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There, unceremoniously on his plate, was an object just a tad gelatinous, almost like a fruit jam but entirely and suspiciously opaque, the sheen of it unnatural. When he dipped his spoon into it, it came out viscous, not unlike a custard, but one that had a stronger pull to the cutlery as if it was the one trying to consume, and not the other way around.
Of course, it was also fluorescent purple, an ultraviolet that he realized would be highly coveted depending on the house or clan. No word on whether or not it was edible, or a poor attempt at assassinating him, though.
Still, he sat back, beginning to accept and understand that his excessive focus on the dinner appetizer was simply distracting from the real issue at hand. If he ceased to prod the terrifying concoction, he would have no choice but to address the problem sitting across the dining table from him.
Prince Takashi Shirogane (known by his friends and the swooning girls and guys alike as “Shiro”) had been betrothed to the princess of the neighboring country, Allura of Altea, to unite the countries together. Though he felt none of the romantic inclinations the kingdoms’ teenagers liked to whisper about, they had grown to care for each other deeply, and so Shiro couldn't say he necessarily minded the idea of being bound for life to his old friend.
But suddenly King Alfor passed, and the mourning was heavy, but so was the weight of responsibility on Allura's shoulders. The engagement was postponed for a year, and then another, and then it was the coronation, and then the Princess was now Queen.
So the betrothal was abruptly ended.
Not so abrupt to Shiro, of course.
"No hard feelings, Shiro." Allura had written in one of her weekly letters, an old tradition that they still now kept as young adults. "But I don't think either of us really wanted to go through with this. We were both fine with it, but now that I run the country, I'm sure I can have just a bit more say on this matter."
“I’ll make sure to sweeten the deal for your father so he knows it’s nothing about you, and ensure the same treaties will be signed regardless of the engagement ceasing.”
Allura, always thinking of others while also finding ways for her own country to benefit.
“I hope this gives you the freedom to do what you want to do, Shiro. We’ll always be friends, but I know you’re secretly relieved you won’t have to share a bed with me.”
Which brings him back to the present, to the new problem at hand, and the new body to share a bed with. The Prince of Galra, Keith.
Long, black lashes fluttered, revealing a pair of dark, violet eyes. His mouth held a noticeable droop, cold and unreadable when it came to emotion. His black hair, which Shiro was sure to be around shoulder length from the looks of it, was tied back with a thin purple ribbon.
He fought, of course, to not notice the sharpness of the man’s cheekbones, which were only second to the knife edge he felt under Keith’s stare.
"Oh." Prince Shiro thought to himself, at the first sight of him.
If this was who he was to take the hand of in a political marriage, maybe he wouldn't mind that much at all.
It was a strange sort of relief, one that Shiro rarely ever experienced in the course of his life. Only in the most extraordinary circumstances did plans go awry under the watchful eye of Lord Shirogane. The newly appointed Queen Allura only barely skirted by in that she was now the ruler of her country, and that she had sworn to continue with the agreements set between Altea and Terra. Besides this, Shiro was to do what he was told, personal feelings aside. If it was something that didn't match his natural inclination, it just too bad. He was a prince, and a prince must do what he can to prove his worth as king.
So the image of the Galra prince before him, stoic in an impassive beauty, surprised him. If they could get along, Shiro imagined, perhaps he could possibly enjoy the arrangement.
Very quickly those hopes were dashed, when he extended a hand and the only thing he received was the slight widening of his eyes, barely a flicker before settling back into a cold stare.
The prince looked wary, almost suspicious, and Shiro recalled the image of a hissing black cat he had managed to coax out of tree (Why the kingdom's newspapers ran an article on the event for the following week, he would never know).
When it became clear that the handshake would not be returned, he lowered his hand and scanned the room, taking in the four women standing behind the prince, the King's highest regarded generals, Shiro had been informed. There was a general sense of disinterest from the generals, with the one towards the back with the orange ponytail examining her nails, and the blindfolded one behind, feeding her… cat? A third one stood by the door, large and imposing.
In contrast, the woman with the slicked back, dark blue hair stood particularly close to Prince Keith, and it dawned on him that though the meeting was to be considered informal, no doubt the Galra nation would regard him as a threat. Highly skilled as he knew them as, they had no need for open intimidation to show their ability to fight at a moment’s notice.
Behind him, he could hear the shifting of Lance's feet, an uncomfortable silence settling in the room. Did he do right by only coming with his single most trusted knight?
“Shall we ah… continue on to the dinner?” An attendant with sickly purple skin attempted to interrupt the frigid stares from across the room.
Shiro, relieved, smiled warmly at the man. Perhaps a conversation over food would warm the prince to him, and so he nodded. “I have traveled far, so I would not mind becoming acquainted with Galra cuisine.”
And so here he was, pushing the dreaded purple object to and fro on his plate, attempting to not marvel at the Galra around him, calmly consuming the appetizer. Shiro took a quick glance towards the knight beside him, and he could feel the almost physical force of Lance’s revulsion.
