Chapter Text
More than once upon a time…
(Yes, we meet again shush)
In a kingdom far far away and a long time ago, there were two best friends separated by social class.
Lance, a prince.
Keith, a mere palace help.
For two boys living in a palace, one would think they would be the best of friends, right?
Wrong.
Ever since their first meeting in which Lance was planning to explore outside the palace (climbing over the garden wall at the back of the kitchen gardens) and Keith was outside grooming the horses (sneakily doing target practice with his knife thrown to a tree), their interaction was suffice to say, not ideal (Lance fell from the wall and Keith almost impaled him).
One could say that for a building as large as the Royal House of Altea, two individuals crossing paths almost twice a day was highly unlikely, but for some reason, Lance and Keith would always come back to each other unwillingly like magnets.
Jibes would be exchanged.
“You’re in my way, mullet.” Lance glared up at him.
Keith smirked and stepped aside. “Pardon me, your shortness.”
“I AM NOT SHORT! THIS IS PERFECTLY REASONABLE HEIGHT!”
Sometimes, unspoken words would be exchanged.
Lance was sword training, and as much he loved being all princely and heroic–he had yet to master the blade. And Keith, who always seemed to pass by the training grounds, would stop, give him a once-over his poor form and smirk before walking away. Lance would then be riled up, throwing off his form even more.
And so it went on for three years.
It was a warm spring day, and Lance could barely contain his excitement.
This was the first day of the Lantern Festival and also the day when he would lift his first lantern. Only on their twelfth birthday were children eligible to fly their love lantern–a lantern that would lift up in the sky and land to where their soulmate would be. Some would tie a ribbon or some sort of pendant for their soulmate to find them. Some would write their names and locations so their soulmate could find them, but interestingly enough, those small notes would burn up and they would have to try a different method the next year.
This year, Lance was determined to make his clue obvious because he wanted his soulmate to find him right away.
“Your highness, are you ready?”
Lance quickly stuffed an object in his pocket before turning around and grinned at his royal advisor. “Ready as I’ll ever be, Coran.”
Coran, with his bright ginger hair and fabulous mustache, quickly strode to him and sweeped him down the halls and towards the palace balcony. “The sun is setting quickly and the people are excited to see you. There is no time for dillydallying!”
Marching past the portraits of his ancestors with their multicolored lanterns, Lance wondered what his color would be.
Would the fire be as green as Queen Susan the Benevolent? Would it be orange like his royal advisor? Would he have the brilliant magenta of his sister Allura, next in line for the throne? Or would he have the pure whiteness of his father?
What would be the color of his soulmate’s lantern?
Lance’s cheeks turned warm at the thought of a deep red like a passionate rose lantern floating in his hands. Hopefully he will find his soulmate soon. It would be nice to have a friend that would love you and stay with you forever.
His thoughts flitted to a certain kitchen boy and he wrinkled his nose. Shut up, me. Mullet doesn’t count!
At the end of the hallway stood his sister with her mane of white curls tucked into a french braid, with the rest held down by the crown around her forehead. Allura caught sight of him and beamed. She was just as excited about this as he was. The first lantern was always a memorable event for the youths in the kingdom.
And this year was extra special because Prince Lance would set his first lantern in the sky.
“Are you ready?” Allura asked him. Lance opened his mouth, but instead of the bold bravado that he always put up, his voice betrayed him. Allura frowned and took his hand. “Lance, what’s wrong?”
“What if it won’t reach them?” Lance blurted out. “What if it’ll take me a hundred years before it reaches my soulmate? Or–or what if I don’t have one? Allura, what will I do?”
“Your light will lead them to you,” Allura said gently. “No matter how long it will take, they will find their way to you.”
Lance glanced out to the open doors of the balcony. He could hear the noise of the crowds, the crash of the ocean waves out in the bay, the calls of the seagulls overhead. There by the edge of the balcony sat an unlit lantern on a small platform.
“Lance.” The prince of Altea stood straight at the king’s deep rumble. King Alfor rested a heavy hand on Lance’s shoulder. “Have I ever told you about the day I found out your mother was my soulmate?”
Allura and Lance snickered at the memory. It had taken Crown Prince Alfor ten years to meet his soulmate and the first thing he said when he saw the brooch that he had tied on his lantern resting on a certain diplomat’s daughter's chest was to exclaim in the middle of a diplomatic introduction, “Hey, that’s mine!”
Indeed, Lady Melenor was his as he was hers. And he had kept her locket around his neck for those ten years of waiting.
“Sometimes it takes a few hours. Sometimes, it takes years.” King Alfor walked out with him and once they stood in front of the lantern, the king lit a candle and handed it to Lance, saying, “But what is meant to be yours will always come back to you.”
