Archive of Our Own ^beta

“He is a strong match: the Admiral of all of Altea,” his mom comments casually like it’s the recent heat wave through the capital or a new sparring technique.

Keith pauses with the spoon halfway to his lips. Glancing across the table, his mother seems more like a queen than a parent, with the regal tilt of her head and the firmness of her stare that practically begs for contention. Pop sits beside her, one hand placed gently on her forearm, like she’s the breakable one when ironically, he’s the fragile human.

Romelle stiffens beside them, teeth set on edge as her gaze jumps to his. Her hair is spun up into two piles of tendrils atop either side of her head. From the sudden thinning of her lips, Keith can practically hear what she’s thinking, what she had whispered to him in the darkness of his room a couple movements ago: “If I was of age, I would take your place.”

But Keith would never let Romi do that, because she’s his younger sister in all aspects except the law. And if one of them was to be stuck in a loveless, political marriage, he would want it to be him.

“Keith,” his pop sighs, and it carries the weight of a million burning stars.

Keith doesn’t say anything in response, lowering his spoon to the bowl and fighting the urge to run that coils in his legs. But his parents already know that he won’t run, not from his duty and the alliance that this marriage will give them.

The silence between them is a living thing that only grows with each passing dobosh. What remains unspoken is heavier than the gravity of a Balmera; as a half human, it’s not known if he’ll even have a soul bond, so a match such as this — one without the help of destiny — is the best he could ask for.

His parents are bonded together by the force of the universe, by a gift given to the Marmorans: soul bonds and mates. Like a tether, a calling of the heart that they cannot deny, that draws them to their mates. His mama knew the very first time she saw his pop, as he pulled her from the burning wreckage of her ship. It was why they married so quickly and became the gossip of the Galactic Coalition — why the Queen of Marmora married someone she barely knew for love and not for political alliance. Their love was like a fairy tale, something that’s spun into legend and whispered from generation to generation.

But humans don’t have the same soul bond that Marmorans do, and while his pop talks about his mama like she hung the stars in the sky, he didn’t know at that very first moment that she was his one and only mate. And Keith, walking the tightrope of his two cultures, doesn’t know whether he’s been born with or without the Marmoran blessing.

So Crown Prince Keith and Takashi Shirogane are the perfect pair, the perfect political match. A half-human, half-Marmoran prince of the fiercest military force in the universe, and a human Admiral of a planet that rules the Galactic Coalition.

There is something in his mother’s gaze, a tenderness he’s learned to seek out, that quiets his half-formed complaints. He meets her gaze with a confidence he doesn’t feel. “Yes, he is a great match.”

There is no other on Marmora that could be a match for Takashi Shirogane, for the closest being to the Altean royalty on the planet.

Really, as if he can ever say no.

And so it is done.

Keith is to be wed to the Altean Admiral within the next phoeb.

“We’re breaking atmosphere,” the Blade piloting the ship announces as they descend upon Altea, like it’s any other planet, like it’s any other trip, like Keith’s future doesn’t hang in the balance.

The planet is beautiful, a marble of blue and white that glitters against the black expanse of space. A belt of technology wraps around the meridian made up of satellites for communication and analysis of weather patterns and tectonic movements. Although it’s not explicitly mentioned in Keith’s history lessons, the belt also provides offensive and defensive positions against any that dare threaten Altea, but they really didn’t need to. No matter how they try to disguise it, there is a reason that Altea is the head of the Galactic Coalition.

Overall, the planet is breathtaking and extravagant, even from this distance and only more glittering as they speed closer. Just like everything on Altea — and probably like his future husband too.

If Lotor’s wedding to Empress Allura of Altea is any hint to what his wedding day will be like, Keith’s ready to steal a speeder and drive for the hills.

The view before him suddenly zooms in as they dive through the clouds and towards the towering city. At the center is the colossal Castle of Lions that shines a brilliant white against the rolling green hills and the deep blue mountains in the distance. The midday sun glints off the high turrets and casts a deep shadow upon the landing pad where his future husband waits to greet him.

The ship rocks with the force of their descent, and Keith’s mother places a gentle hand on his shoulder; it’s steadying and reassuring and damning all the same. Unwittingly, he feels his shoulders tense under his mama’s warm palm.

The ship settles calmly on their designated landing area. With a nod from the Blade, the pressure lock hisses and the door swings open. His mother steps out before him, shoulders back and each step measured and elegant.

Keith flips up his hood, activates his mask, and follows in her footsteps.

Through the guise of his mask, he allows his eyes to freely roam the convoy that is greeting them in the shade of the castle. The Altean Empress, with eyes as blue as the planet she rules and pink markings beneath her eyes, smiles warmly in welcome. She echoes his mother’s bow while brushing a loose strand of starlight hair behind her ear.