It took a certain level of courage to also look across the expanse of the Galra dining table, a hulking piece of welding metal with purple inscription, to the one he had been newly betrothed to. Prince Keith, ignoring the happily feasting members of his court, sat stock still, a fork and a knife pointed upwards in each hand, posed to fight.
“May I…” Shiro desperately tried to ignore the way that his voice nearly cracked, the words coming forth rusted from the stress of the encounter. “May I inquire where the bathroom is?”
He asked no one in particular, in a bid to escape for even just a couple moments of reprieve. The same purple skinned attendant materialized from what seemed out of nowhere, giving him carefully convoluted instructions.
After a quick nod of thanks and what felt like a swift kick in the shin in protest from Lance, Shiro pulled back his chair, ignoring the way the metal screamed and scraped across the floor and briskly exited the hall.
But then Shiro proceeded to get lost in the castle.
The endless windowless hallways, dimly lit in the purple fires did little to nothing in distinguishing themselves from one another, and so he wandered for what seemed like a humiliating amount of time. Eventually, even his stomach began to gurgle in agitation, and he truly wondered if he should have given in to the violet monster upon his plate.
When he rounded the next corner, no surer than the last time as to whether he was closer to the grand hall than before, Shiro stopped short.
The glint of a dagger, its edge lilac and sinister, was poised against his neck. It was almost delicate in its precision, resting on the skin above his jugular.
The wielder, he sharply realized, was none other than the man that sat across from him, the prince of the Galra.
For one brief moment, Shiro imagined that Keith’s eyes had taken on the same yellowish discoloration of the rest of his kin, the sharpened canines protruding from his gritted teeth, but as suddenly as it appeared, it was gone. He was expressionless, the paleness of his skin and whites of his eyes once again curiously human.
Then he opened his mouth, speaking the first words Shiro had ever heard from him, low and with just the right amount of pleasant roughness around the edges. Humiliatingly, he admitted to himself that he had taken notice even while at the mercy of the blade at his neck.
"If I didn't know any better, I would have thought you were skulking around for intel."
With a flick of his wrist, he expertly spun the dagger and dropped it back into its sheath. Shiro watched, quietly noting that Keith was clearly quite skilled in combat. "And what makes you say I wasn't?"
It was a daring question, one that could be perceived as a threat, maybe enough for the Galra to pull out of the arrangement all together. But something made him want to inquire. He wanted to hear more from the enigmatic person before him.
Perfectly arched eyebrows knitted together, the other sign of frustration resting on the way his bottom lip jutted out ever so slightly, a frown that deepened just a hair.
"Because. Good, little pawns of a political game like us, we wouldn't dare do anything otherwise asked from us."
Certainly, it wasn't the answer that Shiro was expecting to answer.
“Yes, well… I suppose you guessed correctly of me.” He took a moment to compose himself, forcing the surprise to the back of his mind, opting for a crooked grin and feigned nonchalance. “I got lost on my way back to the hall, to be quite honest.”
Keith seemed to scrutinize him for a brief moment, eyes lowered and filled with obvious doubt. Briskly he turned, the darkened violet cape at his back swirling around his lean frame. “Follow me.”
Shiro started, surprised by even the slightest amount of kindness the prince showed, despite the open hostility of his actions previous. Perhaps there was a way to become familiar with Keith, and maybe they could even be friends-
“Don’t get too close.” Came his voice, clipped and stern. He tilted his head back, grimace marring his pretty facial features. “And don’t get lost again, or I won’t believe you so easily the next time.”
After an embarrassingly short amount of time (two right turns and one left), Shiro was back in his seat, right after Keith, his gaze once again cold and unflinching, silencing any form of light conversation that had wormed its way into Shiro’s throat.
It was not lost on him, the way that the generals shared smirking glances. If they imagined a tryst had occured in the dim hallways of the castle, or they were simply mocking the fact that he had to be led back like a small, lost child, Shiro never got the chance to inquire.
And so, their first meeting ended.
That was that.
“That... was that?” Allura looked caught between shocked and disappointed, her fingers carefully balancing the teaspoon as she combined the perfect amount of milk into her darjeeling tea.
“That was literally it. And I wasn’t even there for any of the conversation.” Despite Lance’s obvious aggravation, there was a clear over-eagerness on his face, the puppy-eyed stare reserved solely for the Altean Queen. It had been a one-sided admiration which had grown over the years to a mutual respect. Now, Shiro enjoyed observing the shared look they gave to one another, despite the fact that it was a pitying one and at his expense.
Two months had passed since the uncomfortable dinner at the Galra royal castle. Between the tall columns of the Altean palace’s central tower was the sight of a gorgeous summer. The three enjoyed a view from where they sat overlooking the capital city below, sky dyed in the golden red and orange hues of a spectacular sunset. What had been a fond pastime of a week’s stay in the warmer seasons had now become an official royal summons, and so Shiro and Lance traveled to Allura’s palace at the behest of the new queen.