Lance took the candle and looked over the kingdom square. The people were looking up at him, multiple colored lanterns scattered everywhere in the streets and some on rooftops. By the fountain square was a huge circle of eligible boys and girls his age, holding unlit lanterns.
He spotted a familiar face within the line and couldn't help his sigh of relief. Looks like he wasn't the only one nervous about all of this. Keith looked downright uncomfortable, Lance almost felt pity for him. Almost. If it weren't for the fact that Lance was the center of attention rather than blending in the crowd.
Taking a deep breath, Lance lit up the cylinder and watched the flame grow. From an orange flicker, it grew into an electric blue as rich as the ocean in the red sunset sky.
Giddy with excitement, Lance almost forgot his clue. He took out the small satchel from his pocket and tied it to one of the hooks at the side of his lantern. It bobbed lopsidedly from the weight, but Lance didn't mind. It was a very obvious clue; whoever his soulmate was would be an idiot if they didn't know what was in the bag.
He lifted his lantern above his head and let it go. The whole kingdom cheered.
In unison, the lanterns in the square lit up into a multitude of colors and lifted up into the sky.
He watched his blue lantern fly out into the sky with the hundreds of other lanterns. Set against the darkening sky, it was a sight to behold. His lantern blended with the rest--squinting to keep track of it–thought he saw it whirl around a red one for a second–and then it was just another speck in the array display of lights.
“And now we wait,” King Alfor rumbled. He nudged Lance and said with a laugh, “Now don’t just stand there looking for your soulmate’s lantern. It’ll come to you.”
“But what if it comes now and I’m not there to receive it?” Lance asked anxiously.
The king laughed. “It will come. Now, go. Or else your cousins will devour the suncakes before you can say Coran Hieronymus–”
Lance sprinted before his father could finish, knowing full well how many names the royal advisor had. It would take one full Varga to recite the whole thing.
Weaving past the crowd outside the palace gates, Lance saw one of his dearest friends, and with a holler of “Tailor threading through!” he barrelled into the wide back of Hunk Garret–son of the kingdom’s finest Lions Tavern. With a yelp, they tumbled down the slope and into a bush of juniberry flowers.
“Your Highness, you could’ve broken our backs,” Hunk groaned.
“But we didn’t,” Lance said as he quickly got out from under him and pulled on his arm. “Hurry up, Hunk! Or else we’ll run out of suncakes!”
“Our Tavern makes the suncakes, it’s not running out any time soon,” Hunk pointed out as he finally got to his feet–only to be dragged by Lance down the road leading towards the main kingdom center.
“Yeah, but it’s not the Lions Tavern’s suncakes I’m after!”
Tapestries as colorful as the lanterns in the sky fluttered in the breeze above the streets. Children’s laughter floated in the air as they weaved amongst them–each family pattern never the same as the other. Lance and Hunk joined the throng as they ran down the streets and at a fountain square.
A group of children were already gathered around a small stall with Vrepit Sal sloppily painted on a wooden board above it. Despite the owner being a Galra, Sal was a refugee and was quickly accepted by the children as one of their own. His suncakes were known to be even better than the Lions Tavern’s.
“One by one, children,” Sal called out as he took out another batch of suncakes from his makeshift oven. He spotted Lance. “Prince Lance, would you like the first pick?”
The crowd around Sal turned to Lance, and then they began to swarm around him.
“Prince Lance, you finally came out!”
“What took you so long?”
“Hey, don’t forget to continue the toad leap we started!”
“Prince Lance, farmer Mac Donald has a new harvest! You should check out his wheat field! It’s pink!”
Surrounded by kids from all sides, Lance could feel the panic rising up. As much as he loved the crowd, he wasn’t very fond of being squished. Attention divided amongst at least five people, he walked backwards, only to bump into somebody else.
“Oh, pardon me,” Lance started–only to stop as he realized who he bumped into. A hush fell on the group.
The children murmured amongst themselves. Everyone knew about Keith. Orphaned at a young age, his reputation as a rebellious lad preceded him. Many said that his bravery and strength allowed him to gain an apprenticeship as a knight. Others say that his recklessness and sharp tongue would boot him out just as fast.
Nevertheless, rumors circled around Keith like moths to a flame.
And Lance, despite his so-called rivalry, was a princely moth to that very flame.
“Watch where you're going,” Keith sniped.
One of the kids piped up, “Watch how you’re talking to the prince.”
Keith turned his eyes to the kid who quickly clammed up and took a step back. Many shuffled away, and Lance blinked–finally able to breathe again. But before Lance could say anything, Keith had walked away.
