Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

In a time when magic and alliance reigned supreme, the kingdoms of Altean and Daibazaal thrived in an extraordinary harmony. The Altean Kingdom, known for its lush landscapes and powerful magic, was a beacon of prosperity. Its green fields were nurtured by the enchanting magic of their royal sorcerers, which brought forth an abundance of crops even in the harshest seasons. To the north lay Daibazaal, a land of cold and snow, but blessed with formidable Galran farming skills that turned the frozen earth into fertile ground.

The relationship between these sister kingdoms was one of mutual respect and support. The Alteans offered their magic to ensure that Daibazaal’s crops flourished despite the snow. In return, the Galrans, skilled in crafting and weaponry, provided the Alteans with the finest arms and defenses, securing their land from any threat. The exchange extended beyond practical needs—goods were traded to balance the climates, and food and livestock were shared, weaving a web of interdependence and friendship.

The Altean royal family, seated in their majestic castle, embodied the kingdom’s grace and strength. King Alfor, a ruler of both wisdom and authority, commanded respect with his firm yet fair governance. His reign was marked by an unwavering commitment to the welfare of his people. Beside him was Queen Nancy, whose compassion and kindness were felt throughout the land. Known for her daily walks among her subjects, she had a gift for making each person feel valued. Their daughter, Princess Allura, stood as the next in line. A dedicated leader, she worked alongside her mother to ensure the kingdom’s prosperity. The youngest of the family, Prince Lance, was a spirited and endearing figure. His mischievous nature often led him into trouble, but his heart was as big as his ambitions, and he was beloved by those who knew him.

To the north, in the frosty realm of Daibazaal, the Galran royal family upheld their kingdom’s traditions and strength. King Heath, a figure of imposing presence and strict discipline, was unwavering in his dedication to both his kingdom and its alliance with the Alteans. His formidable army stood as a testament to his readiness to defend their lands. Queen Krolia, a strikingly beautiful and intelligent ruler, shared a deep bond of friendship with Queen Nancy, and her leadership was marked by grace and wisdom. Their eldest son, Shiro, was a celebrated warrior, his skill in combat unmatched. His valor and strategic acumen ensured the safety of their realm. The youngest prince, Keith, was known for his fierce loyalty and an unbreakable bond with Prince Lance of Altean.

The two families enjoyed a period of unparalleled joy and unity. The castles buzzed with celebrations, shared stories, and the exchange of royal visits. But as the seasons changed, so did the winds of fate. Beneath the surface of their flourishing peace, an ominous shadow began to stir. The scent of change, dark and foreboding, loomed over their idyllic world, hinting at an upheaval that would test the strength of their alliance and the depth of their bonds.

Chapter One: Best Friends

Once Upon A Time, as most stories begin, there lived two princes: Prince Keith of Diabazaal and Prince Lance of Altea. Keith, just ten years old, was about to celebrate his birthday with a grand party in the Galran castle. The castle was alive with activity, its grand ballroom transformed into a glittering wonderland for the occasion. The walls were adorned with shimmering tapestries and the air was filled with the tantalizing aroma of a feast, promising an evening of festivity.

The ballroom was bustling with guests from both kingdoms, a vibrant mix of noblemen and women, their conversations blending into a cheerful hum. Music floated through the air, played by a live orchestra that filled the space with merry tunes. The centerpiece of the celebration was, of course, Keith's cake—a towering confection that seemed almost as large as the young prince himself. Three tiers of rich chocolate cake, frosted with velvety chocolate icing and crowned with plump, ripe strawberries, were a sight to behold. Keith’s eyes sparkled with excitement as he admired it from his seat, a plush throne set apart from the others, its velvet cushions in deep royal blue.

Despite the grandeur, Keith’s excitement was not merely about the cake or the presents that awaited him. The highlight of the evening for him was the presence of his best friend, Prince Lance, who had just arrived. Lance, a year younger but brimming with energy and mischief, had the uncanny ability to make any event brighter simply by being there.

As Lance entered the ballroom, the young prince’s face lit up with a grin that matched the twinkling lights above. “Lance is here!” Keith exclaimed, his voice carrying a mix of glee and anticipation. He couldn’t help but shift excitedly in his seat, his small frame practically vibrating with enthusiasm. “Mother, can I go now?!” he asked, barely containing his eagerness.

Queen Krolia, resplendent in a gown of deep emerald that complemented her regal grace, looked at her son with a warm smile. “Of course you may, dear. Have fun, okay?” Her eyes held a hint of amusement as she watched Keith bound away from his throne with the energy of a child on the cusp of adventure.

Keith’s tiny feet pattered across the marble floor as he raced towards Lance, his excitement palpable. Lance, too, had spotted his friend and was already making his way through the crowd with purpose. “Happy Birthday, Keith!” Lance called out, his voice bright and cheerful as he enveloped Keith in a tight hug. “Oh, I got you the best present ever. No one’s gonna top my gift,” he said with a playful, confident grin. “But you have to wait until after the party.”

Keith’s eyes widened in mock outrage. “After the party?” he protested, though a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Oh come on, that’s not fair!” He huffed dramatically, though his tone was light-hearted. “I guess I’ll wait.” Lance’s laughter was infectious, and Keith couldn’t help but chuckle along.

As the two friends conversed, Lance’s attention was inevitably drawn to the cake. “Whoa! Your cake is ginormous!” he exclaimed, his eyes widening with a mixture of awe and mischief. The size of the cake was indeed impressive, and Lance’s face lit up with a look that only suggested trouble.

Keith, knowing Lance all too well, tried to reason with him. “Lance, we can’t have any right now. Let’s just have something else until then,” he said, attempting to diffuse the situation.

“But it looks so tasty!” Lance countered, his eyes gleaming with excitement. “I bet we can sneak just one bite without anyone noticing. Come on, I know you want to!” His tone was persuasive, and Keith, unable to resist his friend’s charm, finally gave in.

“Ugh, alright, fine,” Keith relented with a resigned sigh. “But if we get caught, it’s my birthday, so I’m not gonna get in trouble.I’m blaming you.” Lance nodded eagerly, a smile spreading across his face. “That’s fair. Deal.”

The two princes approached the cake, their footsteps light and cautious. The enormous confection stood as a testament to the festivities, surrounded by a buffet of hors d'oeuvres and savory delights. Lance’s eyes sparkled with mischief as he looked around to ensure that the adults were preoccupied. They were deep in conversation, most likely about the latest royal engagement. Prince Shiro and Princess Allura. Neither one of them had romantic feelings for the other, so they weren’t thrilled, however, they were good friends. Nonetheless, this left the young princes with the perfect opportunity to sneak some cake.

“They’re wayyy distracted. Now’s our chance!” Lance whispered, putting a finger to his lips in a shushing gesture and giving Keith a wink. “Get under the table.”

Keith made a face but complied, crouching beneath the tablecloth and waiting as Lance slid underneath next to him. Lance’s hands were already full of rich, gooey chocolate cake, and Keith couldn’t help but laugh at the sight. “Lance! That’s so much!” he said, sliding over to make room for his friend.

“Your cake is served, your highness,” Lance quipped with a grin, handing Keith a hefty portion. Keith laughed, though he couldn’t help but make a face at the messiness of the situation. “Ew, gross, haha!” he said, but his laughter was genuine as he dug into the cake.

As they ate, the two friends couldn’t contain their giggles, their laughter muffled by the thick tablecloth. Keith’s eyes were wide with excitement, and Lance’s face was smeared with chocolate, making the scene all the more comical. “Shhh! You’re gonna get us in trouble!” Lance admonished through his laughter, but Keith’s giggles only grew louder.

Suddenly, Keith’s laughter was cut short as he saw Queen Nancy’s heels approaching. “Shhh!” he hissed, quickly covering Lance’s mouth with his clean hand. The queen’s voice called out, searching for the missing princes. “Lance! Keith!” Her tone was a mix of concern and irritation as she scanned the room.

When she noticed the missing portions of cake, her frustration was palpable. “Ugh! Lance!” she exclaimed, her voice echoing with exasperation. She turned away, still muttering under her breath, leaving the two boys to their confectionary indulgence.

Lance licked Keith’s hand, and Keith grimaced, wiping the saliva away with a laugh. “Ewwww!” he protested, though his eyes were still sparkling with amusement. As the music shifted to a softer melody, Keith’s smile widened. “It’s time for my gifts,” he announced.

The two friends emerged from their hiding spot, their faces streaked with remnants of chocolate. Keith eagerly led Lance to the area where his gifts awaited. The presents, stacked high and wrapped in colorful paper, were a testament to the generosity of the guests. Lance, although more interested in shiny toys, could hardly wait to see what was in store for his friend.

The evening continued with all the usual birthday festivities: dancing, opening presents, and, of course, more cake. The party stretched on through the night, a celebration of friendship and joy in the heart of the Galran castle.

“I think we ate too much cake...” Keith groaned, his voice heavy with satisfaction. He and Lance were sprawled on a plush cushioned chair near the perimeter of the ballroom, their bellies full from the evening’s indulgence. “I just want one more bite!” Lance said, his eyes twinkling mischievously as he reached for a piece of leftover cake on a nearby table.

“You’re crazy,” Keith giggled, shaking his head in mock disbelief. The two friends, lost in their playful banter, were momentarily oblivious to the events unfolding outside.

“It’s so late. Can I have my present now?” Keith asked, his tone shifting to one of anticipation. Lance’s eyes sparkled with amusement.

“No, you can have it before we go to bed. Besides, everyone’s still here!” Lance teased. “It’s a special surprise just for you to see.” Keith sighed dramatically, a pout forming on his lips.

“Fiiine,” he groaned, though his eyes still sparkled with excitement. Lance’s gaze wandered out one of the tall windows, his brow furrowing slightly.

“I didn’t know it was gonna rain... it was so clear out earlier, I could see the stars!” Lance’s voice was tinged with disappointment. Rain and lightning were his least favorite things; lightning, in particular, was his one true fear.

Keith, sensing Lance’s unease, sat up and placed a reassuring hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, Lance. I’ll protect you. You have nothing to worry about! Besides, this castle is so strong, nothing can get in here,” he said with a confident smile. “Come on, let’s go back and dance some more.”

Lance hesitated for a moment, his unease growing. He blamed the cake for his jittery nerves, trying to brush off his apprehension. With a reluctant nod, he took Keith’s hand, letting his friend lead him back to the dance floor.

The two kingdoms had thrived in harmony for years, a testament to their mutual respect and cooperation. They were more like family than allies, their shared happiness a symbol of their enduring bond. But happiness, as fleeting as it can be, can vanish in an instant. When joy is shattered, it is often replaced by something far darker.

Lance’s concern only deepened as he watched the lightning flash outside. The wind howled louder, and the rain grew heavier, battering against the windows. The sky, once clear, was now a turbulent expanse of storm clouds. He tried to convince himself that it would pass quickly, that the storm wasn’t as severe as it seemed.

But then the unexpected happened. The once warm, glowing light of the ballroom candles flickered and died as a violent gust of wind shattered the windows. The chandeliers swung wildly, their crystals tinkling in a chaotic symphony. Panic rippled through the crowd as the music came to a sudden halt.

“Everything’s alright,” King Heath’s voice cut through the panic, though it was strained. “However, we should stop the party here. If everyone can—” His words were swallowed by a deafening boom of thunder and a blinding flash of lightning.

Lance gasped, gripping Keith’s hand tightly. “Keith, I’m scared!” he admitted, his voice trembling. Keith turned to him, trying to offer a comforting smile despite the fear in his eyes.

“It’s okay, Lance. I said I would protect you. Let’s go to my room, okay?” Keith’s voice was soft but firm as he tried to soothe his friend.

As Keith spoke, something strange happened. Every candle in the room suddenly reignited, but not with warm orange flames. Instead, a cold, eerie purple fire lit up the room, casting ghostly shadows on the walls. Keith’s eyes widened in confusion as he looked around, holding Lance close. “Purple?” he muttered to himself, bewildered.

A cold silence fell over the ballroom, broken only by the distant rumble of thunder. The cacophony of the storm outside seemed to be mirrored by the stillness within. Keith and Lance noticed that the people around them were no longer moving. Everyone in the ballroom appeared to have fallen into a deep, unnatural sleep, standing as though frozen in time.

“What’s... going on?” Lance asked, his voice barely a whisper. He shook his head, trying to make sense of the surreal scene. “I-I don’t know,” he stammered, his eyes darting around the room in growing panic.

“Ah, little princes. Lovely to see you both...” A voice slithered through the silence, smooth and sinister. A cloaked figure emerged from the shadows, his presence exuding an unsettling aura. Lance’s stomach churned with fear.

“Who are you?” Keith demanded, trying to sound braver than he felt. “You should leave before my brother hurts you.”

The figure chuckled, a sound that sent chills down Keith’s spine. “I wouldn’t worry about that, little one,” he said, his voice dripping with malevolent amusement. “Why are you here?” Keith asked, his voice trembling slightly.

“I’m here for you.”

Lance tightened his grip on Keith’s hand, his heart racing. The cloaked figure’s power was palpable, far beyond what two children could confront. “We should get to your dad and your brother...” Lance urged, his voice filled with urgency as he tried to back away, pulling Keith with him.

The cloaked figure’s expression shifted to one of faint amusement. “How adorable...” he said, his voice mocking. He raised a hand, a sinister purple aura glowing around it. “Let’s not make this any harder than it has to be...”

Keith’s eyes widened in horror as he felt an invisible force tugging him away from Lance. The same purple aura surrounded him, pulling him closer to the ominous figure. “Lance?!”

Tears welled up in Keith’s eyes as he struggled against the pull, reaching desperately for Lance. “Lance! Don’t let him take me!” he cried, his voice cracking with fear.

Lance’s grip was unyielding, but the force pulling Keith was overwhelming. He planted his feet firmly, pulling with all his strength. “Ugh!! Keith!! I can’t hold on!” Lance shouted, his voice breaking as he fought to keep his friend close.

Another flash of lightning streaked across the sky, accompanied by a deafening boom. Lance flinched at the thunderclap, his grip faltering. In that moment of distraction, the purple fire intensified, and Keith was pulled away from him.

“No, wait—” Lance’s voice was a desperate whisper. As the storm’s fury reached its peak, Keith’s figure was wrenched from Lance’s grasp. When Lance finally managed to open his eyes, the purple flames had vanished, and the ballroom was illuminated by the flickering, warm glow of the candles. The guests, now awake and confused, looked around in bewilderment.

Keith was gone. The void left in his absence was filled with an aching silence. Lance stood alone in the midst of the chaos, his heart pounding as he tried to process the horrifying reality of Keith’s disappearance. The storm raged on outside, a fitting backdrop to the storm that now roared within him.

Chapter Text

The search for Prince Keith began with a fervor that quickly descended into a void of relentless despair. It had started with urgency, each moment ticked away with frenzied energy, yet it felt as though the hours stretched into infinity. No one but Lance had witnessed the shadowy figure that took Keith, and his memory of that night was shrouded in a fog of fear and shock. All Lance could remember were Keith’s desperate cries for help, echoing through the halls of the Galran castle. The guilt weighed heavily on him—he had been powerless to protect his friend when Keith had needed him most.

That was ten years ago. The world had irrevocably changed since then.

The once-strong bond between the Diabazaal and Altea kingdoms had frayed and ultimately disintegrated. King Heath, overwhelmed by grief and anger at the loss of his son, directed his rage toward the Alteans. In his shattered state, it was inconceivable to him that a Galran could have been responsible. The accusation against the Altean kingdom was not just unfounded but devastating, as it tore through the very fabric of what had been a close and respectful alliance.

King Alfor, for his part, was bewildered and hurt. He had seen Keith as his own son, cherishing him as much as his own children. To him, the idea that the Alteans could be blamed for Keith’s disappearance was both unfathomable and deeply offensive. The sense of betrayal was palpable, leading to an escalating conflict that neither kingdom could afford.

What began as a bitter dispute soon spiraled into a full-scale war. The Galran were formidable, armed with advanced weaponry and an unwavering resolve. Yet, the Alteans’ mastery of magic proved to be a counterbalance of considerable strength. The conflict raged for five long years, with both sides suffering immense losses. The Altean forces, though ultimately victorious, were far from triumphant. Their victory was marred by the grim reality of their own substantial losses.

The war’s toll was immense. The king and queen of Diabazaal had been executed two years before the conflict's end. The once-proud kingdom of Galran was left in ruins, its people either slain or scattered into hiding. The Alteans, despite their victory, mourned deeply. They grieved not just for their fallen friends and family but also for the lost opportunity of peace. For Queen Nancy, the loss was personal; Keith had been more than a prince; he had been a cherished friend. Princess Allura, too, felt the void acutely. But it was Prince Lance who bore the heaviest burden of all.

Now nineteen, Lance was a changed young man. Though he retained a streak of mischievousness—bugging his sister when she flirted with her lady-in-waiting or indulging in sweets with his mother in the garden—he was no longer the carefree child of ten years ago. His relationship with his father had soured, a rift driven by the king's decision to execute the Galran royal family. Lance could not reconcile his father’s actions with his own sense of justice. In his eyes, the Galran had been blinded by rage, and a different path could have been chosen.

Every day, Lance grappled with the memory of Keith. The portrait of his friend in his spacious room was a silent witness to his unending sorrow. Lance had filled countless letters with updates about his life, addressed to Keith, as if writing to him could somehow bridge the chasm of separation. It had become a ritual, a diary of sorts, an attempt to keep his friend's memory alive.

When he was younger, Lance would often try to sneak out at night, hoping to find Keith despite the risks. The guards, always vigilant, would catch him quickly and bring him back, and each failed attempt only deepened his frustration. But now, he understood the danger in hindsight, the wisdom of restraint.

Today, on Keith’s birthday, Lance felt a familiar mix of dread and resolve. The morning sun filtered through the large windows of his bedroom, casting a soft light over the room. Lance sighed, his heart heavy with the weight of memories. This day was a stark reminder of everything lost, and though it was a day of solitude for him, it also marked the renewal of his determination.

The Altean kingdom fell silent each year on this day—a somber observance that echoed the collective mourning of its people. Lance, however, saw it as more than just a painful reminder; it was his day to remember and honor his friend. Today, he resolved to try again, to do something more than merely remember.

He dressed and prepared for the day with a sense of quiet urgency. The family breakfast was a muted affair, devoid of the laughter and warmth it once held. As he entered the dining hall, he greeted his mother and sister with a forced cheerfulness, nodding curtly to his father.

“Good morning, Mother. Good morning, Allura,” he said, taking his seat. “Father.”

The tension at the table was palpable. His father’s sigh was laden with the unspoken understanding of the strained relationship between them. While Queen Nancy and Princess Allura attempted to offer comfort, Lance’s resentment simmered beneath the surface. To him, his father was responsible for a grave injustice.

Breakfast passed in silence, broken only by Queen Nancy’s soft suggestion. “You should write to him again today, dear. Tell him happy birthday. I’m sure it will make you feel better.”

Lance’s frustration bubbled to the surface. “Why should I? So I can add another letter to the drawer with all the others?” His voice was edged with bitterness.

“Lance—” his father began, surprised by the vehemence in his son’s tone.

“No, you don’t understand. You act like this is just another day, like we can just move on,” Lance said, his anger rising. “We could be searching for him, but you’ve chosen to let it slide, to forget!”

The king’s face hardened. “Lance, I know this is difficult, but he’s—”

“He’s what, Father?” Lance shot back, standing abruptly and glaring at his father. “Tell me!”

King Alfor’s face was a mask of sorrow and frustration. “You should calm down. We will discuss this later. Apologize to your mother.”

Lance, his rage barely contained, stormed out of the dining hall. The anger that had been simmering for years now surged uncontrollably. He stormed through the castle corridors, the storm outside reflecting the turmoil within him.

He was no longer a child but a young man trained to defend himself. He had honed his skills with a sword and prepared himself for the world beyond the castle walls. His father’s reluctance to let him act on his own was a constant source of tension, but Lance was determined to prove that Keith was still out there, still alive.

Today, he would make his move. Today, Lance would attempt once more to find his friend, to honor his memory and seek the truth. He knew, deep in his heart, that Keith was alive somewhere, and he could not, would not, let that hope fade away.

After a moment of seething anger, Lance managed to calm himself. He knew he couldn’t afford to let his emotions cloud his judgment again. His fear and panic from that fateful night had led to Keith’s abduction, and he was determined not to let it hinder his resolve this time. As he took deep, steadying breaths, he mentally reviewed the list of items he’d need for his journey.

“Let’s see,” he muttered to himself, pacing his room. “Warm clothes, definitely. I’ll need to head to Diabazaal. There’s bound to be something there, a clue, perhaps.” He tapped his chin thoughtfully. “It’s only a few hours to get there. I can buy food from the market and take Blue with me.”

Blue, his faithful steed, had been his companion through many adventures, and Lance knew he’d need her steadfast presence. But a steed alone wouldn’t be enough. He needed to protect himself. “I need a sword,” he said, the weight of the decision settling heavily on his shoulders. He paused, humming in thought. “I’ll use Father’s sword. It’s sharp, reliable, and... I can cut through anything with it.”

With renewed determination, Lance began gathering the items he’d need, packing them with methodical precision into his bag. Each item was chosen with care, his mind focused on the task ahead. It was still early, though, and he knew he’d need to wait until sundown to make his move.

The day dragged on in his room as Lance meticulously planned his departure. He reviewed every detail of his route, considered potential dangers, and strategized how to gather clues about Keith’s whereabouts. The anticipation was a sharp mix of excitement and dread, knowing that the next steps could either bring him closer to finding Keith or lead to another heartache.

When sundown finally arrived, Lance’s heart raced with a blend of hope and anxiety. He checked his bag one last time, ensuring he had everything he needed. He glanced down the empty hallway, listening for any signs of life. His father’s disapproval was the last thing he wanted to face now.

Lance slipped out of his room, his movements practiced and stealthy. Every step was calculated, his senses heightened. He made his way to the throne room where his father kept the prized sword. The anticipation of holding it again brought a fleeting sense of comfort.

As he approached the sword hanging on the wall, he allowed himself a moment to appreciate its craftsmanship. His fingers traced the intricate engravings, the cool metal a stark contrast to his warm skin. Just as he was about to grasp the hilt, a voice shattered the silence.

“Lance!”

He spun around, his heart leaping into his throat. It was his father, emerging from the shadows with a look of stern concern.

“What on earth are you doing?” King Alfor’s voice was a mixture of disbelief and frustration. His gaze fell on Lance’s clothes and the bag slung over his shoulder. “Don’t tell me you were planning to leave for Diabazaal!”

Lance’s expression hardened. “Father, please listen. I know Keith is still out there. I can handle this now. You know as well as I do that he has to be somewhere.”

“He wouldn’t want you to put yourself in danger,” Alfor said, his voice growing more insistent. “I’ll have the guards take your horse. You’re not going anywhere.”

Lance’s eyes blazed with defiance. “I’m nineteen years old! I’m not a child anymore. Let me prove it to you. I’ll find Keith, bring him home, and we can—”

“Keith is dead!” Alfor’s outburst was a thunderclap of finality. Lance recoiled, the words like a physical blow. “What... what did you say?”

Alfor’s face was etched with sorrow. “Keith is dead, Lance. He’s never coming back. Do you really think that whoever took a ten-year-old prince kept him alive all these years? You need to stop this nonsense. You’re only hurting yourself.”

The declaration was a knife twisting in Lance’s heart. He stared at his father, his anger and hurt swirling together. He took a deep breath, fighting to maintain his composure. “Fine. Take my horse. But I will find him. And when I do, you’ll be the one who’s spouting nonsense.”

With that, Lance turned and walked away, each step heavy with disappointment and resolve. His father’s lack of faith was a bitter pill to swallow, but it only fueled his determination.

As Lance moved down the corridor, his thoughts were interrupted by a gentle voice.

“Dear...”

He turned to see his mother standing in the hallway. Her eyes were filled with concern, and she held something behind her back. Sighing, Lance asked, “Yes, Mother? I’m heading back to my room. What is it?”

The Queen stepped forward and revealed a finely crafted sword. “This is for you. I had it made for you a few years ago. I knew you would need it,” she said softly. “To find the truth. Wherever that may be.”

Lance’s eyes widened as he looked at the sword, then back at his mother. “You... had it made for me?”

Her smile was a mixture of pride and sadness. “I know your father has made some very difficult decisions over the years. But he was only trying to protect you. His hopes may have been dimmed by the weight of those decisions, but your hope has shone brighter than any of ours. If anyone can find Keith and uncover the truth, it’s you.”

Lance’s heart swelled with a mix of gratitude and determination. “You’re saying... I can go? I can look for him?”

His mother nodded, her expression a blend of encouragement and worry. “Promise me something, dear. Promise that you’ll be safe and return in one piece. I need that from you.”

Lance embraced her tightly, his voice choked with emotion. “I promise. Thank you, Mother. Thank you for believing in me.”

She returned the hug, her voice warm and reassuring. “I always will, dear. Now hurry before your father notices. He should be heading to bed soon. Blue is waiting for you at the stables. I love you.”

“I love you too, Mother,” Lance whispered, his heart full.

He released his mother and made his way to the stables, a renewed sense of purpose guiding his steps. Blue, his loyal steed, greeted him with a friendly whinny as he approached.

“Hey, girl,” Lance said softly, leading her out of the stables and saddling her up. “We’re going on a little adventure. It’s been a while since we’ve been to Diabazaal.” He packed the saddlebag with the supplies he had gathered and a bit of food from the kitchen. “We’re going to find some clues and see what’s left of the kingdom.”

With the new sword secured at his belt, Lance mounted Blue, patting her neck affectionately. “Are you ready?”

Blue neighed in response, and with a gentle nudge, she began to trot. Lance felt a surge of anticipation as they left the castle grounds, heading toward the harsh and desolate land of Diabazaal. It was his first time back in ten years, and he couldn’t help but wonder what he would find.

As the darkness of night enveloped them, Lance’s thoughts were filled with determination. He was embarking on a quest not just for closure but for hope. He had to believe that somewhere out there, Keith was still alive and that he, Lance, was the one who could bring him home.

Chapter Text

Lance set off from the castle stables as the sun dipped low on the horizon, casting a warm, golden glow that barely touched the chill in the air. The gates of Altea closed behind him, and the weight of his decision began to settle on his shoulders. The road ahead was shrouded in uncertainty, but Lance’s resolve was unwavering. He was determined to seek answers, no matter the cost.

The transition from the familiar lands of Altea to the desolate path toward Diabazaal was stark and sudden. Altea’s landscape had always been lush and vibrant, a stark contrast to the harsh, unforgiving terrain of Diabazaal. The fields and meadows that once flourished under the gentle warmth of the sun now gave way to barren expanses. The gentle breezes of Altea were replaced by the biting winds that howled through the emptiness.

The forest that lay in the path to Diabazaal was notorious for its darkness and danger. Lance remembered it well from his childhood—a place that had always filled him with dread. In those days, it was Keith who had been his guardian, bravely leading him through the shadows. Now, the roles were reversed. Lance had to face this formidable challenge alone, driven by a deep sense of duty and guilt for failing Keith all those years ago.

“It’s alright, girl,” Lance murmured to Blue, more for his own comfort than hers. The darkness of the forest seemed to press in on him, amplifying every rustle and creak of the night. “Nothing’s lived here in years. It’s too cold...” His voice trailed off as a branch snapped sharply beneath Blue’s hoof. Lance’s heart leapt in his chest, and he gasped involuntarily. “What was that?!”

He took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves. “See? It’s fine. I told you.” Blue responded with a neigh that sounded almost like an eye roll, as if to say, “I’ve been through worse.”

They continued down the winding path toward Diabazaal. The journey was long but manageable. Blue’s steady trot kept them moving at a brisk pace, though Lance made sure to give her occasional breaks. The road to the abandoned kingdom was both physically and emotionally taxing, each step taking them further from the warmth of home and deeper into the remnants of a shattered world.

As they approached the outskirts of Diabazaal, Lance felt a pang of sorrow. The kingdom, once a bustling hub of activity, now lay in ruins. Diabazaal had been vibrant with life—food vendors filling the streets with enticing aromas, children’s laughter ringing out from every corner. Now, the streets were eerily silent, save for the wind that whistled mournfully through the empty town.

Rusting carts lay overturned, their goods long since scavenged or decayed. Broken weapons and discarded armor littered the ground, relics of the conflict that had torn the kingdom apart. Lance’s gaze fell upon a few suits of armor strewn about the town. He couldn’t bear to examine them closely, knowing that each piece was a painful reminder of the lives lost and the friendships severed. The sight of what had once been his second home now felt like a cruel mockery of his memories.

He recalled the times he and Keith had run through these very streets, carefree and full of laughter. The people of Diabazaal had once been his friends and family, their warmth now replaced by the cold remnants of their grief and anger. Lance knew he had to uncover the truth—not just for Keith, but for the countless Galrans who had perished because of the war.

“I’ll find out what happened,” Lance said resolutely into the bitter wind that swept through the ruins. “I’ll find out where Keith is. For all of you…”

With renewed determination, Lance guided Blue toward the castle ruins. The sight that greeted him was even more devastating than he had anticipated. The once-grand castle, which had stood as a symbol of Diabazaal’s strength and splendor, was now a crumbling shadow of its former self. The front garden, which had once been a riot of color with roses and forget-me-nots, was now an overgrown wasteland of dead vines and thorns. The magical vitality that had once nurtured these flowers was long gone, leaving behind only desolation.

The fountain in the center of the garden was frozen over, its surface a thick sheet of ice. Lance’s reflection shimmered on the ice, distorted and sorrowful. He paused for a moment, the sight of his own image serving as a stark reminder of the weight of his quest. With a heavy heart, he walked toward the doors of the palace, his steps slow and deliberate as he braced himself for what lay ahead.

The grandeur of the castle’s entrance had been reduced to ruins, the majestic arches now cracked and weathered. As he approached, Lance steeled himself for the harsh truths that might await him within. The cold air seemed to seep into his bones, and the silence was punctuated only by the distant sound of the wind, carrying with it the echoes of a bygone era.

Every step into the castle felt like a step back in time, into a world that had been irrevocably changed. Lance knew that the journey to uncover the truth would not be easy, but he was ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead. For Keith, and for the future of both kingdoms, Lance was determined to uncover the secrets hidden in the ruins of Diabazaal.

As Lance approached the grand doors of the castle, he paused, his heart hammering in his chest. The anticipation was almost unbearable. He could feel the answers he sought lying just beyond those doors, but fear gripped him. What if the truth he uncovered was not the one he hoped for? The thought made his stomach churn with unease. He took a deep breath, trying to steady his racing thoughts, and with a steely resolve, he pushed open the heavy doors.

The doors groaned in protest, the sound echoing through the expansive foyer like a mournful wail. Lance stepped inside, and the flood of memories hit him with overwhelming force. It had been a decade—ten long, agonizing years—since he had last set foot in this place. The sensation of nostalgia mingled with guilt, a burning ache in his chest. He could still remember the night they left, the searing pain of separation, the heavy weight of sorrow and regret. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, but he blinked them away, shaking his head to clear the fog of emotion.

“Stay here, Blue,” Lance instructed softly, brushing a tender hand across her mane. The horse nickered softly in response, her breath forming little clouds in the cold air. Lance felt a pang of concern for her but knew she was well-adapted to the cold. Besides, the desolation of the castle made it clear that no living creature would be found here. “Keep watch, alright?” With a final reassuring pat, he turned and stepped into the darkened castle, closing the doors behind him with a decisive thud.

“Okay...” Lance muttered to himself, his voice barely audible. “Where to start?” He took a tentative step forward, summoning a faint, pale blue light from his hand. It illuminated the path ahead just enough for him to navigate through the darkness. His magic, though not as potent as that of his family members, served its purpose. Allura would have been better at this, he thought with a pang of longing.

As he wandered through the former grandeur of the castle, Lance’s gaze swept over the ruins. Tattered tapestries hung from the walls, their once-vibrant colors now faded and dull. Broken statues and shattered vases littered the floor, remnants of a glorious past now consumed by decay and neglect. The artwork that adorned the walls told stories of a happier time—portraits of the royal family, their faces frozen in moments of joy and unity.

Among the paintings, Lance saw the king and queen, their faces serene and regal. Shiro, the eldest prince, stood proudly in another portrait, while Keith, the youngest, was depicted in a tender image with his mother. The love between the queen and her son was palpable even in the stillness of the painting. Lance’s heart ached with the weight of what had been lost.

As he turned a corner, he entered the dining hall, and a bittersweet smile tugged at his lips. Memories of laughter and mischief flooded back—of hiding under the table with Keith, sneaking sweets, and playing games. They had been inseparable, partners in countless adventures. The joy they shared was now a painful contrast to the emptiness surrounding him. His heart was heavy with both cherished memories and the crushing weight of the present.

He scanned the room, trying to find any clues amidst the wreckage. The dining hall was a shell of its former self, a place where happy echoes had long since faded. With a deep breath, Lance moved on, driven by the need to uncover the truth.

Approaching the throne room, Lance’s steps faltered. The sight of the grand doors filled him with a mix of dread and resolve. The throne room was a bridge between the castle’s front and back, and to explore further, he needed to confront this space. With a trembling breath, he pushed open the massive doors.

Inside, the throne room seemed eerily preserved, as if frozen in time. The silence was almost oppressive, and Lance could almost hear the ghostly strains of music from that fateful night. The marble floors, once gleaming, were now covered in dust, and the piano in the corner stood forlorn, its keys darkened by neglect. The moonlight filtering through the shattered windows cast long, ghostly shadows.

Lance’s breath fogged in the cold air as he approached the thrones at the back of the room. Each throne was adorned with a crown—King Heath’s, Queen Krolia’s, and the crowns of the two princes. It felt as though the royal family was still present in spirit, though Keith was notably absent. The sight of the crowns, untouched and neatly placed, was both haunting and poignant.

His mind raced back to the day his mother had told him of the executions ordered by his father. The queen had been his mother’s dearest friend, and the king had been a friend to his own father. The betrayal felt like a wound that would never heal. Lance stared at the crowns, remembering each figure: King Heath, strong and stern; Queen Krolia, with her boundless love; Prince Shiro, who had left Daibazaal in turmoil; and Keith, whose crown now seemed too small for the man he would have become.

Tears slipped down Lance’s cheeks as he gently picked up Keith’s small crown, feeling its weight and significance. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t do anything, Keith. I’m sorry for what they did... but I won’t let their deaths be in vain. I promise it won’t be for nothing.” With a heavy heart, he placed the crown in his satchel, leaving the others as a mark of respect for the fallen royal family.

After closing the door to the throne room, Lance felt a deep need to leave the space undisturbed, preserving the sanctity of the family’s final resting place. He moved cautiously through the hallway, his eyes catching sight of something unfamiliar—an iridescent chain that shimmered with an almost glass-like quality. It was unlike anything the royal family had owned, suggesting a powerful enchantment.

With growing curiosity, Lance followed the chain up a staircase, the steps creaking softly underfoot. At the top, the chain led down a hall, terminating at the door to Keith’s bedroom. His heart quickened with a mix of anticipation and anxiety. “Keith’s bedroom?” he murmured to himself, wondering why something so significant would lead here.

The door to Keith’s room creaked open, and Lance stepped inside. The room was a stark contrast to the rest of the castle. It was chaotic, with books and toys scattered about, and the bed was overturned. The windows were boarded up except for one, through which a stream of moonlight poured in, illuminating the disarray.

As Lance scanned the room, his gaze fell upon something that took his breath away. The sight before him was unimaginable.

In the dim moonlight filtering through the shattered window, Lance's eyes fell upon a sight that made his heart skip a beat. In the corner of Keith’s room lay a massive, enigmatic figure. At first glance, it was hard to determine if it was a creature or a person. The being had immense dragon-like wings folded against its back, a thick, scaly tail draped beside it, and scales running down its spine. Horns protruded from a head covered in a wild mop of black hair. Despite its lizard-like features, there was something unmistakably human about its form.

The creature's breathing was shallow and rhythmic, with each inhalation causing its wings to rise and fall gently. Lance's breath caught in his throat. His hand instinctively moved toward the hilt of his sword, his mind racing with uncertainty. What kind of being was this? And why was it in Keith’s room, shackled by the very chain that had led him here?

His thoughts were interrupted as he accidentally stepped on a toy scattered across the floor. The toy cracked audibly under his foot, sending a sharp, resonant sound through the room. Lance froze, his heart pounding as the creature's breathing seemed to quicken in response. The room was eerily silent except for the faint, rhythmic sound of the creature’s breath and the distant, echoing crunch of the toy under his foot.

For a moment, Lance stood paralyzed by a mix of fear and curiosity, grappling with the situation before him. The presence of this being—whatever it was—posed questions he couldn’t yet answer, and the way it lay there, bound and vulnerable, tugged at something deep within him.

Chapter Text

The moment was fraught with tension. The creature’s ears shot up with an almost perceptible jolt, its breathing slowing as it seemed to sense Lance’s presence more acutely. The beast's head lifted gradually, and from the shadowy depths of the room, a pair of glowing yellow eyes emerged, piercing through the gloom with an unsettling intensity. A low, guttural growl reverberated through the air, a sound that sent a jolt of fear straight through Lance’s core. His heart plummeted, and he felt his grip on the sword tighten reflexively, as if trying to anchor himself in the face of the growing menace.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Lance said, his voice trembling slightly despite his attempt to sound firm. “I only want to find my friend… I’m Lance. Prince Lance of Altea.” His words seemed to hang in the air, the beast’s unblinking gaze unyielding. Lance took a cautious step forward, his hand now clutching his sword with a white-knuckled intensity. “I’ll leave this room if you just let me have a look around,” he continued, trying to sound as non-threatening as possible. The creature’s growl grew slightly louder, a deep, resonant sound that seemed to echo off the cold stone walls.

The beast, its massive form trembling, began to push itself upright with its arms. It was evident that it was struggling, each movement slow and unsteady, as though it were fighting against a great fatigue or pain. Lance, his own anxiety mounting, shifted his stance, preparing to draw his sword if necessary. Despite the beast’s intimidating appearance, it looked as though it was in no condition to put up much of a fight. “I don’t want to hurt you,” Lance repeated, his voice more insistent now, as he took a step back in an effort to give the creature some space.

Ignoring Lance’s repeated reassurances, the beast continued to rise, managing to pull itself to a height that was a good foot taller than Lance. It let out another deep, reverberating growl, its yellow eyes glowing with an eerie luminescence that seemed almost otherworldly. Lance’s breath came in short, uneven gasps, and he hesitated, the sword still in hand but his resolve wavering.

Without any further warning, the creature’s knees gave way. It shivered violently, the cold draft from the small window clearly taking its toll. In a sudden, almost tragic collapse, the beast fell, its massive form toppling onto Lance with a resounding thud. “Ahhh!!” Lance cried out, his arms instinctively flying up to shield his face. The weight of the creature pressing down on him was overwhelming, and for a heart-stopping moment, Lance thought he might be crushed. His pulse raced as he lay pinned beneath the beast, the cold, hard floor pressing against his back.

As he lay there, he began to realize that the creature was not attacking him but was instead in a state of unconsciousness or extreme distress. Lance’s heart hammered in his chest as he quickly sat up, the adrenaline coursing through his veins. The creature, now seemingly lifeless, lay sprawled across his chest, its breathing shallow and ragged. Soft whimpers of pain escaped from the beast’s throat, each one a clear sign of its suffering.

Bathed in the silvery light of the moon, Lance could see more clearly the true nature of the creature. Its skin, pale and almost ethereal in the moonlight, was marred with dirt and grime. Bruises and gashes covered its body, and several burn marks were scattered across its skin. The sight of the creature’s suffering was heart-wrenching. It was evident that the beast was not only wounded but was also desperately hungry, its thin frame barely more than skin and bones. Lance couldn’t help but wonder how it had managed to survive in such harsh conditions, trapped in a dark, cold castle with no apparent source of food.

His gaze traveled from the creature’s hands, which were raw and chafed from the harsh shackles, up its arms, and across its chest. His attention was drawn to the creature’s hair, a tangled mass that obscured its face. There was something disconcertingly familiar about that hair, something that tugged at the edges of Lance’s memory.

He carefully moved closer, his heart pounding with a mix of fear and hope. His hand reached out tentatively, his fingers brushing the unruly black hair aside. As the moonlight spilled across the creature’s face, Lance felt a profound shift in his emotions. A sinking feeling enveloped him, a sense of dread mingled with disbelief. No matter how deeply he breathed, it felt as if he couldn’t draw in enough air to process the shock.

The beast’s tired eyes met Lance’s gaze, no longer glowing yellow but now a deep, haunting royal purple. The realization struck Lance like a physical blow, causing his breath to hitch in his throat. The beast lying on him, in a state of pain and exhaustion, was none other than the lost prince.

Lance’s mind raced, his emotions a chaotic swirl of relief and despair. “Oh my…” he whispered, the words barely escaping his lips as he grappled with the revelation. “Oh my God… Keith… Keith, is that you?” He cupped Keith’s face in his hands, his voice cracking with emotion. “What did they do to you?” he murmured, the words a pained whisper. “Keith… it’s me. It’s Lance!”

Keith, now revealed to be the prince, stared up at Lance with a mix of exhaustion and confusion. His transformation and the ordeal he had endured had left him disoriented, struggling to grasp the reality of his situation. Lance’s heart ached as he looked at his friend, now a winged hybrid, clearly suffering and struggling to make sense of his circumstances.

With so many questions racing through his mind, Lance knew that now was not the time for answers. He gently but firmly helped Keith into a sitting position. "I’m going to get you out of here," Lance said, his voice steady but filled with concern. "It's too cold for you. I have to get you home." The questions could wait—Keith’s immediate health and well-being were paramount. Lance offered a silent prayer of gratitude to whatever divine presence might be listening, thankful that he had found Keith alive, despite the dire state he was in.

"I can't believe it’s really you," Lance murmured, his fingers brushing Keith’s bruised and dirt-streaked cheek. His gaze softened with empathy and sorrow. "Hey... can you hear me? Can you walk?" He tried to convey reassurance through his voice and touch.

Keith's eyes, clouded with exhaustion and pain, focused on Lance. His response was slow and disoriented. "Who... who are you?" he asked, his voice weak and barely above a whisper.

A pang of sorrow struck Lance's heart, sharper than he had anticipated. "You... you don’t remember me?" he asked, his voice cracking slightly as he pulled his hand away. "Keith, it’s Lance. I’m your best friend. I came looking for you. Don’t you remember?" The words felt hollow as they left his lips. Lance's heart sank as he saw the blank confusion in Keith’s eyes, making him feel as though he was losing a battle he thought he had won.

Keith shook his head slightly, a gesture of both confusion and pain. Lance’s resolve hardened. "That’s... that’s okay," he said, trying to keep his voice steady. "That doesn’t matter right now. What matters is getting you home safely. Can you walk?"

Keith’s face twisted with discomfort as he groaned. His breath hitched, and he shivered from the cold. "Don’t... know..." he managed to say, his voice barely audible.

"Okay, okay," Lance said soothingly, trying to provide comfort. "Hey, it’s alright. I’ve got you." He looked down at the heavy shackles that bound Keith’s wrists. "I need to get these off of you. Just stay still for me."

Keith whimpered again, shaking his head weakly. "Don’t... don’t hurt me."

Lance’s expression softened with empathy and determination. "Oh, Keith, I would never hurt you. Just try to stay still, okay?" He placed his hands above the chain, his brow furrowing in concentration. He drew a deep breath, focusing all his energy on the task at hand. Light began to emanate from his hands, a soft glow that bathed the shackles in a warm, golden hue. The chain creaked and snapped, the shackles falling away to reveal Keith’s raw, chafed wrists.

Lance let out a sigh of relief as he gently took Keith’s hands in his own. "There we are," he said softly. "You’ve been through so much, haven’t you?" His gaze traveled over Keith’s dragon-like features, taking in the extent of his injuries and the toll they had taken. "It’s okay now, Keith. Everything will be alright."

Keith looked up at Lance with weary eyes. There was a flicker of trust in his gaze, despite the confusion and pain that clouded his thoughts. He glanced out of the small, shattered bedroom window and then back at Lance, giving a slight nod of acknowledgment.

"Here," Lance said, taking off his cloak and wrapping it around Keith with care. The thin silk pants Keith wore were woefully inadequate for the cold. Lance’s cloak, while not perfect, would offer some much-needed warmth. Keith needed more than just warmth; he needed medical attention, nourishment, and comfort.