“The Galra people have always been a bit peculiar, to say in the least.” She elegantly raised the teacup to her lips, taking a sip. “Still, it’s surprising just how evident Prince Keith’s distaste was for you. There aren’t many that could claim themselves immune to your charm, Shiro.”
At that, he laughed, the sound unsure. “You say that all the time Allura, but frankly I really can’t see what you mean.”
“Are you serious, man?” In between Allura and Shiro, Lance slipped comfortably back into his role as the childhood friend, both begrudging and proud in the tone of his voice. “All the girls and guys of Terra have the hots for you, Shiro. It’s not just that you’re the crown prince, you’re Prince Charming.”
Shiro folded his hands, contemplative with a much more serious demeanor. “I don’t blame him though, for being angry towards me.”
His two friends and closest confidantes fell silent, waiting for him to explain himself.
“Until recently, we didn’t even know that Prince Keith existed. To be honest, he did not have the appearance of a full blooded Galra either.” The only indication of interest from Allura was the slightest raise of her eyebrow, but still she set her cup down as he continued. “He might be scared… angry even. The Galra didn’t entertain the idea of other nations until just recently.”
“There could be more going on than we realize.” The queen replied as Lance stuffed his mouth full of tea cakes. “Be careful Shiro… I doubt that Emperor Lotor has completely pure intentions in your union with Keith.”
The warning, the three of them knew, was not a sudden or shocking one. Shiro had expected that there would be an ulterior motive. His own father, Lord Shirogane, was sure to possess his own motives in the agreement of their marriage.
“When will you be seeing him next?” Allura attempted to smooth over the rough edges she had brought up, handing Shiro one of his favorite flaky berry tarts. He took the pastry gratefully, gently peeling back the wax baking paper and breaking off a piece with raspberries.
“By the beginning of fall. Lord Shirogane has invited him and his court to join us on a hunt.” Shiro spoke between bites of the tart, pointedly ignoring the concern his two friends shared. “I… I uh, do look forward to seeing the prince again.”
A moment of pause, and laughter sounded, Lance slapping a knee as Allura lifted a hand to her cheek.
“It seems that Prince Keith has a greater hold on you than you do to him. Interesting.”
“I don’t know what you mean-”
“Of course he does,” Lance interjected with a bit of a smirk. “You should have seen the way Shiro looked at him when he first came into the room.”
Shiro was sure he flushed nearly as red as the strawberries on the remaining bit of his pastry.
“It’s alright, Shiro.” Queen Allura gave him a soft, serene smile.
“Yeah, man.” His knight added. “If we know anything about you, Shiro, you’ll always find a way to win someone over.”
With a quiet upturn of his mouth, he took the last bite, swallowing the last bit of his dessert along with his unvoiced fears.
That night, Shiro dreamt the most peculiar dream. One of his younger years when his grandfather was still living, and he was allowed to go to the summer palace by himself deep in the Terran forests. As he felt himself grow smaller, surrounded by the ethereal hues of greens, he also felt himself grow more frantic.
His legs, though shorter and more frail like he was as an adolescent of barely fifteen, were still trained with the severity of any cadet in military training, and he felt himself leap over branches and dash under the brush.
Shiro was looking for something.
Or rather, someone.
He found the vision of his past difficult to comprehend. How could he have forgotten? How could he forget anything as important as this?
But then it was a morning, and Shiro found himself tangled fully in the sheets, fine Altean linen reduced to makeshift restraints on his calves. He laid there pondering until Coran arrived, in a flurry as usual and with a cart full of breakfast options.
Shiro could never recall what it was that he so desperately wanted to uncover in the lush forest of his dreams, and so he once again pushed it to the back of his mind.
“Keith, the Crown Prince of the Galra has graciously accepted your invitation and will travel to see Crown Prince Takashi Shirogane on the first of the tenth month. He will be with the Four Generals, and eagerly anticipates seeing the Crown Prince once more.”
It was with those words that Shiro nervously stood at the gates of the Terran castle, only dignity itself keeping him from physically wringing his hands. Anyone with half a mind would quickly realize that there was little to no chance that Keith himself wrote the letter, eagerly anticipating be damned.
Even still, Shiro could feel the slight movement low in his stomach, the butterflies struggling to take flight. He nervously ran a hand through his hair at the thought, because he knew that regardless of hostility, he wanted to see Keith again, beautiful and intriguing as he was.
Wildflowers grew all alongside the grey flagstone path up to the impressive fortress, a true testament to human design in both its capabilities and practicality. The home to the Shirogane royal family for centuries was a stark castle built onto the side of a cliff, overlooking the eastern sea.
Beside him, he heard his own generals sigh under the burden of their metal regalia, the sun overhead sure to be roasting them slowly from the inside. Hunk, though he fought to appear indifferent, strained under the heat, and Pidge and Lance looked certainly worse for wear.