“Empress,” Krolia says as she motions for Keith to step up beside her, “my son, Keith.”

Keith fights down the tidal wave of emotions that storm within him as he steps forward, pulls down his hood, and deactivates his mask.

A man as broad and as tall as any Marmoran immediately drops to one knee. The bend of his back is regal and humble in a testament to contradictions. The forelock of his hair covers his face in a curtain of white. “Your highness,” the Admiral says with a voice both gravelly and soft, tender yet rough.

“Um,” Keith falters at the reverence the Admiral shows him, some scrappy kid from a far off planet, “that’s not necessary, you know.” The words feel awkward leaving his mouth, too loud against the quiet of the audience around them.

He wants to reach forward and pull the decorated commander to his feet. Will the Admiral expect such formalities even when they wed in only a few quintants?

“It is,” the Admiral insists with a tone that makes Keith huff a fond sigh.

Maybe Keith’s words have loosened his betrothed’s fierce grip on tradition and curtsey, because he looks up and their eyes meet.

And oh.

Keith swears the gravity beneath him shifts. It’s like everything his mother said when describing the tick she met Pop — how the whole world shifts on its axis and the planets change their orbit and how he just knows that this man before him is the one.

Takashi Shirogane is breathtaking like everything else in Altea. With eyes as grey as the clouds that form over the Xaibfus mountains or the feathers of the rare hykil bird or depths of the v’lok caves lit by the bioluminescent plants within. His gaze is framed by thick brows and high cheekbones. A pearlescent scar bisects his nose and gives his features a rugged look that suits a man who climbed through the ranks of the Altean military. With a prominent chin and a strong jaw, he looks serious and attractive beyond measure. Keith’s heart can’t seem to stop its gallop in his chest, bonded to this man before him.

His soul bond. His one and only mate.

If it weren’t improper for a crown prince, Keith would collapse to his knees before Takashi Shirogane and draw him in for a kiss.

The only thing that stops his instincts is the knowledge that humans don’t have soul bonds or destined partners or mates. But before Keith can falter, he catches the expression on his betrothed’s face — slack-jawed wonder.

And Keith can’t help but be amused, be comforted that the man before him feels a fragment of the emotions setting fire to his very lungs.

“Hello,” Keith sighs out and feels his lips quirk into a half smile, “Admiral Shirogane.”

Silence stretches between them, far too long to be a mere stumble of words, and it only makes Keith’s smile deepen.

“Prince Keith,” the Admiral breathes out.

With the tilt of his head, Keith fights to rein in the smirking amusement on his face. “I’m honored.”

Their eyes meet once again as Admiral Takashi Shirogane says with that same reverence in his gaze, “The honor is mine.”

They direct him to his room so that he can get settled and changed out of his traveling clothes for something appropriate for dinner. The room is as ornate as the rest of Altea with elegant drapes across the wide windows and a four poster bed that takes up the entire far wall. The small sitting area is adorned in plush fabric, and a spread of Marmoran foods covers the coffee table.

He’s barely in his room for a couple doboshes when a soft rap sounds at the door. Before he can respond, it swings open to a familiar smiling face.

“Cousin,” Lotor’s voice is warm and familiar as he steps past the threshold. With his arms outstretched, he grabs a hold of Keith’s wrist in the traditional Marmoran greeting.

“It’s good to see you, Your Royal Highness.”

Lotor scoffs as their hold drops. “Enough with the formalities. I’ve known you since you were swaddled in your mother’s arms, Keith.”

Keith can’t fight his smile and the tension that dissipates from his shoulders. “Alright, Lotor.”

With the sweep of his elegant garment, Lotor settles himself on the settee as if the room was simply built around him. With his starlight hair and the sharp elegance of his features, he was clearly meant for the glories of Altean customs. He picks up a slice of huy’ye and bites into it as its purple juices drip down his fingers.

Before Keith can even begin to question Lotor’s appearance, the Prince Consort says, “I’m here to stop you from escaping.”

“Why does everyone think I’m going to run away?” Keith grumbles as he crosses his arms and collapses into a plush chair across from his cousin.

Lotor raises a single eyebrow. “From experience. If I recall correctly, at the time of your coronation —”

“I was twelve!” Keith hates how visible the flush of embarrassment is on his cheeks.

With a barely-stifled laugh, the Prince Consort wipes his juice-stained fingers off on the edge of his robes and rises to his feet. “Well, since you aren’t hatching an escape plot, it’s time to get ready for dinner.”

Keith wants to defend himself, to tell Lotor how ridiculous it would be to run away from your mate. But something stops him, a selfish desire to tell Takashi Shirogane first — to reveal the intimacy of their bond to the one who shares it, to describe how they are bonded by the universe to be together. So he simply nods at Lotor’s request and follows him to dinner.