"Let’s go," Lance said firmly, rising to his feet and helping the larger boy up with as much gentleness as he could muster. Keith’s legs trembled with weakness, and he leaned heavily on Lance for support. He groaned in pain, his muscles aching from the cold and confinement. "It’s alright, Keith. We don’t have that far to go. We’re going to ride my horse back to Altea." Lance placed his arm around Keith, providing the support he desperately needed, and guided him toward the door.

As they walked, Lance’s mind was a whirlwind of questions and concerns. Why had Keith been transformed like this? Why didn’t he remember Lance? Who had taken him, and where was the person responsible now? But these questions would have to wait. For now, Lance’s priority was to get Keith out of the castle and to safety. He carefully guided Keith, making sure he didn’t slip or stumble. With each unsteady step, Lance encouraged him softly, offering words of reassurance and comfort.

Finally, they reached the castle doors, and Lance's heart leaped with a mix of relief and urgency. Outside, Blue, Lance’s loyal horse, waited.

“Here we are,” Lance said softly as he guided Keith down the winding castle steps. The chill of the night air was biting, and each step they took was careful and measured. At the bottom of the stairs, Blue, Lance’s loyal horse, awaited them. She was a striking creature, her coat gleaming in the moonlight, but her eyes were wide with apprehension.

As soon as Blue spotted Keith, she took a hesitant step back, her hooves clattering nervously on the stone pavement. She neighed softly, a sound filled with unease, and shook her head, clearly distressed by the unfamiliar presence.

Keith, equally alarmed by the horse, instinctively clutched onto Lance, hiding behind him. His fear was palpable, and he buried his face against Lance’s back.

Lance chuckled softly, trying to ease both Blue and Keith. “Oh, Blue, it’s okay,” he said soothingly. “This is Keith. He’s the reason we came here. He won’t hurt you; he’s harmless.” He stepped forward, brushing his hand through Blue’s mane, trying to calm her. Despite Lance’s reassurances, Keith still looked quite intimidating with his dragon-like features and the ragged state he was in.

“Come on, Blue,” Lance coaxed gently. “You can do it. For me?” He gave Blue a reassuring smile, and she huffed in response, her demeanor softening slightly, as if to say, “Fine, if you say so.”

“That’s my girl,” Lance murmured, patting Blue affectionately before turning back to Keith. “She won’t hurt you either, Keith. I’ll help you, okay?”

Lance guided Blue to kneel down in a way that made it easier for Keith to mount. Blue’s initial reluctance was evident, but Lance’s calm, confident demeanor seemed to reassure her. Keith’s thin frame, coupled with his additional extremities, added some weight, making the process a bit challenging.

Lance carefully assisted Keith onto Blue’s back, making sure that the cloak he had wrapped around him was secure. “We have to keep you hidden,” Lance explained, his voice gentle but firm. “At least for now. It’ll help keep you warm, too.” He adjusted the cloak so that it covered Keith’s head, shielding him from the cold night air and the sight of the ravaged kingdom. Even if Keith didn’t remember what had happened, Lance didn’t want him to see the destruction and despair that had befallen their land.

“Just hang on,” Lance said, settling into the saddle and positioning himself in front of Keith. He offered a steadying hand, ensuring that Keith had ample support. “We’ll be heading home soon.”

As they set off, Keith rested against Lance’s back, the warmth from the cloak providing a slight comfort against the biting cold. His condition was apparent: he was weak, sick, and emaciated. The hunger and exhaustion were visible in the way his body shivered slightly despite the cloak.

Despite his fears and concerns, Keith felt a glimmer of trust toward Lance. The boy who had come for him, who had braved the cold and the unknown to find him, offered a sense of safety in the midst of his confusion and pain. As they rode through the darkened landscape, Keith’s mind was a swirl of uncertainty, but the warmth presence of Lance gave him a small measure of reassurance.

Keith lay against Lance’s back, wrapped in the warmth of the cloak and the rhythmic motion of Blue’s steady trot. The cloak offered some relief from the chill, and the gentle rocking of the horse was soothing. Though his body was weak, a sense of comfort began to settle over him.

Lance’s breathing and the boy’s soft reassurances created a cocoon of safety around Keith. He felt the warmth seeping into his bones, and despite the persistent hunger and fatigue, there was a growing sense of peace.

His eyelids, heavy with exhaustion, began to droop. The comforting weight of the cloak and Lance’s back made it easier for him to let go of his worries. Each movement of the horse was a gentle reminder of the safety he was being offered.

As Keith’s head rested against Lance’s shoulder, he found himself drifting towards sleep. The rhythmic clopping of Blue’s hooves and the steady warmth made the idea of rest inviting. With a soft sigh, Keith allowed himself to slip into sleep, feeling secure and trusting that Lance would keep him safe.

His breathing grew more even, the world around him fading into a comforting blur. For the first time in what felt like forever, Keith let go of his anxieties, surrendering to the embrace of sleep with a fragile hope that the worst was behind him

Chapter Text

The journey back to Altea was as brutal and unforgiving as the one to Diabazaal, but now Lance felt a sliver of relief in his chest. The weight of stress and worry that had nearly crushed him seemed lighter now, even though he was still deeply concerned for Keith's well-being. The harsh cold and relentless wind had given way to a biting chill that still nipped at them as they traveled, but Lance’s thoughts were fixated on the positive: Keith was alive. The path seemed longer than it had before, with Lance’s mind occupied by a tumult of questions and uncertainty. Keith's weak, labored breaths were a constant reminder of the peril they had narrowly escaped. Although Lance was thankful for Keith’s survival, he was tormented by unanswered questions. Who had done this to him? What were their motives? The only memory that lingered was that chilling, low voice that seemed to echo from the depths of darkness. Lance hoped that Keith might hold the answers, but he couldn’t bring himself to ask while his friend was so fragile.

Lance sighed deeply, trying to release some of the anxiety that clenched his chest. Though the treacherous conditions of Diabazaal were behind them, Keith was still suffering from hypothermia and severe hunger. Lance nudged Blue gently with his foot, urging her to increase her pace. The loyal horse responded with a determined huff, trotting faster towards their destination. Lance's mind raced as he thought about getting Keith to safety and comfort. He could hardly wait for his father to see that he had been right all along about Keith’s condition and the urgency of his rescue.

As the silhouette of the castle came into view, Lance glanced back at Keith, who was still slumped behind him, barely conscious. A soft smile crept onto Lance’s face, tinged with sadness. He knew he would have to wake Keith up soon. “Keith…” he said softly, gently shaking his friend. “It’s time to wake up. We’re home now…”

Keith stirred with a faint groan, his eyes slowly opening. He reached up with a trembling hand to rub his eyes, squinting against the brightening horizon. The sun was beginning to cast a warm glow over Altea, a stark contrast to the cold, dark landscape of Diabazaal. Keith's weary eyes reflected a mixture of disbelief and confusion as he tried to adjust to the warmth and brightness of his new surroundings. It almost felt surreal, as if Lance was some kind of celestial guide leading him to a place of solace, as he had succumbed to his fragile state.

Lance’s voice broke through Keith’s disorientation. “We’re almost there,” he said, his tone gentle and reassuring. “I’m going to take care of you, okay?” Lance knew that Keith might not be able to respond, but he needed to offer comfort, to reassure him that he was safe and cared for.

As they approached the castle, Lance felt a wave of relief wash over him. It was still early, and the kingdom was quiet. The people of Altea had not yet stirred, which meant they could move discreetly. Lance led Blue into the stables, carefully helping her into her cozy stall. Then, with equal care, he helped Keith down from the saddle. “I’ve got you,” Lance said softly, wrapping his arm around Keith’s frail form. “You don’t have to use too much strength.” Keith, barely able to stand, leaned heavily on Lance, his body trembling with exhaustion.

Lance guided Keith around the castle to the back entrance, hoping to avoid any unwanted attention. “If we go through here,” Lance said, “we’ll stay out of sight.” He opened the door to the kitchen, a familiar space that he had navigated countless times during late-night snack raids. The kitchen was dimly lit, with only a few rays of sunlight piercing through the windows.

As Lance led Keith through the kitchen, his heart pounded in his chest. He heard the sound of clicking heels approaching, and his eyes widened in alarm. “Shh,” he whispered urgently. “That’s my mother. Get behind me.” Keith, frightened and disoriented, instinctively moved behind Lance, his large wings and horns still visible despite the attempt to hide. Lance’s mother, Nancy, had just entered the kitchen, and her presence filled the space with tension.

Nancy’s gaze fell on Lance first, her eyes widening in surprise. “Lance?” she called out, her voice laced with concern. “You’re back already? Did you find anything—” Her voice trailed off as her attention shifted to the shadowy figure behind her son. Her eyes grew even wider, and she gasped, stepping back in shock and taking the prince with her. “Lance! What on earth is that? Why is this… creature in our castle?”

Lance, taken aback by his mother’s reaction, rushed to calm her. “Mother, wait! That’s not a monster!” he said, trying to keep his voice steady despite the rising tension. “He’s not a threat. He’s just—” His words faltered as Keith stumbled back, leaning against a counter in fear. Lance’s heart ached seeing his friend so frightened and vulnerable.

Lance turned to his mother, his voice softening with empathy. “Oh, Mother, you’re scaring him…” he said, walking back to Keith’s side and gently helping him to stand once more. “He isn’t a monster. This is Keith…” His eyes were filled with a sincere, pleading look as he turned to face his mother.

Nancy’s expression softened as she took in Keith’s appearance more closely. The harsh lighting from the hallway revealed Keith’s true form, and the initial terror gave way to a mixture of shock and sorrow. She reached out with trembling hands, touching Keith’s cheek gently. The contact seemed to bring a wave of emotion over her. Tears welled up in her eyes as she smiled through her sadness. “Keith? Is it really you?” she asked, her voice trembling with disbelief. She embraced him tightly, her heart breaking at the sight of the boy she had thought lost forever. “You’re finally home, my dear…” Her voice cracked with emotion as she continued, “If your mother could be here…”

Lance watched the heartfelt reunion, feeling a pang of relief mixed with concern. Keith looked up at Nancy, struggling to find words as he sought comfort. Lance stepped in, his tone filled with both sadness and determination. “He doesn’t remember anything, Mother,” he said softly. “But he’s in terrible shape. He needs food, a bath, and medical attention. His wounds are severe, and his hair is a tangled mess. Before we figure out what happened, his well-being is my top priority. He will talk to me when he’s ready.”

Nancy nodded, her resolve unwavering despite her tears. “Alright, Lance,” she said, her voice steady. “Get him up to your room, clean him up, and get him into some fresh clothes. I’ll take care of the food and medical supplies.” She placed a comforting hand on Lance’s shoulder.

Lance exhaled a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Mother,” he said gratefully. He turned to Keith with a reassuring smile. “Come with me, alright?” With his arm around Keith once more, Lance led him out of the kitchen and up to his room.

As they moved through the quiet castle, Lance couldn’t help but reflect on his mother’s last words. “Oh, and Lance…” Nancy called softly. Lance turned back, his curiosity piqued. “Yes, Mother?” he asked. “Make sure you hurry quietly. Your father shouldn’t know about this yet.” Her voice was firm but kind.

Lance, though somewhat puzzled by his mother’s request, nodded in understanding. He wanted to see his father’s reaction, the look of shock and perhaps a hint of guilt when he learned the truth. But for now, Lance’s focus was on getting Keith settled in his room where he could begin the long process of recovery.

As they reached Lance’s room, the soft morning light filtered through the window, casting a gentle glow over the space. Lance’s heart ached as he looked at Keith’s battered frame. Yet, there was a flicker of hope in his eyes. Keith was finally home, and with the support of Lance’s mother and the comfort of his room, the healing could finally begin. Lance settled Keith onto a plush chair and began to prepare for the task ahead, determined to provide the care and solace his friend desperately needed.

“Alright, Keith…” Lance began softly, trying to keep his tone gentle and reassuring. “This is my room. You’re going to stay here with me from now on. How does that sound?” He looked at Keith, who was already glancing around the room with wide-eyed curiosity. The room was filled with an array of sparkling, glittering things—ornate decorations and luxurious furnishings that seemed to fascinate Keith. The way his eyes darted around the room, taking in every detail, made Lance smile. He chuckled softly and waved a hand to get Keith’s attention. “Keith? We’re going to get you in the bath, alright? Come with me…”

With that, Lance led Keith into his bathroom, which, while not as grand as the bedroom, was almost as beautiful. The space was adorned in soothing shades of blue and gold, with porcelain fixtures that gleamed in the soft light. The tub was massive, a blessing considering Keith’s larger frame. Lance had worried about how Keith would fit into a standard-sized bath, but this one seemed more than accommodating. “Okay, just sit here for a moment,” Lance instructed, guiding Keith to a plush bench as he prepared the bath. He adjusted the water to a warm, comfortable temperature, mindful of Keith’s delicate condition. Extreme cold mixing with boiling hot could be a shock to his system.

As Lance added some lavender-scented soap and essential oils to the water, he hoped the calming fragrances would help soothe Keith’s frazzled nerves. The gentle scents of lavender mixed with the warmth of the water created a serene environment. Lance glanced back at Keith, who was watching the tub fill with a mixture of curiosity and exhaustion. “Alright… let’s figure this out together,” Lance said with a determined look. “Stand up for me, okay?”

Keith, his movements slow and labored, managed to stand. Lance carefully removed Keith’s tattered cloak, revealing the full extent of his injuries. The damage was extensive—bruises, cuts, scars, and burns marred his skin, a stark contrast to his otherwise gentle features. Lance’s heart ached at the sight, feeling a pang of sadness and concern. “You won’t be needing those clothes anymore,” Lance said softly, glancing at Keith’s filthy, tattered garments. “I’ll find you something much warmer and more comfortable. Now let’s get you into the bath, alright?” He began to help Keith out of his clothes, setting them aside to be thrown out later.

“It’s going to hurt a little at first,” Lance cautioned gently. “But that’s just because the warm water is helping to clean out the dirt and speed up the healing process.” He guided Keith into the tub, encouraging him to sit down slowly. The moment Keith’s body made contact with the water, he let out a pained hiss, his grip tightening around Lance’s arm. “Aghhh!” he whimpered, tears brimming at the corners of his eyes. Lance winced at the tightness of Keith’s grip but maintained a soothing demeanor. “It’s alright, Keith,” he said softly, rubbing Keith’s hand. “The pain will go away soon.”

Keith panted, his face contorted in discomfort, but gradually the initial sting began to subside. He looked at Lance with a frown, a mix of confusion and pain evident in his eyes. Lance gave him a sympathetic look. “See? That wasn’t too bad,” Lance said encouragingly. “And soon, you’ll be squeaky clean. Let’s get started.” He began the process of bathing Keith, working carefully around his wings and tail. The extra extremities made it challenging, especially since Lance had no experience with dragon wings. He meticulously cleaned every nook and cranny, from under Keith’s nails to behind his ears, determined to make the process as thorough and gentle as possible.

As Lance worked, he found himself reminiscing about their childhood. A soft smile crossed his lips as he thought back to simpler times. “You know, when we were younger, we used to pretend we were pirates during bath time,” Lance shared with a laugh. “I remember this one time at your castle. We almost flooded the whole bathroom!” His laughter was light-hearted, hoping to lift Keith’s spirits even just a little.

Keith listened attentively. Despite his lost memories, the comfort of Lance’s voice and the warmth of the bath seemed to provide him with a sense of solace. With the dirt washing away, Keith’s expression began to relax. “Lance…” Keith said quietly, his voice barely a whisper. “That’s your name?”

Lance’s expression softened at the sound of his name. “Yes,” he replied gently. Keith seemed to ponder this for a moment before speaking again. “Why… did you come for me?” he asked, his tone tinged with genuine curiosity.

Lance took a deep breath, carefully choosing his words. He wanted to convey his feelings without overwhelming Keith. “Well, you see…” he began, “I lost something very precious to me a long time ago. I thought I would never see it again. But when I found you, I knew that it wasn’t lost anymore. You may not realize it yet, Keith, but you’re very dear to me. And I’m going to make sure that whoever did this to you pays for what they’ve done.” His voice remained soft and soothing, aiming to reassure Keith rather than alarm him. “You’re home now. There’s nothing to worry about.”

Keith fidgeted with his hands, his eyes filled with a mixture of confusion and gratitude. “Oh…” he murmured, the word heavy with unspoken emotions. “Thank you…” Though his mind was still clouded, the sincerity in his voice conveyed his deep appreciation.

Lance continued with the bath, focusing on Keith’s hair next. He worked carefully to remove all the leaves and debris, ensuring that the shampoo fully saturated Keith’s scalp. After rinsing it out and applying conditioner, Lance meticulously brushed Keith’s long hair, detangling the knots with patience. This was undoubtedly the most challenging part of the entire process, but Lance was determined to get it right. Keith, now visibly more relaxed, seemed to appreciate the care. The warmth and the floral lavender scent were having a soothing effect on him. “Almost done, okay Keith?” Lance reassured him. “I’ll go get you some clothes, and then we’ll rinse your hair and get you out.”

Keith looked apprehensive at the idea of Lance leaving. “What’s wrong?” Lance asked, noticing Keith’s uneasy expression. “I don’t want you to leave…” Keith said, his voice heavy with fatigue.

Lance smiled, touched by Keith’s plea. “I won’t leave, Keith. My room is right there. I’ll be back before you know it, don’t worry.” He gave Keith a reassuring nod and stepped out of the bathroom to retrieve some clothes.

Lance entered his room and began searching through his drawers, trying to find something that might fit Keith. “My clothes aren’t going to fit him,” Lance muttered to himself as he rummaged through his wardrobe. Keith was much taller, and his wings and tail made it even more challenging to find suitable clothing. Lance pulled out a pair of large pants and a night shirt that looked soft and comfortable. “Perfect,” he said with a satisfied grin. He grabbed his scissors and began carefully altering the clothes to better fit Keith’s unique frame.

When Lance returned to the bathroom, he found Keith blowing bubbles out of his hands, watching them float around with a sense of childlike wonder. Despite his exhaustion, Keith seemed entertained by the sight. Lance observed with a soft chuckle, appreciating the brief moment of lightheartedness. “Okay, Keith, I’ve got your clothes,” Lance announced. “Let’s rinse your hair and get you out of the bath.”

With Keith’s hair now clean and soft, Lance helped him out of the tub. He dried him off with a fluffy towel and helped him into the newly altered clothes. “I’m going to have to have the tailor make you some proper clothes,” Lance said with a laugh. “Those wings and that tail are quite tricky to work around.”

Once Keith was dressed, Lance led him back to his room. He showed him the bed and gestured for him to sit. “You’ll be sleeping here with me,” Lance said gently. “Mother should be here soon with your food and medical supplies.” Keith looked at the bed with a mix of uncertainty and hesitation, eventually sitting down on the carpeted floor instead.

Lance looked down in confusion, tilting his head. He chuckled softly and extended his hand to Keith. “Not on the floor, Keith. Never again. Come on, I’ll show you.” Lance guided Keith to the bed and sat down beside him, offering an encouraging smile. “Like me. Try it.”

Keith, feeling a bit nervous, slowly sat down next to Lance. As he settled into the soft, heavenly mattress, a look of awe crossed his face. “Whoa…” he mumbled, pulling his feet up next to him. His tail coiled behind him, adding to the sense of wonder. Lance smiled warmly at him, realizing that Keith never had the chance to properly grow up. “Not so bad, huh? I’m going to sleep here with you, too, so you won’t be alone.” He kept Keith’s hand in his, his expression filled with warmth and reassurance. “You won’t ever be alone again, Keith. I promise.”

Chapter Text

It wasn’t long before a soft knock resonated through the room. Lance turned abruptly, rising to his feet with a sense of urgency mixed with relief. “Who is it?” he called out, his eyes flickering with concern as he glanced back at Keith. The boy looked up, his eyes tired but hopeful, mirroring Lance’s own anxious anticipation. The sound of the queen’s voice, gentle and familiar, made Lance’s heart lift.

“It’s me, dear,” Nancy’s voice replied, laced with warmth and concern. She waited for Lance’s permission before opening the door.

When Lance gave a nod, the door creaked open, and Nancy entered with a gracious smile. She pushed in a tea cart, its wheels making a soft clinking sound against the stone floor. The cart was laden with an assortment of items—two covered plates of food, medical supplies, and bandages. Nancy’s eyes softened as she took in the sight of Keith, who was looking much better than before. “Hello, boys,” she greeted softly, her gaze lingering on Keith. “My, you’ve gotten big. Literally!” she added with a chuckle that seemed to bring a hint of warmth to the room.

The queen’s presence was a beacon of comfort. She carefully set the cart next to Keith’s bed and lifted the cloches from the plates with a practiced hand. Underneath were portions of steak grilled to perfection, roasted vegetables, and a generous heap of buttery mashed potatoes. The aroma was tantalizing and made Keith’s stomach growl audibly. Lance’s heart ached at the thought of how long it must have been since Keith had last enjoyed a meal like this.

“Everything’s here,” Nancy said, her voice filled with motherly pride. “I made sure they prepared extra food for both of you. I told the maids you had a friend from the village over.” Her eyes twinkled with a blend of mischief and tenderness. “You two must be starving.”

“Thank you, Mother,” Lance said with genuine gratitude. He reached for the cloche and lifted it off the plate. The sight of the food made his stomach rumble in sympathy. The feast was a far cry from the scant meals Keith had likely endured.

Lance placed the plate on the bed in front of Keith, who was already eyeing the food with a mix of awe and hunger. “Okay, Keith… dinner is served,” Lance announced with a smile. Keith’s eyes widened as the delicious scents reached him. His mouth watered uncontrollably, and he eagerly reached for the food.

Lance watched in surprise as Keith picked up the steak with his hands, tearing into it with a raw, almost primal hunger. He then scooped up the mashed potatoes with his fingers, devouring them with equal fervor. Lance hadn’t expected Keith to eat so messily, but the boy’s urgent need for sustenance was clear.

Nancy, watching from the side, turned her head with a mix of concern and surprise. “Oh Lance,” she said, her tone both exasperated and sympathetic. “You need to teach him how to eat properly. He’s consuming the food like an animal.”

Lance sighed, shaking his head with a mix of frustration and understanding. “Mother, there are more important things than table manners right now,” he said softly, his gaze turning back to Keith, who was practically growling at his plate. “Besides, as far as I know, he was treated like an animal. He doesn’t remember me. He doesn’t remember anything. I need to find out why and how to help him remember. Maybe then, I can discover who did this to him. I know he won’t tell me while he’s in this state.”

Nancy’s expression softened with understanding. “You’re right, dear. But don’t stress yourself out too much. The important thing is, he’s home now. You both need a well-deserved rest, don’t you think?”

Lance nodded appreciatively. “Yes, Mother,” he said, his voice tinged with exhaustion. “After I tend to Keith’s wounds, we’re going to sleep for the day. Just tell Father I’m not feeling well.”

Nancy’s eyes glistened with pride as she brushed a strand of hair from Lance’s face. “I’m so proud of you,” she said, her voice warm and full of love. She pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead. “Sleep well, my dear.” She then turned to Keith with a friendly wave. “And you, dear boy, get well soon. We’ll talk more later.”

With that, Nancy left the room, closing the door behind her to ensure their privacy. Lance gave a heavy, exhausted sigh as he turned back to Keith, who was now covered in bits of food. The sight was so endearing and absurd that Lance couldn’t help but laugh—a genuine, heartfelt laugh that he realized he hadn’t experienced in what felt like a decade.

“Keith…” Lance’s laughter softened as he walked over to sit beside him, grabbing a napkin from the cart. “Let me get that for you.” He gently wiped Keith’s mouth and hands, trying to suppress his amusement as he cleaned up the mess. After placing the now-empty plate on the nightstand, Lance looked at Keith with a mix of affection and concern. “From now on, please don’t eat that fast. I know you must be starving, but I don’t want you to get a stomachache.”

Keith stared at Lance, his eyes filled with a mix of confusion and understanding. “Mm… okay…” he murmured quietly. His stomach rumbled, echoing with a blend of satisfaction and regret. Lance couldn’t help but chuckle again, though his smile quickly faded as he realized the depth of Keith’s current state. Keith was like a child in many ways—innocent and unsure, struggling to recall even the simplest of manners.

“Alright, Keith…” Lance said, his tone shifting to one of gentle encouragement. “I’m going to treat your wounds now. It won’t hurt at all.” He approached Keith with a soothing demeanor, explaining each step of the process as he worked. “Can you lay down and relax for me?”

Keith complied, stretching out on the soft pillow with a yawn. His full belly and the warmth of the room seemed to be lulling him into sleep. “Try not to fall asleep just yet,” Lance said softly. “I promise you can rest soon.”

Lance closed his eyes and took a deep breath, focusing intently as a soft, pale blue light began to emit from his hands. Keith’s eyes widened in wonder as he watched the light dance over Lance’s fingers. Lance carefully held his hands over Keith’s wounds, the healing magic working to ease his pain and speed up his recovery. The scars remained, but the wounds were visibly lessened.

After a few moments, the light from Lance’s hands slowly dimmed. He panted slightly, his energy clearly depleted. Lance had always struggled with his magic, feeling that it wasn’t as strong as his family’s abilities. Keith, noticing Lance’s exhaustion, sat up with a concerned look. “Are you okay?” he asked softly.

Lance offered a reassuring smile despite his fatigue. “I’m alright, Keith,” he said, his voice gentle. “Don’t worry about me.” He found Keith’s concern endearing, a stark reminder of the boy’s inherent kindness even in his weakened state.

Once Lance applied ointment and bandages to Keith’s wounds, including the raw wrists and burn marks, he took a deep breath, feeling a surge of both frustration and determination. Each injury he treated reminded him of the cruelty Keith had suffered, fueling his resolve to uncover the truth and seek justice.

Keith let out another yawn, his eyes growing heavy. He rubbed them sleepily, clearly ready for rest. Lance’s heart ached at the sight of Keith’s exhaustion. “I know, Keith,” Lance said softly, his voice soothing. “It’s bedtime now. You can rest up, and we’ll eat again when we wake up. Then we can talk some more, okay?”

Keith nodded, his voice barely a whisper. “Okay…” He settled back onto the pillow, curling up with his tail wrapped around him and his wings folded neatly. The bed seemed like a new world of comfort for him, and it didn’t take long for him to succumb to sleep. His breathing soon evened out into a steady, quiet snore.

Lance smiled down at him, laying beside the boy, facing him. It was surreal to have Keith here, so close, after all the hardship. The sight of Keith’s peaceful slumber filled Lance with a profound sense of fulfillment. He was determined to help Keith recover and find the answers they both desperately needed.

He almost didn’t want to fall asleep, wanting to savor the moment forever. But exhaustion eventually won over, and Lance drifted into a deep, restful sleep beside Keith. As he settled in, he felt a comforting warmth around his leg—a gentle, appreciative wrap of Keith’s tail. It was a silent, heartfelt thank you for being there, and it brought a smile to Lance’s face as he succumbed to the embrace of sleep.

It wasn’t until the deep, velvety darkness of nightfall that Lance stirred from his slumber. The weight of the previous night’s events had left him utterly drained, more exhausted than he realized. As his senses began to awaken, his eyes fluttered open, gradually adjusting to the gentle moonlight that seeped through the gaps in his window blinds. The room was bathed in a soft, silvery glow, casting elongated shadows that seemed to dance along the walls in an almost hypnotic rhythm.

“Mmph…” Lance groaned, the sound a mixture of sleepiness and the reluctant acceptance of waking. He shifted in bed, his body protesting against the grogginess that clung to him like a heavy shroud. As he propped himself up on his elbows, his gaze fell upon the empty space beside him, where Keith had been resting so peacefully.

A jolt of panic surged through Lance, his heart plummeting into his stomach. The familiar spot next to him was now vacant. His breath caught in his throat as he felt a surge of fear. “Keith??” he whispered urgently, the words barely escaping his lips. His voice was a trembling murmur, fraught with concern. “Keith? Oh no, please don’t tell me…” He scrambled off the bed, his limbs feeling like lead, and his vision still clouded with sleep. “Please don’t be a dream, please don’t be a dream,” he repeated to himself like a desperate plea, trying to steady his racing heart.

His eyes, still heavy with drowsiness, darted around the room in frantic search. The emptiness of the space beside him seemed to echo with an unsettling silence, amplifying his growing anxiety. “Keith?! I—”

Just as the anxiety was about to consume him completely, a wave of relief washed over him. Keith stood at the far end of the room, his silhouette framed by the window as he gazed out into the expansive night sky. Lance felt a profound sense of calm, though the residual anxiety still lingered like a shadow. “Keith, you scared me to death…” he whispered, his voice carrying the weight of his emotional relief as he made his way over to his friend.

“Oh… I did?” Keith’s voice was soft, tinged with genuine concern as he turned to face Lance. “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to,” he added, his apology sincere. Lance noted the visible improvement in Keith’s appearance since his rest. His demeanor was calmer, his voice more assured.

“You’re feeling better?” Lance asked, his eyes searching Keith’s face with a mixture of concern and hope. Keith nodded, a faint smile lighting up his face as he turned his attention back to the night sky, his gaze filled with wonder.

Lance couldn’t help but be drawn to the sight of Keith’s awe. The starlit sky outside seemed to mesmerize him. “You like the stars?” Lance inquired gently, his voice filled with warmth and curiosity. Keith only nodded back as he stared out the window.

“Yeah…” Lance smiled, his eyes reflecting the twinkling stars. “You were like that before too… we would watch the stars every night before bed when we could stay together.” There was a wistful quality to Lances voice, hinting at a past filled with shared moments under the night sky.

Keith took a moment, as if grappling with the magnitude of what he was witnessing. “I didn’t know there were so many…” he said quietly. Lance’s heart ached at the realization of how isolated Keith had been, his only view of the outside world confined to the single, boarded-up window.

“There are even more than this…” Lance said softly, his voice a gentle promise. “We’ll see them someday soon.” His tone was tender, offering Keith a glimpse of a brighter future.

“We will?” Keith asked, his eyes lighting up with a glimmer of hope as he turned back to Lance.

“Yes, of course,” Lance assured him with a reassuring smile. “They’re right outside, Keith. And I’m not going to keep you in here forever. You have so much to see.”

“Can we go see them now?” Keith asked, his voice hesitant and shy. Lance considered the request, realizing it would be a wonderful idea to step outside and enjoy the garden.

“You know,” Lance said, his smile growing, “that’s not a bad idea, Keith.” Keith looked up, curiosity evident in his eyes. “It’s not?” he asked, his head tilting in a charming gesture of innocence.

“Not at all! You need some fresh air. I’ll take you to the garden, okay?” Lance said, his enthusiasm evident. “But we’ll have to be very quiet. Do you think you can do that?”

Keith nodded solemnly, determination in his eyes. “Good. Let’s go then.” Lance replied.

The castle was shrouded in peaceful silence, everyone fast asleep and unaware of the quiet adventure unfolding. Lance took Keith’s hand, guiding him through the dimly lit corridors with careful steps. The gentle rustling of Keith’s tail was almost imperceptible against the backdrop of silence. The boys moved stealthily, their footsteps soft and cautious, until they reached the grand doors of the garden.

“Here we are…” Lance whispered, his voice barely above a breath as he opened the doors, the hinges creaking softly. He led Keith out into the crisp night air, assisting him down the steps with a gentle hand.

Keith’s reaction was immediate and profound. The sight before him was nothing short of breathtaking. The sky stretched out above, a boundless canvas adorned with countless stars that seemed to shimmer and sparkle endlessly. The sheer magnitude of the night sky left Keith feeling a mix of awe and disbelief. He looked around the garden, taking in the flowers and trees that seemed to glow softly under the moonlight.

“What… what are those?” Keith asked, his voice filled with wonder as he looked at Lance before letting go of his hand and stepping onto the stone pathway. His eyes fell upon a bed of flowers, each one a riot of colors and shapes that captivated him.

“These are flowers,” Lance said with a gentle smile, his voice filled with affection. “There are so many kinds. I guess you didn’t see many in Diabazaal. I’ll teach you all about them…” He watched as Keith dropped to his knees, his curiosity leading him to examine the petals with a sense of childlike fascination.

Keith’s attention soon shifted when he heard a loud chirping noise. His ears perked up, and he followed the sound with a sense of eager curiosity. The noise led him to a tree where a cicada rested, its presence intriguing Keith. “That’s a cicada,” Lance said with a chuckle. “A lot of people think they’re scary, but I find them very pretty…” He observed Keith’s fascination with the insect, his own amusement evident.

Keith’s gaze was soon drawn to the moonlight reflecting off a nearby pond. Without hesitation, he hurried over to it, Lance following closely behind. The raven knelt by the pond, staring intently into the water. As he peered in, his reflection came into view, and he gasped, nearly losing his balance as he fell back. “Whoa, whoa, careful, Keith…” Lance said, rushing to help him sit up. “It’s alright… Look again…”

Keith shook his head, his face a mixture of confusion and wonder. “I promise. Look…” Lance urged gently. Keith hesitated before glancing back into the pond. His reflection stared back at him, and he took a moment to process the sight. “See?” Lance said softly. “That’s you… and there’s me…”

Keith tilted his head, his gaze fixed on his own reflection. He touched his horns, noticing the lack of similar features in Lance’s reflection. His wings spread slightly as he compared his own reflection with Lance’s, which showed no wings. Just then, a splash of water hit him in the face! Keith let out a surprised raspberry, shaking his head and sitting back. “What was that?!” he exclaimed, wiping the water from his face.

Lance sat beside him, laughing heartily. “I guess the koi fish like you, Keith!” he said with a chuckle. “Fish? They’re food!” Keith replied, his irritation evident as he continued to wipe his face.

“Well, yes, Keith, but not koi fish…” Lance explained, his laughter fading. “Have you been eating fish all this time?” he asked, his tone a mix of curiosity and concern. Keith frowned, his displeasure clear as he nodded in response.

“I see…” Lance said softly, his voice soothing. “Well, you don’t have to worry about that anymore. These koi are more like pets. We take care of them…” He took off his night shirt and gently dried Keith’s face. “There… all better. Come with me…”

Lance stood up, extending his hand to Keith. Keith accepted the offer, rising with Lance’s help. Together, they walked to a clear spot in the garden. Lance stepped onto the grass with his bare feet, and Keith gasped as he felt the cool, damp sensation beneath his toes. The grass was a strange yet soothing texture, a new sensation that brought a look of wonder to Keith’s face.

Lance settled down on the grass, patting the spot beside him. “I like to come out here and just relax…” he said, lying back and gazing up at the stars. Keith followed his lead, lying down next to Lance and looking up at the night sky.

“There’s a lot more than you thought it would be, huh?” Lance asked, noticing Keith’s awestruck expression. “Yeah…” He said, not looking away from Keith’s face, illuminated by starlight. “It’s really something up there…” Keiths eyes remained fixed on the stars.

Lance’s gaze was soft and affectionate as he watched Keith, who remained silent but whose face spoke volumes. Lance knew that Keith was beginning to reconnect with the world, finding solace and wonder in the beauty around him.

But Lance was also aware that the time for deeper questions was drawing nearer. Tomorrow, he would start asking those difficult questions, determined to uncover the truth behind everything that had happened. It would be a tough journey, perhaps even more challenging for Keith, but Lance was resolved to help him find his way.

“We should head back inside soon…” Lance said, breaking the silence with a soft sigh.

“Can we stay a little longer?” Keith asked, his eyes turning to Lance with a hopeful plea.

Lance smiled gently, a soft laugh escaping his lips. “Of course we can, starlight…” he replied. The nickname felt fitting for Keith—despite the darkness that surrounded him, he radiated a light and life that Lance knew was worth nurturing. He would help Keith reclaim that light, no matter how long it took.

Chapter Text

Eventually, the time came for Lance to guide Keith back inside the castle. The night air was crisp and cool, and the garden, though enchanting, had to be left behind. Keith, despite his deepening sense of wonder and enjoyment, didn't protest. The weight of his exhaustion was too heavy, and he needed as much rest as he could possibly get. Lance, too, had to steel himself for the coming day, one that promised to be filled with challenges and revelations.

As they made their way back to the castle, Lance couldn’t help but notice the thoughtful look on Keith’s face. Lost in his own world, Keith replayed Lance’s nickname for him over and over in his mind. The simple yet heartfelt term, “starlight,” felt like a warm embrace, something far kinder than anything he’d been called before. Each time he recalled it, his face would flush with a soft, pleasing warmth. The name carried a comforting promise, and Keith found himself hoping that Lance would continue to call him that, savoring the sense of belonging it instilled in him.

Lost in thought, Keith was momentarily unaware of Lance’s voice breaking through his reverie. “Once you get settled, Keith,” Lance said softly as they walked through the dimly lit hallways of the castle, “you’ll have to learn some things. Or in your case, relearn a lot…” His voice was gentle, but there was an undercurrent of seriousness. “Like eating properly. I’m sure there are other things as well. But we can worry about that later.”

The corridors seemed to stretch endlessly, their silence interrupted only by the soft whispers of their footsteps. Lance led Keith to his room, their hands still linked. When they arrived, Lance sat back on the bed, his eyes following Keith as he settled in. The sight of Keith’s tail curling behind him caught Lance’s attention, a gentle smile tugging at his lips. “That thing has a mind of its own, huh?” he remarked, his tone lighthearted.

Keith glanced at Lance, then at his tail, a frown settling on his face. Lance noticed this and felt a pang of concern. “What’s wrong, Keith?” he asked softly, his voice imbued with genuine care. “You can tell me anything…”

Keith hesitated, his head turning away slightly as he struggled to find the right words. “It… it gets in the way,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

“In the way?” Lance echoed, his curiosity piqued. He examined the tail more closely, noticing the scars and marks that marred its surface. It seemed to have endured its share of hardships. “Those scars… did you get them from falling or running into things?” he inquired gently, hoping to understand more about Keith’s experiences.

Keith shook his head, his expression one of reluctant discomfort. Lance could sense the difficulty in broaching this topic. He took a deep breath, trying to navigate his next words with care. “Can you tell me how you got them?” he asked, his voice steady and reassuring.

Keith’s response was another shake of the head, and Lance felt a sigh of resignation forming within him. This was going to be a challenging journey, but he had to be patient. He gathered his thoughts, searching for the right approach. “Keith…” he began, choosing his words carefully, “remember when I told you that I lost something?”

Keith nodded, his eyes shifting to meet Lance’s. There was an understanding, a shared moment of vulnerability. “Well,” Lance continued, “I don’t want to lose it again… and I really need your help. I just want you to try your hardest, that’s all I’m asking. I know you’ve been through so much, and you’re still scared. But I want you to know that I’m never going to let anything happen to you ever again. If someone wants to hurt you, they’ll have to hurt me first.”

Keith’s eyes filled with a glimmer of concern, his voice trembling as he spoke. “I-I don’t want him to hurt you—” he said, reaching out towards Lance with a pleading look.

Lance gently placed his hands on Keith’s arms, his voice calm and soothing. “Everything is going to be okay, starlight…” he said, his smile warm and comforting. He hoped that the affectionate nickname would provide Keith with some reassurance, and it seemed to work. Keith’s eyes softened, his expression reflecting a mix of gratitude and relief.

“I won’t let him,” Lance promised softly. “But… can you tell me who he is?”

“He…” Keith began, but the words seemed to choke him. A wave of anxiety washed over him, and he looked defeated. “No. I can’t…” he said, his voice barely audible. “I’m sorry…”

Lance frowned, placing a comforting hand on Keith’s back between his wings. “Hey… that’s okay. We’ll talk about it another time,” he said, replacing his frown with a reassuring smile. “Just know that I’m always here to talk, okay?”

He then lay down beside Keith on the bed, patting the pillow next to him. “Let’s go back to sleep. We’ll have breakfast in the morning.”

Keith watched Lance with a sense of peaceful acceptance. He leaned back onto the pillow, facing Lance as he settled into the bed. A yawn escaped him, revealing his sharp canines, a reminder of the unique features that set him apart. As he slowly drifted off to sleep, a quiet contentment filled the room. Before he was fully lost in his dreams, Keith unfolded one of his wings and gently draped it over Lance, a silent gesture of trust and comfort.

Lance smiled softly as he brushed a strand of Keith’s hair from his face. He could see the subtle changes in Keith—small but significant signs that he was beginning to open up, to heal. Though it wasn’t always apparent, Lance knew that Keith was already changing, growing more comfortable and secure in his presence.

As the first light of dawn filtered through the window, the warm glow softly illuminated the room. Lance stirred before anyone else, his face bathed in the golden light. He squinted as the brightness pressed against his eyelids, waking him from sleep. Slowly, he opened his eyes to the familiar sight of Keith beside him. Keith lay sprawled out, his wings neatly folded now, and his long tail curled comfortably around his own leg like a protective cocoon. Lance gazed down at him for a moment, the peacefulness of the scene making him smile as he took in the tousled mess of Keith’s dark hair.

With a sleepy yawn, Lance rubbed his eyes and stretched before carefully slipping out of bed. The morning chill brushed against his skin as he stood, shivering slightly as he grabbed the blanket and tucked it over Keith’s sleeping form. As he did so, he lingered for a moment, his gaze resting on the dragon boy. A wave of tenderness swept over him. It was moments like these—quiet, still, and wrapped in a strange sort of normalcy—that reminded him how much things had changed. And yet, not enough had changed.

Lance’s thoughts were interrupted by a distant reminder of the day’s obligations: breakfast with his family. It was a routine, one he’d taken for granted in the past, but now, with so much at stake, every moment felt heavier. His mother’s warning echoed in his mind. He couldn’t tell anyone about Keith. Not yet.

With a sigh, Lance walked to his closet, skimming through his clothes for something decent to wear. Normally, he’d throw on his pajamas without a second thought, but today felt different. He pulled out a clean outfit—nicer than his usual choice—and began to dress. Once he was ready, he turned toward the vanity, running a hand through his hair to tame the mess. As he worked, his reflection caught a movement behind him. Keith was sitting up, his sleepy eyes watching Lance with a curious, drowsy expression.

Lance laughed softly and spun around, “Good morning, sleepyhead.”
Keith blushed, hiding behind his scaly arm. “M-Morning...” He stammered, his embarrassment clear. When he finally lowered his arm, Lance was already standing right in front of him, causing Keith to jump in surprise. “Ah! Lance!”
Lance chuckled again, unable to resist the urge to ruffle Keith’s already messy hair. “Sorry! Didn’t mean to scare you. I’ve got to head down for breakfast, but I’ll bring you something back, alright?” His voice was gentle but firm, a promise tucked within his words.

Keith’s face softened, but a frown tugged at his lips. “You have to go? I don’t want to be alone...” There was a vulnerability in his voice that tugged at Lance’s heartstrings.
“I won’t be long, I swear,” Lance reassured him, placing a hand on Keith’s cheek. “Starlight, I can’t let my father or Allura see you yet. My mother said we need to be cautious until we figure out the next steps. But don’t worry, you won’t be stuck in here forever.”

Keith’s frown deepened, his tail flicking anxiously as he wrapped it tighter around himself. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Lance—it was just that... being alone again, even for a little while, terrified him. But he nodded, biting back his fear. “Okay... just hurry back.”

Lance gave a knowing smile. “I know you can handle this. And hey, when I get back, I’ll bring you a surprise. How about that?” He gave Keith’s hair one last affectionate ruffle before stepping away.
Keith’s reluctant smile surfaced, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “That’s my Starlight,” Lance said softly before disappearing through the door.

The sound of the door clicking shut left an empty silence in the room. Keith sighed deeply, feeling the cold absence of Lance settle in immediately. He hated this feeling. What if Lance didn’t come back? What if something went wrong, and he was stuck here, alone, forever? His breath quickened, panic gnawing at the edges of his mind. But he shook his head, pushing the dark thoughts away as best he could. No. Lance had promised, and Lance never broke his promises.

Trying to distract himself, Keith looked around the room. Lance’s space was so different from the gloomy, barren one Keith had been confined to back in Diabazaal. Here, everything seemed brighter—more alive. His eyes darted across the vanity, drawn to the strange objects resting on the surface. He wandered over and sat down, his tail coiling behind him as he reached out to examine the bottles and jars. He had no idea what any of these things were for. Lance’s meticulous skincare routine was a complete mystery to him.