The crowd murmured incontinently.
“What did he come here for anyway?”
“He just left. If he wanted to stay away, he should’ve stayed away.”
“He never wants to play with us–acts like he’s better than us.”
Lance gazed at the direction where Keith just left, the sweet smell of unbought suncakes wafting after him.
“Thought I’d find you here.”
As expected, Keith had holed himself behind the stables where he had set up his personal practice area–A built in target and a scattering of different weapons around him–weapons too dull or defects thrown away by the palace blacksmith.
Lance didn’t know how long Keith had been there, but the sunset had been replaced by the dark twilight night–the full moons high up in the air with the floating lanterns. The young boy wiped the sweat from his brow, watching quietly as the prince marched up to him.
“You know, I don't hate you because you're half-Galra,” Lance declared, hands on his hips.
Keith glared and spat out, “Oh yeah? Then what?”
Lance crossed his arms. “I hate you cuz your mullet is stupid.”
Keith stared at him.
At that moment, Lance realized that Keith still had the knife in his hand and he would gladly stick it in a certain someone.
Suddenly, Keith burst out laughing. Lance just kept his stance, but as Keith kept laughing, he couldn't help but join in the mirth.
And there in the middle of the night, surrounded by lanterns in the sky like fireflies, two boys mended their animosity into friendly rivalry.
“Oh, I almost forgot!” Lance shoved his hand in his pocket and pulled out a wad of parchment paper. He unwrapped it, revealing two squished suncakes. He took one and held out his hand for Keith to take the other.
Keith hesitated, and Lance being the impatient one, shoved the suncake in Keith’s mouth. “Mmmff mm ffm!”
“Shut up and eat it, mullet,” Lance said with his mouth full. Keith rolled his eyes as he took a bite, only for his eyes to widen and he shoved the whole thing in. Lance grinned. “Good, isn’t it?”
“To die for,” Keith nodded as he swallowed and wiped the crumbs off with the back of his hand.
“Next year, we gotta get a lot more. One suncake is not enough for a growing boy,” the prince declared.
Keith tilted his head. “You’re the prince. Can’t you just ask the baker to make it for you any time?”
“But where’s the fun in that?” Lance hummed as he balled up the parchment paper and tucked it in his pocket once more. “It’s boring if I’m the only one having fun.”
Keith grew quiet and Lance realized that for all the three years that he’d been here, not once did he see Keith hang out with anyone. And only now did he realize that he could have been a better friend to him.
With newfound commitment, Lance said tentatively, “Next year, we should get to Vrepit Sal’s before anyone else.”
His new friend paused, and then said quietly, “I’d like that.”
Lance beamed.
Later that evening when Lance finally went back to his room after talking with Keith, he took a moment to walk out to his balcony. It was smaller than the one that jutted out at the back of the palace, but he could still see the lanterns just fine from the East wing.
Wrapping his silken blue robes around him, Lance leaned against the banister and gazed at the sky. Every year ever since he could remember, he would always look up and watch the lanterns float until he fell asleep. This year was special as he knew one of those was his soulmates.
Just as he thought that, a red lantern came spinning around like a comet. Lance yelped as it drew close, but the lantern stopped before it could crash into him. It bobbed in front of him, as if waiting for the prince to accept it.
The lantern was a simple design–one that you could buy at the market. But what made each lantern unique was that once it had located the soulmate, patterns would flare up on the fabric, giving hints on who their soulmate could be. The clues helped.
Lance grazed his hand on the fiery design of flames, warmth enveloping him like a red blanket. An insignia glowed at one corner, but Lance couldn’t place his finger on why he found it familiar.
He checked the hooks excitedly, only to come up with, “Nothing?! My soulmate gave me no clues?!”
But of course, the lantern gave nothing away. With a sigh, Lance took the lantern in his hands, made a small wish for his soulmate’s wellbeing and let it go. And once more, it rejoined the others in the sky.
…
Several months had passed since that fateful night and one could say that despite their loud bickering down the halls or outside the training court or in the kingdom square, Keith and Lance were as inseparable as a pair of Velcrolaptoricas in the high seas of Velcro. It was rare to see one of them without the other.
Lance would secretly go behind the palace to the garden where Keith would teach him how to throw a knife into the heart of an apple and in exchange, Lance would teach Keith the ins and outs of the castle and how to get to his bedroom without being seen by the night guards (which involved climbing out the window of the library and jumping from the awning to the awning above his balcony.) They also had their own mode of communication, though it was mostly Lance doing the communicating and Keith trying his best to decipher the mess of wriggly limbs and jumping.