Dinner is a lesson in etiquette.

Keith politely tries to listen into the conversation his mother and the Empress are having beside him, rather than allow himself to be drawn into the depths of Takashi Shirogane’s eyes. The urge to memorize every aspect of his mate’s features burns within him. And with the Admiral sitting right across from him, it’s an even more arduous task to fight off his instincts.

Thankfully, dinner ends without incident.

The Empress stands with Lotor at her side as she motions people into the drawing room. Takashi Shirogane stands up to join them, but she places a hand on his arm. Her smile holds an edge of humor as she says, “I thought you and Prince Keith could take this time to get to know each other.” She glances at Queen Krolia. “Would you agree?”

His mother’s grin is subtle, hidden in the tightness of her lips. Even though Keith never mentioned anything of his sudden soul bond, it seems his mother suspects something or she is merely enjoying the meddling. “A good idea,” she replies.

Within a breath, he and his betrothed are the only ones left in the room.

A strange nervousness bubbles within him, and the silence between them only makes it grow. Keith shifts his weight and watches his mate from beneath his bangs. “Admiral?”

“Your Highness,” he responds with a regal bow. It’s fascinating to see how such a large body can move so elegantly, but the motion causes something to ignite within Keith. The formality of it all creates such a distance — and right now, after his instincts have been screaming at him through all of dinner, Keith can’t resist.

“Okay,” Keith huffs. With sure steps, he closes the distance between them. Reaching out, Keith places his fingertips beneath Shiro’s chin, careful of the sharp tips of his nails. He relishes in each second they touch, in the slight scratch of stubble and the warmth of his skin. “If we’re to be married we’re going to need some ground rules.”

“Anything.”

With his hand pinned beneath the Admiral’s chin, they both have nowhere else to look except at each other. It’s like their first meeting, when the gravity shifted beneath Keith’s feet and bound him to the man before him. There’s a slight flush to his cheeks that highlights the pearlescent color of the scar that bisects his nose. At this distance, Keith can even smell his mate’s scent; it’s like festival nights when the fire crackles and sugar from their roast letffe drips onto the embers — sweet and smokey and delicious. He wants to bury himself in Takashi Shirogane’s neck and never leave. He wants this moment to last forever.

“I want you to call me Keith.” It’s such a simple request, but the thought of the Admiral referring to him without the barrier of formalities is exhilarating.

And it’s even more breathtaking when Takashi Shirogane repeats after him. “Keith.” It’s said with a kind of reverence that sets Keith’s blood on fire.

He can’t fight his elated smile at the sound of his name on his betrothed’s lips.

He wants to stitch up the distance between them and kiss this man that he’s been promised to marry. But even though his instincts bellow in his lungs, Keith doesn’t really know this man, so he holds his ground and doesn’t kiss him. But oh, does he want to.

In order to stop from scaring the Admiral off with the intensity of his feelings, Keith drops his grip and takes a half step back. “Yeah. Um.” Keith clears his throat to regain his composure. “What should I call you? Admiral Shirogane is a bit of a mouthful.”

“Shiro is fine.” The Admiral straightens his shoulders, standing tall now that Keith’s grasp on his chin has left. “That’s what everyone calls me.”

But Keith didn’t want to be just anyone to Shiro.

Maybe that’s why his tone is a little too petulant for the Crown Prince of Marmora when he says, “I’m not everyone. What should I call you?”

There’s a moment of silence between them as his betrothed furrows his brows and is lost in thought. Then their eyes meet, and the name breezes past the Admiral’s lips like a sigh, “Takashi.”

Oh.

The thought of calling his mate something that no one else does — his precious first name — makes Keith’s tone almost saccharine as he repeats, “Takashi.” He can feel how his ears flick in an obvious show of happiness. “Thank you,” Keith whispers in reply to the gift, because even if Takashi doesn’t feel the magnitude of the soul bond, he has still given Keith something to cherish him with.

There’s a slight flush to Takashi’s cheeks as he ducks his head. “It’s alright.” After the second they both need to regain their composure, his mate points to the courtyard. “I believe the Empress wanted us to take a walk.”

“Yeah, because I’m really feeling like a walk after three quintants of travelling.” After all the excitement and of the days trapped in the small bunks of their discrete ships, he kind of wants to just collapse on the beautiful four-poster bed in his room.

Takashi’s tone is far too distressed for Keith’s fragile and exhausted heart. “Did you not get some sleep this afternoon?”

Keith’s ears almost stand on end at the thought of what happened this afternoon — of Lotor trudging into his room to pick on him for his penchant for escape. With the shake of his head, Keith stumbles, “It’s fine, Takashi. Let’s walk.”

At first, their conversation is stilted, mostly because Keith has never been gifted at communication. Marmora is a planet built on strength and the tenacity of warriors; Keith can communicate better with fists and blades than complex political talk. But after they break through the initial silence and awkward questions, the conversation flows a little smoother.

