Chapter Text
Lance was bored. He sat slumped in his chair, leaning his head on his hand. Papers were scattered across the table in front of him, as he tried to focus on his studies. Alas, it was futile. Any attempts he made to read his notes just made him, if anything, want to sink into the floor even more. Learning was hard.
The library had many things to look at - the young boy's blue eyes couldn't settle. Light was streaming in from the large window behind him; golden rays from the setting sun illuminating Lance like an angel (despite being far from one). The shelves were stocked generously with books both new and old, and many artefacts from the outside world dotted the view. It was a shame to waste such a beautiful sight on the boy, really. A short time passed, and he let his vision go out of focus, and pondered some of life's greatest mysteries. After all, there was only so much studying one could take before they were bound to distraction. Thoughts ran through Lance's head - not one settling as they flew by him in a flurry of inquisition: could you invent a potion to cure boredom? How many small children would you have to stack on top of one another before reaching the roof of the chapel? What was Hunk doing at that very moment in time whilst he was stuck in some stupid library? Like I said, he was pondering some of life's greatest mysteries. A further mystery, however, was how he hadn't noticed the library door open and a slender figure walk inside.
"-ance. Lance, I swear to the high priest if you don't pay attention to me I will throttle you." Ah, it was Allura. Blinking his eyes up at his sister, the boy quirked the corners of his mouth up at the woman with an expression that feigned innocence to the highest power.
"Always such a charmer, sister. Does your boyfriend know about your homicidal tendencies?" He shot back at her after a moment of staring into the fed-up eyes of the soon-to-be Altean Queen. Crossing his arms in defiance, he quirked an eyebrow at her and stared death in the face – nothing out of the ordinary, then.
"I'm glad to see you've not slipped into a coma while I've been busy - honestly, you'd think we were making you learn the ins and outs of making toilet paper, or something equally as ridiculous and boring." The woman rolled her eyes, sighing in exasperation before she continued. "I thought you wanted to learn about the different cultures of our world. What's so bad about it?"
"I wanted to learn about the different cultures by actually going and visiting them! You know, meet the locals, try the food - not this 'laws of the different kingdoms' crap!" Lance threw his arms out, letting them fall and flop down at his sides dramatically. He huffed out a big breath, and a few sheets of paper blew across the table and fluttered to the ground.
Allura stared at her brother, deadpan. "There's a war. You can't leave the castle. People are dying, Lance."
"It's like I'm a prisoner in my own home!" His voice cracked hilariously as he raised his voice, now deciding to fling himself across the mahogany desk and promptly knocking over a small pot of ink. He watched in disdain as it spread and dyed his notes black; hours of work destroyed. Still, he did nothing to stop it, only staring with his cheek pressed against the wood at his unfortunate mistake. The Princess giggled.
"Come on, I'll get you out of here. But you owe me!" She muttered a quiet "honestly" under her breath, shaking her head, and turning to leave the room without stopping to check if Lance was following. He had, of course, sprung out of his chair with vigour at the proposition of escaping the library for even a few minutes. Following after his older sister, the boy glared back at the work he had been doing, before leaving through the double doors on the other side of the room.
The Princess lead them both to a small sitting room, where a coal fire had been lit and was glowing red, flickering occasionally as a breeze swept by. Closing the door behind them, the pair moved to sit across the plush couches. Two pale blue couches surrounded the fireplace, with a modest coffee table in the centre and a leather armchair pushed into the corner of the room. Despite the room being one of the smallest in the castle, the siblings found comfort in its cosiness. Lance flung himself across the largest of the two couches, wiggling around until he found a comfortable position. Allura took a more graceful approach, smiling fondly at her brother's antics as she sat on the other couch. They sat in comfortable silence for a few moments, both watching as the fire danced. Suddenly, Lance sat up and whipped his head around to Allura as if he were possessed.
