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There was nothing enjoyable about this. Legs would be the first objection. Parading around like some common dolphin, fins on display, showing off for anyone who came to see.
He hated it.
But he’d agreed to this when he’d become a knight. To serve the princess, whatever her needs may be. He would perform his duties.
Apparently, that included going onto land.
The Crown Prince of Mamora was in search of a partner. The Princess of Altea had been invited along to meet him, and Lance was the unfortunate fish who’d been assigned as her company. He was apparently the only one she trusted with the task.
That probably had to do with his successes so far with fighting would be assassins. He had a unique ability to sense danger and foil their plans, long before they could attempt. Princess Allura was most impressed.
Lance’s feet ached. He desired only a cool dip in the sea, a long swim to calm his nerves. There were so many people. So many threats. The kingdom of Altean was not one many were familiar with, being the only kingdom to dwell beneath the surface.
The Queen of Mamora had arrived. She descended the steps of the grand staircase with a sense of power and purpose. There was no denying who was in power.
Lance was grateful for the distraction. His princess had been asked to dance no less than six times now, but she’d gracefully declined them all. Allura was here to dance with the prince, or not at all.
Queen Krolia was an incredible woman. She had huge, deep purple wings that spread across her back, their very presence demanding attention. She looked like someone Lance would not want to fight.
He was alert the second the prince entered. He was beautiful, truly striking. He had huge, dark red and black tipped wings that billowed out behind him effortlessly. He looked like he could cover great distances with ease. He was the most handsome man Lance had ever seen, despite the poor hair style.
Allura was poised at Lance’s side, watching with pink eyes narrowed on the prince. He moved around the room, nodding to party goers and moving on. He never accepted a dance, never offered one. This was supposed to be his opportunity to find a courtship.
Prince Keith paused when he met Allura. He gave a low bow, purple eyes shining. It took everything in Lance not to be too obvious with his staring.
“Princess Allura, I’m so glad you were able to attend tonight.” His voice was like beautiful pearls pressing against each other. Lance wanted to hear more of it.
“It would be rude to ignore the invitation, our kingdoms hold such a valuable alliance.” She said, offering a charmed smile. Candlelight flickered in those pink eyes, making her look almost ethereal.
“Of course, please, enjoy the ball.”
He was gone, wings swishing behind him as he vanished. He hadn’t even spared a glance for Allura’s companion, the guard beside her. Lance gaped after the prince, the sheer audacity. One does not ignore someone because they are of lesser standing.
Allura laughed, the sound distracting him and effectively shutting his mouth. “What a lovely man,” she said, eyes only on Lance. Amusement flickered through those eyes, crinkling at the corners. “Wouldn’t you agree?”
“Didn’t notice,” Lance said, teeth clenched.
It wasn’t like he had a snail’s chance with the prince, which wasn’t the point, but, clams! Did he had to be so rude? Lance wasn’t a princess, he was a lowly born commoner who’d worked so hard to become princess Allura’s knight. He wasn’t someone people just ignored. Not unless he wanted them to. What sort of prince was this, being so blatantly rude to visitors?
Lance grumbled as Allura laughed. She put a hand on his shoulder, steering them out into the courtyard. He moved, unable to do anything but follow his princess. They came to a beautiful fountain display, crisp blue water spilling from a pink display.
He stared at it, fingers aching to touch that beautiful water. He just wanted to go home.
The party was in full swing, but Allura was content by the fountain. Lance was grateful, there were far fewer threats out here. It was quieter, calmer, and it didn’t bother Lance so much to sit on the edge of the fountain.
Someone left the hall, light bursting onto the patio before it flickered again when the door shut. Lance crept forwards, placing himself behind a plant to watch the two people who’d left the hall. Two people, locked in an argument.
Lance startled when he recognised the prince of Mamora and his first guard, Takashi Shirogane. He was a legend, even back at Altea.
“You need to dance at least once, Keith. You can’t just ignore everyone.”
Lance felt twisted satisfaction curl through him. At least Keith’s manners didn’t extend only to him. That potentially made it worse.
“Everyone here just wants the crown. They all want something,” Keith snapped.