They speak of the succession of the Marmoran crown and how it passes to great military leaders rather than through bloodline. The topic sparks a question from Takashi that Keith didn’t expect, “Do you resent it? Being here.”

The question makes Keith pause and look at the beautiful garden around them. Sunset has colored the horizon peach, warm and bright and barely reaching above a quarter into the sky. The plants around them glow with their own bioluminescence — colors that Keith has learned even extend to the depths of the sea. Keith longs to see it one day, because even standing among the flowers that bloom blue and silver, they are more brilliant than any book could describe.

Most of all, the man standing beside him is the greatest surprise, because in all of Altea’s extravagance, the most breathtaking is Admiral Shirogane.

“It’s pretty bright,” Keith mumbles as his eyes drift over the illuminated garden. “Marmora is dark, so.” He turns to face Takashi and motions to his eyes, “They’re usually yellow.”

“Oh.” Takashi fiddles with the cuff of his sleeve, looking far too small of a man of his stature. “That’s...I shouldn’t have asked that.”

“It’s okay,” Keith says with the shrug of his shoulders. It’s all he can say to avoid spilling the intricacies of their soul bond and how his very being calls out in hopes that Takashi might respond. “I guess you expected a different answer though, huh?

“Yeah.”

Keith continues walking rather than answering. His fingers caress a blooming flower as they continue to stroll through the garden. The petals are delicate and beautiful. It makes Keith wonder how fragile all of Altea’s beauty is.

The conversation between them has become stilted once again, a firm reminder of how little they know each other. Shiro is a steady presence by his side as they wander through the expansive garden. His steps are even and his shoulders are taut, and Keith can practically feel the wall rebuilding between them as Takashi dons his formality as Admiral of all Altea.

“I don’t, though,” Keith breathes, desperate to cut the tension and regain the closeness between them. “I don’t resent it.”

“No?” Shiro’s tone is skeptical but light as he continues, “You’re not even slightly bitter about being shipped off to another planet to marry a stranger.”

Less than a quintant ago, Keith was bitter — bitter at the thought of abandoning the dream of ever having a soul bond, to be shipped to the extravagant Altea and live amongst the frills and jewels like some trophy of peace.

Keith stops suddenly, fists clenched at his sides. Turning to face Takashi, Keith lifts his chin to meet his gaze. The practical side of him that worries about coming on too strong, about scaring away his mate with talk of forever. But it’s overshadowed by the bitter turn of his mate’s scent.

Without thought, Keith reaches out and places a hand on Shiro’s sternum. His instincts are calmed by the steady beat of his mate’s heart.

“Why would I be bitter,” Keith says softly, “when I’m marrying you?”

Keith wakes tangled in his luxurious sheets to the thoughts of last night’s stroll through the garden. His palm still burns from the warmth of Takashi’s skin. He presses it to his lips before jolting back and stumbling out of bed.

No matter how his mama had described what a soul bond had felt like, how instincts and rationality had warred in the days of her recovery in his father’s home — he never realized that it would feel like this.

His skin tingles with the mere thought of missing Takashi by his side.

But Keith is determined to keep enough distance to grow closer to Takashi without the need of explaining the soul bond. He wants his betrothed to care for him without the desire of the universe forcing his hand.

Running his fingers through the tangled knots of his hair, he begins pulling the strands into his familiar braid. He stops himself from imaging Takashi’s fingers directing the tendrils in the hair braiding ceremony that will take place during their wedding only two movements away. Quickly tying off the braid, Keith grabs a handful of an unfamiliar cracker and paces to his window.

The view is grand, overlooking a portion of the gardens he wandered with Takashi last night and the soldiers' training grounds. Tucked away at the corner of the grounds is someone training, skin sweat soaked and chest bare as they run through unfamiliar forms.

Keith’s mouth suddenly dries and the crackers become hard to swallow as the figure’s metal arm glints in the sun.

Takashi is out training in the early morning, drenched in the peach light of dawn, and all Keith wants to do is leap from the window and into a sparring match with his mate.

He dons his Blade uniform and rushes from his room with his blade at his hip. But by the time he’s found the way out of the labyrinth of hallways and to the training grounds, Takashi is gone.

With a mischievous grin, Keith makes sure to wake up early enough the next morning to catch Takashi at the training grounds. This way he can truly assess how apt of a mate he is. By the rush of his blood, he already knows that Takashi is strong.

The next morning can’t come quick enough.

Before the sun has taken on its peach hue, Keith is on the training grounds and specifically in the area that is completely saturated in Takashi’s scent. There’s a giddiness to his movements as he warms up and waits for his mate’s arrival. Unfortunately, it feels like he has to wait forever.