As he turned his head slightly, Keith caught a glimpse of something in the mirror—something behind him. A portrait hung above Lance’s bed, depicting a young version of Lance standing next to a raven-haired boy. Keith’s curiosity piqued. He twisted around to get a better look, but his tail swiped across the vanity, sending several bottles crashing to the floor. Keith gasped, panic surging through him.
“No, no, no!” he muttered frantically, scrambling to pick up the fallen items. He cradled the bottles in his arms, his heart pounding in his chest. “I always mess things up...”

He placed everything back on the vanity, trying desperately to make it look as it had before, though he wasn’t entirely sure of the exact arrangement. He could already imagine Lance’s disappointment. The thought alone made his chest tighten with anxiety. Once everything was back in place, Keith turned around again, more cautiously this time, and his eyes returned to the portrait.

Sitting cross-legged on the bed, he stared up at the painting. It was unmistakably Lance on the left, but the other boy... something about him felt so familiar. The raven hair, the purple eyes—it was as though Keith had seen that face somewhere before. He blinked, confusion swirling in his head. He turned back toward the mirror, examining his own reflection more closely. Black hair. Purple eyes. His heart skipped a beat as realization hit him. He stumbled backward, his legs giving out as he landed on the floor with a thud.

“That’s... me?” His voice trembled. “I’m the thing Lance was talking about?”
Keith’s mind raced, his thoughts a chaotic whirlwind. He glanced back and forth between the mirror and the portrait. Who had he been before all this? Before the claws, the wings, the tail? His stomach churned as his memory teetered on the edge of something vast and painful. But the answers were just out of reach, buried beneath layers of fear and confusion.

Meanwhile, downstairs, Lance sat at the dining table, greeting his family with an unusual brightness in his voice. “Good morning, Mother. Good morning, Allura. Father,” he added with a polite nod.
His father, King Alfor, raised a brow, clearly taken aback by Lance’s chipper mood. Just the day before, his son had been brooding in a storm of anger. Now, it was like that cloud had lifted. “Feeling better, Lance?” Alfor asked, suspicion lacing his tone.

Lance, ever the performer, put on a convincing smile. “Oh, much better, Father. Sorry about the... outburst yesterday. I was feeling a bit off, but I’m fine now. Won’t happen again.” His words had a rehearsed edge to them, enough to raise his mother’s concern. She shot him a look that clearly said, tone it down.

Lance cleared his throat, focusing on his plate. “I’ll be spending most of the day in my room. I’ll take some more breakfast up with me after we’re done here,” he said casually, already thinking of the food he’d promised to bring Keith.

Allura, ever the observant one, chimed in. “Oh, Lance, we’ve been making plans for the party!” Her excitement was evident as she speared a piece of fruit with her fork. “You remember, right?”
Lance blinked, caught off guard. “Party? What party?”
Their mother smiled warmly, though there was a knowing glint in her eyes. “You mentioned wanting to throw a birthday party for Keith yesterday, dear. You must’ve been so tired; you fell asleep right after telling me.”

“Oh, that party...” Lance mumbled, still slightly confused but piecing things together quickly. Keith’s birthday. Of course. “Right! So, uh, what did you all come up with?”
Allura set her fork down delicately before speaking. “Well, it was strange, considering we’ve never done a birthday celebration for him before. But I understand why you want to do it now. It is his twentieth birthday, after all. And... the anniversary.” She trailed off, her tone a bit somber.

Lance’s thoughts clicked into place, and suddenly, excitement surged through him. This could work. Keith could be there—disguised, of course. A masquerade! No one would suspect a thing. And Keith, for once, could walk among them, free from the shadows.

“Yes!” Lance exclaimed, startling his family. “A masquerade. That’s what we’ll do. Keith loved playing pretend as a kid. It’ll be perfect! Red roses, chocolate cake, and a room full of stars—just like he would’ve wanted!” Ideas flowed from him like a river, and for the first time in years, his family saw the light of true joy in Lance’s eyes.

Nancy gave her son an approving smile. She could see the love he had for Keith, though she remained concerned about the challenges ahead. We’ll need all the help we can get, she thought, carefully measuring her next steps.

A smile was plastered across Nancy’s face as she watched Lance speak with such excitement, her heart swelling with a mother’s pride. She hadn’t seen him this happy in years. It wasn’t just the smile or the animated gestures, but the light in his eyes—the one that had been dimmed for far too long—now shining brightly as he spoke about Keith. The thought that Keith was alive and well, here with them, filled her with a deep sense of joy, a joy she hadn’t thought possible after so many years of uncertainty and fear.

Nancy had always been the quiet strategist in the family, and now her idea was taking shape perfectly. A grand masquerade, a celebration not just of Keith’s birthday but of his reintroduction into society—into the world that had forgotten him for too long. She wanted to ensure that by the time Alfor found out, the ball would already be set in motion, and there would be no room for objections or negative remarks. Keith would be accepted back into the fold, and his tragic story would soften even the hardest of hearts, even Alfor’s.

But, of course, she couldn’t share any of these details with Lance just yet. No, now wasn’t the time. Breakfast continued at a slightly more upbeat pace than usual, with Lance leading the conversation, talking eagerly about everything that needed to be done for the masquerade. His words tumbled out with excitement as he detailed the decorations, the music, and how the evening would unfold. Nancy, Allura, and even Alfor listened attentively, though Alfor still held a quiet skepticism, his brow furrowing at the thought of the festivities.
Lance was halfway through describing the perfect chocolate cake for the event when a sudden, loud crash echoed from upstairs, interrupting him mid-sentence. His body stiffened in alarm, his eyes darting toward the ceiling.

“What was that?” Alfor asked, his tone sharp, a note of suspicion creeping into his voice.
Lance’s heart raced. Keith. His mind spun in a panic, searching for an excuse, something to say that wouldn’t raise suspicion. “Uh…”
“Lance?” Alfor pressed. “Is something wrong?”
“No!” Lance replied, perhaps a bit too quickly. “No, no, I just… I, uh…” He struggled for words, feeling trapped under his father’s scrutinizing gaze. His mind raced for a way to escape, to check on Keith without drawing too much attention.

Nancy, ever quick on her feet, saw her son’s discomfort and smoothly stepped in. “Oh, dear, didn’t you say you had a lot to do today?” she said with a warm, knowing smile. “You wouldn’t want to get too distracted. Why don’t you head back upstairs? And don’t forget to take some more breakfast with you.”

Lance shot his mother a grateful look, nodding quickly. “Yes! You’re right. I should get going.” He piled more food onto his plate hastily, eager to get out of the dining room. “I’ll see you all later!” he called over his shoulder, making a swift exit before anyone could ask more questions.

As soon as he was out of sight, his pace quickened, his stomach twisting with worry. Was Keith okay? The noise had been loud—too loud. What happened? His feet pounded against the stone floor of the palace halls, the rhythm of his heartbeat quickening as he raced back toward his room. His mind conjured all sorts of worst-case scenarios, and by the time he reached the door, his hand was shaking as he grabbed the handle and pushed it open.

“Keith?” he called out, his voice filled with concern as he shut the door behind him. His eyes scanned the room until they landed on Keith, who was sitting on the floor next to the vanity. Broken bottles and scattered items surrounded him. Lance’s heart sank at the sight of Keith’s distressed expression, and he rushed over to his side.

“Keith!” he exclaimed, kneeling down in front of him. Keith was cradling his hand, a small piece of glass sticking out of his palm. Tears welled up in his wide, frightened eyes as he looked up at Lance.

“I-I’m sorry…” Keith whispered, his voice shaky. He winced as he held up his injured hand, showing Lance the small but painful cut. “I didn’t mean to. I-I just… I felt dizzy, my head started hurting, and I fell. I’m sorry, I won’t do that again, please don’t—”
Lance’s heart clenched, and before Keith could spiral any further, he gently placed his hand on Keith’s cheek, silencing him with a soft, reassuring touch. “Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Lance murmured, his voice gentle and full of concern. “Are you alright?” His blue eyes searched Keith’s face, filled with nothing but genuine worry.

Keith’s cheeks flushed a rosy pink under Lance’s touch, his embarrassment surfacing as he nodded slowly. “I’m sorry…” he whispered again, looking away, unable to meet Lance’s gaze.

Lance frowned but shook his head. “Don’t apologize, Keith. The only thing that matters is that you’re okay.” He reached for Keith’s injured hand, inspecting the cut with careful attention. “Let’s take a look at this,” he said softly, gently pulling out the shard of glass. “It’s not too bad…”

He held his hand over the cut, focusing his energy. After a few deep breaths, a soft glow emanated from his hand, and the wound healed completely. “Good as new,” Lance said with a small smile, helping Keith to his feet.

“I’ll call someone to clean this up,” Lance added, glancing at the mess around them.
Keith, however, wasn’t looking at the mess anymore. His eyes were fixed on Lance, filled with uncertainty. “You’re not mad?” he asked hesitantly, his voice small and unsure.
Lance chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Of course not, Keith. I can replace some silly lotion. I can’t replace you.”

Keith blinked, the warmth of Lance’s words settling over him like a protective blanket. But the confusion in his mind still lingered. His gaze drifted up toward the painting above Lance’s bed—the one that had caught his attention earlier. “Lance…” he started, his voice quiet but steady. “Is that… me?”

Lance followed Keith’s gaze to the portrait, and for a moment, a heavy silence hung between them. He stared at the painting—a memory frozen in time. It was strange, looking at the boy in the painting and then back at Keith. They were different now, yet both versions were undeniably Keith.
Lance smiled sadly, nodding. “Yeah, that’s you. That portrait was painted almost eleven years ago. It was a gift for my birthday. I wanted a painting of us.” He chuckled softly, the memory surfacing like a bittersweet echo. “We couldn’t sit still for the painter. You were always restless, just like now.”

Keith’s gaze remained on the painting, a deep furrow in his brow. “Lance,” he said, his voice quieter now, more uncertain. “Who am I? Who am I really?”

The question hit Lance like a punch to the gut. He hadn’t considered how lost Keith must feel—how fragmented his sense of self had become. All this time, Lance had been focused on the how and the why of what happened to Keith, never fully realizing that Keith himself might be drowning in questions.

Lance sighed, running a hand through his hair, feeling the weight of the moment settle over him. “I’m so sorry, Keith…” he whispered, his voice heavy with guilt. “I never even thought about how much you don’t know, how much you’ve lost.” He looked down at their hands, holding on tightly, as though afraid Keith might slip away again. “I want to tell you everything, but I don’t want to overwhelm you.”
He took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. “You’re a prince, just like me,” he began carefully. “You were, anyway. Until something terrible happened… and you went missing for ten years. You didn’t always look like this.” He gestured to Keith’s tail, his wings, the scales that dotted his arms. “You were… normal. And then someone took you away.” His voice wavered as he continued. “I had your hand, Keith. I could’ve saved you, but I let go. I was scared, and I let go. It’s my fault that you were taken…”

Keith listened quietly, absorbing every word, even though the memories were foreign to him. He didn’t remember any of it, but he trusted Lance. And more than anything, he could feel the weight of Lance’s guilt, the deep regret in his voice.

“Lance…” Keith said softly, his voice more confident now. “I may not remember anything, but… I know you. You’ve been kind to me. I’m sure whatever happened, it wasn’t your fault.” He spoke with conviction, his hand gently squeezing Lance’s in reassurance.

Lance looked up, his heart swelling at Keith’s words. For the first time in years, he felt a glimmer of hope, a sense of redemption. But Keith’s words brought another wave of sadness, too.
Keith took a deep breath, his eyes clouding over as he recalled distant, painful memories. “He… the man who took me. He used to get mad at me for breaking things with my tail. That’s… that’s how I got these scars.” He touched the ridges on his arms lightly. “But it wasn’t his fault. I’m clumsy, and—”

“Keith.” Lance’s voice was firm, his grip tightening on Keith’s hands. “No one should ever be punished for making mistakes. He’s not good. He took you away from your family, from me.” Lance’s voice cracked, but he pressed on. “We don’t have to talk about him now. But please know… he’s a bad person. And I won’t let him hurt you anymore.”

Keith’s eyes filled with tears, the pain of his past surfacing in waves. Lance pulled him into a hug, holding him tightly, as if he could shield him from everything bad in the world.
“We’ll get through this, Keith. Together,” Lance whispered.
They stayed like that for a long time, wrapped in each other’s warmth, before Lance finally pulled back, a soft smile on his face.

“I know what will cheer you up,” Lance said suddenly, breaking the heavy silence. He stood and motioned for Keith to sit beside him on the bed. “Come sit.”
Keith hesitated but followed, sitting down with a curious expression on his face.
“My mother had a brilliant idea,” Lance continued, his voice brimming with excitement. “We’re going to throw you a party for your birthday!”

Keith blinked, clearly confused. “A… party?”
“Yep!” Lance grinned. “Yesterday was your birthday, but every year we didn’t celebrate because… well, because you weren’t here. But this year, we’re going to make up for it. We’re throwing you a masquerade!”
Keith tilted his head slightly, his brow furrowed. “A masqu-masa-what?” He stuttered over the unfamiliar word.

Lance chuckled softly. “A masquerade. It’s a big party where people wear masks, and there’s dancing, music, food… It’s going to be amazing, Keith. You’ll love it.”
Keith’s initial confusion gave way to excitement. The idea of a celebration—a day just for him—was something he’d never experienced before. His tail swished behind him in excitement. “A party… for me?”
Lance nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, and we have a week to get everything ready. You’ll need to learn some things, though. Like, how to eat properly at a formal event, how to dance… but don’t worry, we’ll figure it all out.”

Keith’s excitement grew, though a hint of nervousness lingered in his eyes. “I’ve never… been to a party before.”
“Well, there’s a first time for everything!” Lance laughed, reaching over to ruffle Keith’s hair. “Trust me, Keith. This is going to be your night.”

For the first time in a long while, he felt a sense of belonging. This was his home now. And Lance… well, Lance would always be by his side.
“We’ll show you to my father after the party,” Lance continued, his voice filled with anticipation. “You’ll be introduced to everyone again. They’re going to be so happy to see you. And I can’t wait to see the look on my father’s face when he realizes you’re back.” He said. “But more importantly..I’ll answer all the questions you have, Keith..”

Keith nodded softly, his tail still swishing behind him. “I trust you, Lance. I’ll answer any questions you have too.”
Lance’s heart soared at those words. Keith’s trust was all he needed. This time, he would protect him. He wouldn’t let anyone take Keith away again.

Chapter Text

Both boys were now brimming with excitement, though it showed more obviously in Lance’s energetic gestures. Keith, on the other hand, didn’t often wear his emotions openly. His face remained somewhat neutral, but his body told a different story. His ears, always a giveaway, stood perked with interest, and his tail, unable to hide his excitement, swished back and forth rhythmically. Lance couldn’t help but find it endearing, like a small window into Keith’s inner world that only he had the privilege of seeing.

Lance smiled softly to himself. He knew this moment wouldn’t last forever. Sure, they were both happy now, caught in the thrill of the moment, but rough times would come eventually. Emotional storms, the kind that Keith, with his guarded heart, wasn’t used to facing. But despite all that, Lance was sure of one thing: everything would be okay. Maybe not immediately, maybe not easily, but in the end, they’d come through it together. That was something he could say with absolute certainty.

“When we were little, your birthday parties were the best,” Lance began, his voice filled with warmth and nostalgia. “Mine were too, but this is going to be fun. We’re gonna have chocolate cake—your favorite. You might not get any gifts though, but—” He suddenly gasped as if a thought had struck him out of the blue. “Oh! I have the perfect gift for you! I didn’t get to give it to you back then.”
His enthusiasm seemed to know no bounds, and Keith watched, still half-uncertain of how to respond. While Lance’s excitement bubbled over, Keith’s own feelings of anticipation were less expressive. But that was okay, Lance understood him. He always had.

"But we also have a ton of things to do to get you ready..." Lance continued, the spark of his plan already lighting up his eyes. He stood from the bed, grabbing the plate of breakfast—pancakes, eggs, and bacon—that he had brought in earlier. “We’ll start small.”

Keith tilted his head, watching Lance move about the room with an effortless ease. His own feelings were a little more muddled. Excitement, yes. But there was something else under the surface. Anxiety? Maybe. A party, a lot of people, all there for him—it was overwhelming just to think about. He didn’t like being alone, not anymore, but at the same time, he wasn’t sure he was ready for that kind of attention. It made his stomach twist in knots. The only person he really wanted near him was Lance, but even that thought made him feel vulnerable.
His worries were soon interrupted by the mouthwatering smell of breakfast. He gave the plate an inquisitive sniff and couldn’t help but let his stomach take over. “What’s that?” Keith asked, his eyes trained on the food, curiosity overtaking his previous train of thought.

Lance beamed. “Breakfast!” He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “But we’re not eating on the bed this time. Come over here...” He pulled a chair over to his vanity, clearing away his things with deliberate care. Once the space was clear, he set the plate down neatly, placing a fork beside it. Then he turned to Keith, motioning him over with a beckoning wave. “Sit here.”
Keith blinked, his confusion evident. Why couldn’t he just eat on the bed? It seemed perfectly fine to him. But Lance had that look in his eye—the one that said he wasn’t going to take no for an answer. “Okay...” Keith mumbled as he got up from the bed and made his way over.
“Now sit,” Lance instructed, his tone gentle but firm.

Keith obeyed, but the way he sat wasn’t exactly what Lance had in mind. He hunched his back and curled his legs up into the chair, looking more like a cat ready to nap than someone preparing for a formal meal. Lance chuckled softly at the sight.
“Well, almost,” Lance said, clearly amused but trying not to make Keith feel self-conscious. “Let me show you...” He leaned down, hands guiding Keith’s posture gently. “Straighten your back for me, and put your legs down, feet on the floor. There you go!” He grinned, taking a step back to admire his work. “You’re already looking like a real prince!”

Keith squirmed a little in his seat. Sitting up straight felt so unnatural. His back felt stiff, and the sensation of his feet touching the ground made him fidget. Why did he have to sit like this? It didn’t feel right at all. Lance, seeing the discomfort in his friend’s face, softened his gaze.

“I know it probably doesn’t feel great,” he admitted, his voice more understanding now. “But you’ll get used to it. We want you to be ready for the party. Don’t worry, we’ve got time. Just relax, we’ll get there.”
Keith gave a small nod, though his eyes were still glued to the plate of food in front of him. He was starving. “Can I eat now?” he asked, looking up at Lance with a face that was equal parts pleading and hungry.
Lance chuckled. “Go ahead! But this time, try using this.” He picked up the fork and handed it to Keith.

Keith took the utensil in his hand, turning it over curiously. “What is this?” he asked, his voice full of puzzlement.
“That’s a fork,” Lance explained with a patient smile. “You use it to pick up your food and bring it to your mouth. You can either stab the food or scoop it up.”
Keith looked at the fork again, gripping it like a weapon. “Okay...” He muttered to himself before awkwardly stabbing the eggs and bringing them to his mouth. Without thinking, he bit down hard on the fork.

“Ahhh!” he yelped, his teeth hitting the metal with a sharp clink. Lance gasped, worry flashing across his face as he reached out.
“Oh, Keith, don’t bite down on the fork!” Lance said, his tone filled with both concern and amusement. “Here,” He chuckled, gently taking the fork from Keith’s hand. “Open up, let me see.”
Keith swallowed the eggs and opened his mouth wide like a little kid at the dentist’s. Lance leaned in to inspect.

“No chipped teeth. That’s good,” Lance said with a relieved smile. “From now on, I’ll make sure to eat with you, so I can show you how it’s done.”
Keith rubbed his jaw, the initial shock wearing off quickly. He felt a little embarrassed but also grateful. Lance always seemed to know what to do, even in these small moments.

“Alright, let’s try again,” Lance said encouragingly. He sat beside Keith, this time demonstrating how to use the fork properly. He scooped up some eggs, took a bite, then neatly cut the pancakes and showed Keith how to stab them. “See? Just like that. And remember, there’s no rush. The food’s not going anywhere.”

Keith nodded, taking the fork back and mimicking Lance’s actions as best he could. His grip was still awkward, but he managed to eat without incident this time. It wasn’t perfect, but it was a start. They had plenty of time to get it right.
And as Lance watched Keith try again, his heart warmed. This was just the beginning—one small step on a long journey they’d take together.

After a breakfast that left both boys feeling full and satisfied, Lance wasted no time in shifting gears. The day’s events had only just begun, and Lance was already buzzing with determination. Today was going to be perfect—there was no room for anything less. And if that meant finding Keith the perfect outfit, then that was exactly what he would do.

As Keith headed to the bathroom to wash off the sticky syrup clinging to his face, Lance began rummaging through his closet. His hands sifted through rows of tunics, jackets, and trousers. But as he pulled one garment after another into the light, a sinking realization hit him.

“None of my clothes are going to fit him,” Lance sighed under his breath, shaking his head. Keith had grown so much in such a short time, his transformation marked by a sudden growth spurt. It wasn’t just Keith’s height; his build was now different, more muscular, as though shaped by the magic that had transformed him. Lance muttered, his fingers tapping against the closet’s wooden door. “I’ll have to get the tailor to make something for him... Or—” A thought crossed his mind, and suddenly, Lance’s face lit up with inspiration. “Maybe... father has something!” His grin grew wider. Yes, that could work! Keith was nearly the same height as his father. Surely there would be something suitable hidden in the deep recesses of his father’s wardrobe.

“Keith!” Lance called, heading towards the door. “I’ll be right back, okay? I’m gonna pop out for a sec!” His voice echoed through the room just as the door shut behind him with a soft click.

Keith, still in the bathroom, poked his head out from behind the door, droplets of water clinging to his face. “But Lance—” He groaned when he realized Lance had already left. His ears twitched in slight annoyance, his tail flicking sharply behind him. He hated being left alone, even for a moment, but Lance always seemed to dart off. Even if it was quick, Keith couldn’t help but worry. He needed another distraction.

Lance, meanwhile, sprinted down the castle’s winding halls, his mind racing as fast as his feet. Everything today had to be flawless. No matter what, he was determined to show Keith that the royal life wasn’t as overwhelming or suffocating as he feared. It could be something special—if you looked at it the right way.

Reaching his parents’ quarters, Lance hesitated for only a moment before pushing the heavy doors open. The familiar scent of polished wood and lavender oil met him as he entered, but Lance didn’t linger. His focus was singular. He hurried to his father’s closet, sliding the doors open and scanning the rows of finely tailored suits, robes, and tunics that lined the space. Keith’s height meant his usual options wouldn’t suffice, but he knew his father’s wardrobe held treasures that hadn’t seen the light of day in years. Lance rifled through, his hands brushing past ornate garments until his eyes fell on something simple but striking.

“Perfect,” he whispered, pulling the suit from its hanger. It wasn’t too flashy—just a well-fitted red tunic embroidered with elegant gold thread. It would be dignified without being over the top, perfect for today’s events. Lance smiled to himself. He could always worry about what Keith would wear to the masquerade later. This suit would work for now.
“I just need to alter it a bit for his wings and tail...”
Before Lance could finish his thought, the sound of his father’s voice cut through the air, startling him.
“Lance?” King Alfor’s deep voice filled the room, laced with confusion. Lance spun around to find his father standing in the doorway, his expression unreadable.

“F-Father!” Lance stammered, his eyes wide. He hadn’t expected his father to be here. “Don’t you have... a meeting or something?” He asked, his voice faltering.

Alfor sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose as he stepped further into the room. “It got canceled. Your mother insisted on using the council chambers with your sister to help plan your little... event.” He glanced at the suit in Lance’s hands, his brow furrowed. “Lance, what’s all this about? You usually stay so quiet during the anniversary. Why all the fuss now?”

Lance’s heart raced, but his anxiety didn’t grow, nor did it lessen. His hands tightened on the fabric of the tunic. “What do you mean?”
Alfor sighed again, heavier this time, his gaze softening but still tinged with skepticism. “This whole birthday party is nonsense, Lance.”
Lance frowned, the weight of his father’s words settling on him like a lead blanket. “Why do you always say that?” he asked quietly. “Nothing about this is nonsensical. Keith is—” Lance paused, frustration bubbling up as he struggled to find the words. “Keith was my friend. I’m not going to let his memory fade into mourning and sadness. It’s not a day to grieve him. It’s a day to celebrate him.”

Alfor’s eyes softened, but he didn’t respond. Instead, his gaze dropped to the suit in Lance’s hands. “What are you doing with my suit?” he asked, clearly avoiding the deeper conversation. “Shouldn’t you be helping your mother and sister?”
Lance held his father’s gaze, his expression growing colder, more resolute. “Yes. That’s what I’m doing.” He looked down at the tunic in his hands. “I was making something for you, but... I think I’ve found a better use for it.” He stepped past his father, his heart heavy but his resolve unshaken. “I don’t understand you,” he added, his voice quiet but firm. “And I don’t think I ever will. I thought maybe I could, but... you just won’t let me.”

Without waiting for a response, Lance walked out of the room, his footsteps echoing in the silence. He didn’t look back.
When Lance returned to his room, he found Keith standing awkwardly in front of the mirror, his reflection filled with uncertainty. Keith was trying to stand up straight, just as Lance had shown him earlier, but it was clearly a struggle. His back ached from the unfamiliar posture, and standing with his feet pointed outward felt wrong, unnatural. But he gritted his teeth and bore it. For Lance.

“Uh... hello,” Keith muttered to himself, as though practicing his introduction. “I’m Keith,” he said with a forced awkwardness before groaning and shaking his head. “No... uh, hi. I’m Keith, Prince of... what did he say again? Agh!” His hand flew to his head in frustration, rubbing his temple as his tail flicked nervously behind him.

“Keeeeiiith!” Lance’s cheerful voice broke through Keith’s concentration as he entered the room. “Are you rehearsing greetings?” Lance teased with a light laugh, his eyes sparkling with affection.

Keith’s ears flattened slightly in embarrassment, but he managed a weak smile. “Uh... yeah. Something like that.”
Lance chuckled softly, stepping closer. “Oh, you look so worried. There’s nothing to be afraid of. Everyone’s going to love you. Just like I do.” His smile was warm and reassuring, and for a moment, Keith’s anxious thoughts faded.
A warmth spread through Keith’s chest as he gazed down at Lance. The sincerity in his voice, the way he looked at him—it was enough to make Keith’s heart flutter. But before he could dwell on the feeling, Lance’s sudden excitement snapped him out of his thoughts.

“Look what I found!” Lance exclaimed, holding up the suit. “Just for you! Let me alter it for your wings and tail, and then we can get you into it.”
Keith’s eyes widened in awe as he stared at the tunic, the rich red fabric shimmering in the light. “Oh wow... it’s so shiny,” he murmured, his gaze captivated by the intricate gold embroidery. “Is this what you wear all the time?” he asked, still mesmerized.

Lance laughed, shaking his head. “Only sometimes! When I’m not lounging around or going on rugged adventures to save my best friend.” He winked, setting the suit on his vanity before pulling out a pair of scissors from the drawer. “Now, let’s make a few adjustments...”
Lance carefully snipped at the fabric, making sure to leave room for Keith’s wings and tail. His hands moved with precision, his mind already envisioning how Keith would look once he was dressed. After a few minutes, Lance stood back, admiring his work. “All done! Go try it on, and then we’ll move on to the next thing: dancing!”
“Dancing?” Keith repeated, his brow furrowed in confusion. “Uh... okay.” He took the suit and headed to the bathroom to change, still unsure of what Lance had planned.

Lance couldn’t help but smile as he waited, his excitement bubbling up. He couldn’t wait to see Keith in royal red, the color of his own family’s lineage. It would be perfect.
A few minutes passed before Keith’s voice called out from the bathroom. “Lance! Are you sure about this?”

“I’m positive!” Lance replied, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Come on, let me see!”
Keith sighed audibly before stepping out of the bathroom, clearly feeling self-conscious in the new outfit. The tunic fit well enough, though there were still a few wrinkles and adjustments that needed to be made. But to Lance, none of that mattered. Keith looked... breathtaking.

Lance felt the warmth rise in his cheeks the moment Keith stepped out of the bathroom. The tunic, vibrant red with golden embroidery, hugged Keith in a way that accentuated his new form, his wings perfectly framed by the alterations Lance had made. Lance's heart skipped a beat, but he quickly dismissed the sensation, brushing it off as nothing more than excitement for the day's plans.
“Oh wow, Keith. You look great!” Lance couldn’t help the admiration in his voice as he stepped closer, his hands instinctively reaching to adjust the tunic, smoothing out a wrinkle here and there. He tilted his head to get a better look at Keith’s wings, their dark, leathery texture gleaming softly under the light. “Amazing,” he whispered, almost to himself.

Keith, standing there awkwardly, felt his stomach twist and turn, not out of discomfort but because Lance's words stirred something unfamiliar inside him. His chest felt tight, and his heartbeat quickened as Lance fussed over his outfit. “Oh-uh… thank you,” Keith mumbled, his gaze darting away. He couldn’t meet Lance’s eyes, not when his tail was flicking nervously behind him, betraying his emotions.
Lance finally stepped back, taking in the full view of Keith in his royal attire. His eyes sparkled with enthusiasm, and he clapped his hands together. “Oooh, now we can get started with the fun part!” His excitement was palpable, his hands practically shaking with energy.

Keith raised an eyebrow, still trying to wrap his head around everything that had happened so far. “You said… dancing, right?” he asked, a note of uncertainty creeping into his voice. Keith wasn’t used to all this—fine clothes, fancy traditions, and now… dancing?
Lance nodded eagerly, his grin wide and reassuring. “You used to love dancing,” he said with confidence, “so I’m sure you’ll be just as good at it now! It’s a lot different from what we used to do, though. A lot more fancy and formal, but you’ll pick it up quickly, seeing as you’re such a fast learner.” Lance playfully nudged Keith’s arm, his smile softening as he saw the blush that crept across Keith’s cheeks.

Keith rubbed his arm, trying to hide his embarrassment. “Okay…” he muttered, though the uncertainty lingered in his voice. His eyes flickered back to Lance, who seemed so sure of everything, so comfortable in this world of royalty and grandeur. Keith didn’t belong here, not really. But he couldn’t deny the warmth he felt from Lance’s unwavering support, the way Lance made him feel like maybe—just maybe—he could fit in after all.

Lance’s expression softened further as he sensed Keith’s hesitation. “Don’t worry,” he said, his voice quieter now, more comforting. “My father should be busy right now, so let’s sneak into the ballroom. I’ll teach you everything.”
Keith blinked. “A ballroom?” he repeated, the word foreign on his tongue. It sounded extravagant.
“Yeah,” Lance said with a gentle smile, taking Keith’s hand in his own. The warmth of Lance’s hand in his felt grounding, a tether in the whirlwind of uncertainty that swirled in Keith’s mind. “It’s a huge space where people dance together. You’ll have plenty of room to practice, and I’ll show you all the easy steps first.” Lance squeezed Keith’s hand reassuringly before leading him out of the room.

As they walked hand in hand through the winding corridors, Keith’s eyes wandered, taking in the grandeur of the castle. The tapestries, the polished floors, the soft golden light filtering through the stained glass windows—all of it felt surreal, as though he were walking through a dream. But the warmth of Lance’s hand in his kept him grounded, reminded him that this was real.

Finally, they reached the ballroom, and Lance pushed open the large double doors with a flourish. The room that greeted them was nothing short of breathtaking. The ballroom mirrored the throne room in its opulence, with marble floors that gleamed in the sunlight streaming through tall windows. A grand piano stood in the far corner, its lacquered surface reflecting the soft glow of the room. Statues lined the walls, each carved with intricate detail, while heavy, velvet curtains draped from ceiling to floor, adding a sense of intimacy to the grand space.

“Here it is!” Lance said, his voice filled with pride as he led Keith to the center of the room. The vastness of the ballroom swallowed them up, making Keith feel small, even with his new height and wingspan. He looked around, wide-eyed, taking in the grandiosity of it all.
“This is really big…” Keith muttered under his breath, his eyes lingering on the shiny decorations that adorned the room. His attention flitted from one sparkling object to the next, his dragon-like instincts drawing him to the glimmering surfaces.

Lance chuckled softly, shaking his head. “No getting distracted, starlight,” he teased, gently pulling Keith’s focus back to him. “I’m going to teach you how to dance, remember?”

Keith’s gaze snapped back to Lance, his cheeks flushing slightly in embarrassment. “Oh right… dancing,” he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. His wings shifted slightly, their tips brushing the air nervously. He felt out of place in the grand room, as though he didn’t belong in this world of refined elegance. But when Lance looked at him like that, with such certainty and trust, it made Keith want to try, if only to see that smile again.

Lance took a step closer, his movements slow and deliberate. “Okay, so how do we start?” Keith asked, trying to shake off the nerves that fluttered in his chest.

Chapter Text

”We’re going to start with the easiest dance there is,” Lance declared, his finger held high with playful confidence. His voice echoed through the ballroom, lighthearted yet full of intent. “The waltz! It’s so easy, you’ll barely have to think about it.”
Keith shifted awkwardly, casting a quick glance around the expansive room as if searching for an escape route. The sheer size of the ballroom felt overwhelming, the high ceilings making him feel exposed and small. But Lance’s smile was disarming—inviting, even—and despite the nerves knotting in Keith’s stomach, he couldn’t find it in himself to say no.

“Come on,” Lance said, stepping forward with an encouraging smile, holding out his hand. “I’ll show you how.”
Keith hesitated for a moment, staring down at Lance’s outstretched hand. It felt too intimate, too close. He wasn’t used to this—being vulnerable, relying on someone else for guidance. But the softness in Lance’s gaze, the way he stood there patiently, made something in Keith’s chest stir. Slowly, almost reluctantly, Keith reached out and took Lance’s hand.

“I’ll lead,” Lance said softly, stepping in closer. “Now, put your hands right here…” He gently guided Keith’s hand to his own shoulder, their fingers intertwining naturally as if they’d done this a thousand times before. “And your other hand goes here.” Lance’s hand found Keith’s waist, the touch gentle but firm, like he was anchoring him to the moment.

Keith looked down at Lance, his heart thudding heavily in his chest. The proximity was new—overwhelming even—but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was… strange. But it didn’t feel bad. Just unfamiliar.
“There,” Lance chuckled softly, his voice warm and reassuring. “You’ve already mastered the first step.”
Keith let out a nervous chuckle, still feeling the pit of uncertainty in his stomach. He wasn’t sure about this—about being this close, about dancing—but Lance’s unwavering confidence was infectious. It was hard not to feel a bit lighter in his presence.

“Now, all you have to do is follow my feet,” Lance instructed, glancing up at him. “Just watch me. You’ll get the hang of it in no time.”
With that, Lance began to move, stepping back gracefully. Keith’s eyes immediately fell to their feet, watching with laser focus as Lance stepped back, then to the side, then forward. He concentrated hard, trying to match each step with Lance’s, his tail twitching nervously behind him.
“See?” Lance beamed up at him. “You’re doing great. You’ll be a master at the waltz in no time.”

Keith blushed, his cheeks turning a faint shade of pink. He wasn’t used to praise—especially not from someone like Lance. He looked down at the smaller prince, feeling the warmth of Lance’s hand on his waist, the gentle pressure of their fingers intertwined. Just two days ago, he never would’ve imagined being here, in this place, with Lance of all people. The comfort of Lance’s hold, the way he guided him so patiently—it was more than Keith ever thought he could have.
They danced in silence for a few more moments, the soft shuffle of their feet the only sound between them. Keith was still too focused on getting the steps right, but with each passing second, he felt himself relaxing more into the rhythm.

After a while, Lance slowed to a stop, his smile growing even wider. “Awesome job, Keith,” he said, a hint of pride in his voice.
Keith’s blush deepened, and he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Really? Oh, thanks. Wait—That’s all I have to do?” He asked, his tone incredulous.
Lance chuckled. “Well, I think we can try it with music now,” he said, stepping away to head toward the piano. Keith’s brow furrowed in confusion as he watched Lance walk off.

“How am I supposed to do it if… you’re not with me?” Keith called after him, raising an eyebrow.
Lance glanced over his shoulder, grinning mischievously. “Oh, I’ll be with you, Keith. I just have to start the music first.” He settled onto the piano stool, humming thoughtfully to himself as he positioned his fingers over the keys. “Let’s see… What’s a good song for a waltz?” His eyes lit up suddenly, an idea sparking in his mind. “Got it!”
Keith stood there, watching as Lance’s fingers danced over the piano keys. A soft, lilting melody filled the ballroom, the notes rising and falling like waves on a calm sea. Keith’s eyes widened in awe. He had never heard anything like this before—had never really heard music at all. And Lance was the one creating it. The sight was mesmerizing, the music weaving around him like a spell.
A pale blue light began to glow from Lance’s hands, magical and ethereal, as if the music itself was alive. Lance lifted his hands from the keys, but the melody continued, the glowing light dancing across the piano as it played on its own. Lance stood, leaving the piano behind as the music filled the room, and returned to Keith’s side with a soft smile.

“Let’s try this again,” Lance said, reaching for Keith’s hands once more. “You’ve got this, Keith.” He winked playfully, his voice full of warmth and reassurance.
Keith felt his face flush again, heat rushing to his cheeks as he quickly averted his gaze. “Oh—yes, okay,” he mumbled, nodding a bit too quickly.
Lance began the waltz again, guiding Keith through the steps. This time, with the music filling the room and Lance humming softly along to the tune, something shifted. Keith found himself falling into the rhythm more easily, his steps growing more confident with each beat.

But even as he followed Lance’s lead, Keith couldn’t stop looking down at his feet, trying to make sure he didn’t mess up. He wanted to get it right—to impress Lance.
“Keith,” Lance said softly, drawing his attention back up.
Keith’s eyes snapped to Lance’s, a bit of panic flashing in them. “Huh? Oh—yes, Lance?”

Lance smiled fondly up at him, his voice soft as he continued. “You know, when we were kids, we used to dance all the time…” He chuckled, the memory bringing a glimmer of nostalgia to his eyes. “It wasn’t like this, of course. This is more formal, for events and, well… couples.” He winked teasingly.
Keith felt his heart skip at the mention of couples but pushed the thought away, focusing on Lance’s words.

“But you’re doing really well, Keith. I’m proud of you,” Lance said, his tone sincere.
Keith blinked, his breath catching in his throat. “R-really?” he stammered, feeling a strange flutter in his chest. No one had ever told him they were proud of him before—not like this.
Lance nodded, his gaze soft and full of affection. “Yes, really. You’ve come so far in just a few days. Whether it’s proper or not, you’re perfect, Starlight.”

Keith’s face turned a deeper shade of red, his ears folding back in embarrassment. He opened his mouth to respond, but before he could say anything, his foot caught on his tail. “Ugh!” He yelped as he stumbled forward, falling against Lance.
The music stopped as Keith landed in Lance’s arms, groaning in frustration. Lance, ever steady, caught him effortlessly, his hands sliding beneath Keith’s back to support him. He looked down at Keith, a soft giggle escaping his lips. “Keith, are you alright?” he asked, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “You’re quite clumsy, you know.”

Keith felt his embarrassment deepen as he looked up at Lance, their faces inches apart. From this angle, Lance looked even more beautiful, the soft light of the ballroom highlighting every delicate feature. Keith swallowed hard, trying to ignore the way his heart pounded in his chest. “I-I’m okay,” he managed to mutter, his voice shaky.
Lance smiled, pulling Keith back up to his feet and playfully ruffling his hair. “With more practice, you’ll get the hang of that tail,” he teased gently.

Keith ran a hand through his hair, trying to fix it, still blushing furiously. “Uh… L-Lance, can I tell you something?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Lance turned to him, his expression soft and patient. “Of course. You can tell me anything, Starlight.”
Keith’s ears perked up at the nickname, and his tail flicked nervously behind him. “W-well, I… I-I…” He stuttered, trying to gather his thoughts, but before he could finish, the ballroom doors creaked open.

Nancy stepped inside, her presence filling the room with an air of calm authority. “Hello, boys,” she greeted with a smile. “It looks like you two are having fun.”
Lance turned to her, smiling brightly. “Mother! Yes, I was just teaching Keith how to dance. He’s a natural!”
Nancy’s smile widened as she approached them. “That’s wonderful, dear. I came to tell you there’s someone who wishes to meet with you. He’s waiting in the foyer.”
Lance tilted his head in curiosity. “A visitor? For me? I barely talk to anyone in town…” He trailed off before looking back at Keith, his brow furrowing with guilt. “I’ll go see him, but I’ll be right back okay? You can tell me that thing you wanted to say when I return, and then we can head to the garden. That’s enough dancing for today.”
Keith hesitated, his tail swaying slightly. “Promise?”
Lance smiled warmly, nodding. “Promise.”

As Lance left the ballroom, the heavy doors shutting with a soft thud, Keith found himself staring at the space where the prince had stood, feeling the warmth of Lance’s presence slowly dissipate. The vast emptiness of the ballroom pressed in on him, and he found his hands fidgeting, his tail swishing nervously. The minutes dragged by in excruciating silence, the occasional distant sound of a servant passing through the halls doing little to ease the growing anxiety gnawing at his chest.

Lance stepped out of the ballroom, the sound of the grand doors closing behind him echoing in the silent corridor. He hesitated for a moment, his gaze lingering on the door, his thoughts still with Keith, who remained inside. A part of him felt uneasy leaving Keith alone like that, especially after everything they’d been through, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

He trusted Keith, but not the world around him. And he wasn’t going to let Keith stumble back to his room on his own, not tonight—not with the shadows that seemed to cling to the corners of the castle, thick and heavy. Not with the weight of unspoken threats that hung over their heads. Keith had been through so much already.

With a small sigh, Lance tore his gaze away from the door and headed toward the foyer. His footsteps were quick but quiet, his mind racing with questions. His mother had said someone wanted to speak with him, but hadn’t mentioned who. That in itself was strange. He wasn’t exactly someone of great importance, not like his sister, who handled the majority of diplomatic matters. He preferred to remain out of the spotlight, staying in the background where he didn’t have to make decisions that could impact the kingdom. So why would anyone request him specifically?

As he approached the front foyer, Lance felt his stomach twist in knots. His footsteps slowed, uncertainty settling into his bones. Whoever was waiting for him… something didn’t feel right.
When Lance finally stepped into the grand foyer, his eyes were immediately drawn to the figure standing in the center of the room. The man was draped in a dark purple cloak that brushed the marble floor, his long, white hair stark against the shadows. He stood tall, imposing, and there was something about him—something familiar that sent an inexplicable chill down Lance’s spine.

The man didn’t move at first, didn’t acknowledge Lance’s presence immediately, as if he was waiting for something. Lance, swallowing his nerves, took a few tentative steps forward.
“Sir…” Lance’s voice was soft, but steady as he approached. His heart hammered in his chest, though he couldn’t understand why. “My mother said you wanted to talk with me. May I ask who you are?”

For a brief moment, there was silence, and Lance began to wonder if the man had even heard him. But then, slowly, the man’s head lifted, and though his face was mostly concealed by the hood, Lance could see the faintest curl of a smile at the corner of his lips. A smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
“Hello, little prince,” the man greeted, his voice smooth but laced with something unsettling, something that made Lance’s skin crawl. “I’ve come to discuss something with you…”

Lance stopped walking, an involuntary response to the creeping unease that coiled around him. He kept his distance, suddenly unsure of how close he wanted to be to this man. There was something off, something not quite right.

“Oh?” Lance replied cautiously, his brows knitting together. “And what might you want to discuss with me?”
The man chuckled lightly, but it wasn’t a sound of warmth—it was cold, calculated. He took a small step forward, and instinctively, Lance stiffened, his senses screaming at him to be wary.
“Well, you see…” the man began, his voice lowering slightly. “I’m sure you meant no harm in the matter, but you’ve taken something of mine.”

Lance blinked, confusion flickering across his face. He didn’t steal, and he certainly hadn’t taken anything from anyone. He’d always been careful, mindful of his actions—so what was this man talking about?
“You must be mistaken, sir,” Lance said, offering a polite but strained smile. “I don’t steal things from people. I’m sure you’re thinking of someone else.”
The man’s smile wavered for a moment, something darker creeping into his expression. His voice dropped, becoming heavier, more familiar. “Little prince… it’s not nice to take things that aren’t yours.”

