Chapter Text
The Galra, as a species, have very strong traditions. Keith learned about this vaguely from Krolia. He sees bits and pieces present in the Blade, although more in each of them personally, in the private moments in the hallways of the chambers, rather than the whole of it.
The way they speak about a mate, even just the idea of it, is the first thing that clues Keith in to how serious and different this culture is from anything he knows from Earth.
Most members of the Blade, both hybrids and full Galra, experience mating cycles. From what Keith knows, that quickly became a problem early on in the founding of the organization. People would be out of commission for a week at minimum at random, disjointed times; on rare occasions, there would be attacks or fights. A heat without a partner can, rarely, pull someone into a feral state - lashing out at anyone who gets close, injuring others as well as themselves. Without steady access to heat suppressants or calming supplements, often used to simulate the presence of a mate through artificial pheromones, the Blade was in real danger of tearing itself apart from the inside.
Soon after that realization, the Blade established a system for itself: It became one giant, confusing affair.
They would never officially call it that, of course; in Kolivan’s words, the Blade is “open and inviting of modern mating concepts”. What that actually means is that everyone fucks everyone. Almost.
Truthfully, it’s not wrong, the way he describes it. Keith just thinks it doesn’t really encompass the drama all the back and forth creates. (Not that he minds the entertainment he can hear through his chamber door, exactly. He just minds when it involves him.)
Either way, though, it solved the issue. Groups of members are synced in their cycles, so missions are planned around whose cycle ends where. Some people have a set partner they spend all of their heats with, others switch around and work their way through the ranks with every heat. Occasionally, someone gets possessive or attached, but ultimately, the system works quite well, maybe due to the fact they’re all relying on it working. There are no bonded pairs within the ranks of the Blade and as far as Keith is aware, not outside the ranks, either; working with the Blade means a constant risk of not making it home. So, despite how highly everyone speaks of bonds and soulmates, nobody actually dares to get close to anyone. (This way at least everyone is on the same page, whether or not they want to be.)
Keith himself enjoys the opportunity to learn about the differences between Galra, humans and hybrids up close. The talks in the quiet in between heat waves allow him to understand both the individual in bed with him and Galra culture as a whole much deeper. It makes him feel less alien, less out of place, understanding this other side of himself. Learning what it means to be Galra, away from the horrors of the Galran empire; hearing from other hybrids, their struggles with being torn between two cultures, yet not feeling like they belong in either of them. Learning by doing, in a sense, how mating cycles and heats even work, especially as a hybrid. (Not to mention, likely the only one of his kind.)
Most importantly in Keith’s opinion, he stopped feeling scared of himself. Krolia explained early on after they met what a mating cycle is and what Keith can reasonably expect to happen. That was before he experienced, frankly, the horrors of second puberty. Now to be fair, Krolia did warn him there was a chance he would go through some version of a Galran puberty, but Jesus Christ. For two and a half weeks, Keith felt like he was trapped on an eternally looping carnival ride, high on at least three separate substances. Also, the carnival ride wanted him to have sex so bad.
Keith let Kolivan know he was out of commission as soon as he woke up feeling like he needed to tear someone’s larynx out. He spent three weeks locked away in his chamber, just to be sure. The first time he awoke able to breathe normally, he thanked the mythical Galra gods that his drug trip finally passed.
The first thing that became apparent immediately following that relief was that he felt vaguely different - physically, among other things. The first look in the mirror cleared most of his confusion when he appeared before himself, extremely purple, sporting fluffy ears, yellow eyes and fangs. A look down at himself revealed sharp claws, a tail (Jesus Christ, again), a lot more purple and... shape-inaccuracy in the bulge beneath his sweatpants. (Also, he couldn’t be quite sure, but he was pretty convinced he grew taller, somehow. And broader. Like Spiderman, without the radioactivity.)
Instead of freaking out and accidentally knocking himself out against the edge of his bathroom sink, like a less in-control person that Keith in no way relates to, he just crawled back into bed for the rest of the day. While he did notice some purple spots and brief physical changes during the two weeks, he mostly thought he was genuinely hallucinating, so. Seeing it all laid out in a full Galra form shook him just a little bit.
