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At first glance, the Galra seemed to be fairly uniform in appearance. However, first impressions were rarely all that accurate, and after three movements of diplomacy and negotiation, Lance was starting to notice that they were far more diverse than he’d initially assumed. For one thing, when you were presented with dozens of potential Suitors at once, faces tended to… blur.
For another, he was learning that most of the people in the Galra contingent that looked to be of a completely different heritage were… not. Turns out, for all their reputation of being marauding conquerors, Galra were something of a chameleon species. Children of mixed heritage unions tended to favor the non-Galra parent. So, the people he’d foolishly (and privately! Lance knew better than to mention such ponderings to anyone) assumed were not Galra at all, were, in fact, almost all half -Galra.
Which meant, if he chose a Suitor from this Season’s offerings, any children born of the pairing would most likely favor him in appearance.
He was just vain enough to find that appealing.
Still, there was no denying the captivating beauty possessed by many of the potential spouses sent to woo him and forge a truce between the Courts via the bonds of marriage. So even if that hadn’t been the case, he could be confident that any children that might come of the marriage would be seemly, at least.
He’d thought the Summer Court was beautiful! Its citizens reflected all the colors of a blooming garden- skin tones ranging from as pale as a strawberry blossom to as dark as freshly tilled soil; hair and eye colors in delicate pastels or vibrant hues; wings of rainbow light, markings that glowed like fireflies.
Beautiful.
He’d believed that the Winter Court could do naught but fade into the background when contrasted against such a delightful array of radiance.
He’d been so wrong!
The Galra sent to entice him were breathtaking. Skin the color of the sky at gloaming- purples and ambers and corals. Eyes that caught the light like gold, or seemed to swallow it like shadows on the longest night. Hair as pristine a white as new fallen snow, or the glossy black of a raven’s wing, or deep like the glow of the last embers of the hearthfire.
It was the beauty of a winter morn, of a wall of icicles illuminated by the sun, of a cardinal alight on a barren bough, of a thick fur wrapped over bare skin to ward off a chill.
Harsh.
Dangerous.
Protective.
Stunning.
He couldn’t help but feel that the denizens of the Winter Court made his own seem garish and overwrought.
Especially one particular demifae. His skin was as pale as hewn maple wood; hair as dark as a scrying mirror; and his eyes the color of the blossoms on the night-blooming vines that grew on the trellis outside Lance’s window. A sharp, curved mark adorned his face, stretching from the jaw to the apple of his cheekbone and more than once Lance had lost track of the conversation because he’d been fighting to curb the impulse to reach out and trace it with his fingertips.
Unfortunately, he was as irritating as he was beautiful. Reticent, gruff, and utterly lacking in courtly charms. Lance had never heard him voice a single poetic comment, let alone a charming turn of flirtatious wordplay. In fact, their encounters were as likely to result in blickering and annoyance as anything else!
If he didn’t know better, he’d think that Keith didn’t even like him.
But he did know better… because that was ridiculous!
He was handsome and well-connected, artistic, graceful, clever, gracious, capable, and charming. That was the very reason he’d been chosen as the one to receive the Suitors, after all. It wasn’t arrogant to expect that the people who had come to his Court with the specific goal of winning his hand in marriage would find him appealing!
And yet…
There he was, glowering at Lance from across the courtyard like he was blotting out the sun instead of exchanging pleasantries with… um... the tall one with the braid and the golden eyes… whose name escaped him at the moment but he, with certainty, knew perfectly well.
He knew all their names.
He was far too well schooled in etiquette not to know their names!
Kolivan!
Ha! Just because the pretty demifae was glaring at him didn’t mean that Lance was going to be so distracted as to make a faux pas as awful as calling a Suitor by the wrong name! He shot Keith a triumphant smirk from across the room and turned to ask Kolivan for more details about the forest he’d mentioned growing up in.
Keith was not a fan of the Summer Court. He’d spent a good portion of his years as a youngling living within its borders and knew too much about its failings to be impressed by all the pomp and frivolity the Courtship Entourage caused. Beneath the pretty colors and prettier manners, the Summer Court could be just as ruthless and uncaring as the Winter Court’s was reputed to be.
His experience told him that the Summer Court avoided unpleasantness at all costs… even to the point of ignoring the needs of orphans and foundlings, because their circumstances were too tragic. The Winter Court might be ruthless and militant, but it was there he’d found a home. People who judged him on his own merits and didn’t avert their attention from him because he reminded them that pain, real pain, existed even in their realm.