Lance shifted slightly, ducking behind the fountain when he made a noise. It was a lost cause, unfortunately, despite how stealthy he usually was, Shiro was Shiro. He knew they were no longer alone.
Shiro moved around the hedges and Lance stood before his princess carefully.
“Your highness,” Shiro said, recognising the princess and offering her a soft bow.
She held up her hand. “Please, no need. I was merely out here to get away from all the noise, do ignore us.”
“He shouldn’t have a problem with that,” Lance said, before he could filter himself.
The prince’s dark eyes landed on him for the first time. Wings flared out behind him, he looked like a worthy opponent in the darkness. He looked breathtaking. “Excuse me?”
Lance dared to take a step forwards, ignoring Allura’s call for him to stay. “You heard me. I was right next to Allura, you wouldn’t even look at me.” He knew how childish it sounded, but he couldn’t help it. He knew how it felt now to have these dark, purple eyes on him, and he craved it.
“I see,” Keith said, tilting his head. He looked down on Lance, down his nose. He had a height advantage, this was just rude. “What is it that you want, then?” he sounded bored, but there was something in his eyes. Intrigue.
Lance’s lip curled back despite his best efforts. The small snarl didn’t go unnoticed by Shiro, but Lance couldn’t care. He took a step forwards, watching Keith match him. They were almost chest to chest, both glaring at each other with a ferocity seen on the battlefield.
“What do I want? I want to go home, get rid of these damn legs, they’re a pain. Not that I imagine you’d care, you spoilt little prince.”
Keith raised an eyebrow. It should have sent warning bells through Lance, but it didn’t. “You’re free to leave at any time.”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
Keith paused, dark eyes scanning Lance. He took a step back, stance relaxed despite the aggression in Lance’s voice. He extended a hand, tilting his head just so, lips quirked into an easy smirk.
“Would you dance with me, unnamed knight?”
Lance wanted to whack the hand away, spit in it and curse it. He restrained himself.
“The name’s Lance, and the answer is no.” the words were thrown from his lips, though a small part of him bemoaned the loss of the outstretched hand. Just how warm would that have been? How strong would his arms feel around Lance’s?
“Lance,” Keith’s lips formed the word and Lance twitched. How dare his name sound so pleasant in his voice. “A pleasure, I hope to meet again.”
“That makes one of us,” Lance said, watching Keith’s retreating figure.
Keith’s laughter followed him back into the ballroom.
Allura stepped back into Lance’s view, slapping him over the head. He winced, reaching a hand to rub at the spot.
“Seriously? You cannot turn down the prince.”
“Looks like I just did.”
Allura shook her head, pulling Lance to her side. “Come, I think we’ll take our leave now.”
A small, tiny, incredibly little part of him desired to stay. To have that dance in front of the crowd, lit by candles and music. To be held in those strong arms.
But he was not so easily swayed by charm and politeness.
There was a letter waiting for him. It looked like whoever had written the note, had never written on waterproof parchment before. His tail flicked as he settled onto his bed, blue scales illuminating the dark room.
He opened the letter, then promptly dropped it.
It drifted downwards a beat, before Lance’s fingers caught up with him and he snatched it back.
It was from the Prince of Mamora. It was directed to him. Specifically, to him.
‘To the Knight Lance, I do hope this finds you well. I admit, I am displeased you turned down my dance, but curious. I shall be above the shore at the coastal stacks at nightfall tomorrow. Perhaps you might delight me with your company.’
He resisted the urge to throw the paper through his window. Resisted the urge to crumple it up, discard it, but something restrained him. He sighed, placing the letter down on his side table and flicking his tail. Perhaps his friends would be better company then solitude.
Prince Keith was perched primly atop a stack of rocks, high above the salt spray. Water lapped at the rocks below him, a huge stack of columnal basalt that had refused to succumb to weathering. The rock stack was sturdy, large enough the avian prince could easily sit and wait for a knight.
Lance stayed beneath the surface, hands gripping onto the dark rock. Minerals glittered in the setting light, reflecting greens and sparkly black. Vesicles were host to several marine lifeforms, each clambering towards the wave line.