"Can I paint your nails?" He asked, eyes lit up with hope. It was an activity that they both had enjoyed since they were young, however in the midst of growing up they hadn't quite found the time to paint each other's nails for a long while. The white-haired woman beamed at him, nodding her head excitedly.
"Of course! I'll send for someone to get the paints. Oh, and a brush - you can braid my hair too!" It was hard to believe she would be taking over the throne in the near future. In moments like that, Lance wished he could go back in time. To a time with no war, when they were both children. When they could run freely outside the castle walls without a care in the world. The war might not have entered their country yet, but the kingdom was always treading on thin ice, sending resources and troops out to help their allies fight the Galra. It had been 8 years, and the Prince could barely remember a time where there was peace.
The Princess had all but pranced over to the door and sent a passing maid to fetch what they needed from her quarters, before sitting back down with a smile. The blue-eyed boy had sat up on the couch in the meantime, legs crossed childishly as he grinned at her.
In no time at all, the maid had returned with a small box, which was old and worn from years of use. The lid hardly closed. Balanced on top of this were a silver brush and a selection of ribbons. After thanking the maidservant, the two got to work. Sliding the lid off of the box, they tipped out the little bottles of nail polish and assorted them on the coffee table. A short time of deliberation later, and the siblings had chosen their colours. For Lance - a simple, shimmering gold. For Allura - a pale pink, to match the marks on her face.
"So, I'm thinking, you paint my nails first and then I'll paint yours, so mine will dry and I can do your hair while yours dry," the Prince proposed, practically vibrating with excitement. His sister nodded decidedly and Lance, delightedly, spread out his fingers and placed his hands on the wooden surface of the table. Allura unscrewed the golden bottle and with intense focus (and her tongue poking out of her mouth cutely) began to paint. She finished one, two fingernails, dipped the brush back into the bottle for more paint, and a knock sounded loudly on the door. The pair looked up, and Lance frowned.
"Come in," the Princess called with a clear and authoritative voice, not putting down the brush for their visitor as she began the third nail. The door opened, and a redhead poked his head around it. Lance's frown softened, and Allura smiled. "Coran, is everything alright?"
"My apologies for interrupting you two, but Allura, the King requires your presence immediately." The man felt awful for interrupting the siblings' rare time together, but there was nothing to be done.
"Can it not wait?"
"I'm afraid not, Your Majesty. It is a matter of utmost urgency, and the King would like your input right away." After speaking, Coran retreated from the room and closed the door again, waiting just outside for the Princess' emergence. Allura sighed, putting the brush back into the bottle and apologetically smiling towards her brother, who had deflated immensely during Coran and his sister's interaction.
"I'm so sorry, Lance." Her voice was laced with guilt, and he smiled up at her, shaking his head.
"It's fine. You gotta do what you gotta do, I get it. It sounds important. I wouldn't keep father waiting," he said as he picked up the brush. "I'll finish up here."
Allura nodded, leaving the room and closing the door behind her. The Princess followed Coran to the conference room, while Lance stayed behind. He stared at the little gold bottle, a lump forming in his throat as a hole opened up in his chest. She had important things to do, but it would be nice to spend some quality bonding time with her for once, instead of just quick updates over dinner. It would also be nice to be included, but he was just a child, right? What use would he be?
With a heavy heart, and feeling somewhat like he wanted to throw up, he finished painting his nails. The gold paint looked dim in his new mindset. He had been cast aside yet again, and didn't that feel great.
Down the grand corridor and a flight of stairs, behind closed doors, a storm had been brewing. King Alfor - a mighty and righteous leader, and the sixteenth Ruler of Altea since the uprising - had received a message from the evil Emperor Zarkon. A small package arrived with a hooded messenger, and after inspection to make sure the thing wouldn't explode, it was finally delivered to the King. He had opened it, and to say that he was not pleased would most definitely be an understatement. A small screen was projected into the air from the package, playing a simple message. A video showing the Emperor, and his chilling words:
"Alfor. I have a proposition, and if you do not take it be sure to know that I will begin the siege on your precious mistake of a kingdom. Your son is to marry my youngest; think of it as a peace treaty. Failure to comply will result in the complete decimation of your kingdom. I will be sending guards in the next two movements to collect your son."