It was then that Lance felt it—an aura, thick and suffocating, wrapping around him like a vice. His breath hitched, his heart pounding in his ears. That voice… He knew that voice.
Lance’s eyes widened, his body going rigid with realization, fear flooding through his veins like ice water. He took a small, involuntary step back, his hands curling into fists at his sides.

“Y-you…” Lance’s voice wavered, barely above a whisper, but the fear in it was undeniable.

The man chuckled darkly, the sound low and menacing. “Yes, your majesty,” he mocked, taking another step closer, his towering form casting an ominous shadow over Lance. “Quite observant.”

Lance’s stomach twisted, his heart slamming against his ribcage as he stared up at the man he now recognized all too well.

This was the man that took Keith.

The man’s smile widened, though it held no warmth, only cruelty. “Now, I’m going to say this again,” he began, his voice dangerously soft. “You have something that belongs to me.”

For a moment, Lance could barely breathe, the weight of his presence suffocating. But then, slowly, something inside him shifted—something stronger than fear, something more powerful than the panic clawing at his chest.

Keith.

Lance clenched his fists, the fear in his eyes hardening into resolve as he shook his head firmly. “No,” he said, his voice stronger now, more certain. “Keith is not yours. He is no one’s. I’m not giving him back to you, and you can forget about that.” His voice grew louder, more defiant. “Leave this place forever. Because you will never see him again.”

The man hummed, seemingly amused by Lance’s boldness. He tilted his head slightly, watching Lance with an almost predatory interest. “Well…” he mused, a smirk tugging at his lips. “This could be fun.”

Lance’s eyes darted around the foyer, his heart racing. There were supposed to be guards here—where were they? Why hadn’t anyone come? “Guards!” Lance called, his voice sharp, commanding. “Someone, arrest this man for the kidnapping of the Galran prince!”
But the man only laughed—a deep, mocking laugh that sent shivers down Lance’s spine. “Oh, please,” he sneered. “They can’t hear you. Nor will they ever know I was here. I can’t have you going on and blabbering about me, now, can I?”

Lance’s heart sank as Lotor’s words settled over him, the reality of the situation pressing down like a vice. No one was coming.
“Well…” the man said with an exaggerated sigh, bowing mockingly. “It was nice catching up, your majesty.” He straightened, his eyes gleaming with malice. “But I must get going. Send my regards to the beast.”
Lance’s eyes narrowed, anger flashing through him. “Don’t you dare talk about him like that.”

He sighed again, feigning boredom. “Okay…” he drawled, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “But you’ll see, soon enough. You have no idea what he’s capable of. And If I don’t have him by the end of the week…” He paused, his smile turning sharp, dangerous. “I will come and take him myself. No pressure, your majesty, but… time is ticking.”
Before Lance could respond, a puff of purple smoke enveloped the room, and just like that, he was gone.

Lance’s breath came in short, panicked bursts as he stood frozen, his mind reeling. There was no time to waste. His eyes widened with sudden realization, the weight of his threat crashing down on him like a tidal wave. “Keith,” he whispered, his voice trembling as he turned and bolted back toward the ballroom, his heart pounding wildly in his chest

Keith had been waiting for what felt like an eternity. He paced back and forth, the soft echo of his footsteps filling the otherwise empty ballroom. His restless energy seemed to mirror the unease that had been building in the pit of his stomach since Lance had left him. He circled the grand piano a few times, fingers brushing absentmindedly against the keys, but the distraction didn’t last long. Eventually, his impatience got the better of him, and he made his way to the large window overlooking the front of the castle.

The view was breathtaking, the sprawling town below spread out like a miniature world. From this high up, the people looked like tiny, insignificant dots, scurrying about their lives. Keith found himself longing for something more, to step outside of these walls, to experience the world below. It was a distant dream, one he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to chase. The sky beyond the horizon was dark, the moon casting an ethereal glow over the town, and for a moment, Keith allowed himself to forget the troubles that had been weighing him down.
But that fleeting sense of peace was shattered in an instant.

As Keith’s gaze wandered across the grounds, something—or someone—caught his eye. A cloaked figure, moving with purpose, was leaving the castle. Keith's tail flicked nervously behind him, a habit that always surfaced when his instincts were on edge. He leaned forward, squinting to get a better view through the window.
The figure paused, as if sensing Keith’s gaze. Slowly, almost deliberately, the person turned around, lifting their hood just enough for their eyes to catch the moonlight. Yellow. Glowing. Cold and menacing.

Keith’s heart skipped a beat, his breath catching in his throat as those eyes locked onto his. An evil grin spread across the stranger’s face, sharp and knowing, like a predator toying with its prey. Keith’s stomach twisted in fear, his mind already racing with the realization of who this had to be.

“No…” Keith whispered, his voice barely audible as panic began to rise in his chest. He stepped back from the window, trembling.

The figure turned away, disappearing into the shadows, but the damage had been done. Keith stumbled back, his heel catching on the edge of the marble floor. “Ah!” He gasped as he fell, landing hard on his back. The cold of the floor seeped through his clothes, but the chill that coursed through his body wasn’t from the cold—it was from pure, unfiltered terror.
Panting heavily, Keith scrambled to sit up, his hands trembling as he clutched his head. "No, no, no!" His voice cracked, rising in pitch with every word. "He knows I'm here! He knows!" His eyes darted around the room in panic, the walls suddenly feeling too close, too suffocating.

He couldn’t breathe. “He’s going to take me back!” Keith's voice broke into a sob as he clutched his head tighter, trying to block out the racing thoughts. "I can’t go back! I won’t go back!”
Tears stung his eyes, blurring his vision. He squeezed them shut, trying to will the terror away, but it only grew stronger. The fear, the memories—it was too much. His chest heaved as the sobs wracked his body, his mind spiraling out of control. “Ugh! No, make it stop!” His voice was desperate, broken, as his glowing yellow eyes flashed open, the Galran within him threatening to take over. His tail thrashed behind him as he backed further away from the window, his claws digging into the floor. "He… he’s gonna take me…”

In his panicked retreat, Keith tripped over his tail again, falling hard onto the floor. He groaned, curling up into a ball, his body shaking with fear. The sobs came harder now, uncontrollable. He wrapped his arms around his head, trying to shut out the terror, the memories of being caged, being used. He didn't want to be that again. He couldn’t survive it.

The ballroom doors burst open with a sharp creak, and Lance rushed in, his heart nearly stopping when he saw Keith crumpled on the floor. “Keith?!”

Without thinking, Lance sprinted toward him, his eyes wide with panic. He dropped to his knees beside Keith, reaching out to him. “Hey, hey, it’s okay! Keith, it’s okay, I’m here.”
Keith flinched at the sound of Lance’s voice, his glowing eyes snapping up to meet him. But instead of feeling relief, the Galran side of him flared, and before he could stop it, his claws lashed out. “No! Get away from me!” he shouted, his voice distorted, almost unrecognizable. His hand swiped across Lance’s cheek, the sharp claws leaving a shallow, but painful, scratch.

Lance gasped, his head snapping to the side from the force. His hand instinctively went to his cheek, feeling the warm trickle of blood beneath his fingers. He pulled away slightly, giving Keith the space he needed, but his heart broke at the sight of him, curled up and terrified.

Keith’s eyes widened in horror as the glow faded from them, the Galran influence slipping away. His hands trembled as he stared at Lance, at the small line of blood on his cheek. “Lance…” he whimpered, his voice cracking as guilt flooded his chest. "Oh no… I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” His hands flew to his mouth, muffling his sobs as he shook his head in disbelief. “I didn’t mean to hurt you! I-I saw him, I saw Lotor, and I—“
Lance, still holding his bleeding cheek, shook his head gently, his expression softening. “Keith…” His voice was calm, soothing. “It’s okay. It’s just a scratch, I’m fine.”

Keith’s breathing was ragged, his chest heaving with the effort to calm down. He looked at Lance, tears streaming down his face. “I hurt you…” he whispered, his voice full of pain. “I didn’t want to hurt you…”
Lance reached out slowly, his movements deliberate and careful. He placed a hand on Keith’s shoulder, his touch light but grounding. “Starlight,” he whispered, his voice soft and full of affection. “It’s just a scratch. I promise, I’m okay.”

Keith’s bottom lip quivered, but Lance’s words slowly broke through the haze of panic. With a choked sob, Keith surged forward, throwing his arms around Lance’s waist and burying his face against his chest. The sobs came hard and fast, shaking his whole body as he clung to Lance like his life depended on it.

Lance wrapped his arms around Keith, pulling him close and gently rubbing his back, the familiar gesture calming Keith little by little. “Shh…” Lance murmured, his chin resting atop Keith’s head. “It’s okay, Starlight. I’ve got you. No one’s going to take you away from me, not ever again.”
Keith’s grip on Lance tightened as if he were afraid he’d disappear if he let go. “I don’t want to go back…” he choked out between sobs. “Please don’t let him take me back…”
“I won’t,” Lance whispered fiercely, his own eyes stinging with unshed tears. “I swear, I’m going to protect you. This time, I’ll protect you.”

Keith continued to sob against Lance’s chest, his breathing ragged and uneven, but slowly—agonizingly slowly—he began to calm down. The tremors in his body subsided, his breathing evened out, and after what felt like an eternity, Keith finally sat up. His face was flushed, his eyes red and puffy from crying, but there was a faint glimmer of peace in his expression.

Lance reached up, gently wiping the tears from Keith’s cheeks with his thumbs. “You’re safe now,” he said softly, his gaze tender. “He’s gone.”
Keith nodded weakly, sniffling as he rubbed his eyes. “You… you talked to him, didn’t you?” His voice was quiet, hesitant, as though he didn’t really want to know the answer.

Lance’s expression darkened slightly, but he nodded. “I did. But I won’t let him get to you, Keith. You’re more important to me than anything. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe. But…” He hesitated, his eyes meeting Keith’s.
Keith took a deep breath, the weight of what he needed to do pressing down on him. “It’s time for me to tell you about him, isn’t it?” He asked, his voice resigned.
Lance nodded gently. “Do you think you’re ready to talk about it?”

Keith was quiet for a moment, but then he nodded. “I’ll try,” he whispered. “I don’t know if I can tell you everything, but… I’ll try.”
Lance smiled softly, brushing a few strands of hair behind Keith’s ear. “Take your time. I’ll answer any questions you have too, okay? You’re not alone anymore, Keith. You’re stronger than you think.”
He stood, gently pulling Keith to his feet and wrapping an arm securely around his waist. “Let’s go to my room. We can get comfy, and I’ll make us some tea.”

Keith leaned into Lance’s side, the warmth of his touch chasing away the lingering fear. “Okay,” he whispered, his voice soft but filled with a fragile kind of hope. “Let’s go.”

Chapter Text

The two boys had finally made it to Lance’s room, which felt unusually still, as if the air itself was holding its breath for what was about to happen. Keith’s heart weighed heavy in his chest. He knew that the next few moments were going to be difficult—given the recent incident. His ears drooped, and his tail dragged across the floor, no longer the proud, lively extension of him it usually was. It seemed as if even his body knew the weight of the conversation he was about to have. But Lance was here, beside him, and that fact alone kept Keith from crumbling completely.
“We’ll wait for our tea before we start,” Lance said softly, trying to cut through the tension hanging in the room like a dense fog. His tone was gentle, understanding. “But before that, how about we get really comfy? That always helps me when I’m stressed out.” Keith didn’t respond verbally, only nodding as his tail gave a small flick, the movement betraying the storm of thoughts raging inside his mind.

Lance, noticing the distant look on Keith’s face, felt an ache of understanding. He had seen that expression before, the way Keith's brow furrowed in thought, as if he were trying to piece together a puzzle with missing pieces. Lance hoped to provide the kind of support that Keith needed during this pivotal moment. “Come sit, then…” he urged gently, moving over to his bed and sitting down. He patted the empty space beside him, offering an encouraging smile that radiated warmth.

Lance moved toward the bed and patted the space beside him, offering a reassuring smile. “Come sit, Keith,” he urged, his voice warm and coaxing. Keith hesitated for only a moment before shuffling over and climbing onto the bed. He tucked his knees to his chest, curling in on himself as if trying to make his massive frame smaller. His tail coiled behind him in a way that reminded Lance of a cat, but Keith’s face... oh, it looked just like a lost kitten, full of uncertainty and fear, looking for something—anything—that would make this all easier.

A spark of an idea flashed across Lance’s mind. “Hold on, stay right there,” he said, suddenly bouncing up off the bed and dropping to the floor with a soft thud. Keith blinked, his head tilting in curiosity as Lance disappeared under the bed, rummaging around noisily. “I know it’s here somewhere…” Lance mumbled, his voice slightly muffled as he searched. After a few seconds of determined rustling, Lance let out a triumphant “Aha!” He reemerged, a wide grin on his face, holding something behind his back.

Keith raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything, his curiosity piqued. Lance walked back over to him, his grin softening into something more sincere. “Let’s get you comfortable first,” he said. He pulled out a thick blanket, draping it over Keith, tucking it gently around his shoulders. Then he piled pillows all around him, creating a soft cocoon. The effort was endearing, almost childlike in its care. It wasn’t long before Keith was nestled in a cozy nest, his large frame almost disappearing beneath the blankets and pillows.

Lance wasn’t done, though. With a dramatic flourish, he finally revealed what he had been hiding behind his back—a stuffed dragon, worn with age, its red fabric faded, one of its eyes replaced by a mismatched button. Blue spines ran down its back, giving it a slightly whimsical appearance. Keith blinked again, staring at the toy with wide, uncertain eyes. “Ta-da!” He sang.

“What’s that?” he asked slowly, as if he wasn’t entirely sure whether it was real or if Lance was playing some kind of trick on him. Lance smiled softly, his face peeking out from behind the toy. “This is Red,” he said, holding the dragon out for Keith to see more closely. “He was yours. You left him here a few days before… everything that happened. You gave him to me so he could protect me during thunderstorms.” Lance’s voice wavered slightly with emotion as he spoke. “He’s been with me ever since. I think he might help you feel a little better about talking.”
Keith took the dragon carefully, almost reverently, as if it were something fragile. He cradled the toy in his large hands. It was such a sight—his large, powerful form holding something so delicate—that Lance couldn’t help but smile. Keith looked like a giant child holding onto a cherished memory.

That’s when there was a soft knock at the door, cutting through the silence that enveloped the room. “Oh, just in time…” Lance said, his voice brightening as he moved toward the door. The thought of warm tea was a welcome relief, and he hoped it would help soothe Keith’s anxiety as they prepared for their difficult conversation.

He opened the door to reveal a gleaming tea cart waiting in the hallway, adorned with steaming teapots and delicate china cups. The rich aroma of freshly brewed tea wafted into the room, filling it with a comforting warmth. Lance rolled the cart inside, parking it beside the bed, and began pouring the fragrant liquid into two cups, carefully adding just the right amount of sugar. He liked his tea sweet, and he hoped Keith would, too.

Keith watched from his nest of blankets, holding the stuffed dragon close, a curious look in his eyes. Once he finished, Lance approached, handing a cup to Keith with a reassuring smile. “Here, try this. I made sure it wasn’t too hot.”mKeith accepted the cup, surprised by its warmth. He hesitated but then took a sip, the comforting taste enveloping him like a soft blanket. “How is it?” Lance asked, leaning in with anticipation. “It’s nice,” Keith replied, now ready for the conversation to unfold.
“Good,” Lance said, relief washing over him.

Lance settled back down beside him, the bed creaking slightly under their weight. “As a bonus, I’m here too,” he chuckled lightly, trying to infuse a little humor into the tension. “We’ll go one step at a time.” He placed his hand on Keith’s shoulder, a grounding gesture that sent a wave of reassurance through Keith. Keith nodded, his eyes downcast as he tried to collect the fragments of his memories. His tail swished slowly behind him, a rhythm that seemed to match the pacing of his thoughts. He could feel the warmth of Lance beside him, could feel the softness of the dragon in his hands, the steam of the tea. It helped ground him, helped him to start forming the words he needed to say.

Lance’s voice broke through the silence, calm and patient. “Let’s start with… what do you remember?” Keith’s eyes grew distant as his mind drifted back to that day, the edges of his memories blurred but vivid enough to bring forth an array of emotions.. His voice was quiet when he finally spoke, the words fragile, like glass teetering on the edge of shattering.

“It was raining…” he began.

———

Keith felt the rain on his face—not a gentle sprinkle, but a relentless, cold downpour that soaked him to the bone. It was as if the sky itself was weeping, and he lay there, feeling the wet, muddy ground beneath him. He blinked, his eyes struggling to adjust to the darkness that enveloped him. A wave of confusion washed over him. Was he dead? Was this some strange afterlife? Panic tightened in his chest, but he quickly pushed that thought aside. He knew his name, that much was clear. But beyond that, everything felt like a blank canvas, a gaping void where memories should have been.

Had he always been alone here? In this cold, dark nothingness? His vision gradually began to settle, revealing a forest cloaked in shadows, with gnarled trees stretching like skeletal fingers toward the sky. The air was thick with humidity, the scent of wet earth and decaying leaves hanging heavily around him. That’s when he became aware of a dull ache throbbing in his head, as if it had been struck by something hard. He rubbed the back of his head, wincing as his fingers brushed against a tender spot, trying to soothe the pain that pulsed with each heartbeat.

With a deep breath, Keith pushed himself up to his feet, wobbling slightly as he gained his balance. He took a moment to look around, the oppressive darkness wrapping around him like a shroud. The rustling noises of the forest filled his ears—chirps, howls, and the whisper of wind through the branches—each sound amplifying the sense of isolation. Where was he? Where was he supposed to go?

“Hello?” he called out, his voice trembling as it echoed through the trees. “Is anyone there?” The words felt hollow, swallowed by the cacophony of the rain and the wilderness around him. He felt a knot tightening in his stomach, a sense of hopelessness creeping in. The rain fell relentlessly, drowning out any chance that someone might hear him. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, and as despair washed over him, he couldn’t hold back any longer.

Keith sank down beneath a tree, its trunk solid yet unyielding against the storm. He pressed his face into his knees, the cold rain drenching him, mingling with the warm tears that flowed freely. He cried, the sound of his sobs echoing through the dark, his heart aching with a sense of loss he couldn’t comprehend.

Time lost meaning as the rain continued its downpour, the world around him becoming a blur of gray and shadow. Eventually, the relentless patter of raindrops began to soften, fading into a gentle drizzle. Keith remained huddled under the tree, exhausted, cold, and still wrapped in his grief. But from the enveloping darkness, a faint voice called out, breaking through his sorrow like a beam of light.

“Keith?” The voice sounded worried, almost frantic. “Keith, where are you?”

Keith raised his head, his heart racing at the sound of his name. “Hello?” he called back, hope flaring within him, igniting a spark of determination.

Soon, a cloaked figure emerged from the shadows, illuminated by a flickering purple flame that danced in the darkness. As the figure drew closer, Keith could make out the features of a man with long, white hair cascading over his shoulders. The man’s face lit up with relief as he called out, “Keith!”

“Oh my stars, I’ve been looking for you everywhere!” The man dropped to his knees and enveloped Keith in a warm embrace, his arms wrapping around the boy protectively, as if shielding him from the storm. A hand rested gently on the back of Keith’s head, a comforting weight that felt like safety. “What were you thinking, running off like that? You could’ve gotten hurt.”

In that moment, Keith didn’t resist the hug. It was warmer than the bitter chill of the rain, a stark contrast that felt so foreign yet comforting. “I—I…” he stammered, the words catching in his throat as he grappled with a profound sense of uncertainty. “Who are you?” Fear laced his voice, the shadows of doubt clouding his thoughts.

The man pulled back, concern etched across his face as he placed a hand on Keith’s cheek, studying him with an intensity that made Keith’s heart race. “Oh gods… did you hit your head?” His voice was filled with a mixture of worry and urgency as he examined Keith’s expression. “Come on, we need to take a look at you.”

Standing tall once more, the man extended his hand toward Keith, an invitation laced with unspoken promises of safety and familiarity. Keith hesitated, glancing at the outstretched hand, unsure and confused. He couldn’t remember anything—everything felt like a fog. Yet, something in the man’s eyes told him that he was someone important, someone who might hold the key to unraveling the mystery of his predicament.

“Okay…” Keith finally said, his voice barely a whisper as he took the man’s hand, feeling a surge of warmth and hope that coursed through him. “I’m so happy you’re okay, Keith,” the man said, his grip firm yet gentle, as he began to lead Keith out of the forest.

———

Lance sat in silence, absorbing the weight of Keith’s story. A swirl of emotions churned within him—fear for Keith’s well-being, an overwhelming anger directed at Lotor. The realization that someone so wicked could manipulate another's life with such cruelty made Lance’s blood boil. How could Lotor fill Keith’s mind with lies, robbing him of his memories and replacing them with a twisted narrative? It was almost unfathomable. Lotor had turned himself into a twisted caretaker, a supposed savior in Keith’s darkest moments, but it was a facade built on deception, and the truth was deeply unsettling. Keith had been led to believe he needed protection, but in reality, he had been ensnared in a web of lies spun by the very person who had taken his childhood.

As Keith continued to speak, detailing fragments of his past, Lance listened intently, his heart aching for his friend. “We lived in a tall tower before Lotor left me in the ruins,” Keith recounted, but his voice was growing weaker, the weight of his memories pressing down on him. “After he said I wasn’t sick anymore, he… changed. He wasn’t nice anymore. He told me I couldn’t ever go outside again. That it was to protect me. He said that if I tried, I would be punished. And that’s when…” His voice faltered, trailing off as the pain of those recollections became too much to bear.

Lance instinctively reached for Keith’s hand, gently placing his own on top, offering a connection that spoke louder than words. “Hey,” he said softly, forcing a pained smile, trying to convey reassurance through his eyes. “If you need a break, that’s enough for now.” He wanted to help but didn’t want to push Keith too far. “How about… I tell you some things about yourself? From before. Anything you want to know.” His smile transformed into a more encouraging one, hoping to redirect the conversation into lighter territory.

Keith looked down at him, a sigh of relief escaping his lips. The act of recounting those memories had drained him, and he understood that this was just the beginning of a long journey toward reclaiming his past. He nodded, turning his hand over to hold Lance’s, the warmth of the gesture grounding him. “I would like that…” he said softly, a hint of curiosity sparking in his eyes. He was eager to learn about the life Lotor had stolen from him, the memories that should have been his to cherish.

“Okay…” Lance replied, adjusting himself in preparation as he took a sip of his tea, letting the warmth seep through him. “Let’s see… there’s a lot to talk about. You were—oh—are my best friend.” He laughed, the sound lightening the mood as the memories flooded back to him. “Every visit, we would spend the night at each other’s castles. We played pretend, feasted on all sorts of food, and sometimes our parents even let us have our classes together. But honestly, we never paid attention to those lessons.” He chuckled at the thought, feeling a warmth bloom in his chest. “You’re still a lot like how you were, and that’s honestly a relief. You’re brave, too, Keith…”

Keith listened intently, a flush of color rising to his cheeks at the compliment. It felt foreign yet comforting, a reminder of who he once was. As Lance spoke, his heart grew heavy, weighing the gravity of what he was about to say next.

“You… had a family,” he said, letting the words settle in the air between them.

Keith sat up a little, his ears perking in surprise. “I—I did?” he stammered, the realization igniting a flicker of hope within him.

Lance smiled sadly, nodding. “You were part of the Galran royal family, after all.” He chuckled lightly, but the humor was tinged with melancholy. “Your dad was as tough as nails—King Heath. And your mom, the Queen, her name was Krolia. You get your good looks from her. She was so kind.” Lance's voice softened, his gaze distant as he recalled the memories. “And your brother, Shiro… he would’ve done anything to protect you.”

The mention of his family sent a pang through Keith’s chest. It was painful, yes, but knowing he had once been surrounded by love made him feel special, cherished even. “What… what happened to them?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, the weight of curiosity pressing on him.

Lance sighed, tracing the rim of his tea cup with his thumb, his expression shifting into one of somber reflection. “Someone made a bad decision, and… they’re not… here anymore.” The words hung in the air, heavy and sorrowful. “During the war—they all… well, they died.” The admission felt like a stone dropped into a still pond, sending ripples of grief through both of them. “I’m sorry they can’t be here, Keith. But they’d be happy to know that you’re here.”

Tears stung Keith’s eyes as he wiped them away, a few drops slipping past his defenses. He leaned against Lance’s shoulder, seeking comfort in the warmth of his presence. “Thank you so much, Lance…” he said, his voice trembling. “For everything.”

Lance wrapped an arm around Keith’s back, pulling him closer. “I’m just making sure I keep my promise,” he replied gently. The bond between them felt solid, a lifeline amidst the storm of emotions they were navigating. “Are you tired?” he asked, noticing the heaviness in Keith’s eyelids.

Keith nodded in response, the warmth of the tea, the soft blankets, and the comforting presence of the stuffed dragon all combined to create a cocoon of coziness that made it difficult to fight off sleep. Lance smiled, his heart swelling at the sight. “We’ve got a big day ahead of us tomorrow,” he told Keith, his voice soothing and steady. “One step at a time, just like I said.”

Lance helped Keith get settled in, tucking him under the covers with careful precision, making sure he was as comfortable as possible. He set their empty tea cups down gently and then laid beside Keith on the bed, their shoulders brushing together in a quiet show of solidarity.

“Goodnight, Lance,” Keith murmured, the stuffed dragon nestled beside him as he felt himself drifting off.

“Goodnight, starlight,” Lance replied, a warm smile gracing his lips as he watched Keith’s eyes flutter shut. In that moment, surrounded by the comforting presence of friendship and the promise of a brighter tomorrow, the darkness felt just a little less daunting.

Chapter Text

The morning came gently, embracing Lance in the soft light that leaked through his bedroom window. Though it was still quite early, the sun was beginning its slow ascent, painting the horizon with hues of gold and pink. Lance had already woken up several times throughout the night, each time finding himself lost in thought, unable to slip back into the solace of sleep. Eventually, he came to terms with the fact that the day was upon him, and sleep would not return. He sat up quietly, letting out a soft sigh, careful not to disturb the sleeping boy beside him.

He turned his head slightly to look at Keith, who was nestled beneath the blankets, tightly clutching the worn stuffed dragon that had become his constant companion. A soft snore escaped from his lips, a sound that felt like a gentle reassurance in the stillness of the morning. Keith’s tail was curled protectively around his leg, a natural instinct that seemed to shield him even in slumber.

Lance felt a smile creep onto his face, warmth blooming in his chest. He couldn’t help but chuckle softly at how utterly adorable Keith looked, a stark contrast to the weight of their conversation the night before. Keith’s childlike sense of wonder, the way his eyes sparkled with amazement at the simplest things, filled Lance with a mix of joy and sadness. It pained him to think that Keith hadn’t truly had the chance to grow up; he had been thrust into a world that demanded maturity before he was ready. The stress of adapting to such a formal environment must have been overwhelming.

Lance’s resolve solidified as he gazed at Keith’s peaceful face. He wanted so badly to make Keith feel at home, to bring joy back into his life. The emotion that had filled the room last night was still palpable, a heavy reminder that Keith had been carrying far too much for someone so young. He realized with a pang that he hadn’t seen a single smile from Keith since he had brought him home, and that had to change. Today, he would make it his mission to see that smile, no matter what it took.

As he contemplated his plan, he noticed that Keith remained sound asleep, the weight of their heavy conversation clearly leaving him exhausted. With a tenderness that matched the morning light, Lance carefully slipped out of bed, taking a moment to tuck the blanket snugly around Keith to keep him warm. “I’ll be right back, starlight…” he whispered, knowing that even if Keith didn’t hear him, the sentiment lingered in the air. Keith’s ear twitched, and he sighed softly, hugging his dragon tighter as if drawing comfort from it.

With a warm smile still lingering on his lips, Lance made his way out of the room, a determined look etched on his face. He knew just the people to help him pull off his plan.

As he walked down the castle’s quiet hallways, Lance’s mind raced with ideas. How could he orchestrate the perfect outing for Keith? He imagined how refreshing it would be to step outside, to breathe in the crisp morning air, and to leave behind the confines of the castle walls, if only for a little while. The darkness still cloaked the halls just enough for them to sneak out unnoticed. But first, he needed to gather some breakfast; it was essential that they had something to eat on their adventure.

He snuck into the kitchen, the familiar scents of baked goods and fresh produce wrapping around him like a warm embrace. His eyes scanned the countertops for anything that could serve as a snack—pastries, fruits—anything that would make their morning special. Just as he was about to grab a few treats, the creaking of the kitchen door interrupted his thoughts.

“Your Majesty?” A voice called out, drawing him from his reverie. It was Romelle, Allura’s lady-in-waiting, who had just come in after collecting eggs from the chicken coop. Her presence felt sudden and slightly alarming. “What on earth are you doing up so late?”

Lance froze, instinctively straightening his back. “Romelle!” he exclaimed, flashing a sheepish smile. “Good morning! I was just… uh, getting some breakfast. I’m super hungry. Didn’t have much yesterday.” He tried to sound casual, but the nervousness in his voice was unmistakable.

Romelle raised an eyebrow, skepticism etched on her face. “You’re not going to have breakfast with your family this morning?” she asked, her tone pointed.

“Oh no, I have to go to the village today,” he replied quickly. “I’m going to see some of my friends.”

“I see…” Romelle said, her eyes narrowing slightly as she picked up on Lance’s anxious demeanor. Setting down the crate of eggs, she grabbed a cloth from nearby. “Well, you’ll need plenty of snacks then, yes?” she said, her voice softening as she began placing fruits and pastries onto the cloth, tying it up securely into a makeshift bag. “There we are.”

Lance accepted the bag, relief flooding through him as he sensed Romelle’s understanding, even if unspoken. “Thanks, Romelle,” he said gratefully. She nodded, a knowing smile on her lips.

“Now go on before your father catches you. Off you go!”

Lance chuckled softly, slipping out of the kitchen with the bag in hand, his heart racing with excitement and resolve.

As he approached his room, he heard the creak of the door just as Keith was waking up. A yawn broke free from the boy, and he clutched his stuffed dragon as he sat up, his vision still adjusting to the morning light. “Lance??” he called, a hint of confusion lacing his voice.

“Good morning, Keith!” Lance replied, his voice bright with enthusiasm as he entered the room, setting the small bag down and moving toward his closet. “I’ve got a big surprise for you today.”

Keith rubbed his eyes, blinking up at Lance with a hint of curiosity. “What is it?” he asked, his interest piqued.

“We’re going into town!” Lance exclaimed, a grin spreading across his face. “I want to show you around and introduce you to some friends of mine.” He rummaged through his clothes, searching for a cloak large enough to cover Keith’s unique features. “We have to hide your wings and tail until we see them. Your horns, too. But it won’t take long!”

Keith tilted his head, confusion dancing in his eyes. “Town?” he asked slowly, the concept clearly foreign to him. “You mean… the people out there?”

Lance chuckled, his heart swelling at Keith’s innocence. “Well, that’s where the people live, Keith. I figured if you meet a few of them, it won’t be so overwhelming when the party happens. So, we’re going to meet my friends today! Don’t worry, they’re super nice. They’re going to love you!”

As he picked out a cloak that would fit Keith, he felt a rush of excitement. He helped Keith dress, ensuring that the cloak covered everything as best as possible. Fortunately, it was big enough. Keith coiled his tail up and out of sight, and Lance gently pulled the hood over Keith’s head to conceal his horns. “There! No one can even tell!” Lance declared triumphantly, a sense of accomplishment washing over him.

Keith looked down at Lance, uncertainty flickering in his eyes. “Are you sure your friends will like me?” he asked hesitantly, the worry evident in his tone.

“Absolutely, they will, Keith,” Lance reassured him, taking his hand and squeezing it gently. “Now, we should go before everyone wakes up. We’ll come back later in the day.” With his heart pounding in anticipation, Lance led Keith out of his room and down the hallway toward the castle entrance.

Lance led Keith outside the castle, their footsteps echoing softly on the stone path. The massive gates loomed before them, much grander than any door Keith had encountered in the castle. They were tall and imposing, adorned with intricate carvings that caught the early morning light. As the gates creaked open, revealing the world beyond, a rush of fresh air enveloped them, carrying the mingled scents of earth and blooms.

With a gentle tug, Lance pulled Keith by the hand, guiding him through the still-opening gates. He could feel the excitement radiating from Lance, a contagious energy that stirred something within him, though he didn’t quite understand it. His heart fluttered with a mix of nervousness and curiosity. What lay beyond those gates was unknown, but he was willing to embrace this chance, however daunting it felt.

As they stepped into the town, the first rays of sunlight danced over cobblestone streets that were just beginning to awaken. Vendors were starting to set up their carts, filling the air with the delicious aroma of freshly baked bread mingling with the earthy scent of fruits and vegetables. The sound of distant laughter and chatter drifted toward them, blending into a symphony of morning activity. Keith’s wide eyes took in the scene—people bustling about, the vibrant colors of produce, and the intricate details of the buildings. It was all overwhelming, yet not in a bad way.

“Wow,” he whispered, his voice barely audible as he took in the sights.

Lance beamed, clearly thrilled to share this moment. “I have some money on me, so… pick somewhere,” he encouraged, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. “I’ll get you anything you want.”

Keith scanned the area, his mind whirling with possibilities. So many choices, yet the weight of his indecision pressed upon him. “I don’t know yet… can I choose later?” he asked, a hint of apprehension lacing his voice.

“Of course!” Lance replied, his tone warm and understanding. “We can come back after we see my friends.” He smiled encouragingly, squeezing Keith’s hand gently as he began to lead him further into the heart of the town, weaving through the streets lined with cheerful shops and vibrant stalls.

As they walked, Lance glanced over at Keith. “So… my friends are…” He hesitated, a playful grin creeping onto his face. “Let’s just say they get excited pretty easily.” He laughed lightly, the sound brightening the air around them. “But that’s why this is perfect! If you can handle them, you’ll be okay around anyone!”

Keith felt a flutter of anxiety in his stomach, tightening into a knot. He had only spoken to Lance—what if he messed up? What if they didn’t like him? Before he could spiral further into his thoughts, they arrived at a quaint little house with bright flowers blooming in the garden. Lance knocked on the door, and Keith stood slightly behind him, his heart racing.

The door swung open, revealing a small girl with big round glasses perched on her nose. She was significantly shorter than Lance, with short brown hair that framed her face. “Lance!” she exclaimed, her eyes widening with surprise. “I didn’t know you were coming to town today!”

“Surprise!” Lance replied, his face lighting up. “Hi Pidge! Is Hunk here too? I’ve got someone to introduce you to.”

Pidge nodded, adjusting her glasses as she looked up at Keith, her expression turning curious. “Who’s your friend?” she asked, her voice filled with excitement.

Lance chuckled, taking Keith’s hand and leading him inside, shutting the door behind them. “Well, I want Hunk to meet him too, so let’s head to the kitchen.”

Pidge turned, following them closely as they moved through the small house. She noticed how tall Keith was and couldn’t help but let her mind race with questions.

Entering the kitchen, the tantalizing aroma of something delicious filled the air. Hunk turned around, a wide smile breaking across his face. “Lance!” he exclaimed, putting down his cooking spoon in surprise. He rushed over and enveloped Lance in a massive bear hug, lifting him off the ground for a moment.

“Hunk!” Lance gasped, laughter bubbling up as he felt the air squeezed from his lungs. “Okay, okay! I missed you too!”

Hunk set him down, rubbing the back of his neck with a sheepish grin, clearly delighted to see his friend. Keith watched with wide eyes, a flicker of concern crossing his face. Would Hunk be too strong? Would he hurt Lance?

“Sorry! It’s been so long since you came over!” Hunk said, his voice warm and friendly.

Lance chuckled, his excitement palpable. “Well, I have someone to introduce you to. Both of you,” he said, glancing between Pidge and Hunk.

Before they could dive into conversation, Hunk began setting the table, placing plates piled high with breakfast sandwiches in front of everyone. The atmosphere shifted from casual chatter to a comfortable silence as they all sat down. Keith felt a wave of nervousness wash over him again, his fingers fidgeting with the edge of his cloak as he noticed Lance beaming beside him.

“Okay, guys,” Lance started, his voice bubbling with enthusiasm. “This is a very special friend of mine.” He paused for dramatic effect, the tension in the air palpable as Pidge and Hunk leaned in closer. “It’s been hard for him to get used to everything, so… don’t freak out too much, okay?” He shot a reassuring glance at Keith. “Ready?”

Keith’s heart raced, and he nodded slowly, feeling the weight of their anticipation. With a deep breath, he removed his hood, revealing his striking purple eyes and the small, curved horns atop his head.

“Keith?!” Pidge exclaimed, her voice rising in surprise as she stood up from the table, adjusting her glasses to get a better look at him. Hunk’s mouth dropped open, his shock evident.

“Um… hello…” Keith said, his voice wavering, each word a struggle against the nerves twisting in his stomach. “I’m Keith… Keith of—”

“Whoa, whoa, hold on!” Lance interjected, shaking his head as he leaned closer to Keith. “Oh, Keith, you don’t have to do all that, starlight.” His voice was soothing, grounding.

Keith sighed in relief, his ears drooping slightly. All this formal stuff felt silly, and he was grateful for Lance’s intervention.

“Wow… did he come back? How haven’t we heard this yet?” Pidge asked, her voice bubbling with curiosity.

“Well—” Lance began, glancing at Keith, who was still gripping his hand tightly. “I haven’t told anyone yet. I found him in Diabazaal, but all this is just too stressful right now. I mean, you know my father. He won’t take this lightly. So we’ve been waiting. Besides, Keith doesn’t remember anything. I want to make sure he’s ready.”

Hunk nodded, his expression thoughtful. “That’s a good idea,” he agreed. “Wait… is this what the masquerade is about?”

Pidge chimed in, her voice laced with intrigue. “I found it pretty odd after all these years you’d want to do something now.”

Lance sighed, a hint of anxiety creeping into his demeanor. “Yeah… I’m just nervous,” he admitted, glancing at Keith, who was now quietly nibbling on his sandwich. “He’s only ever been around me these past few days. I want to make sure he’s comfortable around a whole crowd, you know?”

Hunk smiled reassuringly. “We got you, Lance. No worries.” He then turned his attention to Keith, who was on his second breakfast sandwich, seemingly lost in thought. “So Keith, how’s the castle? Do you like it?”

Keith looked up from his food, feeling a warmth in Hunk’s friendly gaze. But for some reason, he found himself only able to look directly at Lance. “Oh… uh… yes, I like it,” he said, his voice quiet but steady. “Lance is teaching me lots of stuff. Like eating and sitting. Oh, and dancing.”

Lance chuckled, pride swelling within him. “Yes, and you’re doing very well, starlight.”

Pidge and Hunk exchanged a knowing look, a shared understanding passing between them. Lance rarely gave nicknames to just anyone, and this one felt special. Curious, he tilted his head. “What?” he asked, glancing between them.

“Oh, nothing,” Pidge said dismissively, though her smile betrayed her amusement.

“Well, I’m glad you’re working so hard, Keith. Being a prince isn’t easy. But I doubt you’ll have to do anything serious,” Pidge remarked, her tone encouraging.

Lance felt a twinge of truth in that. Keith was the prince of a forgotten kingdom, but forgotten or not, he was still a prince.

“What’s with the horns?” Pidge then asked, her curiosity unrelenting.

Keith froze at the question, his gaze darting to Lance for support. “He was transformed,” Lance explained, his voice steady. “By a sorcerer. I still haven’t found out exactly who he is. All I know is his name is Lotor.”

Keith felt a wave of discomfort wash over him, and Pidge noticed, her expression shifting to one of empathy. “Maybe you should ask your dad. He knew everyone before the war. After that, he got all… hermit-y,” she said, her voice gentle.

The conversation flowed around them like a warm current, and slowly, Keith began to relax. The initial nerves started to dissipate as he listened to their banter, the laughter echoing in the cozy kitchen. By the time they were finished, Keith had polished off three sandwiches, feeling a pleasant fullness in his belly.

“Come back anytime if you’re ever hungry!” Hunk urged, his voice genuine as he stood to clear the table.

As they made their way back into town, Keith felt a strange exhilaration bubbling inside him, mingling with his lingering nerves.

“You did amazing, Keith,” Lance praised, his voice filled with pride. “You talked a lot. You’re gonna do great at the party. I’m so proud of you.”

Keith’s ears bent down, and his tail flicked nervously beneath his cloak at Lance’s words. The warmth spreading through him was both exhilarating and terrifying.

“Let’s go get you something in town,” Lance suggested, sensing the flicker of uncertainty still lingering in Keith’s gaze. “Like I said, I’ll get you anything you want.”

Though he thought Keith would smile at the prospect, the day wasn’t over yet, and he knew his idea of fun wasn’t quite what Keith might envision.

As they wandered back into the town, Keith’s eyes flitted over the storefronts, taking in the vibrant displays. The flower shop caught his attention, with blooms bursting forth in all shades of color, but he remembered the garden back at the castle and felt a pang of homesickness. The sweet confections in the bakery called to him as well, but his stomach was still full from Hunk’s generous breakfast.

Finally, his gaze landed on a quaint jewelry store nestled between two bustling shops. “There,” he pointed out, his eyes widening with excitement.

“Okay, let’s go!” Lance replied, his enthusiasm unwavering as he walked hand in hand with Keith into the shop.

Inside, Keith was entranced by the glittering display of jewelry. Sparkling objects caught the light and danced like tiny stars, each piece more captivating than the last. “See anything you like?” Lance asked, noticing the way Keith’s eyes sparkled with wonder.

Then, Keith’s gaze landed on a striking red jewel, encased in a delicate golden cage. “This one,” he said, pointing attentively.

Lance’s eyes lit up. “Oh, that one’s perfect, Keith! It’s a necklace. It’ll look really good on you. Maybe you can wear it to the party, too.”

With a few quick words exchanged with the storekeeper, Lance purchased the necklace, and Keith couldn’t help but feel a rush of happiness at the thought of wearing something so beautiful.

Afterward, they began their walk back to the castle, the atmosphere around them buzzing with unspoken excitement. Yet, as they neared the castle, Keith felt a sense of fatigue wash over him. Being so social was harder than he’d expected, and he hoped he was truly prepared for the upcoming party.

Once inside Lance’s room, Keith slumped down on the bed, feeling the weight of the day pressing down on him. Lance set down their purchases and grabbed the small silk bag that held Keith’s necklace. “Let’s try it on you, Keith!” he said, his voice brimming with enthusiasm.

Keith’s eyes were glued to the sparkly red jewel as Lance carefully pulled it from the bag. “Huh… it doesn’t have a clasp. Odd…” he mused, attempting to get the necklace over Keith’s head. But as he maneuvered it, he quickly realized the challenge posed by Keith’s horns. “Oh… I don’t think it’ll fit, Keith…” Lance said with a slight frown.

Keith’s heart sank at the disappointment, his ears drooping. “It won’t?” he asked, looking down dejectedly. “Okay…”

But Lance wasn’t ready to give up. A spark of inspiration ignited in his eyes. “Let me try something,” he said, determination in his voice.

With a careful touch, Lance looped the chain around one of Keith’s horns, transforming the necklace into a stunning and elegant decoration. “There! That looks even better! Go look!” he exclaimed, his smile infectious.

Keith stood up, his heart racing with anticipation as he approached the mirror. He leaned in closer, and as he caught sight of the necklace shimmering against his dark hair and horn, a gasp escaped his lips. His eyes widened in amazement, and for the first time, he felt something shift within him. The jewelry transformed his appearance, making his horns seem less intimidating and more like a part of a beautiful whole.

A smile broke across his face as he turned to look at Lance. “I love it,” he said, his voice bursting with joy, his hands dancing beside him in excitement.

Lance beamed back at him, pure happiness lighting up his features. “It looks beautiful on you, starlight,” he said, warmth flooding his heart as he watched Keith’s expression transform.

“Thank you…” Keith murmured, his gratitude spilling over as he wrapped his arms around Lance in a tight hug, feeling safe and cherished in that moment.

Lance chuckled, the sound filled with affection and relief. Everything felt like it was getting better, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that this was just the beginning. The party was only five days away, and soon enough, everyone would love Keith—hopefully just as much as Lance already did.