The knight stayed there, watching. His tail flicked as the current tugged at him, but he remained. Keith was just sitting there, looking out over the waves. He looked so relaxed, so peaceful, sitting on a stack of hexagonal rocks in the middle of the sea.
Biting his lip, he removed his hand and jolted up to the surface before he could lose his nerve.
“You came alone,” Lance said, startling the prince. Webbed fingers found purchase on a weathered surface, keeping him above the waves.
Keith huffed a short laugh, turning only his face towards Lance. Wind ruffled his feathers, catching and making them lift. They looked heavy, awkward, but so beautiful.
“And no one knows I came,” Keith said, voice carried so easily over the wind, the crashing of the waves. “I just like taking risks.”
“So, an idiot then,” Lance said, unable to stop his grin. “Would be a shame if a merman decided to drag you under.”
“Are you threatening the prince?”
Lance flashed sharp teeth in an easy, amused grin. “You’re not my prince.”
Keith tilted his head back, exposing the line of his jaw to the shadows of moonlight. He offered a short, good-natured laugh. “No, you’ve made that quite clear.”
“Why did you ask for me?”
The prince was silent. He looked comfortable on his perch, wings keeping him balanced in the wind. He turned his dark eyes back over the waves. “You’re the first person to deny me something.”
Lance narrowed glowing eyes. “You must be a spoilt prince.”
“I think people don’t know how to argue with me,” Keith said. “I have all the power, but that’s all they see. Everyone wants something from me. Except you, apparently.”
Lance felt a flash of guilt move through him. He knew Allura felt the same, she’d often complain to Lance in the evenings when people abandoned her or demanded something from her.
“You liked that I said no?”
Keith shrugged, refusing to look Lance’s way. “I don’t know.” He said. He ran a hand down his hair, tussled as it was in the wind. “But I think, maybe you wanted to say yes.”
Lance scoffed, throwing his hand from the rock and letting the current whip him from the rock. He circled around, closer to the direction Keith was looking. “I would never dance with a spoilt prince.”
Keith lowered his gaze, watching the merman carefully. “And if I were no prince, would you dance with me then?”
Lance watched a hand stretch out, a mirror of the ball. There was something less confident, more tentative. The merman shook his head. “You and I belong to different worlds, Keith. I cannot dance with you.”
A look of disappointment, hurt perhaps, flashed across the prince’s features. It was gone a moment later, replaced by something more interesting. Determination.
“Then I shall appear this time, each week, until you change your mind.”
Lance laughed, shaking his head and flicking water with his tail. Keith’s eyes followed the soft glow of freshly cleaned scales. “I will not show up, you’ll simply waste your time.”
“Will I?” Keith tilted his head, that damn smirk dancing on his lips. Knowing. Waiting.
The merman didn’t give a response, ducking beneath the waves and choosing to believe the redness of his cheeks was the wind.
True to his word, Keith appeared each week without fail.
Lance appeared late. He watched Keith from beneath the waves, watched the prince merely reading a book with torchlight. Occasionally the prince would spend time writing, or simply sit there and gaze at the ocean.
The merman would join the prince, if only for a little while, safe in the waves. He kept his distance, kept his words curt. He didn’t understand why the prince kept coming back.
It was only a matter of time before Lance found himself falling for the prince.
Their fourth month of secret meetings had come. Lance had made the decision. He was going to ask Keith to dance with him.
When he went to the surface, his heart fell. Stomach dropped.
Keith wasn’t there. He wasn’t sitting on the rocks, book in hand and pretending to ignore Lance. He wasn’t smiling behind his hand as he read a particular line.
In his place stood Shiro, looking tall and dangerous.
“Where’s Keith?” Lance asked, not bothering with pleasantries.
Shiro didn’t look down at him. He continued to stare out at the waves, looking vaguely cross. Like he wanted to punch something. “He asked me to send you a letter.”
Lance frowned. He took the offered letter and ignored his shaking fingers. It was cold out.
‘To the Knight Lance, I am sorry I cannot meet you tonight, or any other night henceforth. My mother has arranged for me to be wed. a surly young woman, no doubt after my riches and power. I have treasured these past months. I am sorry we never got to dance.’
“Where is he?” Lance demanded, throwing the letter into the crashing waves. He could feel his scales glowing beneath the water, alight with his own fury.