The video cut off after that, leaving much to be desired. King Alfor glared maliciously at the device that had played the message, placing it down beside him before he had the chance to smash it. He would play it to his advisors later, but for now, focused on calming his rapid heartbeat. What was he to do? Surely there was another option than to go to war or to force his youngest child into marriage. He hadn't even reached adulthood, and yet Zarkon was proposing such a scheme. No, he would find another way - before time ran out, too.
***
Staring blankly up at the ceiling, Lance had thrown himself onto the sofa once again after he'd made sure his nails were dry - he was moping, but he hadn't spent the time painting them just to smudge them and have to take the paint off right away. With a blank face, the Prince heaved a heavy sigh. He stared without blinking for a few minutes until his eyes watered (because he hadn't blinked yet, not because he felt useless and unwanted. He did not cry). Then, with a frustrated whine, he sat bolt upright; throwing his legs off of the sofa as if they'd been forced off by an angry ghost. A resolved look on the boy's face and a sudden surge of determination, he set off to find a friend. Days feeling like this were suffocating, but they were always made better with a friend.
He headed to the kitchens first. It was the first place he always checked as it was where Hunk spent a huge amount of time. In spite of him not being a chef he tended to enjoy cooking, and was majorly better at it than the actual employed cooks - Lance had tried to get him hired in the kitchens, but the other boy had insisted that as much as he did love to make food he just couldn't leave his current position as engineer and blacksmith. If he left that, who would make sure that Pidge ate regularly and slept enough and actually got away from her projects for more than two minutes?
It was generally unusual for someone of Lance's position (being a member of the royal family, that is) to be friends with servants. But Hunk and Pidge's families worked in the castle, and they had grown up together. That, and Lance was a naturally friendly guy - he loved meeting new people and making new friends. It was part of his charm. So, when he entered the kitchens, the staff didn't stop to blink. Had it been Allura or Alfor, they would've stopped to bow immediately. But with Lance? There was no need for such formalities. He'd insisted on it himself.
"Hey, Blazdam. Have you seen Hunk anywhere recently?" His attention was aimed at the head chef - an older woman, with a friendly face and a kind smile. She stopped kneading the chunk of dough she'd been working on, and looked up the young Prince.
"I have not, your highness. I do believe he and Pidge were working on a special project for Coran. Perhaps ask if they're in the workshop?" She suggested in a gentle tone, before going back to her job. Lance's hand carefully reached out to nab a cooling pastry, and she slapped his hand away. "You'll ruin your appetite. Lunch will be ready shortly."
Pouting, Lance slinked back to the doors. "You're no fun!" He called over his shoulder, childish but joking. "See you later!" He said as the door shut behind him. His next destination was, as Blazdam had suggested, the workshop. It was a large building just on the outskirts of the castle, where the engineers and blacksmiths spent most of their time to develop and build new technologies and weapons. It stunk and was kind of dusty, so Lance wasn't really supposed to go there. Strictly speaking, he wasn't actually allowed inside - it could be dangerous. Not that that stopped him.
Looking around, he sneaked to the door and pushed it open slightly. The tanned boy slithered inside, his eyes darting around for anyone that might call him out. After a few ticks of gazing around the large room, he spotted them. Pidge and Hunk; his two best friends. They seemed to be tinkering with some kind of robot. It looked small, and not very impressive. Why was this their project?
Sticking close to the walls, Lance finally made his way along to them. He tapped Hunk on the shoulder, who screamed and jumped into the air. It made people look in their direction, and Lance his behind the larger boy's broad figure. Said boy laughed sheepishly, waving off prying eyes, before looking at his friend.