Of course, in a palace as large as this, there would still be eyes and ears watching and waiting.
Keith leaned on the target in boredom, chewing on a wheat stalk as he watched Lance take his stance, one hand holding a knife.
“Are you sure you don't want to move out of the way?” The prince called out worriedly. “I could impale you.”
Keith smirked. “Your knife won't even land within ten feet from me.”
That ticked Lance off. He adjusted his grip around the handle, threw his arm back, and then flung the knife at Keith.
It flew all the way over his head and snagged in one of the tree branches.
“Nice shot, sharpshooter,” Keith drawled.
Lance glared at him. Before he could retort back, a voice spoke up from behind him. “Your Highness.”
Lance straightened up and turned around. One of the council, Admiral Sanda, stared disapprovingly at Keith before looking at Lance. “I’m sure you’re having a good time with your… friend . But I believe it is time for your lesson in politics. You wouldn’t want to keep your professor waiting.”
He didn’t like the way she looked at Keith–like he was food goo underneath the soles of her shoes. With a polite smile, he said, “Thank you, Admiral Sanda. Keith and I will clean up here and I’ll get to my lesson right away.”
Sanda’s grey eyes hardened and she said in a tight voice, “I think it’s best for you to be on your way. You should let this half-Galra clean up.”
At that, Lance bristled. How dare she look down on him. “His name is Keith and he’s my friend.”
“Your friend should know his place,” Sanda raised her voice, “as you should know yours, Your Highness .”
There was a rustling behind him. Lance looked over his shoulder, but Keith had already walked away, carrying the target and the hunting knives. He tried calling out to him, but Admiral voiced her disapproval, and so Prince Lance lowered his arm and walked back to the palace with his head hung low.
Only when they were inside the doors and well away from prying eyes, did Lance finally speak up.
“You didn’t have to treat Keith like that.”
Admiral Sanda stopped as he did. Lance didn’t dare face her because he knew that if he did, he’d clam up. She was terrifying like that. “Like how, Your Highness?” she asked cooly.
“Like he’s some food goo under your shoe.”
“I only treated him like one of the lower class,” the admiral said dismissively. “People like him are of no concern to us, Prince Lance.”
Lance whipped around and stared at her in shock. As a royal, he knew that Keith was his servant, but the thought of looking down on him was too preposterous to think about. And to hear one of the most respected people in the kingdom talk about Keith like that–it changed his opinion on Admiral Sanda very quickly.
“Keith is my friend,” Lance said angrily. “He’s not some–”
“ Keith is a commoner and a half-Galra to boot,” Admiral Sanda snapped. “What would the other nations think when they see the prince of Altea mingle with a servant?”
He tried to interject, but she continued. “You should know your place, Prince Lance. You will be leading this kingdom with your sister one day. The future of ten million citizens is in your hands. You cannot jeopardize your position over a mere servant.”
If he were a little older, maybe Lance would have understood where the general was coming from. But at the moment, he was only twelve. His thoughts, although rampants at times, were silent for once. He didn’t understand why he couldn’t be friends with Keith. Everyone was alright with him going out of the palace gates and playing with Hunk and the rest of the village children. So what was it with Keith that was so different?
“If I can’t even be friends with Keith who’s a commoner,” Lance hissed, trying to stop his hot tears from falling, “how am I going to understand ten million other people?”
And before Admiral Sanda could reply, Lance ran away–not willing to hear the answer.
That evening, Lance didn’t go to Keith right after his lessons like he usually did–opting to just go straight to his room and mope for a few hours. Apparently, his moping only lasted a few minutes because he fell asleep soon after.
“Lance…Lance, wake up.”
The prince groaned and rolled over, hugging his pillow more tightly. “Five more dobashes.”
There was a grunt and Lance frowned. His pillow was warm and soft, but why was it trying to fight him?
Lance opened his eyes to see Keith glaring at him–pale skin flushed red–a stark contrast to his bright, grey eyes. He could see his reflection on the dilated pupils.
With a yelp, Lance scrambled away, only to fall off the other side of the bed. Keith peeked over the edge, his black hair framing the sides of his face like waterfall. His heart skipped a beat.
Shut up, me! Lance yelled in his head. He’s Keith and he’s my friend! And he’s a guy to boot!
Keith grinned. “Did I wake you?”
He received a pillow on his face for his snark.
“What’re you doing here?” Lance yawned as he crawled back under the covers. “Did Cosmo steal your bed again?”
When he received no reply, he looked up. Keith was doing that thing again where was thinking loudly–eyebrows scrunched together with a frown on his face. Lance waited.
“Lance, do you hate me?”