He hadn’t wanted to come back here. Had no real interest in marrying anyone. He simply wanted to stand out among the ranks and catch the attention of the people with the power to promote him and otherwise further his career. Becoming a Suitor had been a great opportunity for that!
In order to be selected, you had to prove yourself worthy of being called one of the realm’s most eligible bachelors. The political situation was such that only the cream of the crop, so to speak, could be sent. They didn’t dare risk offending the Summer Court by sending someone they might deem ‘unworthy’ of the pretty little thing they’d selected to be the hand to win. On top of that, it meant an entire Season in close quarters with the Courtship Entourage.
There were scores of young fighters trying to work their way up through the ranks. So many, in fact, that it was virtually impossible to make any kind of lasting impression on the various commanders who held so much sway over Keith’s future. But if he was selected to be a Suitor, he’d be part of an elite and, more importantly, small group of warriors sent to win over the Fae selected to be on offer. He’d already known that several of his Commanders were going to be part of the endeavor before he’d joined the fray. Thace was a widower with younglings and often spoke of how much he’d enjoyed being married. Kolivan had a title to pass on and no heir of his own. And he’d overheard Ulaz talk about retiring from active duty soon in favor of the more lux life of an advisor to the Crown- a position almost exclusively given to warriors with mates and families… which Ulaz would need to acquire.
There was really no better opportunity to distinguish himself and prove that he deserved to advance than to become a Suitor.
It had been a career decision. Logical. Practical.
The possibility of actually liking the Intended had not even crossed his mind… and then they’d arrived here and Keith had gotten a good look at the Fae they were vying for.
He’d forgotten how heart-stoppingly attractive members of the Summer Court could be!
It only got worse once he had a couple of conversations with the Fae in question.
Lance was… a lot.
But he was a lot in the way that having more food than he could possibly finish was a lot. Which was to say, Lance was… an abundance of wonderful. He’d coaxed conversation out of Keith to an extent no one else had ever managed.
His smile outshone the brightness of the midday sun. His laugh filled even the massive courtyard where they’d met. His mind was quick and fascinating.
He had a way of making Keith feel like they were the only two in the room. Like Lance saw no one else but him… and then his attention was pulled away and the stars in Keith’s eyes were crushed under the weight of the proof that Keith was just another face in a sea of faces for Lance… because Keith had seen him turn the same smile, the same rapt attention on Suitor after Suitor after Suitor. He’d heard that same laugh. Witnessed that same charm. Over and over.
And, now?
Now Lance was smirking and taunting him from the other side of the room. Smug… because he knew he’d snared Keith. He had to. What other explanation could there be?
Before he could tear his eyes away from the far too charming Intended, Keith heard Kolivan laugh.
Kolivan!
He’d never heard so much as an amused snort for his stoic commander, but Lance had coaxed a hearty, full-bodied laugh out of him.
Keith fought the urge to snarl, and fought down the jealousy he could feel churning in his gut. Because this was just proof that he shouldn’t be jealous, because there was nothing special about his interactions with Lance. His response to the pretty Fae might be rare and unique, but it was one sided. Lance had reacted to him exactly the same way he reacted to any of the Galra sent to win his hand: young or old, slight or burly, full-blooded or demifae… none of that changed his response.
Unable to stomach much more of this, he wandered away from the crowd. It didn’t take long to find a shadowy perch within earshot of the party that nonetheless provided him with some privacy. His childhood had taught him a way of looking past all the splendor, to see the work. He was pleased to discover that he hadn’t lost the knack of it.
The sparkling fountain of pink-tinged, bubbling sweetwine seemed endless… which meant that… ah-ha! Sure enough, he could make out the way the light bent ever so slightly wrong around the edges of the invisibility glamour placed on the Fae assigned to keep the refreshments well stocked.
Discarded goblets and platters were unsightly, sooo… there … tiny Brownies, younglings based on the size of them, darted out from under tablecloths to hide the waste from view. Keith smiled at the silent rush of them, laden down with dirty dishes, heading back to the kitchens when some high ranking Courtier made a toast.
In the trees, he could hear the quiet murmurs of other working fae, though. Students, most likely, assigned to the party as a way to practice and perfect the spells and charms that send softly glowing orbs of multicolored light floating above the guests, and kept the breeze present, but not overpowering.
