cool battle scar, am I right?”

Keith couldn’t even stifle his laugh. He clasped a hand over his face to cover it, and looked back to find the Empress rolling her eyes. “Yeah, cool battle scar. I just… wish it wasn’t me who caused it,” Keith confessed as Lance took control of the steering and wheeled up beside Keith on the tile.

“Look, Lance—” he started, but Lance waved a hand to silence him.

“It was an accident. If anything I should… be apologizing for prompting it,” he confessed, turning away with a guilty look on his face.

“I was surprised—I shouldn’t have reacted like that,” Keith said. “I’m… not called ‘remarkable’ very often,” he added in a whisper, and it brought Lance’s gaze up to meet his. Keith turned away with a blush coloring his cheeks. He reached a hand back to scratch his head.

He caught Allura’s gaze and felt everything collide in his chest at once. She would never let Keith court Lance—especially after all of this. He had no right to even attempt it, but… the kiss told him that it’d be worth a shot anyways.

“You’re free to go, then,” she said, rising from the chair. She straightened the sleeves of her robes as Keith’s eyes widen. He shared a look with his brother, who had a small smile on his lips at the news.

“Before I go,” Keith said, interrupting her attempt to leave. She gave him a sour look, and earned a sigh from Lance at the look. Keith ducked his head to look at his hands before meeting her stoney gaze again. “Since… Lance doesn’t have any parents, I suppose I should come to you to ask for permission to court him?”

He expected her to say something like, “Don’t push it,” but he certainly hadn’t expected a sigh of relief.

“You asked the right person. I give you permission—just don’t ruin it for all of us,” she said.

When she left, Shiro didn’t. Instead, he stormed up to Keith before he could even turn to see what Lance’s expression looked like. The moment Shiro raised his hand, Keith was expecting it, and braced himself for Shiro to tug on his ear and yank him away from Lance’s side.

“I can’t believe you did this. I thought you were going to die today,” Shiro hissed.

“I know—ouch! Let go of my ear,” Keith cried, slapping at Shiro’s arm until Shiro started slapping at his hand, and they ended with a grudging resolve to step back. “Sorry for worrying you—”

“Sorry? Dear gods, Keith, Lance has fifteen stitches in his leg!” he shouted, gesturing with both hands to Lance, who was still sat in the wheelchair. Keith wasn’t expecting Lance’s eyes to be focused solely on him, though, and Lance smiled when their eyes connected from across the room.

Keith was still distracted by Lance when Shiro enveloped him in a hug and breathed, “Don’t scare me like that again. Don’t do anything stupid like that again.”

“I promise I won’t,” Keith said, voice muffled in his brother’s shoulder. “I won’t do anything like that again.”

Shiro stepped back and rubbed his hands over his eyes. He’d been crying, and the sentiment nearly had Keith doing the same. “Okay. I’m done. I’m sleeping for eleven hours and neither of you can stop me,” he said at last, and left without another word. Keith watched after his brother before realizing that the nurse was still there with them, as were several… angry guards.

“Allura’s orders,” Lance said, but he didn’t seem at all put off by it. “Pidge will be supervising us for a while, too.”

“Oh goodie,” Keith sighed, stepping over to take control of the wheelchair. He barely reached it before Lance’s hand was reaching for his, and he ducked down onto his knees to meet Lance at his new level.

They both hesitated, and Keith eventually filled the silence with a soft, “I shouldn’t have acted violently.”

“It was justified, but Keith—”

“That… was my first kiss,” he confessed, lifting his eyes up from where Lance had linked their fingers together. “I don’t know how to do this.”

Lance’s cheeks were red, and it spread all the way up to the tips of his pointed ears. Keith laughed nervously, and said, “Sorry… you probably didn’t need to know that.”

“No- I- That was the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard,” Lance said, voice choking up as Keith gave him a gentle shove on the shoulder.

“Shut up…”

“Want to try again?” he asked, grin bordering on cheeky as Keith turned into a red, flustering mess and whined, “You’re too much!” He put his forehead on the armrest of Lance’s chair as Lance giggled and slumped over him with a flourish of “aw!”s.

In the end, Keith wheeled Lance up to his room. Of course, stairs made it difficult to do so, and the guards wouldn’t let Keith carry Lance himself, so he carried the wheelchair up while one of the guards lifted Lance bridal-style to the second floor. They wouldn’t Keith set a single toe into Lance’s bedroom, so they said a simultaneous good-night, good-morning before departing for the day. Keith was too exhausted for anything more than that after spending the night up in a goddamn tree.

With Thace, Pidge, and Florona’s good work, Lance was back on his feet before any of them thought possible. He was quick to work around the guard’s rules and would barge into Keith’s room with next to no notice. He started to expect it, though, so no notice was needed for it after a while.

But before all that, before Lance could walk again, Keith would wheel him around the palace in between meals and they’d talk endlessly. Lance was still plagued by the illusion of Keith insisted that none of this should be happening, but every time he saw and talked to Keith, it was difficult for him to think of anyone else. Keith had Lance’s full attention, and nothing would change that, not even his imagination.

Regardless of how well things were going, Lance couldn’t help but worry about other things that could prevent it. He was starting to lose his appetite again, and Thace’s examinations concluded that he had about a week before another episode like the last one occurred.

“There’s… something that’s been worrying me,” Lance confessed one day at the edge of the garden. Keith looked so beautiful, backlit by the sunlight streaming in through the ceiling windows.

“What is it?” he asked, kneeling in front of Lance again, his hands resting on Lance’s knees.

“It’s about… that night I kissed you,” he started, his nerves turning his cheeks pink. “I’m not sure if you know this, but… I’m not entirely human. And sometimes my instincts get the better of me. They sometimes make me… forward with my emotions, and I don’t want you to feel pressured into anything my instincts might want.”

“If you’re not entirely human, what are you?” Keith asked, confident as ever.

“I’m part nymph,” he said, ducking his head. “Which is to say I don’t get the instinct pureblooded nymphs do to—”

“—Kill their partners,” Keith finished. “So that night…”

“I never intended to be so forward about how I felt. I was so nervous about you coming in that I just… I just sort of gave in to my instincts because they make me feel calmer. More confident,” he confessed.

“But everything your instincts want—you want as well?” Keith argued, and Lance gave a half shrug. “I trust you, Lance. Whatever you want, I’ll be there for you. And sure it was a surprise, but now I can expect it more often. I don’t want you to be nervous around me, okay?”

Lance’s smile made the agreement all the more worthwhile. Keith stood up and laid a kiss to Lance’s forehead before insisting they keep moving. A weight was lifted from Lance’s shoulders, and he told himself that maybe… it’d be fun to find out what his instincts want once in a while.

Just maybe.