He got up so fast,he almost slammed his forehead against Keith’s chin. “ WHAT?! ”
The scared look on Keith’s face was an expression Lance never wanted to see again. He tried to back away, but Lance grabbed his wrist to stop him. He hissed, “Keith, what the quiznak?”
“You’re not using that word right,” Keith mumbled.
The prince searched his eyes, but his friend refused to meet his gaze. He sighed. “What do I have to do to get you to believe that I don’t care what other people say? You’re my friend–my closest friend–and I would and will never hate you.”
Keith tightened his fists. “Even if what they say is true? I’m a half-galra. I shouldn’t be hanging around a royal like you.”
Not for the first time, Lance hated the invincible rules of society. “Just because Emperor Zarkon was evil doesn’t make all Galras evil.” He raised his arms up in exasperation. ”The war was ten thousand decapheobes ago! People have to get on with the times!”
Keith stared at him and then a chuckle turned into full-blown laughter–falling on his side on the bed. Lance couldn’t help but join in his mirth.
It took a while to catch their breath. When Lance glanced up, Keith was already gazing at him, a pensive look on his face. His cheeks warmed up.
“Even if we're friends, other people won't see it that way,” Keith said quietly.
“I know,” Lance sniffed. “They can go drown themselves in the lake for all I care.”
A smile tugged at the corner of his lips, but fell back down to his ever present frown. “I was thinking…”
Lance didn't like where this was going.
“I'm going to be a knight,” Keith said determinedly.
The Prince stared at him. “By knight you mean you’re joining…”
“The Knights of Marmora.”
There was little to no information about the Knights of Marmora. All he knew was hearsay–that young apprentices would be trained at a secret place, go through a brutal military regime and return as knights for the royal family and for anyone who could afford them. The creme of the crop and of the highest caliber. That was the Knights of Marmora.
And at that moment, Lance finally realized why the symbol on his soulmate lantern was familiar.
“But you won’t be able to come back until you’re eighteen,” Lance cried–the possibility of not being able to see Keith for the next how many years was something he had never anticipated. Shock was an understatement. “You wouldn’t be back until my–”
“Until your coming-of-age,” Keith finished for him. The covers rustled as he sat up, knees folded underneath him. Lance followed suit.
And in a move that Lance would consider bold and totally unfair , Keith took his hand and pressed a kiss on his knuckles.
“I give you that which is mine to give. I pledge to you my living and my dying, each equally in your care. I shall be a shield for your back and a sword by your side. I shall honor you above all others,” Keith said solemnly. “This is the promise I make by the sun and the moon, by fire and water, by day and night, by land and sea. This is the promise I pledge with the quintessence that runs through me.”
He placed his right hand over his heart and bowed. “Please accept this humble servant.”
It was the highest vow of loyalty that one could declare to another–a vow used in binding rituals. It meant that two souls bound together were forever joint. Nothing could ever break that bond. Nothing but death.
He didn’t know he was crying until Keith reached out and wiped a tear from his cheek. As a prince, Lance was never allowed to be selfish. But at this moment, he couldn’t help himself. In a quiet voice, he begged, “Please don’t leave.”
Keith grabbed him in a fierce hug and Lance buried his face in the crook of his neck. “I don’t want you to go.”
“I know,” Keith said in a thick voice. “But we can’t be friends like this. You’re a prince. I’m a commoner. The palace will never approve.”
“But–”
“And I want to prove myself,” Keith continued fiercely. “I want to prove to people that someone like me can be a knight. Shove it to their faces that I’m worthy to be by your side.”
Lance sniffed. “I should be the one saying that instead.”
The night was quiet, soft moonlight spilling on the burgundy carpet. Lance wrapped his arms tighter around Keith, soaking in the warmth. As he calmed down, he asked, “When do you leave?”
“Tomorrow. One of the Knights will come and take me.”
This was the last time they could be like this.
Lance pulled away and rubbed his face, clearing away tear stains. Keith wrinkled his nose. “You got snot on my shirt.”
“Shut up, mullet. It’s my souvenir for you,” Lance grouched. He sat up straight and took a deep breath.
“Upon my name, I accept your vow and bind my fate with yours. You are blood of my blood, bone of my bone. I give you my spirit, until our life is done.”
His blue cheek marks glowed, binding him to his vow.
“Thank you.” Keith smiled–and it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
Lance couldn’t help but burst into tears once more and hugged him. “Promise you’ll write to me everyday!”
Keith chuckled. “I’ll miss you.”
“I’ll miss you more.”
But neither of them knew that it would take six years for them to meet again. And during that time, they would meet in very different circumstances.