The guests from the Winter Court were unaccustomed to the way the heat lingered into the night here, after all. They’d consider the humid warmth a strike against the enjoyment of the party, so their hosts ensured that the air was just brisk enough to be pleasantly refreshing.
The Summer Court took throwing the ‘perfect’ party very seriously.
“I wondered how long it would take for you to bolt,” a familiar voice said from the shadows. Aside from professional concerns, the only real bright spot of his return to the Summer Court was getting the opportunity to reunite with a friend from his youth.
“I haven’t ’bolted’, Pidge,” he replied, “I’m just taking a break from the festivities. I’ll be returning shortly.” The little Gremlin had tracked him down within hours of the official welcome and they’d spent most of that first night happily catching up. In the time since, she’d introduced him to her best friend, Hunk, a Brownie that worked in the kitchens helping to plan the various feasts and balls Keith would be attending through the Season.
“Fine, you haven’t bolted … you just hid out here so you could languish over Lance from a distance. That’s no better.”
“Pidge,” there was a hint of a growl in his voice that served as a warning to his friend. She knew all too well his reasons for becoming a Suitor, as well as his frustrations with how his plans had distorted on him.
“It is just so strange to me that Lance, of all Fae has you twisted up in such knots!” She clucked her tongue and found a perch of her own beside him. “I’m not even sure why he was chosen as Intended in the first place!”
“In the Winter Court, Oracles choose the Intended. I just assumed that it was done the same way here…”
“Never really thought much about it… and Lance wouldn’t talk about it. Probably was the Seer, though. That’s the kind of fanciful nonsense they’d put on her shoulders.”
“Fanciful?” He snorted, shaking his head, “you've been spending too much time with humans.”
She shrugged off the criticism, “humans are interesting. They make such fun stuff to mess with!”
Keith shouldn't be surprised, really. 'Messing with' human stuff was how Gremlins were spawned into being in the first place. One of the youngest bloodlines in the Fae realm, they were a rarity in their ability to interact with human things that were a serious threat to other Fae- like iron and more advanced inventions. Not every Gremlin was drawn to it, of course, but Pidge certainly was.
He’d never seen her happier than when she had some kind of human creation to tinker with, and she took endless amusement at how frustrated and rage-filled the humans would become when she ‘modified’ their stuff.
“Mmhmm,” he answered, refusing to give her the satisfaction of a more dynamic response.
“Plus, sometimes they leave me stuff to distract me or bribe me. Little things: sweets, shiny stuff, buttons!”
“You’re still collecting buttons?” That earned a snort of humor from him.
“Yesss,” Pidge hissed, glaring, “I like buttons! How many knives do you own?”
“Hey! Those are practical! I need them for work!
“My buttons are practical! I need them for... smiles! So, ha!”
They scowled at each other for a moment before dissolving into giggles like younglings. “I’ve missed you,” he said eventually.
“Hmmph… you too, I guess.” The grumbling tone was belied by the affectionate headbutt to his shoulder before Pidge settled her weight against his side. “If you end up winning the betrothal, you’d have to split your time between the Courts, right? That’s part of the contract?”
“I’m not going to win the betrothal. I’m not even really trying to win it. The goal is promotion, being a Suitor is just a tool to make that happen.”
“Yeah, yeah… I know all about that… but I’m right, aren’t I?”
He turned his head to get a better look at her. She seemed strangely hopeful, eyes gleaming with curiosity. He just knew she was hatching some kind of scheme, but he didn't have the heart to shoot her down. “Yeah… no more than three Seasons spent in one Court or the other at a time.”
“Right.”
It seemed like that was the end of the discussion and she’d laid the topic to rest until she spoke again. “Lance is a decent sort. Not nearly as prissy and proper as they make him pretend to be. He’s really funny… kind, too… No one’s going to see all that at these ’official’ events. Shame, really. Whoever he picks is basically wedding a stranger. He’s not nearly that biddable.”
“I don’t think he's biddable,” Keith blinked owlishly at her, perplexed. “He argues with me all the time, over the most inane stuff! It’s… infuriating!”
“He argues with you, and yet you piiiiiiiine…”
“Stop it. He’s just… s’not important. Like you said, he’s just pretending.”
“I know how you can see what he’s really like… away from official events. If you want…”
“Hunk… where are we going?” Lance whispered, picking his way down the dark stairwell that the servants used to stay out of sight on their many trips to and from the kitchens.