“At the castle,” Shiro said, as though there could be a possible different answer.
“Take me to him.”
There was something so despicable about legs. His fins shifting, shortening and reforming. He hated seeing his beautiful blue scales turn to skin. He saw no other choice though.
Shiro directed them to the main hall. It was bright, alight with noise and it smelled of delightful foods. Lance took a deep breath. He saw a group of nobles gathered at a table, rows of food placed before them. He saw the Queen and her son amongst those gathered.
Steeling himself, he stood up straight. He was a knight of Altea, he could do this. He would do this.
He marched forwards, ignoring looks from curious nobles. He certainly wasn’t dressed for a formal occasion, with whatever rags he’d been able to find on the beach to cover his skin. Fins were so much easier.
Lance stood behind Keith, took a steadying breath, then tapped the prince on his shoulder.
Keith whirled around, anger flashing through his eyes as he moved. He froze, eyes landing on Lance. Whatever anger had appeared, vanished with recognition.
“I believe you owe me a dance,” Lance said, extending his hand.
Keith looked down, eyeing the hand. He turned his head, purple eyes boring into Lance’s. He wanted to freeze, to flee, but he was trapped there beneath that gaze.
Then, Keith took his hand with a pleasant smile.
“Yes, you do.”
“I hate legs,” Lance said, scowling.
Allura laughed, pink tail flicking in the water. She ignored his petulant tone, aiding with his process of preparing for the ceremony.
“But you love Keith,” she said, offering a wink.
He sighed, heart a flutter in his chest. “I do.”
After their first dance, there’d been so many more. Queen Krolia had allowed Keith to court Lance. So, they had. They’d continued their meetings on the rock, or Keith would procure a small boat and reach out further. Occasionally, the knight would follow him onto lands, braving legs for his love.
“I’m going to miss you, Lance,” Allura said, tugging on a crested necklace. “You’re the best knight I could have.”
He hugged her, despite their stations. “I won’t be far, princess.”
She smiled, nodding as she appraised him. “No, you won’t.”
The wedding took place on the rocks. Their rocks. It was almost comical to watch the nobles and officials try to find purchase as the waves crashed over the rocks. It was loud, it was wet and it was perfect.
Lance stayed with his tail fluke safely in the water, letting the pale blue fins drift with the current. He held Keith’s hand, the prince choosing to kneel beside his chosen. They sat, backs to the waves as their hands were fastened.
He was a married man, no longer a mere knight. He was Prince Lance.
It didn’t feel quite right yet.
“I know you hate legs,” Keith said as the evening wore on, the numbers of party goers dwindling with the tide.
Lance never wanted the moment to end. He wanted Keith, in the glowing light of the full moon, bathed in sea spray. He wanted Keith however he could have him.
“I don’t want you to be unhappy, to grow to resent me.” Keith continued, taking Lance’s hand firmly. As if Lance could ever fall out of love with this beautiful creature. “I’ll have a pool built in our room, and on days you choose to stay on land, we can spend our time by the beach.”
Lance smiled. He was grateful that, despite their being married, Keith still knew he’d married a merman. He wasn’t suddenly trying to change him because they were wed. It made his heart swell, he’d made the right choice. Any doubts he might’ve had been washed away with the tide.
“I’ll stay on land with you, tonight. Once a week, when the evening falls, I’ll stay.”
Keith laughed, throwing his head back and exposing pale skin. Lance watched, unable to stop himself. “I will have the engineer’s fashion a way for me to sleep on these rocks.”
Lance rolled his eyes, leaning against his husband fondly. It was hard to believe this perfect being was all his.
“Guess it pays for you to ignore everyone.”
Keith huffed a short, startled laugh. “Guess so.”
“Can’t ignore me anymore.”
“Never.”
Lance pulled Keith’s face closer, breath whispering against his prince’s lips. He closed the distance, relishing in the softness, the warmth. Keith was a solid, firm presence that made Lance want more. All of it. He wanted everything Keith had.
“Thank you, Lance.”
He pulled back, tilting his head. “For what?”
“Loving me.”
Lance smiled.
It was the easiest thing he’d ever done.