Before the trio of knights had a chance to finally voice their complaints, over the hill came a peculiar vision, like a black spike had suddenly protruded from the earth, stretching towards the sky. Quickly, as it approached, they realized that it was the pole of a purple banner, flying high in the autumn wind.
On a black steed and bearing a flag of the Galra insignia was Keith, a dark violet cape over one shoulder and hair tossed characteristically as if he had just fallen out of bed with it. There again was the same look of disdain and disinterest, and Shiro attempted to grasp what made him so captivated by it.
When they came to a stop at the gates of the Terran castle, the prince gracefully swung his legs to one side, dismounting in a single, fluid movement. Silently, the four humans regarded him in the same manner that he did while taking in his surroundings. Behind him, the four generals of the king also left their horses, releasing them to the stable handlers just a few steps away.
Far into the distant forest, the birds sounded in a strangely nostalgic tune, cutting through the tension as Keith handed his flag to Acxa behind him.
“Well then. Where is the hunt?” Keith finally spoke, but without a greeting or any pretense. Keith gazed directly into Shiro’s eyes as he slowly pulled his riding gloves off, tugging at each finger one by one.
It was certainly not intentional, but Shiro felt a bubble of laughter rise from his throat. The severity of the circumstances suddenly seemed almost absurd to him, and a nervous sort of emotion welled up in him. Unable to contain himself, he snorted, much to the dismay of his three knights. “I… I apologize,” he gasped out. “I find your straightforwardness refreshing, to say the least.”
A remarkable thing happened in return, and the Crown Prince of the Galra actually pouted, lip jutting out and reddened cheeks puffing. “I came for a hunt, didn’t I?”
Shiro felt himself go still, his heart stopping before leaping back in double time.
How could he be… so incredibly adorable?
“P-perhaps the prince would rather first see his living quarters for the stay?” Hunk interrupted, his voice coming all out in one stuttering breath.
Instantly Shiro felt even he himself recoil at the intrusion, sure that Keith would once again draw out a familiar dagger and demand he no longer suffer the humiliation. But instead the prince looked contemplative, as if the thought had never occurred to him before.
“I believe that... those who have traveled with me would indeed appreciate being shown to their quarters.” Uncertain as his voice was, he turned to the four women standing behind him, looking towards them as if to ask what they would prefer.
Of course, indifferent per usual, three of the four gazed back at him, expressionless while Ezor shrugged, one eyebrow raised. Still, they dutifully followed behind their charge and their prince as Shiro clumsily gave him a viewing of the Terran castle.
Though tight lipped as ever, Keith took a considerate amount of time observing the great hall, the castle gardens, and finally the grand balcony in which the wedding vows were to be exchanged, overlooking the castle courtyard below.
“And this is where you will be for your stay… and possibly your quarters after our wedding, unless you prefer otherwise.” Shiro felt his tongue briefly trip before recovering on the word ‘wedding’. “My room is right beside it-”
For just a split second, Shiro could have believed that Keith’s breath hitched, eyes widening before sliding back into his stoic demeanor.
“Um… Are there any issues with the current arrangement?” He felt the heat of seven pairs of eyes on him, with the prince before him the single one that pointedly looked away.
“None at all,” Keith mumbled under his breath before risking a glance towards Shiro’s direction.
“Well then, are we going on the hunt now?”
Shiro tried not to stare, the uncouth mannerism trained out of him at a very young age by his aged governess with a particularly hooked nose.
Yet before him stood Keith, hair tied neatly back and his entire focus on testing his bow and arrow, gaze severe in concentration. With every loosing of the arrow, he could see the way his arms tensed, muscles subtly flexing under the tight leathers of his hunting jacket.
For once, Shiro silently thanked his father for suggesting a hunt in the first place.
Four arrows perfectly sunk into the target’s bullseye. Keith nodded to Acxa, finally approving before slinging the quiver over his shoulder. Shiro, having just finished his practice swings with his favored sword, turned to him with a silent acknowledgement.
“Best of luck, buddy,” Lance whispered to him as he handed to him the reins of his horse, a gorgeous specimen with a lustrous white coat. Shiro gave his friend a tense smile before turning to mount, the horse easily breaking into a trot and thankfully unfazed by the presence of Keith’s unfamiliar mare.
His horse nickered, and Keith’s snorted back at him, getting along as if old friends.
It was not the time for Shiro to be jealous of his own horse.
The horns sounded, and the hunt had begun. Shiro's horse, with practiced ease, galloped straight into the forest, bounding off the beaten path and leaping over felled trees. There was a certain sharpness in the air, an anticipation that translated to nervous energy, felt down to the pounding of the hooves against the soil. Shiro had to admit to himself that he was anxious, if there was no way to talk to Keith, then perhaps he could attempt to impress.
How barbaric, he mused to himself, a mating dance of bringing the kill to a potential partner.
Keith, beside him, leaned into his horse, doing quick and skillful work to match Shiro’s pace despite being in unfamiliar territory. The tiniest smirk had found its way onto his mouth, the prince clearly enjoying the challenge of directing his way through the mossy evergreens and thick underbrush.