“To the kitchens,” Hunk answered, his voice dry.
“Oh, for the love of- yes… I know where the staircase leads!” The stone steps were rough under the thin slippers he’d pulled on before leaving his bedchamber. “Is there a party? I love parties in servant quarters!”
“I would think you’d be sick of parties by now,” his friend pointed out, laughing slightly.
“Well… okay, yes. I am getting a little weary of all the formal parties… but that’s not the same as the ones you guys throw!” He could never relax at the gatherings that were part of the Courting Season, but the few times he’d snuck away to parties thrown by the Brownies and other servant Fae, he’d been so at ease!
“This is not a party,” Hunk said, turning to face him once they reached the kitchens. “This is a chance for you… to be yourself for a bit. You said you liked that one Suitor, right? The one who was born in our Court?”
“Keith?” He felt his pulse kick up, setting his fingers and nose to tingling. “Yeah… but he-”
“-no time. I just needed to confirm.” Grinning, Hunk pressed the handle of a lantern into his palm. Then he opened one of the doors out of the kitchens. This one led to the herb garden, a path of pale grey pebbles standing out against the dark of grass, almost glowing in the night. “Go… follow the path. Be back before dawn.”
With that, Lance felt a large hand spread out against his back and was shoved through the threshold with a startled squawk. He turned to chide his friend for being rough, only to have the door shut in his face.
He trusted Hunk.
He trusted him with his entire heart and soul.
Hunk was the purest Fae he’d ever known. He would never lead Lance into danger or be part of anything that would make him lose standing, especially not in the midst of his Season!
So, Lance lifted the lantern and did as he was told.
He followed the path.
Through the herb garden, and past the vegetable plots, beyond the low stone garden wall and taking the fork that veered away from the livestock pens. The other fork quickly widened into a packed dirt road just wide enough for the carts that lugged the animal feed. He stuck to the grey pebbles, uneven but not painful under his feet until it approached the treeline.
At that point another lantern was unshuttered, Keith’s face illuminated by the glow just beyond the trees. “I wasn’t sure you’d come.”
“Hunk would have warned me off if I shouldn’t,” he replied, puzzled. “But he gave no explanation, either…”
“I have nothing nefarious planned. I give you my word.” Keith gestured for him to come closer, holding his hand out in invitation. “But the moon is high and the night is clear. I’ve been waiting for those two conditions… and the weather witches predict rain tomorrow and for the next full movement. So, it had to be tonight… but the hunt begins early in the morn. Not a lot of time to work with.”
Lance wasn't dressed for an out of doors activity. He was wearing his nightclothes, and the dressing gown he’d barely been able to grab before following his friend. The summer night was warm, but the upcoming rain made the air heavy and hinted at an insidious chill from damp clothes. His slippers were likely already ruined, but at least they were warded against wet floors, so they weren’t likely to soak through.
“I’m not sure you realise this,” he griped, closing the distance between them, “but ‘nothing nefarious planned’ isn’t precisely an explanation…”
“I was trying to reassure, not explain.” Keith answered with a shrug, bending to pick something up. It seemed to be a dark bundle of some sort, revealing itself to be a cloak when he shook it out. “For you… since you seem to wear nothing but silver and pale blue silk and I’m hoping to be at least somewhat stealthy.”
“If I’d known I was headed to come kind of… rendezvous,” snapped Lance, swinging the cloak over his shoulders, “I would have dressed for it!” He fastened the clasp and dimmed his lantern. “And those are my signature colors! They make my eyes pop!”
“I don’t see how pale blue and silver would have served you any better sneaking around in the Castle in the dark.” Keith donned a cloak that matched his own, closing three of the four shutters on his own lantern. The narrow beam of light angled down toward the ground and if they were careful, it likely wouldn’t be spotted by any of the sentries… not that they were doing anything wrong that Lance could discern.
“Because that’s how I always dress! It would be suspicious if I… ugh… never mind.” How did someone he liked so much manage to irritate him so quickly and thoroughly? It had been mere moments and already he couldn’t decide if he wanted to throttle Keith or kiss him! “You requested my presence?”
“You’re friends with Pidge, right?”
“Yes?”
“I am, too. We were buddies as younglings. She… uh… told me to find you seashells… ask you about the ocean.”
“Uh-huh… and you heard that and thought ‘midnight walk through the woods is close enough’? Interesting interpretation of her advi- wait! You asked Pidge for advice on what I liked?”