“Hello, Takashi,” Keith greets as he flicks his wrist to transform his blade back into its dagger size.

“Keith,” Shiro says through a wide smile that crinkles the corners of his eyes. It’s warmer than the sun that heats Keith’s back as it slowly descends from its zenith. It’s warmer than the summers on Marmora, scorching and dangerous. And Takashi’s smile is just as dangerous, because it calls to something within him. “Hi.”

Shaking off his lascivious instincts, Keith says, “Took your time.”

“How did you know I’d come?”

“I picked up your scent,” he admits before realizing how strange that sounds. Ducking his head, he tucks a strand of loose hair behind his ear and avoids Takashi’s gaze. “It’s the only one here.”

“Oh.”

Keith wants to vault himself over the wall of the castle just at his back, to throw himself to the crush of the sea beneath before embarrassment can swallow him whole. But when he glances up, there’s a flush to Takashi’s cheeks that’s not from the dawning sun or bashfulness. His mate is scratching at the back of his neck, and Keith swears — not that he’s familiar with all of Takashi’s expressions — that he seems kind of pleased.

“Yeah,” Keith says before sheathing his knife and diving into the reason why he’s here in the first place — why he woke up so early in the morning and stood around the training grounds for half the quintant. “Spar with me.”

With a confident smile, his mate replies, “Sure.”

Keith can still feel the phantom heat of Takashi’s grasp on his body. It lingers long after they’ve left the training grounds. It haunts him throughout the evening and even into dinner. It plagues him when he’s rolling around in his large bed, exhausted from his little sleep the quintant before but anxiously awaiting another sparring session tomorrow.

Takashi was strong and surprisingly nimble for his size. If Keith wasn’t so well versed in fighting bigger and stronger opponents, he would be crushed beneath the power of his mate’s strikes. But Marmorans are a race that stand hand and foot above humans, and while Keith may have many Marmoran features, his height is all from his father’s race. So Keith is well trained in sparring those who tower above him.

Each match with Takashi is exhilarating. Keith can physically and mentally feel himself improving. It’s probably due to the fact that he constantly has to out-think and out-match Shiro’s strategic abilities and innate strength.

But each pin is so rewarding. To have the tension melt from Takashi’s body as he yields. To watch a smile creep up on those cheeks as he humbly admits his defeat. It’s like nothing Keith has ever experienced before.

Every evening, just as the sun is beginning to disappear behind the horizon, they will meet up in Shiro’s little section of the training grounds. It’s breathtaking and exhausting to spar each night, only to quickly leave — because they never learn how to manage their time well when fighting — and get ready for dinner. Whereupon, Keith will sit across from his betrothed, still covered in his scent, unable to hide his smile.

Keith slowly feels himself become hooked on Takashi, to all of the moments they’ve spent together and all of the little things they’ve shared. The relationship they have now isn’t just the pull of his soul bond, but something even more rewarding and precious. And Keith is slowly becoming addicted to it.

This evening is just like all the others, and to pin Takashi beneath him — trapped in the clutches of his thighs — feels just as rewarding. Through the curtain of his hair that has tumbled from his braid, Keith watches Takashi’s expression shift from stunned to something indescribably soft.

“Yield,” Keith breathes.

“Your braid is coming loose,” Shiro mumbles.

Keith loosens the grip of his thighs against his mate’s throat, almost afraid there’s a lack of oxygen affecting his brain. But there’s a glint to Takashi’s gaze that makes Keith’s thighs retighten against Shiro, who raises a hand and cups the thickest area of his leg. The touch burns in the most devilish of ways.

He wants to pull his mate's hand along his body to areas he’s dreamed about Takashi touching.

“Does it matter?” Keith huffs, hoping he doesn’t sound too out of breath.

Shiro’s grip across Keith’s thigh squeezes slightly. “No.”

With the roll of his eyes, Keith straightens his posture. He quickly untangles the pin so they can sit beside each other in the grass. “I’ll redo it then.” He can’t keep the teasing tone out of his voice as he asks, “Will that make you happy?”

“Maybe,” Shiro says, an echo of Keith’s playfulness.

Keith rolls his eyes in exasperation as a way to hide the flush that burns through his chest like igniting embers. He tugs the glittering luxite band off the end of his braid and loops it around his wrist. The band is beautiful and strong, and it reminds him of his parents and their bond — his mother’s proposal gift that Keith’s father had passed on to him the day he was born.

His fingers pull through the strands of his hair and catch on new knots.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Takashi reach forward only to pause inches from him. “Will you teach me?” his mate asks as his hand sinks back to his lap.

Keith can’t fight the blush that claims his cheeks or the rush of desire that fuels him. But Takashi probably doesn’t know the significance of hair braiding, of even allowing another to touch his hair outside of a sparring match. Keith can see the ignorance in his betrothed’s open expression and genuine smile. He knows that his gaze is heavy, meeting Takashi’s grey eyes and holding it for far too long.