Upon waking still the same amount of purple, Keith decided he had to figure out what exactly was going on with his body, and quick. He already missed a bunch of missions, he didn’t want to be useless any longer than necessary.
So, he quickly became familiar with what seemed to be his own, yet unusually alien, unusually large, purple dick. (Considering he’d spent a few heats with spiked, colourful or trifold variants, he was pretty happy with what he got.)
It didn’t take long for Keith to be in full control of his new body. He tries not to compare himself to Spiderman too much, but it is, in all fairness, a very apt comparison; his Galra body came with a bunch of physical enhancements to his regular physique. Although minimal, he is stronger and faster in his Galra form. He has enhanced hearing and night-vision, his claws are retractable to a less dangerous point and his tail grants him an extra appendage and extra balance. He’s steadier on his feet, can jump noticeably greater distances and can confidently fight on all fours. (Like Spiderman, but as a cat. Like Catwoman! Except not really, since there wasn’t actually a radioactive, physically-enhancing cat involved. Or maybe there was and Keith doesn’t remember. He’ll just stick to Spiderman, on second thought.)
As soon as Keith gained that security in his new form, he figured out how to shift in and out of it. (And thank God for that ability. He wasn’t awfully fond of the idea of showing up to Voltron in a full Galra form. He may end up dead in the hangar.)
A few of his new features did transition over into his human form; he’s still taller and broader, and it at least feels like some amount of his enhanced senses stick with him. Still, since that second puberty, he keeps to his Galra form while at the Blade. They already knew him under his second name, Akira - the one his mother chose for him, to represent some of his Galran heritage - so the “proper” look just finished up his image. He became an official part of the Blade mating pool immediately, so the Galra form has been in good use. Besides, he likes keeping who he is at the Blade versus Voltron separate.
Keith has been getting his heats in regular 2-month intervals, always choosing to spend them at the Blade, no matter if he’s technically supposed to be with Voltron during that time. After all, he has no partner at Voltron, despite what he wishes for in secret. Plus, he doesn’t want to risk a feral spell or even just a slip-up of his Galra form while at the castle.
The more time he spends with Galra members, the more he learns about the traditions, the culture, the differences varying from planet to planet. Ever since the start of the Galran empire, colonies of peaceful Galra have spread across the galaxy and evolved what was left of their culture. But consistent throughout every tale and explanation Keith hears - no matter from what planet, from what time, even from hybrids - is the sanctity of the mating bond.
For a long time, Keith struggled to properly understand it all. Back on Earth, he didn’t quite believe in love. He was raised alone by his father and didn’t have many friends, especially after he was left alone, so growing up, he lacked an example of what love really meant. His father would tell him about his mom, sometimes, but Keith was too young to understand.
Seeing Shiro with Adam was the first time Keith began to understand it, a little bit. But by that point, he didn’t believe he himself could ever fall in love. It always seemed to him like he wasn’t built for it.
Being a part of Voltron slowly healed him, bit by bit. Having Shiro back in his life helped a lot with accepting the team as a weird, mixed and matched sort of family. He learned how to open up again. Of course, finding out about his Galra side made the process a little messy, but he thinks they all came out stronger on the other side.
Now, as for Lance... Keith knew from the moment he strolled into his life, loud and annoying and insisting on their ”rivalry”, that he was about to find out what exactly love was like. He tried to deny it for a while, convincing himself he was just weirdly charmed by him and coincidentally horny. In an unrelated way.
He gave up pretending pretty soon after, though. There was no point in denying how Lance lit up his life with his presence alone, forcing his way through all of his walls and barriers individually. After the first time they ran into each other on the bridge in the middle of the night, both worn out yet wide awake, troubled and seeking some kind of comfort in the wide expanse of space, Keith let himself fall face-first. That night, seeing Lance so quiet and vulnerable, missing home, young and lost like they all admittedly were - it tugged on something inside of Keith. All he wanted to do was wrap him up in his arms until there were no tears left to spill, open up his own chest for Lance to live in if that made him just that little bit less sad.
So, Keith fell in love, quick and embarrassing. No big deal. (Not like his species was known for eternal soul-bonds and biologically affecting love or anything. Haha.)
But it’s fine, he deals with it in his own way. And if that way is ignoring he has any amount of feelings at all and simultaneously happily accepting Lance’s habit of attaching them at the hip the moment Keith arrives back at the castle, then that’s his own problem.