“No!” Keith stopped so fast it was like he’d reached the end of a leash. “I didn’t ask her anything… she just… and I wouldn’t even know where to start to find you seashells… so… Can you just… let me show you what I wanted to show you?”
“It’s woods, Keith. The woods around the castle I live in… I’m very familiar with the grounds.” Trying to soothe his irritation, Lance took a breath and let it out slowly, “but… yes. I can exercise some patience and wait to see what you have planned. Better?”
Keith nodded, smiling a little… which was unfair, because he has such a nice smile and it was so rare to see it! “Not much further.”
They were off the path now, and the loam was soft, but unsteady, giving Lance the perfect excuse to catch Keith’s hand in his own. “So, I don’t trip and cost us more time.”
Staring at their joined hands like Lance’s had sprouted feathers, Keith nodded again, the smile widening. He shifted his grip so that their fingers intertwined and gave a gentle squeeze that made Lance want to sigh. The conversation faltered at that point, which was fine.
Lance was so bloody sick of small talk and pleasantries, anyway. It was nice to be relieved of the burden of being the quintessential conversationalist.
Keith led him to the big fallen log near the old riverbed. It was one of his favorite places to go with his friends to get some fresh air and privacy. The river had been dammed off much further upstream to accommodate the demands of the castle long before he’d arrived here, but sometimes it was as if he could feel echoes of the water that once rushed over the now dry and overgrown bed.
“So…” Keith said, letting go of his hand, which immediately felt colder, “umm… you should sit… and wrap the cloak a little tighter. I don’t know any oceans in this realm. But… my home, it is near one, and since you will be residing in the Winter Court part of the time once you wed- regardless of who you choose! I thought maybe… um… wait a tick.”
He squared his shoulders and turned away from Lance. Softly, too soft for Lance to make out the words, Keith chanted something. Lance felt magic rush over him like a breeze that originated from the ground beneath his feet, making his clothing flutter. Crisp, cold air followed, tasting of salt.
“This is… a glamour,” said Keith, “not the best… but I tried to be as detailed as I could. This is the Marmoran Sea. The Castle of the Winter Court overlooks it.”
Instead of the familiar woods, Lance was surrounded by a completely alien landscape. Loam and deadfall were replaced by a shore of slate and shale- all blues and greys and purples. The trees were nowhere to be seen, a few scrubby bushes broke up the shoreline, instead.
But, most of his line of sight was filled with an ocean unlike any he’d ever seen. This water wasn’t crystal clear. It wasn’t bright blue or tinged with green, radiating the heat and colors of long summer days. It was white-capped and dark blue, heavily shadowed. The churning surf even managed to sound different than the ocean he’d grown up with.
Near the horizon, in the midst of the water was… some kind of white mountain.
He’d never seen anything like this in his life.
It was…
“... breathtaking! Oh!” His hand fluttered up to cover his mouth in surprise. His words had formed a tiny little cloud that hung in the air.
Keith laughed softly and sat beside him on the log. “Sorry… it’s the cold… turns the moisture in your breath to fog.”
“That’s typical?” he asked, wide-eyed in awe. “It happens often in the Winter Court?”
“More often than not, yes. Did they… not teach you about the Winter Court? That seems… an odd choice.”
“Mmm… I suspect that they expected me to learn about it from my Suitors. But,” he plucked at the cloak, “I think they underestimated how enamored the Galra would be with sharing exploits of their battles and adventures. I’ve learned scarcely anything about the realm itself. Kolivan grew up in a forest. Zethrid in something called a tundra. I’ve been told that swimming in a fjord is ‘a refreshing adventure’. Very little else.”
“Oh. Well… I guess I can tell you about it,” Keith offered, “if you like. I relocated there from the Summer Court, so I’m probably a bit more aware of what is different than most Galra.”
“Oh! I would love that!” He was so sick of battle stories and his own voice. “Please, regale me!”
Keith had never considered himself particularly talkative. He struggled with all the little rules of conversation that he’d somehow managed to miss out on learning and he was naturally fairly introverted, happy to be left to his thoughts. He was better at answering questions, though, and he considered himself a good listener.
So, when Lance noticed that he’d gotten overwhelmed by the vast vagueness of ‘regale me’, and instead asked more focused questions, he did much better.