Shiro was to lead him to a natural clearing at the middle of woodland where they would proceed, but when he turned to the prince to explain, he felt enraptured by the vision before him, light piercing through the lacing of trees above to form a makeshift crown atop his head.
A little ways behind rode Lance and Acxa, following at a reasonable distance to ensure the safety of both princes.
It was then that it happened, and looking back, Shiro felt certain that if he had been simply focusing, he could have prevented it altogether.
From one moment to the next, Keith was beside him on his horse, and then he was not, his black mare whinnying out of fear as it tumbled to the ground. Shiro struggled to regain control of his own mount, disorientation and shock at the forefront of his mind.
On the forest ground lay Keith.
Towards his left, an angered wild boar, easily the size of three men.
His adrenaline spiked as he dismounted, and in the same second, Keith had forced himself upwards, bow ready with a single arrow. There was an ooze of blood, tumbling from a fresh wound on his cheek and dripping down to the carefully pressed collar of his white undershirt.
“Keith.” Shiro felt more than heard himself exclaim, the sound of an arrow sang through the wind, whizzing before striking the flesh of the boar before them.
But it was clearly not enough, because with a terrifying squeal the creature charged towards them, Shiro only just managing to pull Keith by the hand before they sprinted together further into the forest.
The wind whistled with every arrow that Keith released, the majority of them hitting its target, mass much too large and far too angry to slow in its rampage. Shiro unsheathed his sword, rounding to the side in a hope to attack from behind.
“If I could just...” Keith grunted, brows furrowed and arms straining, his next shot landing an arrow in the boar’s eye, its screech deafening. “There we go-”
Half blinded and out of control, the wild boar spun into Keith, practically toppling on him if not for Shiro, who dove in its way with sword outstretched.
The blade sank into the boar, who had pierced itself squarely in the chest on Shiro’s sword. It fell with a thud that shook the earth, finally motionless.
Shiro took a shuddering breath, yanking the weapon out and stepping back. Somehow sheepish while his heart was pounding out of his ribcage, he turned to Keith. “I apologize… that certainly was not how I imagined today would-”
In the prince’s hand was his dagger, pupils narrowed to slits.
Shiro closed his eyes, bracing for impact before he heard the sound of the blade hitting dirt, Keith quickly standing afterwards. Wordlessly he lifted his hand to show the body of a snake, its head cleanly cut and body striped in a familiar pattern that was a warning sign to a deadly species.
He had no time to comment on the precision with which Keith had dispatched the reptile, because he moved to speak first.
"You saved me," The prince stated, eyes dark with an unreadable emotion.
"And I, you." Shiro gestured to the familiar dagger in his hand, the headless snake still gripped tightly between his fingers.
Shiro had saved Keith, instinctively, without thought or preconception of his actions. Keith had acknowledged it, his voice was just north of hesitant, breathless.
Shiro clung to it.
"I didn't expect you to do that," Keith spoke, facing away from him, examining the boar they had felled together. "I thought you would leave me to the mercy of the beast."
He felt his jaw tighten. "And why would I do that?"
He didn’t answer, continuing to circle the impressive carcass now in front of him before shaking his head slowly.
“I was wrong about you, Prince Shiro.”
Keith spoke in the lowest of murmurs, almost as if the comment was private, reserved to himself. Shiro remained silent, not finding the right words to say. It was the first time Keith had ever called his name, and even then, he found himself unable to answer his call.
“Damn this stupid hunt.” The Galra finally prince sighed, shoulders sinking as he released the tension of the deadly encounter into a full-bodied curse.
Shiro chuckled, surprised. “I would have to agree with you, Prince Keith. I was never one for hunts anyways.”
Eyes widened before narrowing back into a suspicious squint. “But the Terran King was the one that extended the invitation.”
“And you responded readily, even wanted to proceed straight to it as soon as you arrived,” He replied right back.
“I thought…” A delicious blush graced his face, charming Shiro in every way. “I thought I had to do my duty and go on this dreaded hunt.”
They regarded each other quietly for one moment, before bursting into laughter, an uproar of panic from death by a boar and the sheer absurdity of the situation all together. When they had calmed, they found a comfortable looking log to rest upon, drinking in the scenery of the woodland around them.
“When I was very young, I used to live in a forest just like this.” Keith began, startling him with the sudden vulnerability. “I miss it now. Looking back, I never realized the peace and quiet I had when living away from the Galra capital.”
Shiro felt a strange sense of deja-vu creep over him, but still he smiled as his head tilted to one side and responded. “I also have fond memories of seeing my grandfather at his estate. The area was entirely a forest, one that I explored freely.”
The prince looked back at him, eyes searching and face somber. His lips parted, seeking the right way to speak.
“Oh, praise The Emperor! Prince Keith, you are safe!”
Crashing through the underbrush came Acxa and Lance, practically falling into the pair of princes in relief before the general gasped and recoiled at the sight of her charge. “Prince Keith, you have been injured.”