“It’s…” Keith stutters, wanting so much to tell Takashi nothing, just to feel his betrothed’s fingers through the strands of his hair — to trick his mate into intimacy far beyond his Altean understanding. But he can’t do something like that, can’t deceive the honest and trusting nature of his soul bond. Keith’s eyes finally drop as he finishes, “It’s not something we generally do with people who are not kin.”

“Well, you and I are betrothed,” Takashi says in a tone that makes Keith’s gaze jump back up. The Admiral is smiling wide, more with one side of his lips than the other. It’s cocky and sweet, and Keith wants to know what it tastes like. “And it means a great deal to you, doesn’t it?”

It’s like something lighter than air is filling his lungs, ready to pull him from the gravity of Altea. Keith’s mouth goes dry as he mumbles, “They’re special yeah.”

Because he never even contemplated that Takashi could feel a fraction of the sudden attraction and overwhelming emotions that Keith has with the soul bond. But it’s obvious in the small smile and the way he bridges the distance between them slowly enough that Keith could back away if he wants. Keith holds his breath and stays as still as possible so that he doesn’t rush into Takashi’s arms when his mate runs a tendril of inky hair between his fingers.

A shudder courses down Keith’s back and makes his ears relax back against his head. He wants to lean into the touch, to press his cheek against Takashi’s palm. He’s so close that he can hear the quiet wurr of Shiro’s arm as it pulls down the length of the strand and lets it fall back to Keith’s shoulder.

Takashi’s smile is sweeter than the peach sunsets of Altea. “You don’t have to teach me,” he says, “but I’d like to learn. And I’d like to make you happy.”

Keith sucks in a breath and forces himself to count to ten. Anything to mitigate the surge of instincts that roar within him — the ones that tell him to pounce and claim. But he can’t stop the urge to shift his weight and lean closer to his mate. He nods, watching Takashi from beneath his lashes. His words are far too sweet for a man who met his betrothed less than a movement ago, “You do make me happy.” It takes Keith a second to remember that there had been more to this conversation and to regain his composure enough to answer, “But it’d be an honor.”

He brushes his hair over one shoulder and closes the distance between them so that each of Shiro’s exhales brushes across his face. Taking the ends in one hand, he grabs Takashi’s hand and guides him to take hold of the strands. They fumble for a grasp as Keith divides his hair into three sections.

“I’ll show you like this,” Keith says softly as he glances up at his mate, reveling in their height difference while seated. He has always known that all of his height came from his legs, but sitting next to his mate who towers above him standing, it’s surprising to see how accented their difference is. He clears his suddenly dry throat. “Until you’re ready for proper braids.”

“I’m a quick learner,” Takashi chuckles as his hands grasp the braids a little more tightly.

“Good.” Keith feels breathless beneath Takashi’s gaze. He pulls his hands away from his mate’s as he feels them tremble with his very next thought. “The Marmoran ceremony — before it, there’s a hair braiding tradition.”

He can imagine it now, sitting before his kin as Takashi braids his hair in the traditional style. His fingers would move deftly and with the same precision he uses in sparring. Every ounce of his mate’s attention would be on him, on showing and displaying how he could provide more than just strength and protection in their bond.

A shiver traipses down his back at the very thought.

Keith leads Takashi through the basic steps, encouraging him to begin again and to practice. It’s calming to sit here on the training grounds as the sun dips beneath the horizon and colors the sky the perfect peach. The hue saturates his mate’s skin and disguises any blush that he could have.

“Will your father be attending the ceremony?” Shiro asks in a quiet voice that doesn’t disturb the gentle peace between them.

Keith hadn’t realized that he let his eyes slip shut in the gentle warmth of the sunset and the familiar repetitive motion of Takashi’s fingers in his hair. He hums in response. “At the end of this movement, we’ll travel back to Marmora to finish up some business before I return here.” The permenantness of his next return used to scare him, but with Takashi at his side, he feels giddy with anticipation. “You’ll get to meet Pop and Romi when I return. It’s tradition that only kin attend Marmoran ceremonies, but Altean weddings don’t normally work like that, right?”

He remembers the extravagance of Prince Lotor and Empress Allura’s wedding; how the whole planet celebrated their nuptials and forgien dignitaries from across the Galactic Coalition were in attendance.

“Not really.” Takashi huffs an amused laugh.

Keith’s eyes flutter open, and he watches Takashi’s expression of concentration before he asks, “Will you have kin at the ceremony?”

There’s a small wince in his mate’s expression. But it’s quickly muffled beneath the formality of the Admiral Keith met when he first descended onto Altea.