He talked about the cold and how he, as someone lacking in fur, dealt with staying warm. He explained that the ’white mountain’ was an iceberg and how they were a fairly common sight. Lance was delighted to find out that if one was to take a boat out into the sea near an iceberg, the water fizzed and bubbled, and crestfallen to hear just how dangerous such an outing could be- since icebergs could flip over without much warning.
Lance asked about celebrations in the Winter Court and he spoke about the Longest Night Feasts, and feting the Emperor’s birth. He talked about mulled wine and eating chunks of potato that had been cooked in rendered fat until they were crunchy and salty and that they tasted best when still so hot that they burned the tongue.
That led to a long, detailed conversation about favorite foods and drinks. Unsurprisingly, they disagreed- but the bickering had taken on a fond note, so he didn't mind it so much.
Lance seemed endlessly fascinated by the idea of sleighs and skates. He pleaded with Keith to teach him how to ‘dance on ice’ when he joined them in the Winter Court, offering up lessons in swimming in exchange. His haughty pout when he discovered that Keith could already swim was downright adorable.
Ice, he understood, but the concept of snow seemed to be too much for him to grasp and he became hopelessly confused when Keith tried to explain the difference between snow, sleet, hail, and freezing rain. Finally he threw his hands in the air and declared that Keith was clearly pranking him because it was too ridiculous to be true.
That had disturbed the warm little cocoon he’d created bundled up in his cloak, and a chill started to set in. He insisted he was completely comfortable, but Keith could see the blue tinge to his lips and the way his jaw chattered ever so slightly. He offered to return Lance to the Castle, or to dispel the glamour but Lance was resolute.
Still, he couldn’t stand to see the Summer Fae suffer the cold and in one of the oft-disastrous bursts of boldness he was known for, he scooped his slender companion up and settled him on his lap, then situated the two cloaks around both of them. Lance had grumbled for the span of ten heartbeats and then he’d practically melted against Keith’s chest, remarking on how warm Keith was.
After that, the conversation changed. It was less of a quizzing about his home, and more of an equal exchange. Lance spoke of his family, what life had been like for him as a youngling. Keith learned that he’d had many siblings and an even larger extended family.
For his part, Keith spoke of his own father, of the happier times before he’d been orphaned. He didn’t want to delve too deeply into the time that followed, but he did share the tales of some youthful adventures with Pidge, and he spoke of Takashi, who he’d squired for before relocating to the Winter Court.
At the formal events, Lance had been the epitome of Courtly Charm. He’d smiled and demurred and laughed and posed, just so. His every action and response had been scripted, calculated choices to present himself in the best light possible. Alone with Keith, in the woods-turned-seaside, he was very different. He talked with his hands, interrupted stories with excited questions, rolled his eyes, and occasionally snorted when he laughed. That was Keith’s favorite, because whenever he did, his eyes flew wide in horror and he clapped both of his hands over his mouth like it could undo the sound.
Never had Keith wanted to kiss anyone as badly as he wanted to kiss Lance in the instant between the snort and the hiding of his mouth.
He started making a specific effort to coax more of those big laughs out of Lance, just in hopes of triggering another adorable little snort. But, Lance seemed to have caught on and started smothering the guffaws into equally charming giggles, his eyes glinting with mischief everytime he thwarted Keith’s goal.
For all that he’d been so enamoured with the perfect smile and rapt attention Lance doled out in equal measure to each Suitor, now that he’d seen the Intended with his guard down, Keith couldn’t even remember what had been so appealing in the first place.
Pidge had been right. It was a shame that this wonderful, silly, warm, feisty Fae was hidden from the world as he was paraded about like some kind of prize to be won. Because Keith truly liked this relaxed, animated Lance more and more with each passing moment.
They’d have to leave soon. Return to the Castle in time to meet the others for the hunt. Just the thought made him tighten his arms, hold Lance a little closer. He didn’t want to go back to how things were. He liked this too much.
He must have gone quiet too long because Lance shifted, his head cocking to one side as he studied Keith’s face. Those eyes of his were so blue. A summery blue, with warmth in their depths. He was so lost in those eyes that when he felt a touch on his scar, he jolted. Lance blinked, but didn’t pull back, smiling gently instead.
“Is this… not okay?” he asked, voice soft. “It’s been tempting me too long. Such a dynamic marking!”
“It’s… fine… just surprised me,” Keith answered, cheeks burning with a blush that had come up out of nowhere. “I don’t think about… my scar… often. But you did nothing wrong.”