"What the hell are you doing here? King Alfor said the next time you're caught in here he would ground you for a month!" He whispered harshly, as Pidge rolled her eyes.
"Chill out, dude. He always says that. He's just bluffing," Lance retorted quietly, crossing his arms over his chest like the over-dramatic adolescent he was. Pidge shrugged up at him from her place on the floor. She was cross-legged, her hands inside the wiring of the robot.
"He's right, Hunk. Lance flashes his puppy eyes at him and he's off the hook," she mumbled, glancing up at the two others momentarily before her attention was again on her project. Pursing his lips, Hunk sighed.
"What's up, man?" He asked with a small smile.
"I'm in a shitty mood. I was kinda hoping you'd go on an adventure with me?" His eyes were hopeful, and Hunk sighed again.
"We really have to finish this project for Coran, buddy. Maybe later?"
"The last time we went on an adventure it ended with you being covered literally from head to toe in mud. Why would we do that again?" Pidge added, sending him a skeptical look.
"Oh, come on! It was one time! How was I supposed to know it was due to storm?" Lance shot her a grin, before continuing. "Besides, I heard there's a vendor in town selling those fluxa- fluxo-"
"Fluxomite processors?"
"Yeah! Those. You were saying how you wanted one and how they're super rare and stuff the other day and then I just happened to hear that someone was selling them so I figured you might want to-"
"Take a breath, Lance."
"Right. Thanks, Hunk. Anyway. Want to go to the markets with me and I'll buy you one?"
"Holy shit. Yes. I'm honestly surprised you were listening to me, though. That was weeks ago."
"Hey! I take offence to that! I'm a great friend, I always listen to you when you're telling me about nerd stuff!"
"I beg to differ. Sorry, bud, but whenever we tell you about 'nerd stuff' you always get distracted and end up wandering off. Besides, I don't think this is a very good idea. What if you get caught sneaking out of the castle again? Your dad would kill you-"
"My dad can suck it! I'm so claustrophobic in here! Just because you have a whole castle to yourself, doesn't negate the fact that you're a prisoner."
Lance was pouting childishly as usual, but it was obvious that his confinement was getting to him. The distress of not being able to leave shone through his confident demeanour, and Hunk found himself giving in. He hated seeing his friends down in the dumps. Hesitantly, he agreed.
"Awesome! Okay, meet me just after lunch in the courtyard. And wear disguises." With that and a more positive feeling then he'd had when he entered, Lance sneaked out of the workshop. Talking to his friends, however briefly, always seemed to put him in a good mood. He was blessed to have them. Said friends looked at each other with opposing expressions as soon as the prince left - Hunk was concerned (Lance's excursions rarely ended well), but Pidge was excited. Lance was going to buy her a fluxomite processor! She'd been after one for Gods know how long.
Now, though, the boy was back to being bored. No doubt his tutor had noticed he had left, but he couldn't really find it in him to care. Ever. With a quiet huff, he wondered to the dining hall. Lunch was supposed to be ready soon, so he decided he would just sit in there and wait. He had nothing better to do, anyway.
The dining hall was a grand place, with one long table down the centre and large double doors on either side, at the width of the rooms. On one wall was five floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the flower garden. On the other wall was a magnificent fireplace, which kept the room warm during the cooler seasons, and an array of classic paintings. Three crystal chandeliers hung over the table and lit the room with fake candles. Though technology had advanced, the style that the Alteans had was very much the same as it had been hundreds of years ago. Regal and decorative, and overall elegant. Alteans lived for the finer things in life, and their décor mirrored that.
Lance found his way to his seat at the top end of the table, pulling it out and collapsing down into it. He hoped his father and Allura would turn up soon, and that lunch would begin. Now that he was paying attention to it, he was starving. Then again, he was always up for eating good food, and the chefs never ceased to impress him. He himself wasn't a horrible cook, but his skills were very easily outshone by the professionals, as they should be.