In all of the research the nobles and palace officials had done while arranging this marriage, there was very little mention of Takashi’s parents or family. There was only a small reference to the contract they signed when shipping their son off to Altea for their advanced medical treatment. But it was clear that the Empress had suppressed any additional information about Takashi’s parents or his condition — it was unwise to have the widely-spread knowledge of your top Admiral.

“No. They…” Takashi’s hands still, ceasing their constant motion in Keith’s hair. “They died a long time ago.”

For the first time since meeting Takashi, Keith doesn’t fight his instincts. He threads his fingers with Takashi’s and brings it up for a kiss. The heat of his skin and the scent of him so close threatens to send Keith into a tailspin, but he squeezes his mate’s hand instead. “I’m sorry. They must have been very proud of you.”

The words seem to knock something loose within Takashi. His grip tightens a little more and his shoulders hunch, closing the distance between them. He doesn’t say anything for a long moment. “Thanks.”

Keith merely nods in response, comfortable with the silence between them.

After some time, Takashi seems to brighten once again. His fingers pull from Keith’s and tangle back in the long strands of his hair. “How does this differ from proper braids? Won’t I need to know those for the hair braiding ceremony?”

Keith fights the way his heart jumps into a gallop in his chest. He cups his hands over Takashi’s and whispers, “Let me show you.”

The rest of the movement passes far too quickly.

Keith finds himself breathless at the rapid passage of time. Breathless on the training grounds, pinning Takashi every single time. Breathless at dinner and the silent conversations he and his mate share with a single glance. Breathless every morning as he braids his hair and remembers how it felt to have Takashi’s fingers entangled in it. Breathless at the mere thought that the universe has given him a mate and brought them together clandestinely.

But he’s also breathless at the thought that he has to leave Altea and return to Marmora. It’s only a movement without Takashi, but even the mere thought of it leaves him cold. He longs to see his kin, to tell them of the wonderful soul bond he found in the Admiral of Altea.

But he is still determined to tell Takashi first.

The night before the Marmoran contingent is set to leave, Keith arrives at their spot on the training grounds early. He sits and allows the setting sun to wash over him. Even though he isn’t sparring, his heart is beating in his chest like he’s gasping for oxygen.

He hears the steady footfalls of his mate before he sees him. Opening his eyes, he spots Takashi on the edge of the training grounds, bathed in twilight. His skin is warm and peach toned, while his eyes remain the steely grey of ash and mountain peaks. It feels like the very first moment Keith saw him.

“Takashi,” he breathes.

“Hi, I brought you these.” His mate extends a handful of the flowers that bloom so beautifully in the garden — the garden they took their walk in that very first night.

Keith can’t stop the way his heart rate only increases at the sweet notion. His mate is sweeter than Keith had ever dreamed of. “Thank you, Takashi.”

His mate crosses the distance between them and motions for Keith to turn around. “I wanted to put them in your hair.”

“To practice for the wedding?” Keith wonders if his words are wheezing, because it feels like the wind was knocked out of his chest or like his lungs are too big for his ribs.

“No,” Shiro says as he kneels before Keith. There is something beyond confidence in his expression, something Keith doesn’t even want to hope for. “Because I want to.”

But all Keith can do is hope — hope that the affection and love and desire he sees in his mate’s eyes isn’t his imagination or his instincts.

He turns around before Takashi can catch sight of the overwhelming emotions that are playing across his own features. Closing his eyes tightly, he fights against tears as Takashi slowly unwinds his braid. There is more confidence to his motions as he begins to braid Keith’s hair, tucking in the flowers as he goes.

Keith swallows down the tightness of his throat and the emotions that threaten to leak from his eyes.

He never could have imagined this.

“Did you know why my parents got married so soon after they met?” Keith asks once his throat has cleared.

“No,” Takashi says as his fingers pause in their delicate weave.

Keith fumbles for the words around his fluttering heart. “Marmorans,” he swallows down the fear that has haunted him since the moment he realized his soul bond was human, since he realized that he might be the only one with feelings this immense. “We mate for life.”

“Oh.”

Squeezing his eyes closed, Keith continues, “Sometimes when we meet our mates, our hearts know they’re the one. It’s known as a soul bond, but most people know it as —”

“Soulmates,” Takashi finishes, and Keith can’t place his tone.

“It can take weeks, months, years. Depends on the person.” Despite his galloping pulse, Keith’s instincts beg to look at Takashi, to watch the moment the realization sets in. “Mama knew the moment she saw Pop that he was hers. But Pop is human so he doesn’t have the soul bond, but he loved Mama all the same. I never...” Keith’s words falter as he shifts his body to fully face Takashi.

The braid falls from between his mate’s fingers, untwining and sending the flowers drifting to the grass.