Chapter Text

The next few days were a whirlwind of emotions—excitement mixed with a heavy dose of uncertainty. Lance had taken it upon himself to guide Keith through everything he needed to learn in preparation for the party. But it wasn’t easy. Lance balanced between pushing Keith to learn new things and pulling back, so as not to overwhelm him. Every day brought something new: a different lesson, a different skill to master. Keith, for his part, was eager to impress Lance. He wanted to talk about everything, to finally open up, and at the same time, he wanted to excel at every task Lance gave him. Whether it was learning to dance or how to hold a conversation, Keith tried to perfect it all.

But the truth was, no matter how hard Keith worked, he wouldn’t be perfect by the time of the party. Lance knew this, even if Keith didn’t quite grasp it yet. The party wasn’t about perfection. It was about Keith being there—being present, showing up. Lance was determined to ensure that, no matter what, Alfor would have to listen. He’d have to acknowledge Keith, his presence, his return. That was the most important thing.
The days were filled with endless lessons. From practicing how to dance to learning how to eat properly, Lance was teaching Keith all the essential details of noble etiquette. Keith even learned how to speak eloquently, a skill that didn’t come naturally to him but was necessary if he was to hold his own at the gathering. He found reading particularly difficult. Words on a page didn’t make as much sense to him as actions did. But he loved looking at the illustrations in the books. Lance assured him that reading wasn’t a top priority right now, gently encouraging him to take his time with it.

Two days before the party, the pressure started to build. There was little left to do in terms of training. Keith had made progress, but now it was about appearances—what he would wear, how he would present himself. And for that, Lance had a plan. He knew the perfect person to help find, and perhaps alter, a costume for Keith: his sister, Allura. She was the best at planning and organizing, and her eye for detail was unmatched. But there was one hurdle to cross—Keith hadn’t met her yet.

This morning, Lance would have to introduce them. Afterward, he’d be stuck in meetings for the rest of the day, something that rarely happened but seemed especially important today. He didn’t know the exact details, but he’d find out soon enough once he was in the council room. And of course, he’d have to break this news to Keith, who was already anxious about meeting Allura.
"I’m gonna go get her," Lance said, noticing the uncertainty on Keith’s face. Keith’s brows furrowed, and his tail swayed nervously behind him. “What if she’s scared of me?” Keith’s voice was low, almost defeated.

Lance offered him a soft, reassuring smile. "I know you're nervous, but Allura is super nice. She and your brother were best friends growing up." Lance paused, taking a step closer. “Everything will be fine, I promise. Besides, who would be scared of you? Just because you have big wings and a tail doesn’t make you scary, Keith. It makes you unique.”

Keith sighed, his face flushing with a familiar warmth as he looked away, a little embarrassed. "Trust me, Keith," Lance added softly, placing a comforting hand on his arm. Keith nodded in response, standing tall as he prepared himself for the introduction.

The doors closed behind Lance as he left, and Keith found himself alone in the room. His eyes roamed the space, familiar by now but still somewhat foreign. He’d met a couple of people so far, and he still wasn’t sure if they liked him. They didn’t act like Lance—warm, welcoming, kind. How was he supposed to talk to people if everyone reacted differently? His head buzzed with anxious thoughts, questions flooding his mind. What if he made a mistake? What if they didn’t accept him?

Keith paced back and forth, glancing occasionally at his reflection in the mirror. He paused, staring at his own image. No one looked like him. Not here. His wings, his horns, his tail—everything about him screamed different. Maybe, just maybe, if he didn’t look so strange, this would be easier. Without the horns and wings, he could have already met everyone. A heavy sigh escaped him, his stomach sinking with a familiar dread. What if no one else accepted him? What if he had to leave? Would he have to go back?

His thoughts were spiraling out of control when he heard voices outside the door.

“Lance, I’m not quite sure what you’re talking about,” a woman’s voice said, the tone laced with confusion.

“Just be nice. He’s really nervous about this,” Lance responded, his voice calm but slightly anxious.

“I understand, but I—” The woman sighed. “Okay, okay, just show me.”

The door creaked open, and Lance entered with his sister, Allura. The moment she stepped inside, her eyes widened in shock as they landed on Keith. "Oh my stars!" she gasped, instinctively throwing her arm in front of Lance in a protective gesture. "What is that?!"

Lance groaned, rubbing his forehead in exasperation. He was tired of hearing that reaction, even if it came from his family. Gently, he lowered Allura’s arm. "That’s Keith. He’s not going to hurt you. He could barely hurt a fly."

Keith turned to face them, his hands clasped behind his back, his tail flicking nervously. "Hello..." he said quietly, glancing at Lance for reassurance, silently asking if he was doing this right.

Allura’s eyes narrowed, disbelief etched across her face. "Keith?" she whispered, stepping forward as if seeing a ghost. "My stars… how is this possible?" She looked him up and down, struggling to reconcile the boy she once knew with the figure before her. "What on earth happened to you?"

Keith hesitated, casting another glance at Lance. With a small nod of encouragement from his friend, Keith took a deep breath. "I was… taken. By someone bad. His name is Lotor," he began, his voice trembling slightly. "He’s the reason I’ve been gone. I just… I want to know who I am, and who all of you are."

Allura’s expression softened as the shock began to wear off. She turned to Lance, her eyes filled with understanding. "This is why you wanted the party, isn’t it?" she asked quietly, sinking into a chair at Lance’s vanity. "Oh heavens, Lance…"

Lance nodded. “I figured if Dad was surrounded by the townspeople, he might… handle it better. You know, so he wouldn’t explode,” Lance explained, giving her a sheepish grin. “Ta-da?”

Allura let out a long, tired sigh, rubbing her temples. “You know how Dad feels about this subject. Prince or not Keith is Galran, this isn’t going to be easy. He’s not going to take this lightly, no matter what.”

Lance frowned. “But what choice do we have? Look at him, Allura. Keith isn’t going to hurt anyone.”

“I know,” Allura said, raising her hands defensively. “I’m just saying… it’s not going to be easy. But you have my support, both of you.”

Lance visibly relaxed, a relieved smile crossing his face. "Thank you, Lura," he said softly. “Actually, I could use your help. I need to find Keith a suit for the party. Something… flashy.”

Allura chuckled, shaking her head. “Flashy doesn’t really sound like Keith. Maybe something more… subtle?”

Lance grinned sheepishly. “You’re right. I just want him to look good for everyone.”
Allura smiled. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it. But we have that meeting today, remember? I’ll have the suit ready by the party.”

Lance nodded, turning to Keith with excitement. "See? Everything’s falling into place!" he said, nudging Keith playfully.
Keith managed a small smile. "Th-thank you," he said softly, his gratitude genuine.
“It’s good to have you back, Keith,” Allura said warmly. "Everyone will be happy to see you again. And don’t worry about Dad. You’ve got this." With a final smile, she turned to leave, warning Lance not to be late to the meeting before disappearing through the door.

Lance could barely contain his excitement. He bounced on his feet, grinning from ear to ear. "She loved you!" he exclaimed, wrapping Keith in a sudden hug.

Keith chuckled softly, hugging Lance back. "Are you okay?" he asked, amused by Lance’s boundless energy. “I’m more than okay, Keith,” Lance replied, his smile bright and genuine.

After their breakfast, it was time for Lance to head to his meeting. "Oh, Keith," Lance said as he gathered his things. "How about you visit the library on your own today? It'll be relaxing. I’ll meet you there after the meeting, okay? Don’t worry—no one will see you."

Keith hesitated but nodded. "I can try…" he said, feeling both nervous and pleased that Lance trusted him to be on his own.
"That’s all that matters. Take Red with you if you’re nervous. I’ll see you soon!" Lance said before hurrying out the door.

Keith’s eyes drifted to the stuffed dragon resting on the bed, its soft, knitted fabric a comforting presence amidst the uncertainty of the day. Slowly, he walked over and scooped it up with gentle hands, feeling its familiar weight. "Lance said for me to take you," he murmured to the toy, his voice soft, almost as if he were talking to a living creature. "So… I guess we’re going." He held the dragon by its plush paws, finding a sense of calm in the small action, as if the toy somehow grounded him in the unfamiliar environment.

He stood there for a moment longer, listening carefully for any distant footsteps or voices from the hall. The last thing he wanted was to bump into someone unexpected. After a few moments of silence, Keith felt confident that most of the castle’s occupants were likely gathered in the council room. With a final deep breath, he made his way to the mirror, checking the small necklace looped around one of his horns. Lance had given it to him earlier, and while it was a simple piece of jewelry, Keith found comfort in it. To him, it made him feel… less intimidating. Like it softened the sharp edges of his appearance, even if only in his own mind.

Satisfied that the necklace was securely in place, Keith gave one last glance around the room before making his move. The wooden door creaked softly as he pushed it open, the cool air of the hallway brushing against his face. He paused just inside the threshold, peering cautiously down the hall in both directions. The coast was clear. He stepped out into the open, the soft padding of his feet barely making a sound as he began his journey toward the library.
The hallways of the castle felt vast and empty, with only the occasional flicker of torchlight to accompany him. Each step echoed faintly, a rhythmic reminder of how alone he was in this moment. But that was okay. Keith liked the quiet. It gave him time to think, to process everything that had been happening.

He glanced down at the stuffed dragon in his hands, lifting it to face him as he walked. "I wonder what I should read today," he mused aloud, his voice barely above a whisper. Talking to the toy made the emptiness of the castle feel a little less lonely. "Maybe I can find a book about dragons," he suggested, more to the toy than himself. "Not all of them can be bad, right? You’re not bad. And I’m not either."

The thought lingered in his mind as he continued down the hall, his tail swishing behind him in a quiet, thoughtful rhythm. He reached the grand doors of the library sooner than expected, his heart giving a little leap of excitement. The library had become something of a sanctuary for him in the past few days—a quiet, secluded place where he could learn and explore without fear of judgment. Keith had never had much opportunity to learn before, especially not how to read. Words had always been strange, abstract things to him, but Lance had been patient. He’d taught him the basics, how to string letters together into something that made sense. Keith was still slow at it, and reading was sometimes exhausting, but he was getting better.

With a quick glance behind him to make sure no one had followed, Keith slipped into the library and gently shut the door behind him. The room was just as he remembered: rows upon rows of tall, wooden bookshelves filled with volumes of all shapes and sizes. The air smelled faintly of old paper and dust, a scent that had grown oddly comforting to him.

He tightened his grip on the stuffed dragon, its soft fabric a constant reminder of Lance’s encouragement. "Let’s find a dragon book," he told the toy, setting his jaw with determination as he made his way through the aisles of books. Lance had explained the alphabet to him recently, teaching him how the letters worked and how they helped organize the shelves. Dragon. He knew that started with a ‘D.’ He just had to find the right section.

Keith wandered through the shelves, his eyes scanning the neatly organized spines of the books. He felt a flicker of excitement. This was something he could do on his own. No one else was here to tell him where to go or what to pick. This was his journey, his exploration, and he was determined to find what he was looking for.

Finally, he found the section labeled with a small brass plaque: "D." His heart skipped a beat as he ran his fingers lightly over the spines, reading each title carefully. He wasn’t fast at reading yet, but he could make out most of the words with a bit of patience. His eyes darted over titles—Daring Feats, Dark Lands, Dawn of the Kingdom—until finally, his gaze landed on one that made his breath catch: The Legend of Dragons.

"There," he whispered, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He carefully pulled the book from the shelf, its leather-bound cover soft and worn from years of use. He held it reverently, almost as if the book held some great secret he was about to uncover. "This one’s about dragons. Maybe it’ll have good ones."

With his stuffed dragon in one arm and the book in the other, Keith made his way to a small alcove near the window, where a patch of sunlight streamed in, casting a warm glow over the plush cushions. He settled himself down, tucking his legs beneath him as he opened the book. The pages were thick and yellowed with age, the words written in elegant, flowing script. It wasn’t easy to read, but Keith was determined. He traced his finger along the lines of text, sounding out the words quietly under his breath.

As he read, he felt himself slowly relax. The library was quiet, the only sound the faint rustle of pages turning and the distant chirping of birds outside. This was peace. For the first time in a while, Keith felt like he could breathe without the weight of expectation pressing down on him. He could just… be

———

The council room buzzed with a low murmur as Lance sat in his seat, surrounded by his family and key members of the kingdom. The air felt thick, almost oppressive, as if the tension itself was palpable. Lance’s mind raced, his thoughts darting between concern for Keith and the unease building in his gut. He glanced around the room, trying to gauge the expressions of those present. His father, King Alfor, sat at the head of the table, looking weary, his brow furrowed deeply. Allura was seated beside him, her posture composed, but there was a flicker of worry in her eyes. The rest of the council members were murmuring quietly, some casting glances at the door as they waited for the meeting to begin.

And then there was Adam, the head general, standing tall and poised at the front of the room. His presence alone commanded attention. Adam was a well-known Altean, a leader respected throughout the kingdom, and once, alongside Shiro, he had commanded the combined forces of Altea and Diabazaal. The sight of him here now, after so long, made Lance’s stomach churn. Why was Adam here? What could have possibly warranted his presence? The war had ended years ago, and as far as Lance knew, there hadn’t been any activity of note in Diabazaal since.

Lance’s heart thudded heavily in his chest as his thoughts raced. Could Adam have found out about Keith? The very idea made him feel as if a stone had dropped into the pit of his stomach, the weight pulling him down. Lance forced himself to stay calm, though his fingers nervously fidgeted beneath the table. He couldn’t give anything away. Not now. He had to stay composed, even as his mind spiraled with possibilities. Was this meeting about Keith? Had someone seen him? If so, Lance could be in serious trouble for keeping it a secret. His palms felt clammy, and he quickly wiped them on his pants, glancing toward Adam.
Finally, Alfor cleared his throat, his voice cutting through the murmurs in the room.

“Alright,” he began, his tone tired yet commanding. His gaze swept over the table before settling on Adam. “Adam has brought to my attention that he’s found something.”
Lance’s breath caught in his throat. His chest tightened, anxiety swirling inside him like a storm. He felt a cold sweat begin to form on the back of his neck, and he fought the urge to blurt out something, anything, to defuse the situation before it could escalate. Maybe if he interrupted now, before Adam spoke, he could—
But no. He couldn't do that. Interrupting the head general would only make things worse. Lance swallowed hard, his nerves making his entire body feel jittery. His eyes flicked between his father and Adam, waiting for the general to speak.

Adam stepped forward, his expression stoic as he addressed the council. “I’ve sent scouts across the southern territories to assess the damage in Diabazaal,” he began, his voice steady and measured. “We’ve come across a strange tower in the middle of the wastelands. It appears to have been abandoned, though it shows signs of recent occupation.”

Lance exhaled softly, some of the tension draining from his body. This wasn’t about Keith—at least, not yet. But his mind immediately latched onto the mention of the tower. Could it be? The place where Keith had been held by Lotor? It had to be. His interest piqued, and though his nerves began to settle, a new curiosity bloomed within him. If the scouts had found that tower, then they were close. They were close to discovering Keith’s past.

Adam continued, his tone remaining calm but purposeful. “Farther west, we’ve noticed activity near the mountains. It’s faint, but there are signs of a small settlement, possibly a clan. Given the harsh conditions in that region, it’s unlikely that anyone other than Galrans could survive there.”

At the mention of Galrans, Lance’s mind raced even faster. A clan of Galrans? Out there, beyond the borders? He tried to piece it together. Could they know about Keith? Could they even be looking for him? Lance’s thoughts spiraled as his curiosity overtook his anxiety. If these Galrans had any knowledge of Keith’s whereabouts, they might hold the key to his past.

Before he could stop himself, the words tumbled out of his mouth. “Well... maybe they know where Keith is,” Lance blurted out, leaning forward in his seat, his voice rising with sudden intensity. “Maybe they’re good. I mean, they’re not attacking us or anything. We should talk to them—”
But his father’s sharp gaze cut him off. “What we should do,” Alfor interrupted, his voice cold and firm, “is stay put. We will have no contact with them. Adam, ready your forces for a possible attack. The clan is small, and if necessary, your army can handle them.”

Lance’s stomach dropped at his father’s words. “But—Adam!” he tried again, his desperation creeping into his voice. “What if Keith is with them? What if Shiro is—”
“That’s enough, Lance,” Alfor snapped, his eyes narrowing as he shot Lance a silencing glare. His tone brooked no argument, and the room fell into a tense silence. Lance’s heart pounded in his chest, his mouth dry as he stared at his father, frustration and fear warring within him.

Adam, standing to the side, cast Lance a sympathetic glance, his face softening for a brief moment. But as soon as the king’s attention shifted back to him, Adam’s expression hardened once more. He straightened his posture, saluting Alfor with practiced precision. “Yes, Your Majesty,” he said firmly. “We’ll have our defenses ready.”
And with that, the meeting was over. Adam turned on his heel and marched out of the room, leaving Lance sitting there, feeling helpless and frustrated. The council began to disperse, their conversations a low hum in the background as they filed out. Lance remained in his seat, his mind swirling with questions and unspoken pleas. His father’s decision to cut off any possibility of contact with the Galran clan felt like a heavy weight pressing down on him. They could be the key. They could know where Keith was—or worse, they could pose a threat to him if they found out he was here.

But for now, Lance had no choice but to stay silent. His father had made his decision, and there was nothing he could do to change it. Not yet.

———

In the quiet solitude of the library, Keith sat cross-legged on the floor, a thick, ancient book splayed open in his lap. His fingers brushed the yellowed pages, tracing the illustrations of dragons depicted in various grotesque and monstrous forms. Each page seemed worse than the last. Every story he found only reinforced the same idea: dragons were cruel, heartless beasts—fearsome creatures that wrought destruction and terror wherever they went.
His brow furrowed as he flipped through another page. A particularly gruesome image stared back at him—a dragon, its maw wide open, its jagged teeth dripping with the blood of its victims. Keith winced, slamming the book shut with a frustrated sigh.

“Well, they don’t know about me,” he muttered to himself, glancing down at the stuffed dragon in his hands. “Or you, Red.” He paused, squeezing the toy's soft, knitted paws as if seeking some sort of reassurance. “I don’t see how every dragon could be bad. That’s just… I-I…”
He fumbled for the right word, struggling to express the storm of emotions building inside him. Everything he’d read, everything he’d been told, painted him as something dangerous—something to be feared. But that wasn’t who he was. He wasn’t a monster.

“Impossible?”

Keith froze. The voice that cut through the still air was low, dark, and far too familiar. A cold shiver ran down his spine, and his breath hitched in his throat. Slowly, he turned around, his eyes widening in shock and fear.

Lotor stood towering over him, his shadow stretching long across the floor. A cruel grin twisted his lips, and his eyes gleamed with amusement. “Hello, little prince,” he purred, his voice dripping with mockery. “Wonderful to see you again.”

Keith’s heart pounded wildly in his chest, his pulse echoing in his ears. His hands instinctively tightened around the stuffed dragon, his knuckles white. He leaned back in the chair, feeling a sudden wave of nausea wash over him.

“L-Lord Lotor…” His voice was barely a whisper, trembling as if the mere act of speaking drained him of strength. It felt like the room was closing in on him, the once cozy library now suffocating under the weight of Lotor’s presence. The air grew heavier, thick with a dark, oppressive energy.

Lotor chuckled softly, a sound that sent a fresh surge of fear coursing through Keith’s veins. “Oh dear, am I scaring you?” he cooed, his smile widening, though there was no warmth in it. “Awh, come now, I don’t mean to frighten you. I’ve only come to take you home.” His tone was almost sweet, but it held a sinister edge that made Keith’s skin crawl. “You can stop all this nonsense about being a prince.”

Keith swallowed hard, his throat dry. His body trembled as he tried to summon the courage to speak, but the words felt stuck, caught between fear and defiance. “N-no,” he finally stammered, though his voice wavered. “I know the truth. I’m the prince of Diabazaal. Y-you took me from my home.”
Lotor’s expression shifted, his once-amused grin twisting into something colder, more menacing. Keith’s heart raced, but he stood his ground—or tried to, even though his legs felt like they might give out at any moment.
“I’m not going anywhere with you,” Keith said, his voice barely above a whisper. He could feel the tears welling up in his eyes, but he fought them back, his chest tight with fear and sorrow.

Lotor’s laughter echoed through the room, dark and full of malice. “Oh, getting brave now, are we?” His eyes gleamed with cruel delight as he took a step closer, towering over Keith. His gaze flickered down to the stuffed dragon clutched tightly in Keith’s hands. “What’s this?”

Before Keith could react, Lotor snatched the toy from his grasp. “A stuffed dragon?” He sneered, inspecting it with disgust. “And it looks just like you!” With a sudden, vicious motion, Lotor tore the head from the dragon, tossing it carelessly to the floor.

Keith’s heart shattered at the sight. “Red! N-no!” He dropped to his knees beside the torn toy, his hands shaking as he tried to gather the pieces. Tears blurred his vision, but he blinked them away, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

Lotor, meanwhile, had grabbed the golden chain hanging from Keith’s horn. He yanked it, pulling Keith’s head up roughly, forcing him to meet his gaze. “What’s this?” he mocked, eyes gleaming with amusement. “Trying to make yourself look less intimidating, are you?” His laughter boomed, filling the room with an eerie resonance.
Keith winced, his hands trembling as they hovered over the broken toy. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. The weight of Lotor’s presence pressed down on him like a suffocating cloud of darkness.

Lotor’s voice dropped, deepening, resonating like a growl. “Keith,” he said, his tone dangerous, “you will never be what they want you to be. You’re a monster. A savage, bloodthirsty monster.” He leaned in closer, his voice booming with finality. “And you know it.”

With a flick of his wrist, Lotor conjured an illusion. Before Keith’s eyes, a vision of himself materialized—a perfect, regal version of him. This Keith stood tall and proud, dressed in elegant royal garments, a crown perched atop his head. He was everything Keith had once dreamed of being. No wings. No horns. No tail. Perfect. Human.

“This,” Lotor sneered, gesturing to the illusion, “is what your little prince wants. But he’ll never get this.” He snapped his fingers, and the illusion twisted.

In an instant, the perfect version of Keith morphed into something nightmarish. His horns grew long and twisted, his wings tattered and menacing. His tail became scaly and monstrous, sharp scales gleaming. His eyes glowed an unnatural yellow, his fangs protruding as he snarled—a grotesque, distorted reflection of everything Keith feared he might become.

“No!” Keith cried, shaking his head violently as he scooted back, his body trembling. “No, please, I won’t turn into that!” He pleaded, his voice breaking as tears streamed down his cheeks. “Please, I’m not a monster!”

Lotor’s laughter was cold and cruel as the illusion vanished in a plume of purple smoke. “Oh, Keith,” he purred, kneeling down until his face was inches from Keith’s, his eyes glinting with malice. “You already are. And soon enough, Lance will see it too.” He chuckled, his breath hot against Keith’s skin. “I for one, can’t wait to watch.”

With one last burst of dark energy, Lotor disappeared, leaving behind only the faint scent of smoke and the echo of his mocking laughter.

Keith choked on a sob, coughing as the last remnants of smoke dissipated around him. His chest heaved, his body shaking violently as he scrambled to his feet. His eyes fell to the torn stuffed dragon lying on the floor.
“R-Red,” he whimpered, his voice thick with sorrow. He dropped to his knees, cradling the broken toy in his arms. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, hugging it tightly to his chest. Tears fell freely now, hot and bitter as they soaked into the soft fabric.

Keith sat in silence, clutching the torn dragon to his chest, the weight of Lotor’s words heavy in his mind. He didn’t want to believe it. He didn’t want to be that monster. But deep down, a part of him feared that Lotor was right

———

In the council room, the air was thick with tension. Lance sat with his arms crossed, slouched back in his chair, his expression a storm of frustration and defiance. Across the room, his mother and sister shared a glance, their faces filled with a quiet understanding. They had seen this kind of confrontation before, but Alfor? Alfor’s expression hardened into stone as he turned back to his son, eyes narrowed.

“Really, Lance?” Alfor’s voice was stern, cold even. He straightened in his seat, the authority of a king weighing every word. “Do you even know what you’re talking about? The Galra’s only motive is to—”

“To have their prince back!” Lance’s voice exploded into the room as he shot up from his chair, fists clenched at his sides. “Don’t you get it?! How would you feel if someone took me away from you? You’d fight. You’d do anything to get me back!” His voice cracked, raw with emotion. “That’s all they wanted! But instead of reasoning with them, you chose to fight back! To—to kill them all!”

His words hung in the air like an accusation, heavy and biting. Lance shook his head, his chest heaving with the weight of the argument. “I doubt you’d even care about me that much to do anything, because that’s all you ever do—nothing.” His voice lowered, the hurt behind his anger spilling out in a bitter edge.

Alfor blinked, genuinely taken aback by his son’s outburst. The fire in Lance’s eyes, the conviction in his voice, it wasn’t something he was used to seeing in his usually playful son. “Lance McClain,” he began, his voice regaining its royal authority, “I will not have you—”

“Save it, Father!” Lance’s voice cut him off sharply. His heart was pounding so fast, the adrenaline rushing through his veins. He didn’t care about the consequences anymore. “I’m done talking to you about this. You made your decision.” His voice softened, but it carried the weight of his disappointment. “Mother lost her best friend because of it. Allura too.” Lance’s eyes flickered toward his sister, who looked away. “Adam’s been searching for Shiro, and you know that! And everyone—everyone in this godforsaken kingdom seems to have forgotten about Keith! Well, I haven’t!”

The room fell into a stunned silence. His mother reached a hand toward him, but Lance was already pulling away, shaking his head. He exhaled a long, shaky breath. “Continue the meeting. I’m done here. I need to cool down.” Without waiting for a response, he stormed toward the door, the sound of it slamming shut behind him echoing through the council chamber.

As Lance marched down the corridor, his footsteps quick and heavy, his anger still simmered just beneath the surface. The frustration twisted in his gut, knotting tighter with each step. He couldn’t say he was surprised by his father’s reaction, but deep down, he’d hoped for something—anything—that would show that maybe, just maybe, Alfor was better than this. That he’d understand, even a little.

But no. His father’s stubbornness, his refusal to even entertain the idea that the Galra might have been acting out of desperation rather than aggression, was infuriating. If only he could show him that Keith was alive, that he was the key to understanding everything. But he had to be patient. It was only two days away. He could hold out for that long.

By the time Lance reached the library door, he forced himself to stop, to take a deep breath. He couldn’t carry this anger into the room with him—not when Keith was inside. Keith needed calm. He needed support, not more chaos. Lance exhaled slowly, shaking away the last remnants of his frustration, and pushed open the door.

The library was quiet, the air cool and still. Lance wandered the aisles, his eyes scanning the rows of books, searching for the familiar figure. It wasn’t long before he spotted Keith, huddled in a corner, his body shaking with sobs. The sight made Lance’s heart clench, and without a second thought, he rushed over, kneeling down beside him.
“Keith?” Lance’s voice was soft, filled with concern as he gently placed a hand on his shoulder. “Keith, what happened? Why are you crying?”

Keith lifted his head slowly, his face red and tear-streaked, his eyes puffy from crying. He hiccuped, struggling to find his voice. He didn’t want to worry Lance—not after everything Lance had been through, not after how hard he’d been working. But the guilt weighed so heavily on him that it spilled out in broken words.

“I-I hurt him,” Keith stammered, his voice trembling with guilt as he held up the headless stuffed dragon. The tattered remains of Red dangled limply from his hands. “I didn’t mean to… I promise.”

Lance’s expression softened instantly. The anger he had felt earlier melted away as he took in the sight of Keith, so fragile and full of regret. “Oh, starlight…” he sighed, helping Keith to his feet. “It’s okay. Take some deep breaths for me.” He rubbed soothing circles on Keith’s back, his touch gentle and reassuring. “I can fix this. There’s no need to cry. I understand. You were probably really scared, huh?”

Keith nodded, sniffling as he wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “Y-you can fix him?” There was a glimmer of hope in his voice, like a child seeking comfort.
“Of course I can,” Lance said softly, smiling down at him. “No more tears, starlight.” He gently wiped away the last of Keith’s tears with his thumb. “Everything’s going to be alright.”

Keith sniffled again, still clutching Red tightly as if afraid the stuffed dragon might slip away from him entirely. He didn’t want to tell Lance about Lotor—not now, not when everything had been going so well. So instead, he nodded, allowing Lance to lead him back to his room.

A few stitches later, Red was as good as new. Lance had carefully sewn the dragon’s head back on, the pride in his work evident as he handed it back to Keith. “All better. I think he’d feel even better if you gave him lots of hugs,” Lance teased, his tone light and playful.

Keith smiled faintly, hugging Red tightly to his chest. “Thank you, Lance,” he whispered, his voice soft but filled with gratitude.

Lance hummed thoughtfully, crossing his legs on the bed as he watched Keith settle down. Tomorrow was the day before the party. He knew Keith needed time to relax, to truly unwind before the chaos began. “How about this,” Lance began, a smile curling at the corners of his lips. “Tomorrow, we’ll do something really relaxing. There’s a hot spring not too far from here, behind the castle. Only I know where it’s at, so no one can bother us. We can go relax and look at the stars together. I’ll bring food. Just you and me. And if you want, Red can come too.”

Keith’s eyes, still red and puffy from crying, widened slightly. He looked at Lance, holding Red tightly, as if the dragon were his anchor to something safe. “Really?” he asked, his voice small but filled with hope.
“Really,” Lance promised, his eyes warm and sincere. “You deserve it, Keith. A chance to relax, just the two of us.”

Keith’s cheeks warmed, a faint blush
spreading as he nodded. “I think I’d like that,” he whispered.

“Lance?” Keith asked after a brief pause, his voice hesitant.

“Yes, Keith?” Lance’s attention shifted fully to him, his gaze soft and unwavering.

“Are… are all dragons bad?” Keith’s voice was filled with uncertainty, like he was afraid of the answer.

Lance laughed gently, shaking his head. “Of course not! You certainly aren’t, and neither is Red. I haven’t met any real dragons other than you, so as far as I know, all dragons are good!” His smile was wide and genuine, full of the warmth that always seemed to make everything better.

Keith looked at Lance with wide, admiring eyes. Lance was always so kind, so understanding. He always knew exactly what to say to make Keith feel like he wasn’t alone. A small smile graced Keith’s face, a spark of confidence returning to his chest. “Yeah…” he murmured, feeling just a little better.

Chapter Text

Ask me any questions you may have currently! Though I can’t say any spoilers, I’d be happy to share an insight to any of the characters lives. You can also ask me questions about myself! Anything you can think of, I don’t care!!

Thank you for reading, so much!! I’m so excited about over 200 hits, you have no idea. I will be taking a small break, hopefully I can pick back up on Tuesday, I’m a bit exhausted from pumping out so much. But for now, I’d love to hear feedback and answer questions!! I’ll be answering through comments so keep a look out <3 - D

Chapter Text

The early morning light crept through the curtains, casting a soft, golden glow over the room. Keith had been awake for hours, lying still beside Lance as the events of the previous day replayed relentlessly in his mind. Normally, Lance was the early riser, but today, Keith’s mind refused to let him rest. He clutched his newly stitched dragon, Red, tight against his chest, as if the fragile toy could protect him from the storm of thoughts swirling in his head.

Lotor’s voice echoed in his mind, chilling and unrelenting: “You will never be what they want you to be. You’re a monster.” The words struck deep, weaving themselves into Keith’s thoughts, wrapping around his chest like a heavy chain. His breathing hitched as he remembered the way Lotor’s voice dripped with venom, the way he had painted a picture of Keith as something unlovable, something to be feared. “Lance will see soon enough.”

The thought of Lance seeing him as a monster was more terrifying than anything. Keith squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head as if that could dispel the dark thoughts. He didn’t want to worry Lance—not after everything they had been through together. Lance had been so kind, so understanding. He didn’t deserve to be burdened with Keith’s fears. It’s just in your head, Keith. He told himself. Lotor doesn’t know anything. Lance wouldn’t think that about you.

But even as he tried to convince himself, the fear lingered. Desperate for a distraction, Keith reached over to Lance’s nightstand, grabbing the book that lay there. He let out a shaky sigh as he opened it, letting the familiar weight of the pages and the comforting smell of old paper ground him. Reading had always helped him quiet his mind, transporting him to worlds far beyond his own troubles.

As he scanned the pages, Keith slowly began to lose himself in the story. The book took him through fantastical lands and ancient legends. He had already read stories about mythical creatures, daring heroes, and magical realms. Each story whisked him away from the weight of his own reality, offering a brief respite from the chaos in his mind.

The story he was reading now was about a girl with long, flowing hair, trapped in a tower. Despite her imprisonment, she was adventurous and full of spirit. She longed for something beyond her tower, and when a brave young man came to rescue her, they embarked on a daring journey together. Keith admired both characters—the girl for her courage and the man for his bravery—but what captured his attention more than anything was the recurring theme of the story.

Love.

It was a word that popped up in almost every story he read, no matter the setting or the characters. Love seemed to be the driving force behind every great adventure, every rescue, every act of bravery. The word lingered in his mind, and every time he read it, he felt a warmth in his chest, a warmth he couldn’t quite explain.

Keith had come across the word before in plenty of books, but this time, it struck him differently. It wasn’t just a word in a story—it was something he had been feeling more and more lately. Every time Lance gave him one of those soft smiles, every time Lance spoke to him with encouragement, or even when he just sat beside him quietly, Keith couldn’t help but feel that same warmth.
It was strange, though. Love was always depicted as something shared between a prince and a princess, something grand and romantic. He had never seen a story where a dragon and a prince felt that way about each other. But still, the feeling lingered. Keith tried to bury it, tried to convince himself that there was no way Lance could feel the same. I’m a dragon. Lance is… Lance. There’s no way he could feel that way.

But the word still floated in his mind, no matter how much he tried to push it away.
The morning sun began to rise higher, its light spilling over the pages of the book, making the words glow with soft illumination. Keith flipped through the pages, his heart lightening just a little as he followed the characters on their journey. The girl in the tower was adventurous despite her situation, and the man who saved her was brave and strong. It was easy to get lost in their story, to forget, for a while, about the fear lurking in the back of his mind.

Suddenly, the sound of rustling beside him broke his focus. Keith’s heart jumped in his chest, and he quickly snapped the book shut, sitting up in bed as Lance stirred beside him. His first instinct was to make sure Lance was okay, but the sight of him waking up, rubbing his eyes and yawning, brought a soft smile to Keith’s face.
Lance blinked sleepily, his hair sticking up in odd directions, and he gave Keith a tired but warm smile. “Good morning, starlight…” His voice was soft, full of the grogginess of sleep.

Keith’s heart fluttered at the nickname, his face flushing as that familiar warmth spread through him again. He tried to push it down, focusing on Lance instead. “Good morning…” he replied, his voice quieter than usual, as if the morning light and Lance’s gentle tone had lulled him into a calm.

Lance stretched his arms above his head, letting out a groan as he stretched out the last remnants of sleep from his body. “Ugh!” He sighed dramatically, flopping back onto the bed. “Are you ready for tonight?” His grin was lazy, full of excitement despite his sleepiness. “It’s gonna be soooo relaxing!”

Keith nodded, though his thoughts felt miles away. He wanted to relax. He really did. But his mind was still buzzing with everything that had happened yesterday, with everything that Lotor had said. The idea of truly relaxing felt impossible. But Lance looked so excited—so eager to make the day special. Keith didn’t want to ruin it for him.

So he smiled, even though his heart still felt heavy. “Yeah,” he said softly. “I’m ready.”
Lance didn’t seem to notice the hesitation in Keith’s voice. He bounced out of bed, his energy already returning as he began talking about their plans for the day. Keith watched him, trying to push his fears to the back of his mind. He would just have to go with it. If nothing else, at least Lance would be by his side

Lance jumped out of bed, moving around the room with the energy of a bee darting from flower to flower. Though their plans for the day were simple, Lance’s excitement bubbled over. He glanced at Keith, who was still sitting up in bed, his expression calm but thoughtful. Today was meant to be peaceful, an escape from the tension of yesterday. Lance had so many ideas for how they could spend the morning—maybe a quiet walk around town, or a lazy afternoon picnic in one of his favorite spots. Then, as the day turned to dusk, they could head to the hot springs, a secret retreat he had discovered long ago, tucked away behind the castle.

“You should choose what we do today, Keith,” Lance said, rummaging through his wardrobe, trying to find something comfortable for both of them to wear. He paused, turning his head to look at Keith. “Whatever you want.”

Keith sat up a little more, his eyes following Lance’s movements. “You want me to choose?” He seemed a bit surprised, as if the idea of being the one to decide hadn’t crossed his mind. He rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t know... I’m not really sure what there is to do.” There was a hint of uncertainty in his voice, a reminder that there were still so many things about this world that were new to him.

Lance stopped and smiled softly. He knew Keith was still getting used to life here, still learning about human traditions and everyday activities. “You’re right,” Lance said, pulling out some clothes for both of them. “Okay, how about I list some ideas, and you can tell me what sounds good?”
Keith nodded, watching as Lance busied himself with packing a small bag. “We could go into town, check out the market, and maybe grab some food for a picnic,” Lance suggested. “A picnic is where we take food outside and eat it on a blanket,” he explained, knowing Keith might not be familiar with the term. “There’s this bakery I think you’d love. They make the best sandwiches and sweets.”

Keith tilted his head, considering the idea. “A picnic?” He repeated, his brow furrowing in thought. “Is eating outside really that different?” He had a hard time seeing the appeal, but Lance’s excitement was contagious.

Lance laughed. “It’s not just about eating outside. It’s about the experience. You’ll see. I know the perfect spot too, somewhere quiet, away from everyone.” He plopped down on the bed next to Keith. “It’ll just be you and me.”

Keith’s ears twitched at the thought. Just him and Lance, alone, away from the bustling castle and prying eyes. The idea was nice—comforting, even—but it also meant being alone with his thoughts, and lately, those had been anything but comforting. Still, he didn’t want to disappoint Lance. “That sounds... nice,” Keith said quietly, pushing his doubts aside.

Lance beamed and stood up, grabbing a picnic basket and packing it with enthusiasm. “We’ll have to stop by the market first,” he said. “We want only the best snacks, right?” He reached out, tugging Keith’s hand to pull him out of bed. “Come on, get up! We’ve got a whole day ahead of us.”

Keith blushed faintly as Lance pulled him to his feet. He glanced down at their joined hands for a moment before quickly looking away, heading to the closet to grab his clothes. The clothes Nancy had made for him were simple but comfortable, and Keith was glad for her care. His masquerade suit would be ready soon, but for today, simple was perfect.

Once both of them were dressed and ready, they slipped out of the castle quietly. Lance had become an expert at sneaking around by now, expertly avoiding any guards or curious eyes. As they made their way outside, Lance pulled Keith’s hood over his head, tucking his horns safely out of sight. “Just one more day,” Lance whispered. “Then you won’t have to hide anymore.” He gave Keith an apologetic look. “Sorry if the hood’s uncomfortable, but you can take it off when we’re alone.”

Keith nodded, adjusting the hood so it didn’t press against his horns as much. “It’s okay,” he said, his voice low. He didn’t mind as long as it meant they could walk freely through town.

The streets were busy as always, filled with the sounds of people chatting, vendors calling out their goods, and the occasional clatter of carts. Whenever Keith felt overwhelmed by the noise or the crowds, he would instinctively reach for Lance’s hand. And Lance, without a word, would hold his hand tightly, offering silent reassurance. It was a small gesture, but it made Keith feel more at ease.

“Okay, Keith,” Lance said as they made their way through the market stalls. “For our picnic, we’ll need sandwiches, some snacks, maybe something sweet, and definitely a drink.” He scanned the stalls, his eyes lighting up when he spotted the bakery. “There! That place has the best sandwiches and sweets, and it’s still early, so everything will be fresh.” He tugged Keith along, heading straight for the bakery.

As they stepped inside, the warm scent of freshly baked bread and sugary pastries filled the air. Keith’s nose twitched as he took in the delicious smells, his eyes wandering over the display of baked goods. Lance grabbed his hand again, pulling him toward the counter. “Let’s pick out some things,” he said with a smile, already scanning the selection. “We’ll get some cookies, and this little cake looks amazing—it’s strawberry.” He added a couple of sandwiches to the basket as well, making sure they had plenty for their picnic.
Next, they headed to the produce market, picking out a few oranges and apples, as well as a jug of fruit juice. Lance was methodical, making sure they had everything they needed, while Keith followed, asking questions about every little thing. From the types of bread to the way the vendors haggled with customers, Keith was curious about it all. And Lance answered each question with patience, happy to teach him and even happier to see Keith’s curiosity bloom.

After they had gathered everything, they spent the next few hours wandering through the town, with Lance pointing out various landmarks and answering Keith’s endless stream of questions. Keith was learning so much, and Lance didn’t mind at all. In fact, he loved seeing Keith’s eyes light up with new information.

As the day wore on, they eventually made their way toward the outskirts of the town. The path was quieter now, with fewer people around, and the sun was beginning its slow descent toward the horizon. “The place I’m taking you is a little out of the way,” Lance said as they walked. “By the time we finish our picnic, it’ll be perfect timing for the hot springs.”

Keith looked over at him, his brow furrowed. “Hot springs?” He repeated. “What is that?”
Lance chuckled, clearly amused by the question. “It’s like a big pool of water, but it’s naturally heated by the earth. It’s really warm, especially in the winter. I think you’ll love it.” He glanced at Keith with a smile. “I’ve got a change of clothes for us too, and some towels, so we don’t have to worry about getting cold after.”

Keith hummed, trying to imagine what it would be like, but he couldn’t quite picture it. “It sounds... interesting,” he said, trusting Lance’s excitement. If Lance said it was good, then Keith would go along with it.
As they continued walking, the quiet of the countryside began to settle over them, and Keith found himself relaxing just a little, the weight of the town’s hustle and bustle fading into the background.

The sun had begun its descent, casting a warm golden glow over the meadow when Lance finally stopped in his tracks, his eyes bright with satisfaction. "Here," he said proudly, planting his hands on his hips as if to present the perfect spot. Keith, having walked a few steps ahead, halted abruptly and turned to look at him, his tail swaying gently behind him as he tilted his head.

"Here?" he asked, sounding both curious and uncertain.
Lance nodded with certainty. "Right here. This is the perfect spot."

They had arrived in a secluded meadow, its grassy expanse softened by wildflowers swaying lazily in the gentle breeze. The nearby trees stood tall, a natural border that shielded the meadow from the outside world. Beyond the trees, Lance knew the hot spring awaited them, but for now, the picnic was their priority.

As Lance busied himself laying out the blanket, anchoring its corners with smooth stones, and arranging the picnic basket, Keith found himself drifting into his own little world. This place was nothing like the town they had walked through earlier, or even the carefully manicured gardens around the castle. It felt untouched, wild in a way that the controlled beauty of the kingdom never could. The air was fresher here, the colors more vibrant, and everything seemed to hum with life. Keith’s gaze wandered from the delicate flowers to the towering trees, his ears twitching as he caught the distant chirping of birds and the soft rustle of leaves.

While Lance carefully arranged the food, glancing up occasionally to check on Keith, the raven-haired boy wandered further into the meadow. He crouched down to inspect a flower, his tail flicking back and forth in fascination. Lance smiled as he watched Keith, but a small sense of worry nagged at him.

“Don’t go too far, Keith,” Lance called gently, his voice tinged with concern. “It’s easy to get lost out here if you’re not with someone.”
Keith didn’t seem to hear him at first, too engrossed in his surroundings, but eventually, he turned back toward Lance. Before he could respond, though, his attention was caught by something fluttering past his face—a small insect, its wings catching the last rays of sunlight. Keith’s eyes lit up with childish wonder, and without a second thought, he began to chase it, his long limbs moving with unexpected grace as he reached out to catch it.

Lance watched with a chuckle as Keith darted after the insect, his movements a mixture of focus and frustration. “Keith!” he called again, louder this time, his laughter bubbling up. “Come on, it’s time to eat!”
Keith’s ears perked up at the sound of Lance’s voice, and he quickly abandoned his chase, turning back toward the blanket with a look of mild disappointment. “I almost had it…” he mumbled, his brow furrowed in frustration as he crossed his arms.

Lance grinned, shaking his head fondly. “Don’t worry, you’ll have plenty of time to chase bugs later. We can even go bug hunting in the garden sometime,” he suggested, his tone playful and nostalgic. The mention of bug hunting stirred old memories of their childhood, of simpler days spent outside with nothing to worry about except catching the biggest, fastest bug they could find. It was a time when everything was uncomplicated, and for a brief moment, Lance allowed himself to be carried away by the thought.