Keith is honestly not quite sure why he’s on his way to the castle right now. His heat is coming up in just under a week now, so he’ll be leaving with a flimsy excuse in a couple days at the latest. And yet, the moment Kolivan announced his leave, he grabbed his things and hopped in a shuttle.
Actually, he knows exactly why he’s on his way right now. Lance has been calling him every day for the past week, telling him how boring the castle is without Keith, asking when he’s finally returning for a while. (The fact they both miss each other was blatant in every single call, but went unspoken.)
He also told him about Lotor. Keith never liked him in any capacity, but he is willing to put his instincts aside on the insistence of Allura and the team. But he’s weird and shady, Keith stands by that. Even if it’s just the fact Lotor is kind of a traditionalist, especially when it comes to mating - although he picks and chooses what rules actually apply to him - that’s enough for Keith to dislike him.
But last night, Lance said Lotor has been acting weird, more than usual. Kind of inappropriate and insisting, even when Lance told him to back off. Alarm bells immediately rang for Keith when Lance started describing some of his behaviour. It screamed courting attempt. Not wanting to make Lance panic, though, he kept it to himself.
The castle slowly comes into view and Keith relaxes into his seat. Even though he works just as much at the castle as he does at the Blade, being with his team feels a little bit like vacation. It’s much easier to relax in his friends’ company, compared to the dark chambers of the Blade.
He parks the shuttle in the hangar, a little surprised not to see Lance greeting him at the doors, but shakes off his weird feeling. He’s probably just tired, so his instincts are a little fried. He makes his way to the bridge quietly.
“Keith!” Shiro immediately spots him when the doors slide open. In a second, he’s crossed the room and greets Keith with a warm hug. He lets his duffel bag drop to wrap his arms around Shiro in return.
Pidge and Hunk join shortly after, similar exclamations on their lips. As soon as the hug breaks, Keith scans the rest of the room. Allura and Coran smile and call out to him as the group walks over. Keith gets a sinking feeling in his gut.
“Where’s Lance?” he asks first. Admittedly, not the most polite or subtle thing he’s ever done, but no matter. Shiro smiles in his all-knowing way, so Keith pointedly turns away from him.
Pidge and Hunk head back to the couch they were previously seated on.
“On a tiny mission,” Pidge replies, falling back into the cushions. “On another note, Keith, dearest: Why do you look like absolute shit?”
Hunk elbows her, but Pidge doesn’t let her snicker waver.
“I came here pretty much straight from a mission,” Keith replies with a sigh, shoulders sagging as his exhaustion catches up to him, “I was on this stupid stakeout for like 30 hours. But I’d rather sleep it off here, so I came right away.”
Pidge whistles in fake-astonishment, but ends on a laugh. Keith rolls his eyes, shoots her a smile anyway and turns to the princess.
“Mission?” he asks. Allura nods, turning to the holograms floating over the console.
“Lotor took him along,” she says, selecting one panel and pushing it over to Keith. “He said something about a gathering of a peaceful Galra community. He wants to do some social business. Apparently there are some important people present, I’m not quite sure. He took Lance along for support, as a representative of Voltron.”
Allura watches Keith as he studies the information on the planet in front of him. It’s almost like his body is further along than his brain - he hasn’t found any information indicating something bad, but he can already feel nausea building in the back of his throat. The longer he quietly reads, the more concerned Allura seems to become.
“What are you thinking?” she asks, voice lowered, but the rest of the team hears anyway. Keith sighs in frustration, tearing his eyes away from the text.
“I think Lotor has been trying to court Lance,” he says, Allura and Coran gasping in response.
“Courting? Is that still a thing?” Hunk asks. Keith nods.
“It is in Galra culture, especially the more traditional parts of it,” he responds. Allura looks to Coran, who shrugs.
“I don’t know much about the Galra apart from some biology, princess. We’ll have to rely on Keith here,” he says. All eyes of the team turn to him.
“And what exactly are your concerns?” Allura asks, tension in her shoulders at the idea of one of her paladins being in some sort of danger. (Keith notes, in the back of his mind, that nobody questioned twice that Lotor doing this is not a good thing. Maybe Keith wasn’t as alone in his instincts as he thought.)