“A scar? Oh dear… I hope it no longer pains you.” He didn’t remove his hand, but he did let it slide down and back, long fingers wrapping around the back of Keith’s neck instead. “Can I ask you something though? Not about the scar.”
“You’ve been asking me things all night, Lance,” he pointed out, relieved that he wouldn’t have to share that particular story.
“Why did you choose to be a Suitor? It’s clear that it wasn’t because of a burning desire to wed, and… you haven’t been nearly as attentive or savvy as the others.”
“Oh… well… umm… this will likely sound bad, but I assure you, I never intended any slight to you! I… was trying to impress my commanding officers. To stand out. It is very difficult for someone without family allegiances to progress in the Winter Court.” He sighed, only now seeing how his actions might appear to an outsider. “I know I am not the most appealing match. It never occurred to me that my lack of interest in pursuing your hand might come across… poorly.”
“Well that explains why you never seemed to care about impressing me!” Lance laughed, surprising him. “You were trying to impress the other Suitors! Clever. Very clever.”
“Since we are discussing this… May I ask why you agreed to be the Intended?”
Lance blinked, his fingers drumming softly, warm against Keith’s skin. “It doesn’t work that way. The Seer said I was the Intended, so I am the Intended. It was foreseen that I would find my heart’s match in a Suitor… if not this Season, then in another, but it was Seen. Foretold.”
“Your heart’s match?” The entire process of choosing the Intended was shrouded in tradition and mystery, but he’d never heard anything like this before. The point of view of the Suitors rarely touched on emotion at all, it was about accolades and bloodlines, magical ability and battle prowess. The best candidates chosen by the upper echelons of the Court… but he supposed that, behind closed doors, they could very easily be consulting with the Oracles.
Lance nodded, his expression perplexed, “you don’t have that expression in the Winter Court? Umm… soulmate? True Love? Other half?”
“I see,” his heart sank. Lance’s true love was going to be his choice. Knowing what he now did of Lance, it would take a profoundly remarkable Fae to be his bridegroom. The pairing was so strong and well-suited to one another that it had come to a Seer in a vision . Keith was a mixed blood orphan soldier. Aside from their first meeting and tonight, he and Lance bickered more than they got along. This whole endeavor was as futile as he’d thought in the beginning. He was a fool to have ever let even a spark of hope take root. “How… um… how will you know when you find your Heart’s Match?”
“You know, I asked the same thing,” Lance laughed, “I’m not particularly patient, you see. The Seer told me that she’d place a charm on me. So, I’m not sure what will happen, exactly, only that when my heart is won, it will be unmistakable.”
“I would be plagued with curiosity,” Keith grumbled, “to have a charm placed on me and not be told what it did?”
“Truly! It has been a heinous burden!” cried Lance bursting into laughter. “I am so glad that I am not the only one who finds that tortuous!”
Keith laughed along with him, jollied out of his doldrums by the sheer glee on Lance’s face. Tears of delight spilled over Lance’s thick lashes, making his cheeks sparkle… and then it happened.
He snorted.
… and Keith moved without thought, leaning in to steal a kiss, only to be barred by Lance’s free hand covering his mouth.
They stared at each other, eyes locked. Keith was about to beg pardon for overstepping when Lance dropped his hand to cradle Keith’s cheek softly. Pretty blue eyes darted between Keith’s own and his lips, and the fingers that still rested on his nape pulled slightly.
Still gazing at one another, Lance closed the distance between them, pressing his parted lips against Keith’s own. Their breath stuttered in unison and Keith craned upwards, his eyes drifting shut from the sheer momentousness of what he was feeling.
It wasn’t a long kiss, for all of its potency, and when it ended, they rested their foreheads together, eyes held shut like it would keep away all the complications of their lives. Like they could stave off the end of the moment somehow.
“When I realised… that you were going to kiss me,” Lance whispered, the words themselves caressing Keith’s skin, “all I could think was… I wanted it to be you. My heart’s match… I wanted it to be you… and then… I couldn’t bear the thought of not kissing you.”
“Oh,” he answered, unsure what to say to that. He’d never felt anything so powerful in his life… but Lance had said that when he found his true love, it would be ‘unmistakable’... and that… didn’t sound like he’d felt something unmistakeable. “I… wanted it to be me, too.”
Sadly, eyes still closed, he pulled away, needing a little bit of space before he let himself see the look on Lance’s face.