Absently, his hand came to rest on the wound, wincing slightly before pulling away. “It’s nothing to worry about, Acxa, let me-”
“We had a doctor in the gallery just in case of situations such as this,” Lance reassured before deferring to Shiro. “Are you unharmed?”
He nodded towards his knight before addressing Acxa. “A wild boar caught us by surprise, but we have felled it. I will see to it that Prince Keith gets treatment and a team can come and take the boar back to the castle.
The two princes followed Acxa and Lance back to a beaten path, opting to take the safer route back to their horses than to risk their safety once more.
Shiro, for all his efforts to converse with Keith, found that he had once again retreated into his shell of ice.
It was as if a momentary spell had been placed on them, and now reality had set in, the brief magic broken.
Through the walls and down the hallway was the faint, but heavily muffled sound of lyre and drum, woodwinds cheerfully playing a celebratory tune. The festivities to honor the two princes’ first successful hunt had gone on well into the night, and with a tired smile he had bid farewell to his guests, retiring to his chambers for the night.
To be quite honest, Shiro had lost interest in the party at the twenty-first hour, when Prince Keith had leaned towards Narti and whispered into her ear, the general nodding once before he rose to silently exit the great hall.
Shiro had wanted to follow, and though he was quickly held down by noblefolk in their congratulations on his engagement, he doubted whether it was something that he could possibly do without overstepping his boundaries and breaking the tentative interaction they had briefly shared.
So he found himself at Keith’s quarters, knuckles resting against the lacquered wood of the bedroom door but not quite knocking. A defeated sigh escaped his lips, and he then stepped into his room instead.
He had just about wiggled his foot out of his left hunting boot, the laces pulling at his feet when he heard the quietest rap against his door. Instantly, Shiro thought of Hunk, popping his head in to make sure he hadn’t left the party because he felt unwell.
“Come in,” he called, shrugging off his jacket and in the middle of tugging his shirt up and over his head in favor of something more comfortable.
“Oh,” came the soft exclamation of voice that was very much not Hunk’s.
With a speed Shiro didn’t know he had in him, he yanked his shirt back down, red faced as the man that was standing at his door. “Prince Keith… I- I’m sorry, I thought you were one of my knights-”
“Call me Keith… and it’s fine,” he said with a one-shoulder shrug, lifting a bottle of curiously purple liquid. “I come bearing a bit of a peace offering, if you don’t mind.”
The gesture surprised Shiro, a crooked smile gracing his features. “Please, sit down in front of the fire. And you can call me Shiro.”
“Well, Shiro.” He spoke in rich tones, in that exact way that made it hard to swallow. “This is an alcohol native to the Galra and the Alteans. Nunvil, to be exact.”
The prince set down two cups on the table, pouring out the increasingly strangely purple alcohol and handing one cup to Shiro. He gratefully took a sip and instantly spluttered.
“Careful,” Keith laughed, low like the firelight. “It’s strong.”
“It certainly is,” Shiro croaked with a shake of his head, setting down the surprisingly tiny, yet powerful cup of Nunvil. When he looked up, he found that his eyes connected with Keith’s, but only for a moment before he once again dragged his gaze away and towards the fireplace. Shiro knew it could only be the trick of the light, but the prince almost looked flushed, his skin pink at his nape.
They sat in front of the fire wordlessly, Shiro taking his time with his Nunvil, his cup finally drained by the time Keith had finished his third. The pretty blush had now reached his cheeks, and he realized that the expression upon the prince’s face was none other than contentment.
“I um… I came to properly thank you.” Quiet, almost murmuring, Keith began to speak. “We were whisked away as soon as Acxa found me and I… I believe I have only felt the same sort of kindness you displayed just once before.”
“Once before?”
“No, I mean… You have surprised me in every way, Shiro.” The sincerity was written across his face, light of the fire flickering across the bandage on his cheek.
“Is that…” Shiro reached for him, surprised at just how unsteady he felt. Instead he fell forward, one hand braced against the chair back while the other grazed Keith’s cheek. “Does that hurt?”
Keith shook his head, he himself looking just a bit dazed. “I have been injured far worse before.”
Shiro seemed satisfied by his answer, pulling back and sliding into his seat. The Nunvil was powerful, certainly enough for him to have to worry about saying something foolish-
“Keith, have you ever been in love?”
And there it was.
Somewhere at the back of his mind, Shiro felt the last bit of his pride shriek at him. Perhaps he had finally destroyed all chances of Keith regarding him as something beyond a heinous being he was forced to be wedded to.
“I have.”
The answer jolted him out of his self-loathing, the reality of Keith’s words sinking low in his gut.
He couldn’t understand why he felt so horribly disappointed.
Keith stared into the fire, contemplating. “It was a long time ago… I doubt he would remember me.”
“How could he forget?” Shiro replied quickly, without thinking. “How he could forget one such as yourself?”
He tilted his head, almost teasingly, a small grin working its way on his mouth. “Flattery will get you nowhere, Shiro.”