“I never knew if I would have a soul bond since I’m half human.” Keith hates how ragged his voice is. His trips tremble and his throat aches with the force of speaking through tears, “I couldn’t let myself hope. And yet…”

He reaches out, but pauses halfway to Takashi. His instincts scream at him to touch his mate, to feel comfort in the warmth of his skin and the familiarity of his scent. But before he can make a decision on whether to pull back or push forward, Takashi takes Keith’s hand in his, interlacing their fingers.

“And yet?” Takashi asks, voice almost as unsteady as Keith’s — a tone so longing that Keith wants to hear it every day.

Something blooms in Keith’s chest as he meets Shiro’s gaze: eyes as grey as the clouds that form over the Xaibfus mountains or the feathers of the rare hykil bird or the depths of the v’lok caves lit by the bioluminescent plants within. Keith feels a single tear drip down his cheek as he whispers, “Then I saw you.”

Takashi’s hands tighten and a gasp fills out his chest. He holds his breath while his gaze searches over Keith’s face like he’s looking for something.

“Me?” His mate’s voice is hoarse.

“You,” Keith confirms with a huff of a laugh. He smiles and pulls one hand out of Takashi’s grip to rub the lingering tears out of his eyes. “Is that okay?”

“Is it — of course it’s —” Takashi stutters, and it’s the first time that Keith has ever seen his mate so uncomposed. “Keith.”

Keith can’t fight his smile or the laughter that bubbles up from his chest. There’s a relief that’s overwhelming; Takashi’s acceptance is more than he could ever ask for. “Takashi, it’s okay, right?”

Takashi nods, bowing his head before raising his gaze to meet Keith’s. His eyes are glossy and his cheeks are rosy as he confesses, “I thought — gods, I thought I was being stupid.” He pulls their clasped hands to his cheek, and Keith can’t fight the shudder at the warmth of Takashi’s skin. “You came here and...it was like everything I’d ever do afterwards wouldn’t matter anymore, unless you were with me.”

The soul bond — that momentous moment where Keith met Takashi’s eyes for the first time and the world shifted around him like he was a planet orbiting a new star — it seemed to echo across the universe, across realities, until it echoed within both of them.

Keith doesn’t have the words to describe how everything within him changed the moment he met Takashi. “Oh,” he knows his voice is full of swallowed tears, but he doesn’t care anymore, “Takashi.”

“It’s okay,” Shiro finally answers as he pulls Keith’s hand to his lips and presses a kiss to his fingertips. “It’s more than okay.”

At the end of the movement, the Marmoran contingent gathers at the landing pad, swathed in shadow. With his mate and the Empress of all Altea at his back, Keith ascends the ramp to the ship, to the journey that will take him back to Marmora. But before he can pass the threshold, he pauses.

His mother stands behind him, and she stops in her tracks with her eyes heavy on Keith’s back. Before she can question why he’s stopped, Keith pivots and jumps past his mother.

He doesn’t notice the wide eyes of the audience as he crosses the landing pad and rushes into Takashi’s arms. That familiar scent envelopes him as something within him sings at the contact. Thick arms wind around his waist and hoist him into the air.

A warm laugh echoes in his ear and rumbles through his mate’s chest. “Keith,” Takashi whispers, “the longer you take to leave, the longer it takes for you to come back.”

“It’s only natural to miss my husband while I’m away,” Keith grumbles against the rough material of Takashi’s admiral uniform. He enjoys the way his mate’s grip tightens, suffocating any distance between them.

“Soon,” Takashi grumbles against Keith’s hair, nestling his cheek between Keith’s twitching ears.

It’s only the clearing of Empress’ Allura’s throat that gets them to pull apart, cheeks flushed and smiles barely hidden. “Have a safe trip, Your Highness,” Allura says with a knowing smile, and if Keith focuses on her, he’s mostly able to ignore Lotor’s teasing smirk at her side.

With a nod, Keith spares Takashi one last look before turning towards the ship.

A sharp grasp on his wrist is the only warning he has before Takashi draws him back into a kiss. It’s sharper than the many they shared last night, in a way that belies desperation and too many feelings to put into a single moment. Keith wants to press himself against Takashi, to pull him back to his borrowed room in the Altean castle, and hide away from all of the watchful eyes as he embraces his mate to the full extent of his instincts.

But the kiss — as world rending as the first — ends as all kisses do.

He makes sure to imprint the image of Takashi’s windswept and blushing expression in his mind. “Bye,” he whispers before running back to the ship with the last fraction of will he has left.

They barely break the atmosphere before his mom appears behind him, hand a heavy weight on his shoulder. “Congratulations, my son,” her voice is a warm rasp, like it’s holding back far too much emotion.

When he turns to face her, he catches the glisten of tears in the yellow sclera of her eyes. “When did you know?”

“The second you laid eyes on him.” Her smile is a sharp, knowing thing. “As I said, he’s a strong match.”