Keith huffed, still a little annoyed at his failure to catch the insect, but his mood shifted quickly when he remembered the food. Without further hesitation, he plopped down on the blanket and reached for one of the sandwiches, but it didn’t take long for him to realize just how awkward it was to sit on the ground while trying to eat. He shifted uncomfortably, struggling to keep his posture straight as he balanced the sandwich in his hands.

Lance, always observant, noticed Keith’s discomfort and couldn’t help but laugh. “Hey, Keith,” he said, getting an idea as he shifted his own position to something more relaxed. He leaned back, one leg stretched out while the other was bent, his arms propping him up lazily. “Why don’t you get comfortable? There’s no need to sit so stiff. It’s your day to relax, after all. You’ve earned it.”

Keith blinked, watching Lance with mild surprise. “I can do that?” he asked, uncertain.

“Of course! Eat however you want. Make yourself comfortable.” Lance’s smile was reassuring, and Keith, after a brief moment of hesitation, gave in to the suggestion. He lay down on his stomach, propping himself up on his elbows as he took another bite of his sandwich. It wasn’t perfect, but it was a lot more comfortable.

Lance reached over and tousled Keith’s hair affectionately. “There you go, bud,” he said, his voice soft with warmth.

Keith blushed, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he settled into his new position. There was something about Lance—no matter what Keith was feeling, Lance always managed to make him feel safe, like he belonged here, in this place, in this moment. It was a rare and cherished feeling.

They ate in comfortable silence, first devouring their sandwiches. Keith, of course, finished his much faster than Lance. He was bigger, and he always seemed to have a bottomless appetite. But he waited patiently for Lance to finish, picking at the fruit they had brought in the meantime. Lance had an apple, while Keith peeled an orange, and they shared both between them, enjoying the simple pleasure of fresh, sweet fruit.

When it came time for dessert, Lance took a spoonful of the strawberry cake they had bought earlier and held it out to Keith. “Here, try this.”

Keith eyed the spoon curiously before taking the bite, his eyes lighting up the moment the sweet taste hit his tongue. “It’s good,” he said, his voice filled with awe as he savored the flavor.

Lance chuckled, taking a bite himself. “I knew you’d like it.”

The sun had sunk lower in the sky, the golden light slowly deepening into shades of pink and orange. Keith, feeling more content than he had in a long time, let out a soft sigh. “Lance,” he began, his voice quieter than before. “I’m happy I get to be here with you now.”

Lance, mid-bite, paused and looked at Keith, a curious expression on his face. “You are?” he asked, surprised by the sudden change in mood.

Keith nodded slowly. “I don’t think I can talk much about it, but… everything I went through with Lotor—it was a lot. It hurt, more than I realized at the time.” His voice was steady, but there was an unmistakable heaviness in his words. Lance set his food aside and sat up, giving Keith his full attention.

“Everything he did… it was to test my strength,” Keith continued, his eyes focused on the horizon. “He said if I wasn’t strong enough, I was useless. I still don’t understand why it had to be me. I don’t think I’ll ever know. But…” He paused, a small, rare smile breaking through the somber expression. “I think I have everything I need now.”

Lance felt his chest tighten. Keith rarely smiled like that, and hearing him speak so openly made Lance’s heart ache with both sadness and relief. “Keith,” Lance said softly, “thank you. I know you probably feel like you should be thanking me, but… I’ve been lost ever since that day. I wish I could have done something sooner. But now that you’re here, I’m going to do everything I can to make sure you’re safe.”

Without thinking, Lance scooted closer and wrapped Keith in a tight hug. Keith’s initial surprise quickly melted away, and he let out a quiet laugh as he looked up at the sky, the colors deepening into soft purples and golds. “It’s beautiful,” he said softly.

Lance leaned back to look at Keith , smiling. “It really is.”

Keith smiled, leaning into the embrace not noticing lances gaze, and they sat there for a long moment, the quiet settling around them as the sky darkened.

Then Keith spoke again, his voice even softer. "Lance, can I tell you something?"
Lance pulled back slightly, tilting his head. "Of course, Keith. You can tell me anything."

Keith’s eyes dropped to the ground as he took a shaky breath. "The night you found me… I didn’t think I was going to make it. I was so cold… so hungry. I was ready to just… let go." His voice wavered, the memory clearly painful. "But then you found me. And you looked at me, and I knew—somehow, I knew you’d help me."

Lance’s throat tightened, tears welling up in his eyes. He quickly reached out, pulling Keith into another hug, holding him tight. "Keith…" His voice cracked. "Thank you for being so strong.”

Keith buried his face in Lance’s shoulder, feeling the comforting warmth of his embrace, and for a while, neither of them moved. They stayed like that, holding onto each other as if the world had stopped spinning, allowing them this brief moment of quiet amid the chaos of their lives. The soft sounds of nature—the rustling leaves, the distant chirping of birds—wrapped around them like a blanket, and the weight of their emotions seemed to dissolve in the shared silence.

Lance’s breaths were deep and steady, though Keith could still feel the faint tremble in his arms. He felt safe here, in Lance’s hold, as if nothing could touch them. Slowly, Lance pulled back, his eyes puffy from the tears he had shed, but there was a warmth in his expression that reassured Keith. Lance gently wiped his own eyes, then reached over to brush the tears from Keith’s face, his thumb lingering on Keith’s cheek for a moment longer.

“I’m really proud of you, Keith,” Lance said softly, his voice thick with sincerity and emotion.

Keith’s chest tightened. The tenderness in Lance’s voice, the way he said those words—it was almost too much. Keith felt a surge of warmth, of something deeper, swelling inside him. This was it. The moment he had been waiting for. His heart pounded, and the words bubbled up to the surface, just waiting to spill out.

“Lance, I—” he began, his voice soft but charged with the weight of everything he had been holding back. He could feel the words on the tip of his tongue, the truth he had kept buried for so long now begging to be released.

But just as he was about to speak, Lance stood up, stretching his arms above his head with a satisfied groan, his usual playful energy returning in full force. “This is the perfect time for the hot springs,” he said, a grin spreading across his face. He glanced down at Keith with a gleam in his eye. “Come on, let’s get changed and head over. It’ll be great.”

Keith blinked, the words caught in his throat, evaporating like mist in the warm air. He swallowed them down, the surge of emotion ebbing away as quickly as it had come. A small sigh escaped his lips, barely noticeable, but the disappointment lingered. Maybe… maybe it wasn’t the right time after all. There would be another moment, wouldn’t there? He had to believe that. It wasn’t something he could rush.

Keith followed Lance’s lead, standing and gathering his things as they prepared to change. As they slipped into their swimwear, Keith’s mind spun with a whirlwind of thoughts—what he could’ve said, what Lance might have thought, the gnawing fear of rejection intertwining with the faint flicker of hope. What if Lance didn’t feel the same? What if it changed everything between them?

But as Keith pulled his shirt over his head, all those anxious thoughts were pushed aside when he felt Lance’s hand slip into his, that familiar touch grounding him. He looked up to see Lance smiling at him, the warmth in his expression unmistakable.

“Ready?” Lance asked, his voice filled with that easy, comforting affection that always managed to settle Keith’s nerves.
Keith’s breath hitched, but he smiled back, the nervousness melting away in the face of Lance’s reassuring presence. "Yeah," he whispered, nodding.

With their hands still intertwined, they stepped beyond the tree line, leaving the open meadow behind them. The trees cast long shadows across the path as the sun continued its slow descent, and the warm, inviting steam from the hot spring curled up into the air, beckoning them forward. The sky above had begun to fade into deeper shades of pink and orange, the first stars twinkling faintly in the distance.

Together, they walked side by side, the unspoken connection between them as strong as ever, even as the day gave way to night.

When they came upon the hot springs, Lance’s excitement bubbled up, almost as if it were the water itself. “This is going to be so fun! I haven’t been here in forever!” His voice was light, filled with anticipation. He took Keith’s hand, gently leading him to the edge of the spring.

Keith’s eyes traced the rising steam, the warmth already brushing against his face. He blinked down at the shimmering water, feeling a twinge of uncertainty. “Just one step at a time,” Lance instructed, his voice soft but encouraging. “If you get in all at once, it’ll be too hot for you.” Keith nodded, trusting Lance’s guidance as he slowly eased into the water, his muscles relaxing with each step.

Once they were fully settled in, Keith leaned back, letting out a contented sigh. “This feels so comfy…” he murmured.
Lance nodded, sharing the sentiment. “Whenever I’m overwhelmed, I come here. It’s the best place to just… forget everything. And I’m so happy you’re here with me this time. We’re gonna be doing stuff like this all the time from now on.” His words were light, but there was a weight behind them—a promise of more peaceful moments to come.

Keith felt his heart tighten at the thought, the warmth of the spring doing little to quell the growing knot of emotions in his chest. Maybe now was the right time. He wanted to say something, to tell Lance how he really felt, but the words stuck in his throat. What if he said the wrong thing? What if Lance didn’t feel the same? His mind spun with a thousand “what ifs” until he finally pushed the feelings down, just for a little while longer.

Lance, though outwardly calm, was having his own internal debate. He knew Keith liked him. It had become clearer to him recently—especially when he caught Keith reading all those romance stories. But did he feel the same way? Keith meant the world to him, but maybe that was just the depth of their friendship? And what if Keith didn’t even understand what love was? Lance’s stomach twisted at the thought of leading Keith on, of possibly hurting him if things weren’t what they both thought. Plus, there was his father to worry about… how would the king react?

For now, Lance decided to play it safe, acting oblivious to any tension. They both needed to relax, after all. So, the two sat there, letting the heat of the spring melt away their worries—or at least, that was the idea. But despite the warmth surrounding them, their minds were far from calm.
Almost simultaneously, they let out deep sighs, sinking further into the water as if trying to dissolve the tension.

Keith, sensing the lingering unease between them, decided to lighten the mood. With a mischievous smirk, he shifted his body, raising his tail out of the water and slapping it down hard, sending a splash directly at Lance.

Lance gasped, falling back in surprise as the water drenched him. “Keith!!” he sputtered, wiping the water from his face. But as soon as he saw the grin on Keith’s face and heard his belly laugh—a sound so rare, so genuine—Lance couldn’t help but laugh too. The sound of Keith’s laughter felt like music, warm and pure, like something he hadn’t realized he’d been missing for so long. It sounded like sweet honey. Lance hadn’t heard it in over a decade. And he wanted it to last forever.

Smirking, Lance retaliated, splashing Keith back. “Ha! I got you!”

Keith shook the water off, giggling, his tail swishing behind him as he moved through the water. Then, with a determined look, he lunged forward, tackling Lance against the edge of the spring. “That’s not fair!” Lance laughed, struggling against Keith’s strength. “You’re stronger than me!”

Keith grinned triumphantly. “That doesn’t matter! I win!”

Lance stared up at him, momentarily taken aback. Water dripped from Keith’s long, silky black hair, his horns gleaming with an ethereal glow in the moonlight. Even the scales on his face seemed to shimmer under the soft light. For a second, Lance felt his breath catch in his throat, the warmth of the moment sinking in. He tried to shake off the realization quickly, but the feeling lingered.

Without warning, Lance flashed a grin and dove under the water, swimming past Keith and popping up behind him.

“Lance??” Keith called, standing up straight, looking around in confusion. “Lance! Where did you—”

Before he could finish, Lance emerged from the water, tackling Keith from behind. “Ha! I got you now!” he exclaimed, laughing as he clung to Keith’s back.

Keith yelped and laughed, struggling to turn and grab Lance. “Hey! That’s not fair, I can’t reach you!”

Lance chuckled, his grip tightening as he teased, “Fair is relative, Keith. No one said anything about rules.”

Keith frowned in confusion, not quite understanding the reference, but laughed anyway, splashing water up at Lance in an attempt to free himself.

For the first time in what felt like ages, the boys let go of all their worries. Here, in this secluded place, surrounded by warmth and laughter, there was no need for titles or expectations. It was just them, being themselves, with no one to judge or interrupt.

As the night wore on, the water became a soothing blanket around them. The hot springs had worked their magic, not just on their bodies but on their minds, too. And though they knew tomorrow’s party would bring its own set of challenges, in this moment, none of that mattered.

All they knew was that, no matter what happened, they would never be separated again.

Chapter Text

The morning sun crept through the grand windows, casting a soft golden glow across the bedroom. Keith stirred, feeling a sense of peace after the previous day’s relaxation. But as his mind slowly woke, that serenity began to unravel. Today was the day—the day he’d have to face everyone, show his face, be on display in front of so many people. Anxiety curled tightly in his stomach, gnawing at the edges of his thoughts. And as he shifted under the covers, something even more pressing hit him.

Lance wasn’t beside him.

Keith groaned, his body heavy with sleep as he tried to sit up. His mind was sluggish, weighed down by the tension of the day ahead. But suddenly, his eyes shot open when he sensed someone standing right next to the bed.

"Good morning, Keith!" came a cheery voice.

Keith flinched, nearly tumbling off the bed in his surprise. He panted, trying to catch his breath as he looked up to see who had startled him. It was Allura, Lance's sister, standing with a wide smile.

"Oh! I'm so sorry, Keith, I didn’t mean to scare you!" she said, reaching out to help steady him.

Keith waved off her apology, though his heart still raced. "It's okay... Where's Lance?"

Allura's eyes brightened. "Oh, he's preparing the ballroom for your birthday celebration. He asked me to help you with everything!" She clasped her hands together, her smile widening.

"Everything?" Keith echoed, confused and a little wary.

"Yes, everything!" Allura began tidying up the bed, smoothing the sheets and fluffing the pillows with an almost practiced grace. "Your suit needs preparing for tonight, you’ll need to know how to greet the guests properly, what you’ll say to my father…"

Keith’s stomach sank as she listed off each task, every item on her agenda adding weight to the knot of anxiety in his chest. He swallowed hard. It all seemed so overwhelming. How was he supposed to do all of that? It felt like too much to handle.

“That’s what he said anyway,” Allura continued, her voice softer now. She noticed Keith’s distant expression and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, drawing his attention back to her. "I think Lance is just worried about you. If you want my advice, I say speak from your heart. You don’t need to be perfect. And remember, we’ve all got your back, Keith." Her smile was warm and reassuring.

Keith fidgeted, still unsure. He gave her a look that reminded Allura of a lost puppy—nervous, uncertain, and desperate for reassurance. She sighed and gave his shoulder a comforting squeeze. "Everything will be fine, I promise." Her tone was patient, almost motherly. "Now, let’s do something with this," she said, lifting a lock of his long, dark hair between her fingers with a playful grin.

Keith blinked, surprised. "My hair?"
Allura guided him toward Lance's vanity and gestured for him to sit down. "Yes, your hair," she chuckled. "It’s pretty, Keith, but it’s way too long. I’m just going to trim it a little. I bet Lance likes it long, doesn’t he?”

Keith blushed at the thought, nodding shyly. His mind flashed to all the times Lance had absentmindedly played with his hair when they were together, fingers running through the strands, sometimes tugging gently at the ends. He didn’t want it too short, not if Lance liked it this way.

Allura noticed his reaction and chuckled knowingly. "Alright, just a few inches then. I’ve got the perfect style in mind." She began brushing through Keith’s hair, getting it ready for the cut. "So, how are you liking the castle so far?"

Keith glanced at his reflection in the mirror as she worked. "I like it," he said softly. "It’s big. And shiny."

Allura laughed, finding his simple description amusing. "You and your shiny things," she teased, running her fingers over the delicate chain on one of his horns. "This is lovely, by the way. Did Lance get it for you?"

Keith blushed even harder, nodding. "Yeah… he said it was beautiful."

Allura smiled at his flustered response, clearly enjoying the way he reacted whenever Lance was mentioned. "You know," she started, her voice taking on a thoughtful tone, "when my father found out I was in love with my lady-in-waiting, he was furious. He always wanted me to marry your brother."

Keith’s ears perked up at that. "You were friends with my brother?"

Allura nodded, snipping at Keith's hair as she spoke. "He was my best friend. And one day, I hope he returns. He’d be so happy to see you alive." She paused for a moment, reflecting. "But what I’m trying to say is… someone is always going to be upset, no matter what you do. You can’t live to please everyone."

Keith frowned, unsure what she was getting at.

"I mean…" Allura set down the scissors, her eyes meeting his in the mirror. "You like Lance, don’t you?"

Keith’s face flushed crimson. "I—what? I…"
Allura laughed, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Come on, Keith. It’s obvious. You love him, don’t you?"

Keith stammered, struggling to find words. But in the end, he sighed and nodded. "I do… a lot. But I don’t think he feels the same."

Allura raised an eyebrow, grinning. "Keith, he gave you a nickname. ‘Starlight’ isn’t something you call your best friend. Trust me, he feels the same way. He just might not realize it yet. He needs a little nudge, that’s all." She stepped back, admiring her handiwork. "Now, take a look."

Keith stood up and leaned toward the mirror. His hair was shorter now, just past his shoulders, curling slightly at the ends. It wasn’t a dramatic change, but it was enough to make him feel different—lighter.
"You think he’ll notice?" Keith asked, still examining his reflection.

Allura grinned. "Oh, he’ll notice."
She placed her hands on his shoulders, spinning him around to face her. "Now… how about we practice?"

Keith blinked. "Practice? You mean for the party?"

Allura shook her head. "No, silly. What you’re going to say to Lance!"

Keith furrowed his brow. "But I thought—"
Allura cut him off with a knowing smile. "The party will be fine. You’ll know what to say to everyone when the time comes. But right now, we need to focus on something more important—making sure you tell Lance how you really feel."

Keith sighed, his nerves returning. "I don’t even know what to say. Every time I try, I get nervous, and then I freeze up."

Allura sat down across from him, her expression gentle but firm. "Keith, there’s going to be a room full of distractions later. You’ll have to find the courage to make him listen to you. Trust me, once I’m done with you, he won’t be able to look away." She winked, her playful grin back in full force

Keith watched with wide, curious eyes as Allura began setting out all her supplies across the vanity table. He had no idea what half of this stuff was or how she intended to use it, but there was no denying her excitement. Her movements were quick and precise, as though she had done this a thousand times before. Keith felt a little out of place, sitting there surrounded by powders, brushes, and small bottles of mysterious liquids.

"Lance never lets me do any of this to him," Allura said with a playful pout. She sat down right in front of Keith, closer than he expected, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. "But you’re going to look perfect!" she declared confidently.
Keith raised an eyebrow, still unsure.

Perfect? He didn’t even know what the end goal was here. Wasn’t he just supposed to blend in during the party? He opened his mouth to ask, but before he could, Allura leaned in and picked up a soft, fluffy brush. "This is makeup," she explained, holding it out like a prized tool. "Usually, it’s only for girls, but for today, we’re making an exception. We won’t do too much—just enough to bring out your natural beauty," she winked, her smile teasing but kind.

Keith tensed slightly as she approached, still a little apprehensive. He had never worn makeup before and wasn’t sure what to expect. "Stay still, alright?" Allura’s tone was gentle, but she didn’t leave much room for argument. She held the brush up towards his face, her expression focused, and Keith instinctively leaned back.

Allura laughed softly at his reaction. "Oh, Keith, it’s not going to hurt. It’s like… a little tickle. Trust me."

After a beat, Keith sighed and finally relaxed. He closed his eyes, letting out a small breath as Allura went to work. The brush’s soft bristles glided across his skin, sweeping a fine layer of powder over his face. It was delicate, almost like a whisper against his skin, bringing a subtle glow to his already pale complexion. He could hear the soft rustling of the powder brush, the careful strokes as she worked to perfect the base.

Next, she reached for something smaller and more precise. Keith opened one eye slightly, watching as she held up a slender pencil-like tool. "This is eyeliner," she said, her voice dropping a little as if revealing a secret. "Not too much, just enough to make those royal purple eyes of yours stand out." She worked carefully, applying the liner with steady hands, her face close to his as she made sure everything was perfect.

Keith felt a bit strange under her care, but not uncomfortable. If anything, he was starting to feel a little more… confident. He could already tell his appearance was shifting in subtle ways.

"Oh, Lance is going to be so surprised when he sees you like this!" Allura’s voice was giddy, her excitement bubbling over as she stepped back to admire her work. "You’ll have a mask on for most of the party, but when you take it off—" she squealed, clapping her hands together, "—he’ll be blown away!"

Keith blinked, his uncertainty creeping back. "Why do I have to take off the mask? It feels like it’d be easier to keep it on…"

Allura laughed, shaking her head fondly. "I get it. That’s just your nerves talking. The mask is a safety net, but you can’t hide behind it forever, Keith. Trust me, when the moment’s right, you’ll want to take it off. Besides," her tone softened, "Lance will be with you. He won’t let anything happen to you."

Keith let out a long sigh, her words sinking in slowly. He nodded, feeling the weight of her reassurance. He sat quietly as she finished the final touches, her hands light but purposeful as she applied the last bit of makeup. When she was done, the transformation was subtle, yet undeniable. Keith looked at himself in the mirror, hardly recognizing the version of himself staring back. He looked… polished. Almost regal. His skin seemed to glow, and his eyes stood out sharply against his dark hair.

"The party doesn’t start for a few hours," Allura said, walking back to the closet, "so we have some time. Lance is helping our mother get everything set up, and you won’t be joining until everyone’s gathered. The whole kingdom is going to see how amazing you are."

Keith’s stomach twisted at the thought. The idea of being in front of so many people, all eyes on him, was nerve-wracking. He had never been one for the spotlight, and now he was expected to make an entrance that everyone would remember. "Lance will be with me the whole time, right?" he asked quietly, his voice edged with nerves.

Allura nodded reassuringly, pulling out a pair of shoes and setting them beside the bed. "Yes, the whole time. He might have to step away for a few moments, but don’t worry, Keith. You’ll be okay. He wouldn’t leave you alone for long." She smiled, her words calming.

Keith nodded, though the nervousness didn’t entirely go away. He watched as Allura retrieved his suit from the wardrobe, a breathtaking ensemble that shimmered in the light. The fabric looked intricate, designed to fit perfectly around his wings and tail. It was clear how much thought had gone into it. Beside the suit, she placed a gleaming crown, the same one Lance had gotten from the throne room. Only now, it had been altered to fit around Keith’s horns.

"Now that we have your hair primped and your face all done," Allura said, standing back with a satisfied grin, "let’s get you dressed!" She picked up the suit, holding it out for him. "It’s a bit tricky to put on, so I’ll help you. I made sure everything would fit just right—especially for your wings and tail."

Keith stood up, feeling the weight of the moment settling over him. As he slipped into the suit with Allura's help, he could feel the fabric hugging his body snugly, its texture smooth and cool against his skin. The openings for his wings were perfectly aligned, allowing them to unfurl naturally, while his tail slid comfortably through the tailored gap.

Allura adjusted the sleeves and straightened the collar, her fingers smoothing out any wrinkles. "There," she said softly, stepping back to take in the full effect. "You look incredible, Keith. Lance won’t be able to take his eyes off you."

Keith blushed at the thought, but there was a spark of excitement mixed with his nerves now. He looked at himself in the mirror again, dressed in royal finery, his hair styled just right, his face radiant with the subtle makeup. For the first time, he could almost picture himself walking into the grand ballroom, facing the crowd, standing beside Lance as an equal.

"Now," Allura said with a grin, picking up the crown and holding it just above his head, "let’s see the final touch."

She placed the crown gently on his head, and Keith stared at his reflection, hardly recognizing the boy looking back at him. He looked regal, composed, and ready for whatever the night had in store. Even though he might’ve not felt the same.

"Are you ready?" Allura asked, stepping beside him with a proud smile.

Keith took a deep breath, his heart pounding in his chest. "I think I am…” he said, a tinge of uncertainty behind his voice.

Allura’s touch on Keith’s shoulder was soft, but it carried a weight of reassurance, as though her very presence could transfer her calm into him. Her warm smile, however, failed to penetrate the storm of uncertainty raging inside Keith.

"You’re more than ready, Keith," she said, her voice a soothing melody in the tense air. Keith could only nod, the knot in his stomach tightening. "Now, just relax until I come back to get you. I have to get ready myself." Her hand slipped from his shoulder, and she began backing toward the door. There was something in her eyes—confidence in him, maybe even a little excitement—but to Keith, it felt distant, unreachable.

He watched her step away, her movements graceful as ever. "You just sit here and don’t worry. Seriously, don’t overthink this," she added with a light laugh. The sound was meant to ease him, but it only reminded him of how alone he was about to be in the room. Alone with his thoughts, with the pressure of the night looming ahead. "You’ll do fine," she assured him one last time before pointing to the nightstand. "Oh, and don’t forget your mask. It’s right over there."
Keith glanced at the mask but didn’t move to grab it. Allura smiled once more, a small but encouraging expression, before finally slipping out of the room. The door closed softly behind her, and the silence rushed in, thick and oppressive.

Keith felt the stillness settle on him like a heavy cloak, his shoulders sinking under the weight of it all. The party, the eyes of the kingdom, the King. Would the King even listen to him? Could he get through the night without making a fool of himself?

He exhaled shakily, his chest tight with anxiety as he sat down on the edge of the bed. For a moment, he simply stared at his hands, feeling his heart thudding in his chest. Then, as if searching for some comfort, some anchor in the storm, he reached over and grabbed the stuffed dragon sitting beside him—Red. The stitches were new, a sign of wear and repair, much like Keith felt on the inside. Broken once, and barely held together now.

"I bet you’d know what to do," Keith muttered, his voice small and tired. He lay back, letting the plush fabric of the dragon press into his chest as he held it above him, its glassy eyes reflecting nothing but his own uncertainty. "This is so hard," he groaned, his voice thick with frustration and a tinge of despair. "I wish there was an easier way. I wish he just… knew."

The room seemed to swallow his words, offering no response, no solution. Red, silent as always, hung limply in his hands. Keith sighed again, pulling the stuffed animal close to his chest, hugging it tightly. His wings, now neatly tucked behind him, ached with the pressure of it all. He stared up at the ceiling, his thoughts swirling like a storm cloud, dark and relentless.

Just then, a voice shattered the silence.
"My, my, my…" it was low, smooth, and dripping with dark amusement.

Keith bolted upright, his wings snapping tight against his back in an instinctive reaction. His ears flattened, and his tail coiled around him protectively as his wide eyes scanned the room.
Lotor.

Emerging from the shadows in the corner, the tall, imposing figure of Lotor walked toward him with slow, deliberate steps. His pale eyes gleamed with an unnerving intensity, and a smug smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

Keith’s heart raced, his breath catching in his throat as he stood, placing Red on the bed behind him as though it could shield him. "Wh-what are you doing here?" Keith’s voice was quiet, trembling slightly. His body tensed, every fiber of his being screaming danger.

Lotor didn’t answer immediately. He continued to close the distance, towering over Keith with a presence that was suffocating, predatory. "Don’t you look ravishing?" he finally said, his voice laced with mocking admiration. "Still trying to impress the prince, I see?"

Keith’s fists clenched at his sides, his pulse quickening. He tried to stand his ground, though every instinct screamed at him to run. "What are you doing here?" he asked again, more forcefully this time, though his voice still wavered.

Lotor tilted his head slightly, as if the question was beneath him, unworthy of an answer. His gaze flicked to the small crown perched on Keith’s head, and his smirk deepened. "Oh, look at that," he chuckled. "You’re even wearing your little crown. It fits you nicely, doesn’t it?"

Keith’s skin prickled with unease. His heart thudded in his chest as Lotor’s words cut through him, a reminder of all that had been taken from him, of the life he no longer had.
"Oh, Keith," Lotor sighed, finally addressing the question, though his tone was patronizing. "When are you going to learn?" He stepped closer, his figure casting a long shadow over Keith. "You need to forget all this nonsense and come home with me."

Keith swallowed hard, taking a small step back, his mind racing. Home? That word had lost its meaning the moment Lotor betrayed him, the moment everything he once knew crumbled into dust. "I’m not going anywhere with you," Keith muttered, trying to muster up courage.

Lotor’s gaze darkened, and a heavy sigh escaped his lips. "After your little temper tantrum, I had to punish you. You have to understand that." His voice was smooth, but there was a dangerous edge to it. "I didn’t want to leave you in that castle, but you left me no choice."

Keith flinched at the reminder, the memory of being abandoned in that cold, empty castle surfacing like a wound reopening. "L-Lance told me that… if you really cared about me, you wouldn’t have done that," Keith said, his voice small but defiant.
Lotor’s response was immediate—a harsh, barking laugh. "That’s what he told you?" He leaned down, his face inches from Keith’s. "Lance doesn’t know who you really are. Not like I do."

"That’s not true!" Keith snapped, his voice rising as his fear gave way to anger. "Lance knows me better than you ever could. He—he likes me! And… and I love him."

For a moment, Lotor said nothing, his eyes narrowing as if in disbelief. Then, slowly, a cold smile spread across his face, a malicious gleam in his eyes. "Love?" he repeated, the word dripping with disdain.

He looked Keith up and down, his gaze turning mocking. "You love him?"

Keith felt a lump form in his throat, but he held his ground, his heart pounding painfully in his chest.

Lotor’s laugh filled the room, dark and cruel. "Oh, this is rich. Keith, do you not realize how ridiculous that sounds? Lance is a prince. You—" he gestured to Keith’s wings, his tail, his very being—"are a monster."

Keith’s breath hitched as Lotor’s hands landed heavily on his shoulders. The weight of his touch felt like shackles, and Keith couldn’t stop the wave of fear that coursed through him. "This is why you shouldn’t have left," Lotor said softly, his voice a dangerous whisper. "This childish fantasy of yours just proves you’re not ready to be on your own. Now, I’m telling you nicely—come home."

"No," Keith whispered, his voice barely audible.

"You’ll hurt him, Keith. You know you will," Lotor continued, his grip tightening. "And when you do, he’ll never forgive you."

Tears stung the corners of Keith’s eyes, his chest constricting painfully. "No…"

Lotor’s hands moved to Keith’s wings, pulling them forward roughly. "Look at you!" he snarled, his voice filled with venom. "You think he wants you like this? You’re a beast, Keith! And that’s all you’ll ever be."

Keith’s tears finally spilled over, his vision blurring as he shook his head violently. "Leave me alone!" he shouted, pushing Lotor away with all the strength he had left. "I’m not going with you! This is my home! I won’t hurt anyone… please, just leave!"

For a moment, Lotor stared at him, his expression unreadable. Then, with a sigh, he stepped back, his face softening slightly as if in pity. "I didn’t want to be the bad guy, Keith," he said, his voice low and resigned. And with a puff of purple smoke, he vanished.

The room fell silent again, save for Keith’s shaky breaths. The air still smelled faintly of the smoke Lotor had left behind, and Keith coughed, waving his hand in front of his face.

He collapsed onto the bed, pulling Red into his arms as he rocked back and forth, his body trembling with a mix of fear, anger, and sadness. "Everything’s okay… everything’s okay…" he whispered to himself, his voice hoarse.

The party was starting soon, but all Keith could think about was how badly he wished Lance were here, holding him, telling him it would all be okay. With a deep, shaky breath, Keith clutched Red tighter, trying to calm his racing heart

Keith lay on the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling as his heart slowly settled into a steadier rhythm. The soft fabric of Red, his stuffed dragon, pressed against his chest, grounding him in the present moment. But even as the weight of the plush toy brought him some comfort, it couldn’t compare to what he really needed—Lance. Just thinking about Lance’s steady presence, the warmth of his touch, made the ache in Keith’s chest deepen. But right now, all he had was the silence of the room and the dimming light as the sun began to set.

It felt like hours had passed, though it could’ve only been minutes. Time seemed to stretch out, his nerves stretching thin with it. Eventually, though, his breathing slowed, the frantic energy draining from his limbs. Keith finally sat up, gently placing Red back on the bed beside him. His fingers lingered on the dragon's stitched wings for a moment, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

The evening was approaching fast, and he knew Allura would come to fetch him soon. The faint glow of the setting sun filtered through the curtains, casting long shadows across the floor. Keith pushed himself to his feet, feeling the heaviness of the evening settle back onto his shoulders. This night was crucial, for both the kingdom and for himself. But more than that, it was about Lance. Everything in Keith’s mind kept circling back to Lance.

Standing by the dresser, Keith reached for his mask—a delicate creation of gold, meticulously crafted with accents that mimicked the smooth curves of red dragon scales. The mask was almost a symbol of his duality, the dragon he was by blood and the human he wanted to be by heart. As he slipped it on, his fingers brushed over the cool metal, feeling its weight settle against his skin. The mask framed his face, hiding part of who he was but also transforming him into something stronger, something braver.

Keith turned to the mirror, staring at his reflection. His violet eyes peered back at him from behind the mask, and for a moment, he barely recognized himself. Just a few days ago, this life—fitting into a royal court, attending grand balls, being part of this world—seemed impossible. He had been lost, exiled, unsure of his place. But now, things were shifting. There was a fragile hope in his heart, a desperate desire for this to work. He didn’t want to return to the loneliness that had defined him for so long. And most of all, he wanted to stay with Lance, to make this new life something real.

The door creaked open behind him, breaking his reverie. Allura peeked in, her smile lighting up the room even before her full presence stepped inside. Her hair was elegantly curled, cascading down her back, and her face was adorned with lavish makeup that accentuated her natural beauty. She looked like she had stepped straight out of a painting, regal and graceful.

"Keith!" she sang, her voice warm and full of excitement. Her eyes sparkled as they landed on him, taking in his appearance. "I’m all set. And everyone is here! Lance is waiting for you…" Her smile widened, and Keith could see the pride in her eyes.

He wasn’t quite ready to face her yet. His gaze was still fixed on his reflection, lingering on the mask and the half-hidden face beneath. Allura’s brows furrowed slightly, noticing his hesitation. She closed the door softly behind her and crossed the room, her movements fluid and purposeful. When she reached him, she placed a gentle hand on his back, her touch light yet comforting.

"You look wonderful," she said quietly, her voice steadying him in the moment. "Lance is going to love it."

Keith’s heart fluttered at the mention of Lance, and a mixture of hope and anxiety twisted inside him. He wanted so badly to believe her, to trust that everything would go well tonight. But doubts still gnawed at him. He wasn’t just worried about the ball, or the King’s approval—he was worried about being enough, about being the person Lance saw in him.

"And like I said," Allura continued, her tone soft but firm, "don’t worry about anyone else. Lance won’t let anything happen to you." She smiled warmly, and for the first time, Keith felt a sliver of that confidence she radiated so effortlessly.

Keith exhaled shakily, nodding, though the uncertainty still clung to him. "Thank you," he whispered. His voice was small, but the gratitude was real.

Allura’s smile widened, a gentle and reassuring expression. "It’s no problem, Keith. I’m looking forward to helping a lot more." Her words felt like a promise, a quiet vow to continue supporting him through whatever came next.

The sun had almost completely set now, casting a soft orange glow over the horizon. It was time. The ball was waiting, and so was Lance.

"Now," Allura said, giving his back a light, encouraging pat, "are you ready?"

Keith gave a weak laugh, the sound fragile but genuine. "Honestly… no." He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to loosen the tension there. "But I guess that’s never stopped me before."

Allura chuckled softly, and together, they walked toward the door. As they left the room, heading down the long corridors that led to the grand ballroom, Keith felt the weight of the evening settle back onto him.

He wasn’t ready, but he would face it anyway. And at the end of it all, Lance would be there. That thought alone gave him the strength to take the next step forward.

Chapter Text

Allura gently led Keith out of the bedroom, her fingers brushing his arm in a comforting gesture. The grand hallway was filled with soft, golden candlelight and lined with ornate decorations for the evening's ball, casting long shadows that danced along the walls. Allura’s voice was light, yet filled with warmth. "You're nervous, aren't you?" she asked, her smile reassuring. "You shouldn't be. Everyone is going to be so happy you’re back. You’ll see."

Keith walked in silence beside her, his thoughts heavy despite the festive atmosphere. His eyes darted to the lavish decorations, each one more intricate than the last, but they barely registered. He sighed, his brow furrowing. “I know… but is it silly that that’s not what I’m worried about?”

His voice was soft, almost as if he were speaking to himself. He continued, "I know everything with your father and the kingdom will be okay. Lance’s friends are so nice, and so are you and your mother. So I don’t think that’ll be a problem." Keith hesitated, the next words heavier on his tongue. "I’m just scared that if Lance doesn’t like me the way I think he does… then I’ll have to go away. And if he does… what then? Is that even allowed? What if this only makes things harder? I don’t know what’s worse…”

Allura stopped walking for a moment, turning to face him fully. Her expression softened, understanding the weight behind his words. "Keith," she said quietly, placing a hand gently on his arm. "You're thinking too much about this. You can’t live in the future." She smiled, though it was tinged with a bit of sadness. “I was just like you when I started liking Romelle. I spent all my time worrying about what might happen and nearly missed my chance. Trust me, Keith—you need to make your decision instead of letting your fears control you. You’ll miss your moment if you keep thinking too hard.”

Her hand slipped down his back, a comforting pat as they neared the grand doors to the ballroom. The sounds of music and muted laughter seeped through the heavy wooden doors. “It’s now or never.”
Keith stared at the grand doors looming in front of him, taking a shaky breath. “It’s now or never…” he whispered, more to himself than anyone else.

Allura gave him one last smile before slipping through the doors. “Take your time, okay? Come in when you’re ready.” With that, the door clicked shut behind her, leaving Keith standing alone in the hallway.
Keith’s hands trembled slightly as he fiddled with the mask in his grip. The golden mask felt heavier than it should, its delicate red scales catching the light and gleaming like they were alive. He raised it to his face, his reflection staring back at him from a nearby mirror. The image of himself, half-human, half-dragon, stared back with wide, uncertain eyes. Only a few days ago, he’d be quite amused by such an ornate mask. But now? Now it felt like it was all that stood between him and a world that didn’t quite understand him. He was far from amused.

He could hear the faint sound of music through the thick doors, the muffled laughter of people beyond them. Keith’s heart raced. He wished more than anything that Lance could be beside him right now, holding his hand or whispering something reassuring. The stuffed dragon, Red, crossed his mind, and he longed to hold it for comfort, but he knew that wasn’t an option. Not here. Not tonight.

“Come on, Keith,” he muttered to himself, taking a deep breath. “You can do this. It’s just a party. Just people.” His voice cracked slightly, betraying the emotions surging beneath his calm exterior. “You can do this…”

Inside the ballroom, Allura stepped gracefully into the vibrant scene. The grand room was bathed in soft candlelight, the chandeliers above casting sparkling reflections across the marble floor. Guests filled the space, dressed in their finest gowns and suits, their faces hidden behind elaborate masks. Laughter filled the air, mingling with the soft strains of music from the orchestra playing in the corner.

She spotted Lance near the center of the room, looking dashing in his royal blue suit, his mask resembling a knight’s visor, complete with intricate silver detailing. He was surrounded by their friends—Romelle, Hunk, Pidge—all of them deep in conversation, though Lance’s eyes kept drifting toward the entrance.

Allura made her way over, her pink gown flowing gracefully behind her as she took Romelle’s hand with a wide grin. "Hello, love," she greeted Romelle before turning to Lance, who was already looking over her shoulder toward the door.

"Hey, sis," Lance greeted, though his voice was distracted. "Where’s Keith? Is he ready?" His eyes flicked to the ballroom doors again, his nerves apparent.

Allura smiled gently. "He’ll be here soon. He’s just got the jitters. But don’t worry, he’s coming." She patted his shoulder reassuringly, though she noticed how tense he was.

Lance chuckled lightly, but his eyes were still on the door. “Yeah, I figured as much. He overthinks everything, but… he’s got this.” His tone was confident, though the worry beneath it was clear.

Minutes ticked by, and while the conversation flowed around him, Lance’s attention remained fixed on the door. Each time it opened for another guest, his heart jumped, only to sink when it wasn’t Keith stepping through. The table was filled with laughter and conversation—Hunk was telling a story about a kitchen mishap, and Pidge was cracking jokes—but Lance’s thoughts were elsewhere. His fingers drummed restlessly on the table, barely touching the food in front of him.

"I wonder what’s taking him so long," Lance murmured, more to himself than anyone else.

Pidge glanced up from her dessert, shrugging. "He’s probably just nervous. This is a big crowd, and the most he’s been around are a few people at a time. Give him a few more minutes. He’ll be out." Her words were casual, but they held an edge of understanding.

Lance sighed, nodding but unable to shake the feeling that something was wrong. He knew Keith could be shy, especially around large groups, but tonight felt different. The weight of the evening, the pressure of the unspoken feelings between them, seemed to press down on him.

“It’s his birthday,” Lance muttered, mostly to himself, his fingers still fidgeting with the silverware. "I just want him to enjoy tonight."
As the minutes continued to stretch on, Lance’s anxiety deepened, his eyes rarely leaving the ballroom doors.

As Lance tried to distract himself from the tension gnawing at his mind, he turned away from the door, forcing himself to engage in light conversation with his sister and Romelle. His gaze flitted between the two of them, but his thoughts still lingered on Keith. Still, there was something comforting in seeing Allura so at ease with Romelle, her smile radiating happiness. Lance’s heart warmed as he observed them, but an ache soon followed. "I wish I had that," Lance chuckled softly, though the wistfulness in his voice was unmistakable. He glanced down at his hands, fiddling with his fork. "I just have to find the right person, I guess."

Allura, sensing the subtle melancholy behind her brother's words, shared a knowing look with Romelle, her lips curving into a gentle smile. “Oh, I’m sure the right person is closer than you think…” Her eyes sparkled mischievously as she glanced toward the grand staircase that led to the ballroom’s entrance. She caught sight of the door creaking open and smiled wider. Nudging Romelle, Allura looked back at Lance, a playful glint in her eyes. She nodded toward the door.

Lance blinked, catching the subtle exchange between his sister and Romelle, feeling confused. He opened his mouth to ask what they meant, but before the words could form, he noticed Allura’s silent nod toward the stairs. Turning slowly, his gaze followed hers toward the entrance.

The heavy wooden doors opened with a soft groan, and there, stepping into the ballroom, was Keith.

Lance’s breath hitched. The sight of him made his heart skip a beat. Keith stood at the top of the stairs, taking in the room, but it only took him a second to spot Lance. His gaze locked onto Lance’s almost instantly, and in that moment, it felt like the whole room faded away.

Keith looked... astonishing. The suit he wore hugged his form perfectly, emphasizing his lean, muscular frame. The deep crimson of the fabric, adorned with intricate gold embroidery, shimmered subtly under the soft lighting of the ballroom, accentuating the elegant way he moved. The dragon mask he wore blended seamlessly with his natural scales, the red hues complementing his complexion, and the crown atop his head, nestled between his horns, added an air of regal authority. The chain with the red jewel draped over his horn was a perfect touch, glinting with each step he took. His hair had been styled, different than usual—neater, with a few strands falling just right, framing his face in a way that made him look... ethereal. His striking purple eyes, though half-hidden by the mask, still gleamed with a certain intensity that seemed to pierce right through Lance.

Lance stood frozen, his eyes wide, his mouth slightly agape as Keith began to descend the stairs. The world around him slowed, the chatter and music from the ballroom fading into the background. His mind was a whirlpool of emotions, swirling in ways that made it difficult to process anything beyond the sheer beauty of the boy in front of him. His heart thudded in his chest, louder and louder, drowning out everything but the thought that pulsed in his mind, clear and undeniable: Why am I still trying to hide this? Why am I fighting it? Keith is beautiful.

Lance was lost in his thoughts, so much so that he didn’t even notice when Keith finally reached the bottom of the stairs and began making his way toward him. It wasn’t until Keith stopped directly in front of him, concern etched into his features, that Lance snapped back to reality.

“Lance?” Keith’s voice was soft, his head tilted in concern. “Are you okay?” He took a step closer, his eyes scanning Lance’s face for any sign of distress.

Lance flinched, blinking rapidly. His heart raced even faster as he realized just how close Keith was standing. His cheeks flushed, the heat rising in his face—though, thankfully, the mask concealed most of it. "Keith! Oh—uh, I-I…" He stammered, struggling to find his words as the intensity of the moment washed over him. “You just—you’re just…” He cleared his throat, trying desperately to compose himself. “You look... stunning.”

A shy, nervous smile broke across Keith’s face, and he chuckled softly, his own tension easing a little. “Really? Thanks… Allura helped me with all of this.” He gestured vaguely to his outfit, the gold and crimson glittering faintly as he moved. “She said I can take the mask off soon, but... I don’t know. I’m kind of nervous.”