“I’m simply stating the truth. Because I could never forget you.”
Maybe it was the way that the words slurred together, or maybe it was because Keith was tired of watching the Prince of Terra disgrace himself, but his playful smile dropped before he stood, an arm coming to rest on Shiro’s shoulder.
“Come on, it’s best for you to get to bed.” There was little Keith could actually do to make Shiro stand, even as strong and tall as he was, his head just about aligned with Shiro’s shoulder, his physique also dwarfed by the bulk of the human prince in size. So Shiro helped by also rising from his seat, stumbling for just a moment before making the few feet to his bed and flopping down.
When morning would come, Shiro would discover the the prince had already left with his generals. What remained was the half finished bottle of Nunvil, sitting on his table.
Shiro dreamt, again, of the forest from his childhood days. Like a phantom, he floated in the space between himself and his younger years. Both a participant and observer, he watched the familiar scenery play out before him again and again. Tonight, he watched himself at sixteen, the happiness of an unabashed smile as he stood hand in hand with another.
The person in question, he could never recall fully their appearance, or even their voice. Yet nights would unfold old memories, the two of them sharing secrets and exploring the forest of his dreams.
Of course, this was what he was looking for so desperately. Someone that he had once held so dearly, now forgotten.
When Shiro woke, he felt the ache in his bones, residual from being torn again from the nameless, faceless friend of his youth.
He longed to write to Keith about it, but never once did he get a response.
The next time Shiro would see or even speak to Keith was in the brightness of spring, and just mere weeks away from their wedding day. In the time that had lapsed between, the date had been set and the preparations to move the prince into his choice quarters besides Shiro’s had commenced.
“Choice” was a tentative word in Shiro’s mind, as he had attempted to write a letter directly to the prince to inquire, at which he never was given a response to.
Shiro would rather forget his other failed messages he had sent at the start of winter.
When Prince Keith arrived for his second visit, there no longer was the cool air about him, which should have relieved the Terran Prince. Instead, it had been replaced with an uneasy skittishness that worried Shiro even further.
It was as if they had somehow pulled further back than that of their initial encounter, a feat that Shiro had once thought could not exist. Questions received stony silences. Glances were replied with a quick turn from the head to look away. Every opportunity he possessed, he sought to speak to Keith, and each time he was somehow turned away.
But of course, Shiro thought to himself with his hands fisted at his sides. He had nothing and no one to blame but his own foolishness. He had pushed him too much that night, hoping to gain some understanding of him.
The weeks passed in hurried succession, and Shiro allowed himself to be consumed by the preparation.
On the eve of their wedding, in which he had succeeded in receiving a courteous nod before the Galra Prince seated by him in the great hall, they watched the festooned performers entertain the noble guests both Galra and human, the crowd gasping in glee at the spectacle put before them.
Briefly, as the hall was cleared to place the long dining tables and rows of chairs for the banquet, Keith suddenly rose, gliding away with his cape whirling behind him in a scene that was not unfamiliar.
This time though, Shiro also stood to follow behind him.
He found Keith in the castle’s walled garden, among the chorus of crickets harmonizing with the sounds of nocturnal beasts. The moon was full and high overhead, an auspicious sign for the humans of Terra and certainly no coincidence that the royal wedding was to occur the next morning.
Until now, Shiro realized, Keith’s face had been carefully expressionless. Not like it had been in the times before, disinterested as he was. Now, it was a placid mask, a front that Keith clearly spent his time carefully maintaining.
Because now, under the silver, white light of the moon, his face had fallen, his expression grim with a sadness that shot Shiro through the heart.
But there was one way that he could make it right.
“We can call it off.”
Startled, Keith woke from his reverie, stepping back at the vision of Shiro before him. The Terran Prince shook his head, as if to silence any protest that he could have made to object.
“I know that you’ve been… unhappy with this arrangement.” He smiled, despite himself, though that churning disappointment in his gut returned as he said the words. “We could keep it from moving forward, there are ways-”
“That’s not the issue, I… I tried to write back, I read every one of your letters but that’s-” Keith interrupted, voice rasping and pained, his eyebrows knitted together. “That’s not what-”
Forcefully, the prince took in a sharp breath, hands clenched as he did so. As quickly as it came, the turbulent emotions left. Instead Keith gritted his teeth, lips trembling as he spoke.
“Shiro, I’m not who you think I am.”
Shiro, severe in his silence, stepped closer, seeking to understand the meaning of the words. Keith, in turn, stepped further back, hand on his chest.
“I am nothing but a half-blooded orphan. Emperor Lotor bought me to be his pawn.”
The very air itself seemed to freeze over, what once was a pleasant, cool breeze, now an artic chill against Shiro’s face. Overhead, the very moon had become the sole witness of his confession.
“Please believe me, Shiro, when I say that… everything I have told you about myself is real. I have never once lied, I even tried to warn-”
“You mean, you have not lied beyond your assisting of Lotor in this farce.”