“Keith? Keith!” Laughter filled Lance’s voice again and he cupped Keith’s cheek once more. “Keith! Look at me!”
Unable to deny Lance anything, it seemed, he opened his eyes. The glamour of the Marmoran Sea was gone, the magic that fuelled it interrupted somehow. Beyond that, perched atop Lance’s head was a crown of Hawthorne, heavily laden in Hawberries. Stunned, he lifted his hand, patting his own head and finding the match to the crown. “You… I…”
“A betrothal crown!” Lance gushed, “that was the charm!”
“I don’t… Lance… does this mean…”
“It means it is you! Keith, it’s you. You’re my bridegroom. I’m your Intended!”
“I’ve won your hand?” he breathed, still trying to come to terms with such an about face.
“Yes! You silly Fae, you’ve won my hand! Come! We need to get back to the Castle! I want to show you off!”
“Isn’t that supposed to be my task?” Their lanterns had long since sputtered out, but it mattered little, dawn was well underway and the sky had lightened enough for them to find their way. They were later than intended; the preparations for the hunt already started and the earliest risers were milling about when Lance pulled him through the entryway of the great hall.
After that, he lost track of things a little in the chaos that erupted. He and Lance were excused from the hunt and the morning was a whirlwind of congratulations and planning. He was congratulated multiple times by the other Suitors, which surprised him at first- he’d expected more ire, but Lance pointed out that they were soul mates.
Born for one another.
Despite the formalities, it had never truly been a competition, merely a way to ensure that Lance crossed paths with the Galra most likely to be his Heart’s Match… the Oracles would have weeded out anyone who’d bear ill will to the couple.
It was late, well past midnight, when Lance snuck down to the kitchens. Once again he was in his nightclothes, wrapped in a dressing gown. This time, though, the betrothal crown rested on his head, held in place by magic that wouldn’t dissipate until their vows were exchanged.
As he expected, he was greeted by his friends. Hunk had brewed a pot of tea and set out a few of Lance’s favorite pastries.
“Big day,” the warm-hearted Brownie said as he hugged Lance tightly.
“The biggest,” he answered, “or… well… the second biggest. I suspect the wedding itself will be more momentous!”
“I was right about it being better than a party, wasn’t I?”
“Yes, Hunk,” he laughed, “you were right. I was right to trust you.”
“Umm… excuse me? I was the one that came up with the whole idea in the first place! Where’s my credit?” Pidge snarked around a mouthful of pastry.
“I dunno,” Lance said, crossing his arms, “from what I heard you said seashells. Right? Find me seashells and ask me about the ocean. He didn’t do that. He… glamoured me up a whole ocean and told me all about the Winter Court. There are floating mountains of ice in the sea there, and they can make the water froth, and they can roll over so that their peaks become the bottom-”
“Close enough!” interrupted Pidge. “If I hadn’t talked to him you both would have just kept glaring at each other across the ballroom and yearning for each other until the end of days! I did this!! You know I did!”
“Fine… fine… You did this,” he laughed, too happy to quibble over details.
She wiped her hands on her shirt and launched herself at him like a youngling, forcing him to catch her in a hug. Before her feet touched the ground, there was a soft wrapping at the door leading to the garden.
Hunk unlatched it and Lance spotted a familiar cloak, hawberries peeking out from under the hood. “Oh good, you were able to get away!”
“No one saw you, right?” asked Pidge.
“No one saw me,” Keith laughed, turning to smile at Lance. “I was told there was a celebration I should attend? I’ve heard that kitchen parties are not to be missed”
“You have a very good source for information,” Lance laughed, “they are usually much louder and busier than this… but for your first one, I think this works.”
“The only Fae I care about are here,” Keith pointed out, tugging Lance into his arms.
Pidge made gagging noises and Hunk cooed loudly, but Lance couldn’t seem to make himself care. “M’not going anywhere,” he whispered.
“Nor I,” Keith replied, “I’m notoriously determined.”
“Good.”
“I was wrong!” shrieked Pidge, “this is so much worse than the pining and the languishing, and themmmph!”
“Ignore the gremlin,” instructed Hunk, who had his hand clamped over Pidge’s mouth, “and sit. I made tea.”
“I don’t know why she’s complaining,” Lance mused, taking a seat.
“This whole thing was her plan in the first place,” agreed Keith, reaching out to brush his fingers over the berries in Lance’s crown as he sat across the table from him.
“She has no one to blame but herself,” smirked Lance.