Lance shook his head, his smile growing more confident now. “Let’s not worry about that right now.” He placed a reassuring hand on Keith’s arm, his thumb brushing over the smooth fabric of his sleeve. “Come sit with me. I’ll get you some chocolate cake.”

Without giving Keith a chance to protest, Lance gently led him over to their table, his hand lingering on Keith’s arm longer than necessary. “I’ll be right back,” he promised, darting off toward the dessert table before Keith could get another word in.

Keith stood there for a moment, blinking in mild confusion, before letting out a soft sigh as he took a seat. Hunk chuckled from across the table, shaking his head. “Lance is so obvious,” he muttered, giving Keith a knowing look. “Allura told us about your situation. Don’t worry—we’ve got your back. We’ll make sure you get a chance to talk to him.”

Keith’s cheeks flushed slightly, and he offered a small, grateful smile. “Thanks, Hunk. I just hope it’s not as obvious to Lance…” He shifted nervously in his seat. "So, uh… what do people normally do at these parties?”

Hunk laughed, waving his hand dismissively. “Usually? People bring presents, eat, dance a little… But since this was supposed to be a memorial party for you, well, I’m sure everyone’s gonna wish they brought gifts once they know you’re still alive!”

Allura, sitting beside Romelle, rolled her eyes. “Hunk, that’s so insensitive.” She sighed, but smiled softly at Keith. “Besides, Lance isn’t the only one with a gift for you tonight. I got you something as well.”

Keith’s eyes widened, a look of surprise crossing his face. “Gifts? I-I don’t need anything, really… I just want to—”

Pidge cut him off with a smirk. “We know, Keith. You want to impress Lance and let him know how you feel, but this is your night too. You’re allowed to enjoy it and accept a few gifts.”

Before Keith could protest, Lance returned to the table, holding a plate of chocolate cake with strawberries. He set it down in front of Keith with a flourish. “This is chocolate cake with strawberries. It used to be your favorite, so I had the kitchen make one just for you. Go ahead, like we practiced!”

Keith hesitated for only a moment before picking up his fork. He took a small, practiced bite, sitting up straighter as he did so—his etiquette had improved remarkably. Lance’s chest swelled with pride as he watched Keith eat, a bright smile spreading across his face.

“Well?” Lance asked eagerly, leaning in. “How is it?”

Keith’s face lit up as he took another bite, a smile spreading across his lips. “It’s… so good. I think… I think I remember this! The taste is familiar.” He laughed suddenly, the memory sparking something in his eyes. “We were hiding under a table… eating cake. You had it all over your face.”
Lance laughed, his heart swelling at the shared memory. “That’s right! We were such a mess.” He leaned in, hugging Keith tightly as the memory filled him with joy. “I can’t believe you remember that!”

As the evening wore on, the atmosphere grew more relaxed. The moonlight filtered through the windows, casting a soft glow over the ballroom. Keith, surrounded by his friends, found pieces of his past slowly coming back to him. It felt… right. As if being here, with Lance, was helping him remember who he was.

But even as the night grew more intimate and calm, Keith couldn’t help but feel the weight of what was to come. Soon, he’d have to reveal himself to King Alfor. What would happen after that? He didn’t know. He had heard whispers of a Galran fleet approaching Daibazaal. Perhaps that’s where his journey would take him next. But for now, sitting here with Lance, basking in the warmth of his friends, he allowed himself to relax—just for a little longer.

Keith had been looking for the right moment all night. There were flashes—small windows where it seemed like everything aligned perfectly for him to speak, for him to tell Lance how he really felt. But each time, the words never left his lips. Surrounded by friends, the gentle hum of conversation, and the warmth of the ballroom’s glow, Keith found it difficult to speak up. He wanted to tell Lance alone. Not where curious eyes could overhear, not where their friends might tease or interrupt. He needed privacy for this. Somewhere quiet. Intimate. A moment just for them.

Determined, Keith resolved to wait. He’d find the right time.

Suddenly, the band shifted to a new song, one that seemed to fill the room with a soothing, almost dreamlike melody. The soft rhythm washed over the guests, but for Lance, it felt as though the music had been played just for them. His eyes flickered up as he recognized the familiar tune, his heart swelling as a smile tugged at his lips. He stood up slowly, his gaze falling onto Keith. The intensity of the moment made his chest tighten, but he didn't hesitate. This was their moment.

“Keith…” Lance said softly, his voice barely above a whisper, as though the name itself held a weight he couldn’t put into words. He extended his hand, palm open, waiting, hoping. “May I have this dance?”

Keith looked up at Lance, his heart skipping a beat. The blush crept over his cheeks almost immediately, but he couldn’t look away from the boy in front of him. Lance’s smile was so genuine, so hopeful, that it sent a wave of warmth through Keith’s chest. He glanced over at the others—Hunk, Pidge, Romelle, Allura—all of them watching expectantly, nodding and urging him to go.

His gaze returned to Lance, and after a beat of hesitation, Keith finally took his hand. The touch was soft, warm, grounding in a way that soothed his nerves. He stood up, his heart fluttering wildly as Lance led him to the center of the ballroom, away from the laughter, the noise, and the distractions. There, beneath the glow of the chandeliers and the soft hum of the music, it was just them.

Lance’s eyes sparkled, a kind of happiness there that Keith hadn’t seen in a long time. “You remember how to do this, right?” he asked, his voice teasing yet kind. There was no judgment, just… a deep affection that made Keith’s heart swell.

Keith nodded, smiling as they took their positions. Lance gently placed his hand on Keith’s waist, the warmth of his palm seeping through the fabric of his suit. Keith’s other hand found its place on Lance’s shoulder. For a moment, Keith’s mind raced—wondering if he was holding too tightly, if he should move his hand—but the second Lance’s eyes met his, everything fell into place. They began to move with the music, swaying in sync with each other, and Keith’s anxiety slowly melted away.

The song was slow, its gentle rhythm carrying them across the floor. Keith’s tail, usually a source of awkwardness for him, swayed naturally with the beat, as though even it was at ease in this moment. Lance gazed up at Keith, his eyes filled with something so tender, so sincere, that it almost made Keith’s knees weak.

“I know I’ve said this before,” Lance began, his voice soft but full of emotion, “but I really am proud of you, Keith.” He took in a deep breath, his words brimming with affection. “You’ve come so far in just a few days… I mean, look at you. You’re…” Lance paused, his voice catching in his throat as he searched for the right word. He sighed, shaking his head slightly as if frustrated with himself. “You’re perfect.”

Keith’s heart stopped. Perfect. No one had ever called him that before. He’d been called many things in his life—a monster, a beast, too impulsive, too dangerous—but never perfect. Not until now. The warmth of Lance’s words filled Keith from the inside out, and he couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face, his eyes softening.
“Thank you,” Keith said quietly, his voice filled with genuine gratitude. “For saving my life.” His eyes flickered down for a moment, his tone more serious. “I don’t know how to repay you.”

Lance’s brow furrowed, and he shook his head. “Keith… You don’t need to repay me for anything. The fact that you’re here, alive, with me right now?” His smile grew, eyes shining with an affection that nearly made Keith’s breath catch. “That’s all I could ever ask for.”

Keith’s chest tightened, the emotion bubbling inside him almost too much to bear. His heart raced, and for a moment, he felt the urge to pull away, to hide from the intensity of it all—but no. Not this time. This time, Keith was determined to say it.

He met Lance’s gaze, his smile turning shy. “Lance…” Keith’s voice trembled ever so slightly as he spoke, but he pressed on. “There’s..something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”
Lance tilted his head, curiosity and warmth in his eyes. “There is?” He asked “What is it?” His voice was soft, gentle, like he already knew something important was about to be said.

Keith’s heart pounded in his chest, his palms beginning to sweat. He swallowed hard, his nerves getting the better of him for just a second. "I just… I don’t know how you’ll react,” Keith admitted, his voice smaller now, his gaze faltering.

But Lance smiled, so sweetly, so patiently, that it soothed the wild storm of Keith’s emotions. “Whatever it is, starlight, we can handle it together.”

Keith’s breath caught. Starlight. Lance knew just how to make him feel all giddy inside. Like a thousand stars were exploding in his chest, and the sheer tenderness of the name almost undid him. He felt his face grow warmer, but this time, he didn’t pull back. He didn’t hide. Instead, he let go of Lance’s hand, sliding his other arm around Lance’s waist, pulling him closer.

The moment stretched on, the music swelling gently around them, as Keith finally found the courage to say it.

“I love you,” Keith whispered, the words so soft they almost disappeared into the music.
Lance paused, his eyes widening in surprise. “You… love me?” His voice was full of awe, like he couldn’t quite believe what he had just heard.

Keith smiled, his heart beating furiously in his chest, but for the first time in a long time, he felt completely at peace. “I do. I love you, Lance.”

Lance’s face broke into the biggest smile Keith had ever seen. “I—” He choked out a laugh, his eyes bright and full of emotion, a few tears pricking the corners. “I love you too, Keith. I really do.” His voice cracked slightly with joy, as though he could hardly believe it himself. “I love you too!!” He laughed again, pulling Keith into a tight embrace. “I love you too!!”

Before Keith could respond, Lance grabbed him by the waist, lifting him off the ground with a laugh that echoed through the ballroom. Keith let out a startled laugh, clinging to Lance’s shoulders as he spun him around, his tail flicking behind him in excitement.

When Lance finally set him down, the two of them were breathless, still laughing. Keith barely had time to catch his breath before Lance took his hand again, pulling him in for a dip. Keith’s eyes widened as he was dipped backward, but he couldn’t stop the laughter bubbling up from his chest. He looked up at Lance, his face flushed, smiling wider than he had in years.

Lance held him there for a moment, gazing down at him with a softness that made Keith’s heart skip. “I love you, Keith,” Lance said again, his voice barely a whisper, as he leaned down and kissed him.

Keith’s eyes widened in surprise, but only for a second. He melted into the kiss, his arms sliding around Lance’s neck as he sighed into the warmth of it. Lance’s hand was in his hair, gently cradling the back of his head, as though he were something fragile, something precious.

When they finally pulled away, both of them breathless, Keith held onto Lance’s hands, looking at him with a smile that stretched from ear to ear. “I’m so happy right now,” Keith said, laughing softly.

Lance nodded, his eyes full of warmth. “Me too, Keith. Me too.”

From the sidelines, Hunk, Pidge, Allura, and Romelle erupted into applause and cheers, their voices echoing through the ballroom. Lance glanced over at them, rolling his eyes with a laugh. “Oh, come on!”

He turned back to Keith, brushing a stray lock of hair behind his ear. “We should definitely dance again sometime…” Lance said softly, his voice full of affection. He took Keith’s hand again, squeezing it gently. “But for now, let’s get you ready to talk to my dad.” His eyes sparkled with reassurance. “I’ll be right there with you, starlight.”

Keith smiled, feeling more confident than he had in days. As they walked back to the table, hand in hand, he knew that as long as Lance was by his side, everything would be okay. He had no doubt anymore

Chapter Text

Keith and Lance both sat down at the table, their hearts racing in sync with their nerves. There was a tangible shift in the air between them, the kind that felt both exhilarating and terrifying at once. Keith fidgeted slightly, his fingers tapping softly on the table. Lance, having already taken off his mask, ran a hand through his hair, his eyes flicking between Keith and the group as if gathering courage for what came next.

The others could hardly contain their excitement. Allura sat beside Romelle, practically glowing with joy, her face alight with happiness. She was still reeling from the fact that her brother had just kissed someone—Keith, no less. She had always suspected it, but to witness it was something else entirely. She could barely stay seated, her hand gripping Romelle’s in excitement.

Meanwhile, Hunk broke the silence with a warm chuckle, his voice cheery. “Finally, you two! We were all wondering when that would happen,” he teased, shaking his head as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Pidge leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms with a smirk. “Honestly, the way you two look at each other is nauseating,” she quipped, though the teasing grin betrayed any harshness in her words.

Lance rolled his eyes, but his laugh was genuine, carrying a weightless joy that only love could bring. “Alright, alright, I get it. You don’t have to rub it in,” he said, his eyes drifting to Keith, the pride in his gaze unmistakable. His smile only grew wider when he saw Keith grinning back, just as shy and overwhelmed, but equally as happy.
"You know what, Keith?" Lance’s voice softened, the playful edge giving way to something more personal. “Before we go to talk to my father... let’s do one more thing. How does that sound?”

Keith tilted his head, curious, one of his ears perking up in that unmistakable way that showed he was interested but unsure. "Like what?"

Lance grinned and reached into his pocket, pulling out a small box. “You can’t have a birthday without presents, can you?”
Allura chimed in, unable to hold back her enthusiasm any longer. “I’ve got mine, too!” she said, lifting a slightly larger box from her lap, her smile bright and wide.

Hunk and Pidge exchanged a look before sliding their own gift across the table toward Keith. “We didn’t forget about you either, buddy,” Pidge added with a grin, nudging the box closer.

Keith blinked, his eyes widening in surprise as he stared at the three gifts in front of him. “You all got me something?” His voice was soft, touched. He hadn’t expected this. “You didn’t have to... Thank you,” he added, his voice quieter as he picked up the first box from Hunk and Pidge.

Opening the box carefully, Keith’s eyes lit up when he saw what was inside. Neatly packaged were rows of cookies, all in different shapes and sizes. Keith smiled, his expression softening. “These look amazing,” he said, holding up a cookie shaped like a star.

“Don’t eat them all at once, though,” Hunk laughed, crossing his arms with a proud grin.

“Thank you,” Keith said sincerely, his eyes lingering on the cookies before he set the box aside to move on to Allura’s gift.

The rectangular box in front of him felt a little heavier, and as he lifted the lid, his breath hitched. Inside lay a beautifully crafted dagger, its handle etched with intricate Galran symbols. Keith’s fingers traced the cool metal of the blade’s handle as if it held history in its weight. His voice was soft when he finally spoke. “Where did you find this?”

Allura smiled, but there was a touch of sadness in her eyes. “It was your brother’s,” she said gently. “Before he left, he gave it to me for safekeeping. I always hoped I’d be able to give it back to him, but for now... I thought you should have it. It’ll protect you, Keith, no matter where you go.”

Keith swallowed, emotion welling up in his chest. He could barely find the words. “I... I hope I get to give it back to him one day. Thank you, Allura.” He nodded, his voice trembling slightly as he carefully placed the dagger back in its box. The weight of the gift wasn’t just physical; it was a piece of his past, of his family, and it meant more than he could express.

Finally, Keith turned to Lance, his eyes falling on the smallest box of all. Lance shifted nervously in his seat, his fingers tapping anxiously on the table. “It’s... nothing much,” he said, his voice a little quieter. “I made it for you before we left Altea... for your party, you know... before... everything.”

Keith’s fingers trembled as he opened the small box. Inside, cradled in a soft cushion, was a tiny wooden carving of a dragon. Its wings were folded close, and its delicate details were all carved with care, as if every stroke of the blade had been made with intention. Keith stared at it for a long moment, his chest tightening with emotion.

Lance fidgeted, his nervousness showing. “I know it’s probably not what you expected, and if you don’t like it, I can get you something better, I just thought—”

“Lance,” Keith interrupted, his voice soft but firm. He lifted the wooden dragon gently, turning it over in his hands, a small smile forming on his lips. “It’s perfect,” he said, his voice filled with sincerity. “I love it.”

Lance let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, his shoulders relaxing. “You do?”

Keith nodded, setting the dragon back in the box carefully before leaning over and pulling Lance into a hug. “Thank you,” he whispered.

For a moment, everything was right. The world around them, the uncertainty, the anxiety—it all faded. There was only this moment, and it was filled with gratitude and love.

Lance grinned, his hand reaching up to ruffle Keith’s hair affectionately. “Happy birthday, Starlight,” he whispered, his voice filled with warmth. The look of pure happiness on Lance’s face was something Keith knew he would remember forever.

After everything, after all the pain and fear, they had found something beautiful. They had found each other. And in this moment, everything felt like it was finally coming together

Lance glanced at the clock hanging on the ballroom wall. Time was slipping away, each passing second bringing them closer to the inevitable confrontation. He inhaled deeply, letting out a heavy sigh that weighed down his chest. The party, which had been filled with laughter, joy, and the warmth of celebration, was coming to an end. Now, it was time for the hardest part. Time to face his father.

He turned to Keith, gently taking his hand in his own, the contact grounding him in the moment. "Okay, Keith..." Lance began, his voice soft but carrying the gravity of what they were about to do. “Are you ready? I... I don’t know how this is going to play out.” His thumb ran over the back of Keith’s hand in a small, nervous gesture, seeking comfort in the physical connection between them.

Keith’s eyes met Lance’s, and for the first time, they weren’t filled with the same doubt that had plagued him before. In the last few days, Keith had changed. There was a newfound confidence in him, one that seemed to radiate from within. Just days ago, he was a shadow of himself, barely able to speak without permission, drowning in uncertainty. But now? Now he knew who he was. Now he stood tall, no longer afraid of what might happen. He squeezed Lance’s hand back and nodded firmly. “I’m ready,” he said, his voice clear and strong. And for the first time, he truly meant it.

Lance stared at him for a moment, pride and love swelling in his chest. He gave a small smile, though the weight of the upcoming confrontation still hung in the air. “Alright then...” he said, rising from his chair. He glanced at the others, a faint smile tugging at his lips despite the nervous flutter in his stomach. “Wish us luck, everyone. Hopefully, we’ll be right back.” His attempt at levity did little to hide the apprehension beneath his words.

Keith followed suit, standing by Lance’s side. He waved briefly to their friends, his own heart pounding in his chest, but he kept his face steady. Together, they began to walk toward the front of the ballroom, toward the towering thrones that symbolized the power and authority they were about to confront.

Nancy, Lance’s mother, sat elegantly in her throne, her sharp eyes taking in everything with a quiet calm. She had been observing the party, watching as her son mingled with his friends, her heart swelling with pride. She had seen the way Lance looked at Keith—she knew. There was no doubt in her mind that her son had fallen deeply for this boy, and while there would be conversations to come, she couldn’t help but feel a thrill of joy for him.

But Alfor, Lance’s father, was another matter entirely. He sat rigid in his throne, his gaze turned outward, away from the festivities. He wasn’t one for parties, nor did he care much for idle celebrations. His mind was elsewhere, lost in thought, until the moment his son approached with someone by his side. The boy was unfamiliar—dressed in an elaborate dragon costume, which only heightened the strangeness of the situation.

“Lance,” Alfor greeted his son, his voice neutral as his eyes briefly flickered over Keith. “Are you enjoying yourself?” he asked, his tone detached, as though his attention was still elsewhere.

“Yes, father,” Lance replied, standing straighter under his father’s gaze. His voice wavered slightly, but there was determination behind it. “Actually, there’s someone I want you to meet...” Lance smiled faintly, though it didn’t reach his eyes. His heart was racing in his chest, and the weight of the moment pressed heavily on him. “I know we don’t see eye to eye on... a lot of things. Especially when it comes to the Galrans. But I believe after this, you’ll change your mind.” His voice trembled, but Keith’s hand in his offered reassurance, a silent promise that he wasn’t alone in this.

Alfor raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Oh?” he questioned, his tone carrying a hint of impatience.

Lance nodded, holding his ground. “Yes, sir.” The words were firm, despite the nervousness that coiled in his stomach. The king sighed heavily, as if the conversation was already an inconvenience to him.

“I don’t know why you’re so insistent on this, Lance,” Alfor said, his voice laced with a weariness that suggested this was not the first time they had broached the subject. “There’s nothing left to be done.”

Lance frowned, his frustration mounting. “Father, if you’d just listen to me—no, listen to him,” he said, gesturing to Keith. “I know you’ll change your mind.”

Alfor’s eyes narrowed. “And who exactly is this?” he asked, looking over Keith with a dismissive air. “Stop playing these games, Lance. Forget about—”

“Keith?” the boy with the dragon wings interrupted, his voice cutting through Alfor’s dismissive tone like a knife. There was a subtle shift in the air around him, and Lance, standing beside him, could sense it—Keith was angry.

Alfor stood, his attention finally fully on the masked boy before him. “Yes,” he said, his voice steady but cold. “Everyone should forget about Keith. For their own good.”

Keith’s jaw clenched, and his eyes burned with a fire Lance hadn’t seen before. “For their own good? And what good has that done?” Keith asked, his voice steady but laced with bitterness. “Hearts get broken whether you forget or not. I know that better than anyone.” His voice grew stronger, more forceful. “I’ve spent my whole life forgetting. And my heart has been shattered for years. It was only when I started remembering who I am that I felt whole again.”

Alfor looked taken aback, his eyes narrowing as he turned back to Lance. “Who is this?” he demanded, a flicker of confusion and something else—something like recognition—crossing his face.

Lance could barely contain his pride. He nodded toward Keith, his heart racing with admiration. Keith had come so far, and now, in this moment, he was standing up for himself. The trembling excitement in Lance’s chest grew as he watched Keith remove his mask.

Purple eyes, the only ones of their kind in the kingdom, shone brightly in the moonlight streaming through the window. There was no mistaking it—those eyes were the unmistakable mark of the Galran royal family. Keith held his head high, the swirl of emotions within him barely contained—anger, hope, fear, and determination all rolled into one.

“I am Prince Keith of Daibazaal,” Keith said, his voice firm, echoing with authority. “And I will not let you, or anyone, tell me that I should be forgotten.”

Alfor’s eyes widened in shock. The color drained from his face as he took a step back, his mind racing. Keith... Prince Keith... was alive? And standing before him? The realization crashed down on him like a wave, and for a moment, he felt utterly lost.

“Keith...” he whispered, barely able to get the words out. “You’re alive? But... where have you been? All these years?”

Keith’s voice was bitter, tinged with the pain of his past. “While I was being used as a magical experiment, my people were at war. A war that should have never happened.” He paused, taking a breath as Lance rubbed his back gently, grounding him. “I won’t recount your mistakes to you, but I beg of you... stop. Stop attacking my people. Let them live in peace. If they know I’m alive, they won’t retaliate. Please, I just want the fighting to end.”

Alfor listened, his expression unreadable. Keith’s anger slowly shifted into something more desperate—pleading. The king rubbed his temples, the weight of the revelation bearing down on him. “Lance...” he said finally, his voice strained.

“Yes, father?” Lance’s voice was soft, his heart racing as he glanced between Keith and his father, the tension nearly unbearable.

“You know how much I hate it when you go behind my back,” Alfor began, his words slow, deliberate. “But... I wasn’t listening to you, was I?” His voice wavered, the realization dawning on him. “You needed a father, and instead of being there, I was too busy trying to protect you.”

A wave of emotion hit Lance, unexpected and overwhelming. “Y-yes. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you... all this time.”

The king nodded slowly, the tension in the room easing ever so slightly. “Very well. I’ll stop the attacks,” he said. “We’ll arrange for a meeting with the Galran fleet. And Keith will be part of it.” His voice was quiet but resolute. “How does that sound?”

Lance’s face lit up, a wide smile breaking across his face as he turned to Keith, hugging him tightly. “Did you hear that, Keith?! We’re going to meet more of your people! You’ll get to see them again!”

Keith’s serious demeanor cracked into a wide smile as he hugged Lance back, laughing softly. “I’m so excited,” he said, his voice light for the first time in what felt like forever. He turned to the king. “Thank you, your highness,” Keith said, his voice carrying a tremble of relief, almost as if he could hardly believe the words he was speaking. The weight of everything he had held in for so long—the fear, the uncertainty, the loneliness—all of it seemed to melt away in this moment.

Alfor, who had once been the image of a distant and unyielding king, softened in the glow of the ballroom’s warm light. His gaze lingered on Keith for a moment longer, taking in the sight of the boy who had returned to them, not as the lost child, but as someone stronger, more resilient. “It’s good to have you back, son,” he said, the faintest hint of warmth breaking through the hard lines of his expression. “We all missed you.” He gestured toward the party, where the music and laughter still swirled around them. “Go on, have some fun. We can discuss the details later.”

For a moment, Keith was speechless. The words “we all missed you” echoed in his mind, stirring something deep inside him. He had never thought those words would come from Alfor, the man who had once seemed unreachable, distant like a star too far out of reach. And yet, here he was, being welcomed back—not as a monster or an outsider—but as someone who belonged.

Keith glanced at Lance, their hands still intertwined, and found the courage in his heart blossoming even more. He met Lance’s gaze, and what he saw in those familiar eyes—a mixture of pride, affection, and unwavering support—made his heart race with excitement. His own eyes sparkled with a joy that felt foreign to him, yet at the same time, so right.

Lance, sensing Keith’s emotions, gave his hand a small squeeze. “See? I told you it would all work out,” he whispered, his voice filled with that playful confidence Keith had grown to love. “You were amazing. I’m so proud of you.”

Keith’s lips curved into a smile that was soft, but filled with so much meaning. “I can’t believe it,” he murmured, still trying to process the enormity of what had just happened. “I actually stood up for myself. I didn’t freeze up, I didn’t feel like running away…”

“And you didn’t need anyone to speak for you,” Lance added, his eyes gleaming with admiration. “You’ve come so far, Keith. You’re strong. So much stronger than you even realize.”

Keith nodded, his heart swelling with a sense of accomplishment that he hadn’t felt in a long time—maybe ever. For so long, he had been caught between worlds, unsure of his place, unsure of who he was meant to be. But here, standing beside Lance, in the middle of a celebration that felt like a second chance, Keith knew. He had found his place.

Alfor watched the two of them, his eyes softening, though the weight of years still hung heavy on his shoulders. His wife, Nancy, reached over and gently took his hand, a silent sign that they had done well, that perhaps there was still hope for the future after all.

Lance tugged gently on his hand, pulling him closer, the excitement bubbling up in his voice. “Come on, let’s go tell everyone! We’ve got so much to celebrate!” He chuckled, his energy contagious as he led Keith back toward the center of the ballroom. “And we can even sneak in some more dancing!”

Keith laughed, a sound that felt lighter and freer than it had in years. He let himself be pulled along, not just by Lance’s hand, but by the sheer joy of the moment. The music seemed to swell around them, a vibrant symphony of hope and new beginnings. As they approached their friends, Keith could see the beaming faces of Allura, Romelle, Hunk, and Pidge, all waiting eagerly to hear the news.

The party continued through the night, the ballroom filled with laughter, music, and dancing. Word spread quickly about Keith’s true identity—the lost prince of Daibazaal, the one everyone thought was gone forever. As Lance had predicted, the news was met not with fear or distrust, but with celebration. One by one, guests approached Keith, introducing themselves, offering words of welcome and joy. There was hope in their eyes, a hope that maybe, just maybe, Daibazaal could be rebuilt. That the years of conflict could be replaced with peace and harmony.

Lance stayed by Keith’s side through it all, beaming with pride and happiness as he watched everyone embrace the person he cared about most. The ballroom was alive with warmth, the kind of joy that spreads like wildfire, contagious and overwhelming. They were finally happy.

But happiness, as we all know, is a fragile thing. It can shift and crumble in the blink of an eye, without warning.

And when happiness is destroyed, it always leaves behind something darker.

It’s always followed by a trail of blood.

Chapter Text

The night drifted by like a dream, each passing moment filled with laughter, music, and the warmth of long-awaited reunions. Keith found himself wrapped in a haze of joy he hadn’t felt in years. For the first time in what seemed like an eternity, he was surrounded by people who loved and accepted him. The people of Altea had embraced him, not as a foreigner, but as someone who had come home. Though he wasn’t their prince by birth, they still celebrated his return, welcoming him as if he had always belonged.

Everywhere he turned, someone smiled, someone offered a kind word, wishing him luck and expressing hopes for a better future. The once-lost prince had finally found his place. The festivities continued, and Keith and Lance sat side by side, enjoying slices of cake, their laughter blending with the music and chatter around them. Across the dance floor, Hunk and Pidge were attempting some sort of dance—if one could even call it that. They stumbled and tripped over each other’s feet, barely managing to stay upright, much to the amusement of everyone watching. Nancy and Alfor had both turned in for the night.

Keith chuckled, his eyes twinkling with genuine happiness. It was all so surreal—this life he now had. A life filled with people who cared for him, who wanted him to succeed. It was almost too much to take in. And yet, through it all, Lance’s eyes remained fixed on him, never wavering. He watched Keith with a look of pure admiration, a soft smile playing on his lips as though he couldn’t believe this moment was real.

Lance’s gaze was so intense that Keith couldn’t help but notice. He turned to Lance, his head tilted slightly in curiosity, and laughed softly. “Are you okay?” Keith asked, his smile warm, though a bit puzzled by the attention.

Lance’s smile widened, his affection shining through. “Of course I am, starlight,” he said, his voice soft and filled with emotion. “I’m just… so happy.” He reached out, gently taking Keith’s hand in his own, his thumb brushing over Keith’s knuckles in a tender gesture. The joy Lance felt was unmistakable, reflected clearly in his bright, gleaming eyes.

Keith sighed, leaning forward slightly as he rested his head in his hand, his elbow propped on the table. His expression, while still content, carried a hint of something else—something deeper, something unresolved.

Lance noticed immediately, the shift in Keith’s demeanor pulling him from his daydream. His brow furrowed slightly in concern. “What’s wrong, Keith?” he asked, his voice quiet but filled with genuine worry.

Keith hesitated, unsure of how to express what was weighing on his mind. He sighed softly, his eyes flicking toward the crowd of people still celebrating around them. “It’s nothing,” he started, but the heaviness in his tone told a different story. “It’s just that… I wish I could talk to all of them. Let them know what really happened, what I’ve been through. And, more importantly, what I want to do next. But… telling everyone all at once just feels so… pushy, you know?”

Lance’s face lit up with sudden inspiration, his mind racing with an idea. “Oh! Keith, you should make a speech!” he exclaimed, leaning closer with excitement.

“A speech?” Keith’s eyes widened, and he laughed nervously. “I don’t know, Lance… I’m not really good with crowds. Isn’t it better to just talk to people one by one?”
Lance chuckled, shaking his head. “Come on, love, it’ll be fine. You’ve got this.”
The way Lance called him “love” made Keith’s heart race, and he felt his cheeks flush with warmth. He rubbed the back of his neck, glancing around at their friends for support.

Hunk, standing nearby with his arms crossed, nodded in agreement. “I think it would be nice. Everyone’s already welcomed you back! Why not address them all at once?”

Pidge shrugged, offering a casual smile. “Do whatever makes you comfortable, but a speech would be pretty cool, Keith.”
Allura’s smile was warm and encouraging, a beacon of support. “Go ahead, Keith. You’ve already done so much today. You can do this too.”

Lance, still holding Keith’s hand, squeezed it gently. “I’ll be right beside you the whole time. You can say anything you need to, no pressure. They’re all here for you.”

Keith hesitated, his nerves bubbling just beneath the surface, but the confidence Lance and his friends had in him gave him the push he needed. Taking a deep breath, he nodded firmly. “Alright,” he said, his voice steadying. “I’ll do it.”

With that, Lance stood up, gently pulling Keith along with him as they made their way toward the front of the ballroom, where the thrones stood. As they approached, the crowd began to hush, turning their attention to the two princes.

Lance, ever the charismatic one, smiled broadly as he addressed the partygoers. “Good evening, everyone!” he called out, his voice carrying easily across the room. “As you all know, we’re here tonight to welcome Prince Keith back to Altea on his twentieth birthday!” He paused, glancing at Keith with a proud smile before turning back to the crowd. “There are a few things he’d like to say to all of you, so please, give him your attention—and, uh, try not to bombard him with too many questions afterward.”
Lance gave Keith an encouraging pat on the back. “Deep breath. You’ve got this,” he whispered.

Keith stood there for a moment, staring at the sea of faces before him. It felt like every eye in the room was on him, and the weight of it all nearly sent his heart racing. But then he remembered Lance’s words, remembered the support of everyone around him, and a calm settled over him.

“Hello, everyone,” Keith began, his voice steady though still tinged with nervousness. “I’m… Prince Keith of Daibazaal.” He paused, clearing his throat. “I know I’m a lot different than what you probably expected. There’s still so much I need to learn, so much I’m figuring out about myself. But I’m working hard, and I hope you all can be patient with me.”

He glanced over at Lance, his heart fluttering with the reassurance he found in those familiar eyes.

“But one thing I can promise,” Keith continued, his voice growing more confident, “is that Daibazaal and Altea will be united again. No matter what it takes, I’ll make sure of it.”

The room erupted into applause, and for the first time in a long while, Keith felt a sense of belonging—like he was right where he was meant to be.

Lance, beaming with pride, wrapped his arms around Keith, pulling him into a tight embrace. “You did it! That was amazing!” he praised, his voice filled with joy. He pulled back just enough to brush a strand of hair from Keith’s face, his eyes filled with warmth. “I’m so proud of you.”

Keith, caught up in the wave of emotion, felt a joy so overwhelming it almost brought tears to his eyes. The people loved him, Lance loved him, and for the first time in years, he felt like he wasn’t alone. The years of isolation, of feeling lost and forgotten, were behind him.
Keith was finally home.

It was only when their happiness reached its peak that everything began to change.
The sound of laughter and music filled the grand hall, echoing off the marble floors and high ceilings. Keith stood by Lance’s side, surrounded by friends and allies, warmth spreading through his chest as the night unfolded. He had found his place, his home. Everything felt perfect, like the universe had finally granted him the peace he had longed for.

But peace is fragile, and as the large doors to the castle creaked open, a chill swept through the room, freezing the air. The once lively crowd fell into an uneasy silence, the vibrant energy suddenly dissipating like smoke in the wind. All eyes turned to the entrance.

Keith’s heart dropped.

A dark figure stood in the doorway, draped in a heavy cloak, the hood obscuring his face. Slowly, with deliberate steps, the figure entered the hall, the doors slamming shut behind him with a resounding thud. The man raised his hands, beginning a slow, mocking clap, each strike of his palms reverberating in the tense stillness.
It was Lotor.

Keith felt a cold, sharp shiver slice down his spine. His whole body tensed, and his chest constricted as if an icy dagger had been thrust into him. The familiar sight of the man—his presence, his aura—brought back the nightmares Keith had fought so hard to bury.

“That was quite the speech, Starlight,” Lotor’s voice rang out, dripping with mockery. His tone was cold, laced with a dark amusement, as though Keith’s heartfelt words were nothing more than a cruel joke. “How touching.” He sighed, his lips curling into a twisted smile as he began walking through the crowd.

People parted for him, stepping back in fear and confusion. No one knew who he was, but his presence commanded attention, an unease spreading like wildfire through the room.

Keith stood frozen, every muscle in his body locking into place as Lotor drew nearer. He could barely breathe. His hands trembled at his sides, his heart pounding in his ears, drowning out the noise of the party. He wasn’t alone this time—he had people here, people who could protect him—but somehow, the danger felt even more real, more imminent.

Lotor’s eyes gleamed as he spoke again, his voice dripping with a sinister sweetness. “This little game of yours has gone on long enough, my dear.” His words were slow, deliberate, each one a blade slicing through the fragile peace Keith had built.

Keith wanted to move, wanted to speak, but his body wouldn’t obey. His mind was screaming, trying to form words, but nothing came out. He was paralyzed in Lotor’s presence, the man’s voice sending waves of dread crashing over him.

“Did you have fun?” Lotor asked, his tone almost conversational, like a parent speaking to a disobedient child. “Did you get it all out of your system? Because I’m not here to play games, Keith.” His steps were slow, methodical, as he approached the two princes. “I made you a promise. If I didn’t have you in a week, I would come and take you by force. And now…” His smile widened, sinister and cold. “You’re leaving me no choice.”

Lotor’s hand slipped out from under his cloak, reaching for Keith’s wrist with a tight, unyielding grip. The sudden touch snapped Keith out of his trance, and with a desperate jerk, he yanked his hand away.

“No,” Keith said, his voice shaking but filled with defiance.

Lotor’s smile twisted further, his eyes narrowing as he stared down at Keith. “No?” he repeated, his tone darkening, dripping with malice. “Oh… so that’s how it’s going to be?”

Keith’s heart raced as his fear transformed into fury. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, his voice rising in anger. “I’m not leaving!” he shouted, his words trembling with emotion. “This is my home! I won’t let you take me from it again!”

Lotor’s eyes flashed, cold and calculating, as he turned his gaze to Lance. In an instant, Keith recognized the look in Lotor’s eyes—one of cruel intent, a familiar darkness that sent terror surging through him.

“Wait, no—!” Keith’s voice cracked, desperation filling him.

Before Keith could stop him, Lotor’s hand shot out, not toward Lance physically but in a gesture of magic. The air around them seemed to tighten, and suddenly, Lance’s hands flew to his throat. His eyes widened in shock as he gasped for air, his body stumbling backward, coughing and choking. He collapsed to his knees, his face contorting in pain, unable to breathe.
The room erupted into chaos.

Guests screamed and scrambled in every direction, chairs crashing to the ground, dishes clattering and shattering as people trampled over them in a blind panic. Some hid under tables, others rushed toward the exits, desperate to escape the nightmare unfolding before them.

“Lance!!” Keith screamed, his voice hoarse with panic as he turned back to Lotor. His heart was racing out of control, the sight of Lance gasping for breath tearing at his soul. “Let him go!!” Keith’s voice cracked, tears stinging his eyes. “Please, let him go or I’ll—”

Lotor’s cold, dark laugh interrupted him. “Or you’ll what?” he taunted, his voice sharp and venomous. “You can’t do anything, Keith. Not on your own.” He sneered, tightening his invisible grip on Lance. “You need me. I gave you power, and you’re choosing to throw it all away? You think you can stand against me?”

Keith’s breathing was ragged, panic flooding every corner of his mind. He could see the pain in Lance’s eyes, the way his body trembled under Lotor’s magic, and it was tearing him apart. “Just stop it!” Keith yelled, his voice raw and desperate. “I’ll talk to you, just… let him go!”

Lotor’s eyes gleamed with triumph. He rolled his eyes and with a flick of his wrist, released his hold on Lance. Lance collapsed to the ground, gasping for air, coughing violently as he clutched his throat.

Lotor stepped back, his expression smug.
“You have changed, haven’t you?” he remarked, his tone dripping with disdain. “You’ve developed quite the attitude.” He shook his head slowly, his eyes gleaming with malice. “That’s not good for you, Keith.”
“Keith… don’t listen to him…” Lance rasped, his voice weak but filled with urgency.
Lotor shot Lance a glare, his smile disappearing. “Stay quiet, boy,” he snarled, his voice cold and threatening. “You’re in no position to speak.”

Lance’s heart broke at the sight of Keith’s anxiety. He had just gotten him back, just found a semblance of peace. He couldn’t lose him again—not like this. But he was trapped, helpless in the face of Lotor’s power. Every instinct screamed at Keith to fight, but his fear was suffocating, paralyzing him in its icy grip.

Keith's eyes flicked desperately between Lance and Lotor, panic surging through him as he tried to find some way—anyway—to stop what was happening. His thoughts were racing, grasping at anything that could distract Lotor, anything to stall the inevitable. He could feel the growing tension in the air, and he knew he had to act fast.

“Lotor, I-I… I’m sorry,” Keith stammered, his voice trembling, hoping to divert Lotor’s attention. “I’m sorry for leaving. But the outside… it seemed so big! I didn’t want to be alone anymore, and you—” his voice cracked—“you left me.”

Lotor’s cold gaze snapped toward him, the words barely registering with any emotion. His expression, dark and unreadable, slowly morphed into one of cold disapproval as he shook his head, pacing slowly in front of the trembling crowd. “I had you hidden,” Lotor hissed, his tone biting. “Perfectly. You were safe from the world, from its chaos and danger. I had you fearing it, and because of that, you were loyal.” His eyes darkened with venomous disdain. “But this… this all started because of him.” His gaze flicked to Lance, his expression souring. “You don’t need any more distractions, Keith.”

The moment the words left Lotor’s lips, Keith felt the blood drain from his face. His heart raced as Lotor stepped toward Lance, his tall figure looming over him like a dark shadow.

“I should’ve gotten rid of him a long time ago…” Lotor’s voice was a low growl, each syllable dripping with malice as he stared down at Lance, who, despite his fear, met Lotor’s gaze with unwavering defiance.
“Wait! Please, don’t hurt him!” Keith’s voice was a desperate plea, but Lotor’s grin only widened, his lips curling with sick amusement.

He kneeled in front of Lance, staring into his eyes, his smile never faltering. “You’re so confident for someone who’s about to die,” Lotor said, his voice soft but laced with dark promise.

Lance coughed, struggling to push himself up, but his eyes blazed with anger. “Keith will never stop fighting you,” Lance spat, his words thick with bitterness. “He’s changed more than you think. He’ll be able to stop you… I know it.”

Lotor chuckled, his laughter low and cold. “What a touching sentiment for your last words, your highness.” He raised his hand, ready to strike, his smirk wide and gleeful.
But before Lotor could make his move, a sudden, sharp sound cut through the air.
Lotor froze.

A stabbing pain radiated from his shoulder, and as he turned, his eyes widened in shock. Keith stood behind him, Shiro’s dagger buried deep in Lotor’s flesh, his hands trembling as he held onto the hilt. The relief was brief, but Lance felt it flood through him as he gasped out, “Keith!”

Lotor growled, releasing his grip on Lance, who collapsed to the floor with a heavy thud. For a moment, Lotor seemed taken aback, his lips curling in a snarl as he ripped the blade from his shoulder, turning to face Keith with fury burning in his eyes.

“You think you can overpower me?” Lotor sneered, blood dripping from his wound, though he looked unnervingly calm, almost unaffected by the injury. Keith took a step back, fear twisting in his chest.

Lance, though weakened, sat up, his mind racing. He had to do something. Anything. Keith couldn’t face Lotor alone—not like this. Lance raised his hand, summoning every ounce of energy he had left. Light began to gather in his palm, glowing brighter and brighter as he focused.

Without warning, he released the energy in a desperate surge, a brilliant blue light shooting toward Lotor’s chest.

But Lotor, without even looking, held his hand out and caught the energy in his palm. The light flickered for a moment before disintegrating into darkness.

Lotor let out a mocking laugh. “Is this all the resistance you can muster?” he spat, his voice thick with contempt. “It seems just anyone can defeat the most powerful sorcerer in the land, right?” His sarcasm was biting.

Lance’s heart sank. He had given everything he had, and it hadn’t been enough. His legs shook as he stood, barely able to stay on his feet. His breathing was labored, but he refused to give up. Not when Keith was in danger.

“I will make sure you turn out to be the monster you were always meant to be,” Lotor said, his voice growing darker as he advanced on Keith, backing him against a wall. “From the moment I took you from that castle, you were meant to be a beast! A weapon of destruction! You’re nothing but a tool—my tool!” His voice echoed, filled with rage.

“Keith! Move!” Lance’s voice was filled with urgency as he gathered his strength for one more attack, a stronger blue light forming in his hands. He unleashed it with a roar, shooting the beam straight at Lotor.

But once again, Lotor effortlessly deflected the attack. The light stopped midair before it shattered into a thousand pieces.

Lotor chuckled darkly, his voice dripping with malice as he turned to face Lance. “You know, I should’ve kidnapped you instead. You’ve got quite the fire in you. It’s a pity I have to kill you…”

“I’m not your pet!” Keith’s voice cut through the tension, his words trembling with emotion as he took a step forward. Lotor raised an eyebrow, turning back to Keith with a wicked grin.

“I’m not your weapon. I’m not yours!” Keith’s voice was shaking, but there was a fierce determination behind it, his eyes burning with fury.

Lotor’s smile widened. He could feel Keith’s anger, taste it in the air. “And why do you say that?” he asked, his voice taunting, edging Keith further into his rage.

Lance, though barely able to stand, watched in horror. He saw it—Lotor’s manipulation, his twisted game. He knew what Lotor was trying to do, and he knew how dangerous it was. “Keith, you have to calm down!” Lance called out, his voice trembling.

But it was too late. Keith’s eyes were flickering with that familiar yellow glow, his fangs bared, his wings unfurling.

“Don’t hurt him!” Keith roared, his voice distorted, almost unrecognizable.

With a flick of his wrist, Lotor sent a chair flying toward Lance. “Enough out of you, your highness.”

The chair hit Lance hard, and he cried out in pain as it slammed into his head. Blood began to drip down his face as he crumpled to the ground, unconscious.

That was the breaking point.