The expression upon Keith’s face was the final twist of the knife in his heart.
To think that he had almost fallen in love-
“I grew up in an orphanage at the foot of the Terran mountain ranges.” Broken as his words came, Keith forced himself forward, continuing to speak. “I know my mother was Galra, and she and my father perished when I was very young. When I was eighteen, Lotor came to me, promising to take me and make me the crown prince.”
He had stopped with a quiet, hitched breath, almost laughing in a self deprecating manner at the folly of his own choices. “It was as if he had predicted his father’s death and his ascension to the throne. When it finally happened, I was terrified.”
“And what makes you want to tell this to me now?” Shiro asked, his voice, dark and rumbling against his chest. “Why not continue to fool me and continue as a pawn as Lotor had asked you to?”
“Because.” His eyes, now determined, as if he could somehow convey his thoughts properly if he just showed Shiro. “Because you reminded me so much of the boy I once loved and have never forgotten… the boy at the house like a palace up in the hills.”
The pieces began to fall into place.
“In the end, I know there is no reason for you to trust me. We can call this off, as you said, but not because of my own unhappiness, but because I should not have met you in the first place.” Even so, Keith managed the tiniest smile, a hand against the thin, white line of a scar on his cheek. “You have made me feel like I belonged, and for that, I am grateful.”
He waited for just a moment, hoping to hear Shiro speak once more. When nothing came, he turned, making to leave the garden.
“Wait.”
And Shiro reached out to grasp his hand, pulling Keith into his embrace.
“It’s you, isn’t it?” he whispered into his hair. “If it’s really you, Red. I believe in you.”
A muffled gasp, and Keith’s hands came upwards, desperate for purchase against Shiro’s back.
“Takashi...? I thought, maybe I had gone mad, maybe I was mistaking you for someone else, because I thought, selfishly, how could he forget me ?” Though his voice cracked before, it now heaved a sob, one of relief. “I thought maybe you changed, maybe you were no longer who I thought you were before. But I was wrong-”
The final piece was placed, and the picture made whole. Shiro remembered then, the face of the young boy he once loved, the one that loathed to be called his name and he had nicknamed Red. The one he had met at the foot of the hills one summer in his twelfth year, and saw one last time in his sixteenth.
Then came the duties of a prince, the necessities that came with becoming a ruler. Stricter training, difficult lessons on culture and politics, enemies and war.
He had forgotten Red, the boy in his fourteenth year with no one else left in the world. He had forgotten the boy that had waited every summer for his return, and waited four years more before being taken in by Lotor’s machinations.
“How could he forget?” Quickly, Shiro replied without thinking. “How he could forget one such as yourself?”
He really had forgotten Keith.
He, too, was a fool.
“I believe you.” Shiro spoke in hushed tones, fingers winding through Keith’s hair. “I believe you and I have never stopped loving you. It was I who had forgotten you all along.”
Keith laughed, a quiet, shocked one. “Takashi… I had no idea you were a prince when we first met.”
“And I had no idea you weren’t one.”
Another genuine laugh, and Shiro was reminded of the way that he had always done his utmost to see the same brightness and joy on Keith’s face all those years ago. Gradually Keith lowered his head, burying his face against Shiro’s neck as he inhaled.
“This only complicates things,” he acknowledged, lowly. “I don’t know where to begin, or what to even do to fix what has been made broken.”
“We can start over.” Shiro pulled him in tighter, as if somehow the act would bind them just close enough, so they would never be able to once again part. “I promise to protect you Keith, as I did before, and as you did for me as well.”
“I, too, promise to protect you… and I love you,” Keith managed to say before he felt the soft press of Shiro’s lips against his, and sudden as it was, he felt himself melt into it.
They held onto each other, meeting in gentle, hesitant kisses, new, but so pleasantly right. As if this perhaps was what they should have been doing in the first place.
“I love you, too.” Shiro pulled away, admiring that for the first time, he could confirm that the redness of Keith’s face, high on his delicate cheekbones and flooding to the tips of his ears, was indeed by his doing.
Keith was flustered in turn, but replied with the same tenacity that the Terran Prince had grown to admire.
“We’ll make things right.”
“Are you ready?”
His groom-to-be turned, eyes alight and with the warmest smile. Sitting on top his head was a crown not of Galra make, but a Terran one, encrusted with onyx, rubies, and amethysts.
“Today, you become mine.” Shiro placed his hand into Keith’s, of which he took appreciatively with a firm grip. “And I become yours.”
Hearts thumping, adrenaline in the tips of their fingers to their very toes, they grinned at each other with a giddiness he had never thought possible.
A chance reunion, a fated wedding.
“I readily free myself from the shackles of the Galra. Today, I become a Terran Prince,” Keith vowed, a promise meant to be heard just by one other, a vow that would be taken above all else. “I’m ready.”
And so the curtains lifted, an era that would be told as a tale for generations and generations after.
The marriage that began the rule of Prince Shiro, hand in hand with Prince Keith.