“Lance has tried to tell him before that his advances aren’t welcome,” Keith says, leaning back into the console tiredly. “But Lotor hasn’t let up. I’m afraid him taking Lance to some meeting is part of some plan to convince him otherwise.”
The others wince at the thought. Keith is spacing out staring at the floor, thoughts swirling in his head. He’s missing something, he’s sure; his instincts won’t relax, so something must be wrong. He just doesn’t know what, yet.
“Allura,” he says, her eyes snapping out of a similar trance and back to him. “Did Lotor mention what the community was called?”
Allura chews on her lip in thought for a moment, before remembering suddenly.
“I think it was Vinu, or something like that.”
The dread that goes through Keith must show on his face, because Shiro almost shoots forward to his side.
“Are you sure?” Keith asks, voice cracking at the end of his sentence. Allura looks at him in shock, eyes wide, and nods.
“What, what is it? What’s wrong with that?” Pidge asks, both concerned for her friend and uncomfortable missing information in such an important conversation.
Keith takes a deep breath, eyes flitting back to the planet in view through the main window.
“It’s, uhm... It’s a very traditional community. More like a religion, really. They’re very strict about mating bonds. Stepping into their sacred realm unmated is one of the highest offences in their culture.”
A tense silence falls over the team.
“What will happen to Lance, then?”
Lance is, all things considered, having a wonderful day.
Sure, he may be in Lotor’s company, but he’s relatively easy to ignore today. He’s on a beautiful planet, large colourful trees surrounding the area of the festivities. There are glowing vines draped from each of them, like string lights at a garden party. The floor consists of beautiful stone murals and patches of soft, blue and purple moss.
There’s a palace at the end of the busy area, looming over them, sunset painting the sky behind the central tower in orange and pink hues. The front is adorned with large stained glass windows. It kind of reminds him of a church, if he thinks about it.
They parked Lotor’s shuttle a bit further away, on a hill in the middle of the forest. When they reached the area where the festivities are taking place, a guard of sorts, dressed in some kind of traditional Galra clothing, let them pass. Lance feels kind of underdressed in just his semi-formal regular clothes, but Lotor gave him a cloak earlier, so he supposes it must be enough to adhere to the dress-code. Two steps in, a drink was pressed into his hand. He’s been sipping it absentmindedly, not sure if and how much alcohol is in it, but he’s not trying to be rude, either. God only knows that strange customs have gotten him in trouble before.
Lotor is chatting to a bunch of the locals, but Lance isn’t involved any further than a short introduction. He’s a little confused on why he had to accompany him in the first place, since he clearly has no need for him, but he loves seeing new places and cultures, so he won’t complain. Besides, he wants to learn more about the Galra away from the empire - Keith is half Galra, after all, so Lance wants to try to understand it all better.
At one point, Lance wanders away from Lotor and to the edge of the forest. He switches on his comms to check what’s going on upstairs; he always carries them with him, in case something goes wrong.
“Hey, anybody there?” he says into the comms, surely seeming like he’s talking to the trees instead. His earpiece crackles to life as someone on the other side opens the line.
It’s Allura’s worried voice that reaches him first.
“Lance, are you alright?” she asks, hurried. Lance immediately tenses up.
“I’m okay, what’s going on? Is there a problem? Do we need to come back?” he asks, drink forgotten on the stone perch next to him. He hears a few sighs and some relieved voices through the open line, one of which stands out to him in particular.
“Wait, is that Keith? You didn’t tell me you were coming!” Lance continues, audibly more excited now.
“Lance,” Allura speaks up again, “you need to leave that place immediately. Without anyone taking notice, if possible-”
“No, wait-” Keith interrupts, (and God is it good just to hear his voice,) “if they see him sneaking away, they might just kill him immediately.”
If Lance was still holding his drink, he would’ve dropped it right then.
“What?” He asks, frantic. “What do you mean kill me? I thought they were peaceful! I don’t have my bayard or anything!”
“Okay, don’t run, we’ll figure out something else,” Allura says, no less stressed. Lance can hear the team mumbling to each other. It goes on for a minute, before there’s a frustrated noise (Lance hesitates to call it a growl, exactly) and Keith seems to take control over the conversation.
“Lance,” he says and Lance does not sigh like a love-sick schoolgirl. “Listen, I think Lotor is trying to trick you into a mating bond. No matter what anyone says, do not let that happen. It will tie you to him forever, irreversibly. Just play along for a minute, I’m coming to get you.”
Lance feels very normal about the way Keith said that. (At least it distracts him from “forever, irreversibly” so, there’s that.)
“Okay, I’ll just.. be here, I guess,” he responds, scanning the crowd over his shoulder, who luckily has not noticed his tree-talking behaviour yet.
“When I get there, you have to be ready to go along with what I’m doing, got it?” Keith adds. “And when you see me, try not to freak out.”
Lance wants to respond, maybe say something stupid like “I just can’t help myself when I see your handsome face,” but before he gets the chance, there’s a hand around his forearm.
“There you are,” comes Lotor’s faux-soothing voice. Lance throws him a tight smile and follows him back into the crowd.
“What do you mean “forever, irreversibly”?” Hunk asks, pacing around the couch he was sat on earlier. Keith is kneeling on the floor, ruffling through his duffel bag.
“I mean forever and irreversibly. A mating bond is a soul tie between two individuals and in traditional myth, it’s eternal. Past death and everything. It can’t be broken. Having a mate means you are biologically wired to them, you can never be with anyone else and you cannot resist your mate. For Lance specifically, it also means his body will undergo biological changes to adjust to be compatible to Lotor’s Galra biology,” Keith explains, tense and on the verge of panicking. He finally finds the clothes he’s looking for and tugs them out of the pile. He throws them over the edge of the nearest couch and starts shedding out of his Blade uniform.
“That sounds horrifying,” Allura says, hand clutching her golden necklace. Keith hums, pulling on his new shirt.
“It’s usually really romantic and beautiful, but, well... Not when it involves Lotor. Or when you’re unaware of what you’re agreeing to,” he says, tying the ends of the wrap over his ribs.
“What the hell are you doing? I thought we were running out of time,” Pidge exclaims, pointing to Keith’s dress change. He grunts in frustration.
“Look, I have to talk our way out of that mess, so I need to be the perfect traditional Galra, okay? They’ll shoot me in the head if I show up in my gear,” he explains, quickly tying his pants and grabbing the wrap-scarf from the edge of the couch. (In his humble opinion, the clothes don’t need nearly as many wraps and ties and straps as they have - but Krolia got them for him and they are supposedly traditional and formal, so... Whatever.)
“Hey, wait, won’t that be a problem? I mean we know you’re a hybrid, but you don’t exactly look Galra, you know? Won’t they mind?” Hunk asks, hands wringing in front of him. Keith looks up at him from where he’s tying his boots. The rest of the team watches him in silence.
He rises from the floor and in the blink of an eye, he’s shifted into his Galra form. The team freezes, staring at him. (Not really how Keith envisioned this reveal, but alas, he has someone to save.)
After a moment, Allura nods decisively.
“Alright, go. And get back safe, both of you.”
Keith turns wordlessly and rushes back to the hangar.
Lance is now having less of a wonderful day.
So far, he hasn’t gotten into trouble - Lotor is still just dragging him along to his conversations like Lance is some random arm candy. Nobody has mentioned mating or bonds or anything of the sorts. Lance is just praying Keith will get here sooner rather than later. He can’t even enjoy the beauty all around him anymore.
He scans the crowd around him, trying to seem inconspicuous, and spots what he assumes is trouble. There’s an older woman stood right in the centre of the stone mural, backed by 2 muscle guys. She looks a little older, some of her lavender fur fading into white. She’s wearing a tunic, similar in style to everyone around them, but more polished, more fancy. She looks a lot like she’s in charge. And, unfortunately for Lance, she’s got her eyes fixed on Lotor.
“Prince Lotor,” she calls out and the entire plaza falls into silence. The waiters stop moving, the guests halt their conversations and all eyes turn to the centre. Lotor turns to her with a smile, like he was waiting for this to happen. Lance feels like there’s a giant target painted on his back and he’s about to find out exactly what it does.
Lotor is just about to open his mouth when Lance suddenly hears hushed voices behind him; one of which - thank God and anyone else responsible - he recognizes.
“Of course, please go ahead,” comes the murmured voice of the guard they spoke to earlier, before Lance hears quick steps approaching.
“Lotor,” Keith says, edging on a yell, growl underlining his voice. Lance’s knees almost give in from relief.
Within a second, Keith is next to him, Lotor is on his back a foot in front of them and the cloak is ripped from Lance’s shoulders. He tears his eyes from the narrowed look of the old lady, finding Keith right in front of him, gently laying a scarf around Lance’s neck. Soft hands move to cradle Lance’s face, tilting it up to meet Keith’s eyes.
“You okay?” he asks, quiet but not so nobody can hear. Lance can’t find his voice but he nods softly, melting into Keith’s hands. He nods, then turns back towards the scene with a determined look. Immediately, he drops into a bow.
“High priestess Miyani,” he says and somehow, it’s only then that Lance realizes what’s in front of him. Namely, an extremely Galra-looking Keith. ‘Try not to freak out’ rings faintly through Lance’s mind, but he ignores any and all thoughts on Keith (!!) having a Galra form (!!!!) in fear of his thoughts becoming way too much of a distraction. (And - hold on, high priestess who? How does he know any of this?)
The priestess raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t move to send her guards on them, so Lance thinks them safe for the time being.
“Would you enlighten me on what is transpiring here, exactly?” she says, words measured and calm. She throws one glance to Lotor, who made it up to his knees before two guards took the liberty of restraining him. Keith rises from his bow, gaze flitting to Lotor with a considerate amount of disgust. (His shoulder is pressed against Lance’s from the front, as if shielding him, and he has one clawed hand curled around his. Lance is so super calm about it all.)
“Prince Lotor, who I falsely believed to be an ally, has brought my mate-to-be here against my will. I believe he was trying to use your traditions, high priestess, to force my partner into a mating bond without his knowledge,” Keith says, voice steady, back straight, gaze unfaltering. (Lance’s knees shake a little. Also, who knew he could talk like that?)
“Is this true?” the priestess asks, turning her eyes to Lotor on the floor.
“Of course not, milady,” Lotor protests, baring his teeth in an attempt to smile. “These two are lying to you, they are not involved at all. I was simply taking my person of interest here to be mated by the rituals I believe are right.”
The priestess does not look impressed, but not disbelieving, either. She turns back to Keith.
“And who am I to believe, sir? You are not mated,” she points out, looking briefly over his shoulder at Lance.
“We are not,” Keith begins, bowing his head slightly, as if in shame. “You must understand, my mate-to-be comes from a very different culture. Bonds are a foreign concept to him and I do not wish to mate him before he can fully understand what it means for us.”
The priestess looks him up and down, then looks to Lance. She scans the scarf around his neck, the cloak on the ground, Lotor kneeling to her right.
“You could be half-tied, no?” she asks. Keith pauses. Lance squeezes his hand in reassurance.
“I would let him, if he wished it,” he says. Lance has no idea what that means, but Keith says it with such conviction, even Lance believes him.
“Then why are you not? You would already belong to him, yet give him time to understand what it would mean to be mated in return. What stops you?” the priestess asks, looking more sceptical by the second.
“I don’t wish to force it onto him, high priestess Miyani,” Keith responds, meeting her eyes again, steady. “I understand it would only affect me - and believe me when I say I would offer my body and soul to him if he said the word - but the truth is, he comes from a place so far, I have had to work hard to help him understand even what it means to have a mate. I want him to understand the weight of a bond before he is part of one.”
Lance feels a little breathless. He doesn’t know much about mating or bonds, only bits and pieces he’s dragged out of Keith, but the way they speak about it now makes it sound almost holy. Keith talks about him with so much love and consideration- Lance really tries to remind himself it’s not real, but he can feel himself craving whatever a bond is, if only it means he can be as important to Keith as he makes it sound.
The priestess no longer even turns in the direction of Lotor, so Lance hopes they’re almost in the clear. He wants nothing more than to take this conversation apart piece by piece and work his way into Keith’s brain.
“And yet,” she says, disappointed sigh accompanying her words, “you stand here before me.”
Keith gasps quietly, then bows his head again.
“Please trust me when I say I would never have dared to step into your sacred realm before our bond was final,” Keith says, hand tight around Lance’s. “I had no choice, I could not let my mate be betrayed and taken by another man; one who came here wishing to desecrate not only your realm, but the sanctity of the mating bond, intending to force an unknowing, unwilling person into his hands.”
And that, Lance believes, is completely the truth - Keith treats Galran culture with a lot of respect, and yet he came here, knowing exactly which customs rest in this community, all to protect Lance. Even now, he’s lying to the face of a high priestess for his sake.
Lance is so utterly, pathetically in love with him.
The priestess sighs heavily.
“I do believe you are honest with me,” she says. Lance tries to stifle his relieved sigh. “Prince Lotor has never treated us or our culture with an ounce of respect. I will deal with him as I see fit.”
She watches Lotor as his façade drops, struggling against the hold of the guards.
“As for you two,” she continues, “I have no doubt in your love, sir. Nonetheless, you are an unmated pair on my grounds.”
Keith’s hand tightens around his. Lance braces himself to run and possibly die trying.
Instead of an order to her guards or the draw of a weapon, she simply meets Lance’s eyes.
“Please, outsider. Help me understand your side of this,” she says.
Lance’s breath stutters. Keith meets his eyes over his shoulder. He nods, just enough for Lance to catch.
He steps up to stand side by side with Keith, their hands still interlocked.
“Um,” he starts, elegantly. He clears his throat, then starts again. “Firstly, I want to apologize.”
The priestess seems taken aback, but lets Lance go on.
“I had no idea this was a sacred place. I was under the impression this was a regular gathering. If I had known, I would not have entered your realm,” Lance explains. The priestess looks at him quietly, but seems almost charmed by his admission, or maybe the way he stumbles his way through the unfamiliar terms.
“I am quite honestly shaken by everything that’s happened. I...”
He pauses. Looks at Keith. Forgets everything he wanted to say.
“I want nothing more than to share a bond with my partner,” is what he says instead, eyes still fixed on Keith’s, watching something unfamiliar flicker behind them.
“I want to be his mate, to give myself up and be tied to him in every way.”
A quiet chuckle tears itself out of his throat. All the honesty is making him crack around the edges. He looks back to the priestess.
“But it all seems so,” he begins, then stops. Lance doesn’t even know what word he’s searching for. But the priestess is watching him with eyes that border on understanding.
“It seems so much larger than life,” he continues, staggering through his sentences. “Bonds are so hard for me to comprehend because, where I come from, love is ordinary. People move from one person to the next with no trouble. The highest form of commitment is a couple of exchanged words. Hearing about bonds, mating, soul ties - it makes me think I’m inadequate in comparison.”
Lance’s eyes drop to the ground, away from the compassion pouring out of the priestess’ gaze. Keith’s thumb moves in comforting circles over the back of his hand.
“I’m afraid I can never be enough for him,” Lance says, voice unsteady with the admission. “He’s created for these grand, meaningful bonds, but where do I fit in if I can’t even seem to understand it properly? How can I fulfil what a mate should be, what he’s meant to find in someone more like him?”
Lance doesn’t notice the priestess is approaching until she takes his other hand in hers. When Lance looks up, she is wearing a smile.
“I have no doubt your souls are meant for each other,” she says, quietly, just for the three of them. “He has chosen you to love, to mate and to give himself up to. You may not understand it yet, but your soul is made to be his other half, just as his is made for yours.”
Her eyes flick between Keith and Lance before she steps back.
“I hope to see you two again some day,” she says, bowing slightly to them.
“We will be honoured to return as mates,” Keith says, voice thick, and bows his head. Lance follows suit, hoping he’s not breaking one last secret rule by bowing as well.
“Now go,” she says sternly. Keith drags Lance away to the forest immediately.
“Take him to my palace,” they hear in the distance, but they don’t dare turn around again. Keith has a hand on Lance’s lower back, guiding him out of the crowd and through the forest to his shuttle.
The moment the shuttle door closes behind them, Lance sighs in relief. Keith lets his head fall back against the wall.
“That was maybe the greatest manoeuvre we’ve ever pulled off,” Lance says, sigh turning into a relieved laugh. Keith hums in agreement.
“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” he says, voice gravelly with exhaustion. Lance swallows his immediate thought and just collapses on the bench in the entryway.