Keith’s rage exploded. His wings beat the air, a low, guttural growl escaping his throat. His vision turned red, his thoughts consumed by a primal anger he could no longer control. The sight of Lance hurt—it was too much.

Lotor’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction. “Yes, Keith! Let that anger control you! Let it consume you!” His voice was triumphant, filled with dark delight.

Keith’s fury reached its peak. He let out a feral roar, charging at Lotor with all the strength he had, his claws digging deep into Lotor’s shoulders as they tumbled down the stairs.

Despite the pain, Lotor’s laughter echoed in the room. “That’s right, Keith! Show them who you really are!”

Lance, barely conscious, groaned as his eyes fluttered open. He could barely make out the scene before him, but he saw Keith—his friend, his love—turning into something terrifying. “Keith…” he whispered weakly, reaching out with a trembling hand. “Don’t…”

Keith’s breath was ragged, his chest heaving with sobs. Tears streamed down his face as he leaned in close to Lotor’s face, growling. “You hurt him! You hurt me! You took everything from me!” His voice cracked, raw with pain and anger. “I’m not your pet!”

Lotor’s eyes gleamed as he laughed in Keith’s face, even as blood trickled down his skin. “There he is,” Lotor rasped, his voice low. “I was right, Keith. You are a monster. And that’s all you’ll ever be.”

Keith let out one last roar, his body trembling with uncontrollable rage. His throat burned, a heat rising within him, and with a final scream, he unleashed a torrent of fire from his mouth, incinerating Lotor’s face.
The crowd gasped in horror, turning away from the monstrous sight. Keith roared again, his claws digging into what was left of Lotor as the fire consumed him.
And then, it was over.

Keith sat up, panting, his throat raw and sore. His body trembled, his mind still reeling from the intensity of his transformation. He looked around, disoriented, and saw the faces of the people around him—terrified, horrified.

His eyes fell on the dagger lodged in his stomach. Blood pooled beneath him, and he felt the pain all at once. But worse than the physical pain was the look of fear and betrayal in everyone’s eyes.
Keith had become the very thing he feared the most.

Chapter Text

The silence that followed Lotor's death was deafening. It hung over the room, thick and suffocating, as if the entire world had stopped to acknowledge what had just happened. Lance's vision was blurred, his body heavy with exhaustion and pain, but in the midst of the haze, one figure stood out—Keith, kneeling atop the smoldering remains of the sorcerer.

"Keith..." Lance’s voice was weak, a groan escaping his lips as he tried to push himself up, his limbs trembling from both the physical toll of the fight and the sheer panic rising in his chest. His vision slowly cleared, the darkness giving way to the sight that made his heart plummet.

Keith, pale and trembling, was staring back at him. "L-...Lance... I-I... I'm sorry..." His voice was raw, shaking as his body swayed. The color was drained from his face, his usually fierce eyes dull with pain. And then, with a weak gasp, he collapsed to the floor with a thud, a groan of agony tearing through his chest.

"Keith?!?" Lance’s heart pounded in his ears, the sound drowning out everything else. His legs, despite the weakness, surged with a desperate strength as he scrambled to his feet, rushing over to where Keith lay crumpled on the ground. "Oh my god... no..." Lance gasped, horror gripping him as he saw it—the dagger lodged deep in Keith's stomach, blood pooling around him.

Lance dropped to his knees beside him, his hands trembling as he pulled Keith into his lap, cupping his face. "Keith... Keith, can you hear me? Say something, please," he begged, his voice cracking as tears began to blur his vision again, falling onto Keith’s bloodied skin.

Keith’s eyes fluttered, his breathing shallow and labored. Blood stained his lips as he coughed weakly, the sound ragged and broken. "I’m sorry..." he whispered, each word a painful effort. "I... did what... what he wanted... I-I lost control..."

Lance shook his head frantically, tears streaming down his face. "No, Keith... no, no, no," he said, his voice breaking. "You didn’t lose control. You did it, Keith. You saved me. You saved everyone here," he insisted, trying to hold back the sobs that threatened to escape. "Everything’s going to be okay, I promise..." But even as he spoke, the fear was consuming him, the weight of Keith’s injury suffocating him.

Keith’s own tears fell silently, mixing with the blood on his cheeks. "I-...I really am a monster..." he choked out, his voice thick with grief, the self-loathing evident even as his strength ebbed away.

Lance’s heart shattered. "A monster? Starlight... no, no, no," he whispered, his voice thick with anguish. He brushed Keith's blood-matted hair from his face, his fingers gentle. "You are not a monster. You are the bravest, most selfless person I have ever known. The kindest person I’ve ever met." He forced a smile through his tears, though his voice trembled. "And I love you so, so much. Please don’t speak so harshly about the one I love so dearly..”

Keith’s lips trembled into a weak, sad smile. It was small, but in it, Lance saw that Keith was grateful—grateful to hear those words, to know that Lance still saw him the same despite everything.

"Lance..." Keith gasped, his hand weakly reaching up to hold Lance’s cheek. "I-... I don't think I can... hold on... much longer..." He looked up at him, the pain and exhaustion in his eyes so clear.

"No..." Lance shook his head again, his heart pounding so loudly he could hardly hear his own words. "No, Keith, you can. You’re strong, you’ve always been strong. You can hold on just a little longer, okay? I-I’ll get help. Someone will heal you, I-I'll heal you. Just please, stay with me..." His voice was desperate now, his hands trembling as they held Keith’s face, trying to ground him, to anchor him to life.

But Keith shook his head, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. "Y-you’re... you’re already exhausted... I can see it... you can’t..." His voice was barely a whisper, his strength fading fast. He brushed the tears from Lance’s cheeks with trembling fingers. "Why... do you look so sad?" he asked, his voice soft and pained.

Lance let out a sob, unable to contain it any longer. "Because I can’t lose you again, Keith," he whispered, pressing his forehead to Keith’s, his tears falling freely. "I can’t... I can’t lose you."

"You never... lost me," Keith murmured, his voice growing softer with each passing second. His hand, still cradling Lance's cheek, was growing heavier. "I-... I’m right here..."

“Lance…” Keith’s voice was barely a whisper, the sound fragile, like it could break apart with the slightest breeze. His body felt heavy in Lance’s arms, and yet, in this moment, it was all Lance could focus on—the delicate life he was holding, the faint warmth still lingering.

Lance's heart clenched as he gripped Keith's hand tighter, refusing to let him slip away. "Yes, Keith?" he answered, his voice trembling with a desperate kind of hope, praying for something—anything—to keep Keith tethered to him for just a little longer.

Keith’s breath came in shallow gasps, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes, something tender despite the pain. "You know how... you always call me Starlight?" he asked, his words labored, each syllable like an effort to push through the agony.

Lance’s throat tightened, a sad laugh escaping him. He nodded, his hand brushing a stray lock of Keith’s hair from his face. "Of course I do," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

Keith’s lips trembled, a weak smile pulling at the corners of his mouth as if the pain was receding, just for this moment. "I... I think I found a name for you," he murmured, his eyes closing briefly as he coughed, the sound rough and wet. The effort seemed to drain him, and Lance could feel Keith’s strength waning with each passing second.

Lance blinked back tears, his heart hammering in his chest. "Oh yeah?" he said, trying to keep his voice steady, trying to be strong for Keith even though his own heart was shattering. "What is it?" His voice cracked, but he managed a smile, his thumb gently caressing the back of Keith’s hand. He just needed Keith to keep talking, to keep holding on.

Keith’s chest rose and fell with a labored rhythm, his breaths shallow, but there was a peace in his eyes now. A softness that hadn’t been there before, like he had found something he had been searching for all along. His smile grew, and for a moment, it was as though the pain had melted away.
“Sunshine," Keith whispered, his voice barely audible, but it was enough. It was everything.

Lance’s breath caught in his throat. His vision blurred with tears, and he let out a choked sob, his lips trembling as he tried to smile through the heartbreak. "Keith…" He swallowed hard, cradling Keith closer to his chest. "Sunshine?" He could hardly speak, his heart swelling with a bittersweet ache.

Keith’s smile lingered, his eyes locking with Lance’s one last time, filled with love and peace, as if he had finally found his place. "Yeah," he whispered, his voice growing fainter, his eyes beginning to lose their light.
"You’ve always been... my Sunshine…" His words slurred as the light in his eyes began to dim, his strength fading rapidly.

"Keith... no..." Lance’s voice broke, his grip tightening around Keith as he felt the life slipping away from him. "No, please, please stay with me," he begged, his words barely more than a whisper now, choked by the sobs that wracked his body. "Please... don’t leave me..."

But Keith’s eyes fluttered shut, his breath hitching one final time before his body went still in Lance’s arms. His hand, once clutching Lance’s with all the strength he had left, went limp.

"Keith!!" Lance screamed, the sound tearing from his throat in a raw, blood curdling, broken cry. He pulled Keith’s body closer, cradling him tightly, his hand pressed to the back of Keith’s head as he rocked him in his arms. "No, no, no..." he sobbed, his voice shattering with every word. "Please, no..."

The dawn light began to creep through the windows, painting the room in soft golds and pinks, but for Lance, the world was dark. He held Keith in his arms, his body trembling as the sun rose, but it brought no warmth. It only illuminated the one thing he had fought so hard to protect, the one thing he’d just gotten back, now gone from him forever.

The ballroom was silent now, only filled by lances soft cries. The people that were left, had already made their way out of the castle. Lotor must’ve cast some spell to make the gaurds unconscious. Because only now where they arriving at the scene, nothing else to be done.

Allura sat beside Lance, feeling the depth of his heartbreak as he clung to Keith’s lifeless body. She placed a soft hand on his back, trying to offer any comfort she could in the silence that had settled like a heavy cloud over the room. "I’m so sorry, Lance..." she whispered, her voice trembling with shared sorrow. Her heart ached not just for Keith, but for her brother, who had finally found something precious only to have it ripped away.

Lance’s hiccuping sobs cut through the stillness, his body shaking as he cradled Keith closer, as if refusing to let the world steal him away again. "I just got him back…" His voice was a broken whisper, each word a plea that this nightmare wasn't real. "I just got him back…"

Allura bit her lip, her own tears pooling as she rubbed circles on Lance’s back. “I know, Lance… I know,” she murmured, though the words felt so small against the enormity of his pain.

Lance lifted his head, his red, swollen eyes meeting hers with desperation. "You can heal him," he said, voice wavering between grief and hope. "You’re stronger than I am, you have to try. Please, Allura—please!"

Allura’s heart twisted painfully. She wished with everything in her that she could bring Keith back, that her power could undo the cruelness of death. But she shook her head softly, her voice breaking as she spoke.

"Lance… he’s gone. There’s nothing I can do once…" She trailed off, unable to finish the sentence. The finality of it made her throat tighten. "I’m so sorry," she added, her voice nearly a whisper.

Lance let out a sob, burying his face against Keith’s chest as if he could still hear his heartbeat there, as if he could hold onto the pieces of their love that hadn’t shattered yet. "He can’t be gone," Lance cried, his fingers tightening around Keith’s tunic. "None of this could’ve happened without him… he’s everything."

Allura wanted to say something, anything, to take away the unbearable weight of the moment, but no words felt adequate. She simply held her brother as his cries filled the emptiness around them. Time seemed to stand still, suspended in the endless quiet of loss.

"Lance..." she began softly, knowing what she had to say next would feel like a betrayal. "I know you don’t want to hear this right now, but... you need to let go."

Lance shook his head violently, tears streaming down his cheeks as he clutched Keith tighter. "No. No, I can’t. I can’t let go." His voice was thick with agony, like the very act of letting go would shatter him completely. "He’s still here, I—I can’t…" He choked on the words, his tears falling in steady streams.

The tears mixed with the blood staining Keith’s clothes, and suddenly, from where they touched Keith’s wound, a faint, warm glow began to pulse. At first, Lance was too lost in his grief to notice. But then, in the midst of his sobs, he blinked through his tears and looked down again. Confusion began to break through the haze of despair.

"What...

...what is that?" Lance asked, his voice wavering as he stared at the soft light emitting from Keith’s wound. Panic crept into his words. "What’s happening to him?!" His grip on Keith tightened, fear and hope battling within him.

Allura’s eyes widened in shock as she leaned forward, her hand hovering over the glowing wound. "I think… I think it’s your tears, Lance." Her voice was filled with wonder, but also hesitation. "Keith... he was transformed with magic, wasn’t he?" she asked, her gaze darting to Lance, searching his face for confirmation.

Lance nodded slowly, his face still crumpled in pain and confusion. "Yes… but what does that mean? What’s happening to him?"

Allura furrowed her brow, trying to make sense of it. "Once a non magical being is transformed, they too have magic. Keith’s must be..totally different now that Lotor is dead" Her voice was calm but urgent as she pieced it together. "Lance, keep holding him. Don’t break the connection. Talk to him. Maybe you can reach him."

Lance looked at his sister, his heart aching with uncertainty, but there was no other choice. He had to believe in this, in Keith. "Okay," he whispered, his voice breaking as he wiped his tear-streaked face with the back of his hand. "Okay, I’ll try."

With trembling hands, Lance adjusted Keith in his arms, bringing his forehead down to rest gently against his. "Starlight," he murmured, his voice raw with emotion. "I miss you already… I don’t know how to be without you." Tears fell again, splashing onto Keith’s pale skin, the glow growing brighter with every drop.

Keith remained still, his face unmoving, but Lance felt something—something faint and distant, like a spark buried deep within the darkness. His heart raced. "Keith… if you’re in there, please… I need you back. I need you so much. You can’t leave me like this. Please, don’t leave me alone… not again." His voice cracked, the words tumbling out in a desperate whisper. “Please ..”

Lance sat waiting, his breath shaky, his heart pounding so loud he could barely hear anything else. His voice cracked as he begged, his pleas echoing through the empty, cold room. "Keith… please… you can’t leave me again." He clutched Keith’s lifeless body, his trembling hands desperately holding onto him as if his sheer will could pull Keith back from the brink.

The ballroom had fallen into a thick, oppressive silence, save for Lance’s broken sobs. He didn’t care that his tears soaked Keith’s tunic, mixing with the blood that had stained the floor. His world had shrunk down to just this—just the cold weight in his arms and the desperate hope that somehow, against all odds, Keith would come back.

——

It was dark. Cold. There was nothing.

Keith gasped, his eyes snapping open as he sat up abruptly, his breath coming in ragged bursts. He clutched his stomach, expecting to feel the jagged wound, the pain. But there was nothing. His hand slid over smooth skin, no dagger, no blood. He stared down at himself in disbelief, his chest rising and falling rapidly as his mind raced to make sense of what had happened.

“Where…?” Keith’s voice faltered as he looked around, his eyes squinting into the suffocating darkness that surrounded him. There was no light, no sound, just an endless void. He stood slowly, his body trembling as if it still remembered the agony, the violence of the last moments before everything went dark.

He reached up, instinctively feeling for the horns he had become accustomed to, the heavy wings that had sprouted from his back, the tail that had marked his cursed transformation. But there was nothing. His head was light, his back unburdened. "What is this place?" he murmured, taking a tentative step forward. The ground was slick and cold beneath his bare feet, and the silence pressed down on him like a weight, making it hard to breathe.

“Hello?” Keith called out, his voice cracking as it echoed back to him, lost in the vast, black abyss. He took another step, then another, his hands outstretched, trying to feel his way through the emptiness. But there was nothing—no walls, no landmarks, no sense of direction. Only the dark.

His heart sank. "I’m dead… aren’t I?" Keith whispered, the words tumbling out of his mouth as a sharp, painful truth finally settled in. His chest tightened, and he pressed a hand to it, feeling the hollow ache beneath his ribs. The realization hit him hard, his knees buckling under the weight of it. He collapsed onto the ground, his fingers digging into the cold, wet surface beneath him. "I’m dead…" he repeated, the words barely more than a breath. The fear and grief surged through him, and for a moment, he thought he might break under the weight of it all.

But then, out of the endless dark, came a faint glow—a soft, warm light breaking through the blackness, distant but unmistakable. Keith blinked, his heart skipping a beat as the light grew brighter. And then, he heard it—a voice. A voice he hadn’t heard in so long, but one that was etched deep in his memory.

“Keith? Keith, is that you?”

Keith squinted as the light intensified, revealing the figure of a man standing in the distance. Tall, broad-shouldered, with dark hair that mirrored Keith’s own. The man stepped forward, and Keith’s breath caught in his throat. He knew that face. He’d seen it in dreams, in stories told to him by Lance.

"...Father?" Keith whispered, his voice shaking with disbelief. He staggered to his feet, his heart pounding in his chest. "Father… it’s you!" The joy and confusion collided in him all at once, and he took a few steps toward the man. "You’re here, I… wait… I really am dead, aren’t I?"

His father’s expression was soft, kind, just as Lance had described him. "My son," the late king said, his voice rich with warmth. "It’s good to see you again, and well… as well as you can be." His lips curved into a gentle smile. "I always thought we’d meet again when my time came, but when you weren’t here… I was glad. It meant you were still alive."

Keith’s heart ached at his father’s words. "Where am I?" he asked, his voice small, almost lost in the void around them.
His father chuckled softly, his eyes filled with a knowing light. "You should ask yourself, ‘where do you need to be?’"

Keith frowned, confused. "Where do I need to be?" he echoed, glancing over his shoulder at the abyss stretching endlessly behind him.

His father nodded and gestured toward the distance, where the faint light glowed brighter. Keith turned, squinting, and then he heard it—the sound that made his heart clench with longing. It was Lance’s voice, calling out to him, full of pain and love.

"Keith, if you’re in there… please. I need you back. You can’t leave me again…"

Keith’s breath hitched as he listened to Lance’s desperate cries echoing through the darkness. He turned back to his father, his eyes wide. "I… I can go back?"

His father smiled softly. "You’re not ready to leave, Keith. There’s still so much left for you to do. You’ve only just begun."

Keith’s chest tightened, his eyes stinging with tears. "But… the wings, the horns… I don’t want to go back like this. I can’t be a monster."

His father stepped forward, placing a reassuring hand on Keith’s cheek. "You were never a monster, my son. Lotor gave you more than just a set of wings and a tail. And you’ll see that, in time. You have a great destiny ahead of you. Say hello to your mother for me, when you see her again… but not too soon." The king’s hand lingered for a moment, and then, like mist in the morning sun, he disappeared into the light.

Keith stood there, frozen, the warmth of his father’s touch still lingering on his skin. He turned back toward the light where Lance’s voice continued to call for him, softer now, filled with hope and love.

“Starlight… please. Come back to me…”
Keith’s heart swelled with emotion as the glow from his chest began to pulse, the warmth spreading through him. His wings unfurled once more, his horns reappearing as his body slowly transformed back. But this time, the magic felt different—lighter, more controlled.

Taking a deep breath, Keith stepped forward, his feet carrying him closer and closer to the light, and to Lance. He could feel the pull, the connection between them, as if Lance’s love was guiding him back.

"Just hold on," Keith whispered, his voice trembling with determination. Walking turned into running. And with every step, the light grew stronger, until the darkness around him melted away.

——

“Lance’s voice cracked as he held Keith in his arms, his hands trembling as they clutched tightly to the fabric of Keith’s tunic. His eyes darted over Keith’s pale face, searching, desperate for a flicker of life. “Keith… please, come on… wake up,” he whispered, his heart hammering in his chest, fear tightening its grip around him. "Please…"

Allura stood nearby, her face pale and tense as she watched her brother. Her hands fidgeted in front of her, her mind racing. She was strong, yes, but this kind of magic—Keith’s magic—was unlike anything she had ever encountered. It was raw, ancient, something no one quite understood. "I-I don’t know, Lance," she stammered, biting her lip as she struggled to keep her own emotions in check. "I don’t know how long it will take… or if it’ll even work."

The uncertainty of her words felt like a blow to Lance’s gut. He stared at her for a moment, hope wavering in his chest before he turned back to Keith, his eyes full of sorrow. The weight of everything—of nearly losing Keith, of holding him now, lifeless in his arms—was suffocating. His chest felt heavy, and a deep, raw sadness started to creep in.

Lance sighed deeply, his body sagging as he held Keith closer, resting his forehead against Keith’s. “I’m so sorry, Keith,” he whispered, his voice breaking as his tears fell freely now. “I’m so sorry… I tried… I tried everything…”

For a long, painful moment, there was nothing but silence. The kind of silence that gnawed at the heart, that made the grief sharper, more unbearable. Lance closed his eyes, letting the quiet settle over him like a shroud. He could feel himself slipping into despair, his hope fading like the light from the room around them. He was losing him. Again.

But then—faintly, almost imperceptibly—he heard it.

A beat. Rhythmic, steady.

Lance’s eyes shot open, his heart leaping in his chest. "What…?" He looked down at Keith, confusion and shock washing over him. He could see something—something glowing, faintly at first but growing stronger, pulsing under Keith’s chest. A soft, golden light began to radiate from within him, illuminating the outline of his heart. And it was huge—larger than any human’s heart. A dragon’s heart, Lance realized, his breath catching in his throat.

The glow began to spread, cascading through Keith’s body like ripples of warm sunlight. It flowed outward from his chest, washing over his arms, his legs, his wings. Lance watched, breathless, as the light reached the gaping wound in Keith’s side. The jagged edges of the cut began to close, knitting together with soft, pulsing light until there was nothing left but smooth, unblemished skin.

The light didn’t stop there. It continued to spread, reaching Keith’s wings, turning them into shimmering, golden appendages that glittered in the dim room. His horns reappeared, but they too were transformed, glowing with the same ethereal light that now seemed to pulse with each beat of his heart.

Lance’s hands tightened around Keith’s shoulders, his breath quickening with anticipation. "Keith?" he whispered, his voice trembling. "Keith, can you hear me?"
The color started to return to Keith’s cheeks, a soft flush spreading across his pale skin. And then, all at once, Keith gasped—a sharp, sudden breath that filled his lungs and made his chest rise. His eyes fluttered open, weak but alive, searching the space around him in a daze.

Lance’s heart skipped a beat. "Keith!!" he cried, a relieved sob escaping him as he pulled Keith’s body closer, his arms wrapping around him tightly. "Oh my god, you’re back!" He pressed Keith’s head against his chest, his fingers threading through his dark hair. "I thought I lost you… I thought you were gone."

Keith’s body trembled in Lance’s embrace, his breaths shallow and shaky. He felt weak, exhausted from the ordeal, but he was alive. He could feel Lance’s warmth surrounding him, the sound of his heartbeat, the tears that wet his shirt. Keith’s own tears began to fall, his arms slowly, shakily wrapping around Lance. “Lance,” he whispered, his voice rough and strained as he buried his face against Lance’s chest, letting himself melt into the comfort and safety of his arms.

“You’re okay,” Lance murmured, his voice soft and tender as he cradled Keith, rocking him gently. “You’re okay, Keith… I’ve got you now. Everything’s okay.”

Keith clung to him, his fingers gripping the back of Lance’s tunic as if he was afraid to let go. He was too tired to move, too overwhelmed by everything that had just happened. "You… never lost me," Keith whispered, his voice barely audible against the rise and fall of Lance’s chest. "I was always here… Sunshine."

Lance let out a weak laugh through his tears, pulling back just enough to cup Keith’s face in his hands. "My sunshine?" he repeated softly, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips despite the tears that still fell from his eyes. "Keith, you’re… unbelievable."

With tears still streaming down his cheeks, Lance leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Keith’s lips, a kiss filled with all the emotion he had been holding back—the fear, the love, the relief. Keith’s arms wound tighter around Lance’s neck, and he kissed him back with as much strength as he could muster, pouring every ounce of his feelings into that single, tender moment.

The world around them faded, and for a moment, it was just the two of them. The two princes, battered and broken, but still here, still together. In this moment, nothing else mattered. Not the danger, not the uncertainty of the future. They had each other, and that was enough.

As they pulled away, Keith rested his forehead against Lance’s, their breaths mingling in the quiet. “I thought I was gone,” Keith admitted softly, his voice still shaky. “But… I heard you. You brought me back.”
Lance smiled, brushing his thumb gently across Keith’s cheek. "I wasn’t going to let you go," he whispered. "Not again."

The room was still now, but the air was charged with something new—hope, maybe, or the promise of what was to come. They had faced death and loss, but now they had been given a second chance. There were still so many questions, so many unknowns about the magic that flowed through Keith, about the dangers that lay ahead.

But for now, in this moment, they had each other. And that was enough to face whatever came next.

Together, they could face anything.

Chapter Text

Lance had helped Keith to his feet, but even then, the strain in Keith’s body was obvious. His limbs were heavy, stiff with exhaustion, and Lance could see the toll the battle had taken on him. There was something haunting in the way Keith moved—like death had almost claimed him, leaving a strange lethargy in its wake. Lance could feel the confusion creeping in, nagging at the back of his mind. What had really happened to Keith? What was he? There were more questions than answers, but now wasn’t the time for learning or lessons. There was only one thing Keith needed right now: rest.

The king and queen had been alerted almost immediately after the battle had ended. They came rushing in, the royal guards trailing behind them, making sure the boys were unharmed. Though worried, their parental instincts kicked in, knowing the boys needed sleep more than anything else. The ballroom still needed to be cleaned up from the chaos, but that was a problem for later. Tomorrow would be the time for explanations, questions, and answers. There was too much to unpack, but not tonight.

Alfor, the king, had been particularly quiet after hearing the familiar name of the sorcerer responsible for the day’s events. His mind was racing with thoughts, memories, and some answers that he couldn’t yet share. He nodded toward Lance and Keith before exchanging a knowing look with his wife. They would discuss this further when the boys were rested.

Lance supported Keith as they made their way down the castle’s winding halls to the infirmary. He didn’t want to take any chances. Though Keith seemed fine for the most part, Lance had seen enough today to be cautious. The medics examined him briefly, confirming that there was nothing immediately alarming—at least, nothing abnormal for a dragon boy. He was just severely exhausted.

"He needs rest," the head medic had said. And that’s exactly what Lance intended to give him.

The journey to Lance’s bedroom was slow. Keith leaned on him the entire way, his steps sluggish, but they eventually made it. The door clicked shut behind them, and for a moment, Lance felt like he could breathe again. He guided Keith over to the bed, sitting him down carefully.

"Let’s get you out of this," Lance murmured, unbuttoning Keith’s suit with careful hands. His fingers brushed over the bruises forming on Keith’s skin, but Keith didn’t seem to notice. His exhaustion was far too overwhelming.

Once Keith was in comfortable pajamas, Lance quickly changed into his own, stealing glances at Keith the entire time. He seemed so small, so vulnerable like this. The fire and fierceness that usually radiated from Keith were dimmed, leaving only the boy Lance cared so deeply for, fragile and quiet.

"I still can’t believe it," Lance muttered as he buttoned his pajamas, his reflection catching in the mirror. His voice trembled slightly, betraying the emotions he had been holding back. "I thought I really lost you this time..."

Keith, already lying down with his head on the pillow, watched him through half-lidded eyes. His voice was soft, tired. "I know... but I’m here now. You don’t have to worry."

Lance let out a heavy sigh, sitting on the edge of the bed. His hands rested in his lap, but he kept his eyes on the floor. "I still feel on edge," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. He wasn’t tired, not in the slightest. His mind was too busy replaying the day’s events. "Are... you okay?" he asked, hesitating slightly.

Keith was silent for a moment before replying. "I feel fine... just really tired. And really confused." He let out a sigh, his brows knitting together. "I’m even less human than I thought I was..."

Lance’s heart ached at the words, and he shook his head. "You’ve got the wrong idea, love," he said softly, a small chuckle escaping his lips despite the heaviness in the room. "You’re more human than anyone I know. Just because you were... changed... it doesn’t change anything about who you are."

Keith yawned, his eyelids growing heavier with each passing second. "Lance?" he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep.
"Yeah, Keith?" Lance turned to face him more fully, his concern still evident.

"Can... you keep holding me? Like... how you were before?" Keith asked, his voice vulnerable, almost childlike in its simplicity.
Lance’s heart swelled with emotion, and he smiled gently. "I know something even better," he whispered, lying down beside Keith. "Cuddling. I bet it’ll make you feel one hundred times better."

Keith shifted closer, laying his head on Lance’s shoulder, and as soon as Lance wrapped his arms around him, Keith let out a content sigh. Lance’s hand rubbed up and down Keith’s back in soothing motions, his fingers tracing soft lines over his spine.
"Mm... I like this..." Keith whispered, his voice barely audible.

Lance chuckled quietly, finally feeling himself begin to relax. "That’s good..." He rested his chin gently on the top of Keith’s head, feeling the soft rise and fall of his chest. Keith’s warmth against him was comforting, but there was still an undercurrent of fear that Lance couldn’t shake.

His mind raced, filled with thoughts of the battle, of Keith’s transformation, of what had almost happened. He couldn’t stop thinking about how close he had come to losing him. Even now, holding him like this, Lance found himself checking Keith’s breathing, reassuring himself that Keith was still there, still alive.

"Sleep tight, Keith," Lance whispered, his voice low and soothing. "If you need anything, just let me know."

But Keith was already fast asleep, his body completely relaxed in Lance’s arms. His soft snores barely echoing through the room. Lance sighed, his eyes drifting to the ceiling. Despite his exhaustion, he knew sleep wouldn’t come easily tonight. There were too many questions, too many fears lingering in the air. But for now, Keith was safe, and that was enough to keep him grounded.

As the night stretched on, Lance remained awake, holding Keith close. For now, at least, they were together. And for now, that was all that mattered.

Morning crept slowly into Lance’s room, casting a soft, muted light across the bed. Lance lay there, his eyes burning with fatigue, but sleep wouldn’t come. He had dozed off in short bursts throughout the night, only to wake again with a start, as if his body refused to fully relax. His arms remained wrapped protectively around Keith, who was still deeply asleep. The steady rise and fall of Keith’s chest was the only thing anchoring Lance’s restless thoughts.

Keith had been asleep for hours, and Lance knew he would likely remain that way for a while longer. His body needed the time to heal, to recover from the intense battle and everything it had taken out of him. But for Lance, the weight of the night before lingered like a shadow, impossible to shake.

Lotor was gone, defeated at last, but the victory felt hollow, as if it came at a price they couldn’t yet fully comprehend.

Lance stared up at the ceiling, trying to clear his mind, but it was impossible. His thoughts were a whirlwind, circling around the same unanswered questions. So much had happened in such a short time, and now that Lotor was no longer a threat, there were gaps in the story that only he could have filled. What was left unsaid? What was left unknown? They had won, but it didn’t feel like a happy ending. It didn’t feel like the end of their journey—it felt like the beginning of something even more complicated, something darker.

His eyelids grew heavy, and he found himself drifting off again, only to jolt awake moments later, his heart racing. He glanced down at Keith, who was still asleep, his face peaceful but pale. Lance’s exhaustion clawed at him, but he couldn’t fully let go, not yet. The room was silent save for their breathing, and the quiet only amplified the storm of thoughts in Lance’s head.

Finally, after what felt like hours, Keith stirred. His body shifted slightly, and Lance could feel the tension in his muscles as he began to wake. Keith groaned softly, rubbing at his eyes as he came back to consciousness.

"Lance?" Keith’s voice was rough and cracked, barely audible at first as he tried to gather himself. He blinked groggily, looking up at Lance with bleary eyes. "How long have you been awake?"

Lance smiled weakly, the edges of his mouth tugging upward, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He let out a dry, tired chuckle. "You don’t want to know that," he replied softly, sighing as he ran a hand through his disheveled hair. "I don’t know... a while. I’ve just been... thinking."

Keith frowned, his expression softening in understanding. "Lance... everything’s okay now. He’s gone. We can go back to normal." His voice was gentle, but there was still exhaustion in every word.

Lance sighed deeply, his eyes dropping to the sheets. "I know that. It’s just... hard to stop seeing it, over and over again." His voice cracked slightly, and he shook his head, trying to steady himself. "I keep seeing you like that... the way you almost—" He stopped himself, his breath catching in his throat.

Keith, though clearly still aching and tired, pushed himself up into a sitting position, groaning at the soreness in his muscles. He reached out, placing a hand on Lance’s shoulder. "Is there anything I can do to help?" he asked, his voice low, laced with concern.

Lance shrugged, his gaze distant. "I don’t really know." He paused, biting his lip before speaking again. "What was it like, Keith? When you were... gone? Was it just... nothing? Were you alone?"

Keith was silent for a moment, his brow furrowing as he thought. "I thought I was alone," he began slowly. "But... my dad was there. I remembered everything, Lance—everything about the party when I was taken." His hand instinctively moved to his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heart. "He said I wasn’t done yet, that Lotor gave me more than just wings and a tail."

Lance’s eyes widened slightly as Keith spoke, his heart sinking a little. "What do you think he meant by that?" Lance asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Keith shook his head, looking down at his hands. "I think I know..." he said quietly, but there was a haunted look in his eyes, a mixture of uncertainty and fear. "But that’s not all." His voice grew even softer, more troubled, as he looked back up at Lance, an almost alarming expression on his face. "Before he left, my dad told me to say hi to my mom for him."

Lance frowned, confused. "But... your mom was killed too, right? Why wasn’t she there with him?"

Keith’s confusion deepened, his hands balling into fists. "I don’t know. That’s what doesn’t make sense. If she was killed like him, shouldn’t she have been there too? But... she wasn’t."

Lance sat up more fully now, concern etched across his features. "You mean she could still be alive?" he asked, his voice cautious, unsure of what this revelation could mean.

"I don’t know what it means," Keith said, shaking his head again, his voice strained with frustration. "And now that Lotor’s gone... I don’t know anything." He looked lost, more vulnerable than Lance had ever seen him. There were too many unknowns, too many pieces missing from the puzzle, and Lotor had taken many of those answers with him.

Lance shifted closer, wrapping an arm around Keith’s shoulders. "We’ll figure it out, Keith," he said gently, pressing a soft kiss to Keith’s forehead. "I promise, we’ll find out everything."

Keith’s body seemed to relax slightly at Lance’s touch, but the confusion and fear still lingered in his eyes. "What if we don’t?" he asked quietly, almost as if he were afraid of the answer.

Lance smiled softly, though there was still a heaviness to it. "We will," he assured him. "We’ve made it this far, haven’t we?"

Keith nodded, but the doubt didn’t fully leave his face. He was quiet for a moment, as if trying to sort through his tangled thoughts, but the exhaustion in his body was catching up to him again. Lance noticed and gave him a reassuring squeeze.

"Let’s eat something," Lance said gently, changing the subject to something more immediate. "You need to get your strength back. We’ll figure the rest out after you’re feeling better."

Keith nodded again, though he still looked distant, lost in his thoughts. He allowed Lance to help him out of bed, though every movement seemed to remind him of the battle and the toll it had taken on him. His muscles ached, and his head still felt foggy, but with Lance beside him, guiding him forward, it felt a little more manageable.

As they walked down the hall toward the dining room, Lance let out a long sigh. "We’ll have breakfast with my family this morning, I suppose…" he said, the weight of exhaustion clear in his voice. "Just a warning—my father’s going to have a million questions."

Keith nodded quietly, his eyes downcast as they continued walking side by side. "I thought he would…" His voice was soft, and there was a tremor in it as his thoughts raced. "I can’t promise I’ll have the answers. I-I’m not even sure how I’m alive right now…" His hands trembled as the thought gripped him, uncertainty bubbling just below the surface.

Without hesitation, Lance reached over and took Keith’s hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze. His thumb brushed soothingly over Keith’s knuckles. "I know, Starlight," Lance said softly. "They’ll understand. I’m sure they don’t expect you to know everything… but…" He hesitated before asking, "Do you remember anything from when you were actually… changed?"

Keith frowned, a shadow crossing his face. "Honestly, I’ve tried to remember, but… when I do, it’s too much." His free hand moved to his chest, as if trying to steady the pounding of his heart. "I have this feeling… it wasn’t just magic. There was something else, something darker. I don’t like any of this."

Lance nodded, his heart aching for Keith. He could see how deeply unsettled Keith was, and he had every right to feel that way. So much of his life had been taken from him, twisted into something foreign, something unnatural. The only thing they knew for certain was that Keith’s heart wasn’t his own anymore, a chilling reminder of Lotor’s power.

"Everything will be okay, Keith," Lance said, his voice firm but comforting. "You’re here now. That’s what matters." He gave him a small, reassuring smile. "Like you said."
Keith tried to offer a smile in return, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. They reached the dining hall, where Lance’s parents and sister were already seated, waiting for them. The room felt unusually quiet, and Keith’s nerves began to build again despite Lance’s comforting words.

The silence in the room seemed to stretch on as Lance and Keith sat down. Keith's eyes darted between the king and queen, his hands fiddling with his fork in an effort to seem calm. But the tension was clear in his stiff posture and the way he avoided looking directly at anyone. Lance noticed it too and felt a pang of sympathy.

"Good morning, boys," King Alfor said, breaking the silence. His voice was calm but held a certain weight. His gaze was steady, his expression unreadable. "Did you get any rest?"

"Not much," Lance admitted with a chuckle, reaching for his fork. He glanced at Keith, who was still trying to compose himself. The moment felt heavy, as if they were all standing on the edge of something deeper.
Keith cleared his throat, his voice shaky. He grasped his fork awkwardly, feeling out of place, as though he might break some royal protocol by simply eating. He began to take small bites, his nerves getting the better of him.

Alfor’s gaze softened as he noticed Keith’s unease. "You can relax, Keith," the king said, his voice gentle. "I don’t know everything you’ve been through, but it seems you’ve missed quite a lot."

Keith looked up, meeting Alfor’s eyes for the first time. He hesitated, then nodded slightly. "I… I have. But I just want to be who I’m supposed to be."

Alfor smiled kindly. "Who you’re supposed to be is Keith," he said. "No amount of training or lessons will teach you that. It will come in time, so for now… just relax."

Keith blinked, a bit taken aback by the king’s words. He let out a long, shaky breath, his shoulders dropping as some of the tension left his body. "I’m sorry, your highness—"

"Ah, no need for formalities," Alfor interrupted with a chuckle. "You’re a prince now, but more importantly, you’re part of this family. Alfor is fine."

Keith looked uncertain, the word feeling strange on his tongue. "A-Alfor…" he repeated hesitantly. He shifted uncomfortably, glancing at Lance before his voice dropped. "I’m still trying to get used to everything. Lotor… he…"

Alfor’s expression darkened slightly at the mention of Lotor’s name. "Lotor…" he echoed. "Tell me, Keith, what do you know about him? After all, you spent a decade in his company. I’d like your perspective."

Keith’s ears perked up slightly in curiosity, though his expression remained guarded. "Well… I don’t remember everything, but I do know he found me when I’d lost my memory. I’m certain it was his magic that made me forget. At the time, it felt like he saved me." Keith’s gaze turned distant as he recalled those memories. "He took me to his home. We lived together. He was like… a father to me." He paused, his hands resting on the table, his fingers trembling. "But then… everything changed. He kept me hidden, told me it was to protect me. And then… he changed me." He gestured to his wings and horns, a hollow look in his eyes. "He said I would be the most powerful being in the land. But sometimes… the way I acted… I felt like an animal." His voice faltered. "And one day, when I got too mad… he left me. In the cold, outside the castle… for days."
Alfor nodded solemnly, absorbing Keith’s words. "I can’t begin to imagine what you went through, Keith. But I know who Lotor truly was."

Keith and Lance both looked up at Alfor, confused. "Lotor wasn’t just any sorcerer. He was… Galran and Altean. Lotor was your cousin."

The revelation hit like a shockwave. Lance’s heart nearly stopped. Cousin? How could someone do this to their own blood? The thought filled him with a deep, simmering anger.

Keith, equally stunned, stared at Alfor. "He… he was related to me?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

Alfor nodded gravely. "Yes, Lotor was older than you by several years. His mother and father were both friends of mine. He was highly skilled in magic, but because of his Galran heritage, he was never fully accepted by either side.” The king continued.

“He was always seen doing his experiments. But they weren’t just magic. Biological experiments, he called them. Taking things apart, putting them back together.” He said “it was because of him that your father was king. He grew resentful, and his obsession with power consumed him. He wanted to get back at both kingdoms. Taking you, changing you… I guess that was part of his twisted plan."

Keith’s hand drifted to his chest, resting over his heart. "So… Lotor didn’t just use magic on me. He combined me with a dragon. A real dragon."

Lance’s brow furrowed in disbelief. "But dragons haven’t been seen in years… How—?"

"Not until Keith disappeared," Alfor cut in, his tone grave. "That was when the last of them were seen. Now, they’re all gone."

Keith felt a sudden dizziness wash over him, the weight of the revelation making his heart race. The heart that didn’t belong to him. Everything felt as though it were spiraling out of control.

Lance gritted his teeth, frustration welling up. "This doesn’t help us now. Lotor is gone, and there’s nothing left to do!" he said, his voice rising with the frustration he could no longer contain.

Alfor remained calm, his gaze steady. "I understand your frustration, Lance. But Keith still needs answers. And they will come, in time. We’ll arrange for him to meet with the Galran fleet once everything has settled. For now, he needs rest and time to adjust. You’ve done well helping him so far."
Lance took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. "You’re right, father. I’m sorry." He turned to Keith, his voice softening. "Are you okay?"

Keith nodded quickly, though the fear was still evident in his eyes. "Yeah… yeah, I’m fine." He forced himself to take a bite of food, eager to move on from the conversation, even though his mind was racing with questions.

Lance could see the fear still lingering in Keith’s eyes, the way his breath caught in his throat, and how his fingers twitched slightly with anxiety. This moment was weighing far heavier on Keith than even he had realized. Keith had just discovered the true depth of his connection to Lotor, his family, and the terrifying reality of what had been done to him. How could anyone process that in a single conversation?

Without a word, Lance reached beneath the table, his hand seeking Keith’s, offering comfort in the simplest way he knew how. He held Keith’s hand firmly, grounding him, letting him know he wasn’t alone in this. They didn’t have to talk about it now—there would be time for that later. Right now, Keith needed a distraction, something to pull him from the spiral of emotions he was caught in.

“You know…” Lance began softly, trying to inject some lightness into the moment, “I bet the Galrans are going to be so happy when they see you.” He offered Keith a warm smile, his voice playful as he attempted to shift the mood.

Keith looked at him, still trying to settle his nerves. His mind was racing, and his heart still thudded too quickly in his chest. “You think so?” he asked, doubt lacing his words.
Lance grinned, nodding enthusiastically. “I know so! I bet they won’t be able to keep from giving you all the hugs,” he teased, giving Keith’s hand a gentle squeeze. “But you can’t give them all away, okay? Save a few for me.”

That coaxed a small smile out of Keith, a soft chuckle escaping him. The tension in his body seemed to ease, if only a little. “Okay, Lance,” he replied, his voice softer now, more grounded, though the unease wasn’t completely gone. The air around them was still thick with unspoken emotions—fear, regret, hope, love. It was a swirling mix that threatened to overwhelm Keith at any moment, but as long as Lance was there, he could manage.

Lance watched him closely, noticing the slight shift in Keith’s demeanor, but then something changed. A flicker of thought passed through Keith’s eyes, something deep, something that clearly struck him hard. His brows furrowed, and his gaze grew distant, as if he was suddenly somewhere else, far from the dining hall, lost in his thoughts.

Lance tilted his head slightly, curious. “What’s going on in that head of yours, Starlight?” he asked gently, his tone encouraging but soft, not wanting to push too hard.

Keith blinked, brought back to the present, but the thought still weighed on him. "I was just… thinking." His voice was hesitant, and he glanced at Lance with uncertainty. "About what your father said earlier… and about the Galrans."

Lance raised an eyebrow. "Yeah? What about it?"

Keith shifted in his seat, clearly struggling to find the right words. "My brother… my mother… if they’re still out there, maybe I’ll see them. I don’t want to get my hopes up, but…" He trailed off, his hand tightening around Lance’s under the table. “It’s one of the only things that could keep me going.”

Lance’s heart ached for him. He knew how much this meant to Keith, how deeply the idea of finding his family, or even learning about them, would affect him. Keith had lost so much, so suddenly. First, the years with Lotor, then his discovery of his true heritage, and now the possibility that his family might still be out there, somewhere, waiting for him.

“You’ll see them,” Lance said softly, his voice filled with quiet certainty. “And if they’re out there, they’ll be so proud of you. No matter what happens, you’re not alone in this, Keith. I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

He smiled at Keith, his thumb brushing gently over Keith’s knuckles again, a small, simple gesture that carried so much weight.
Keith’s eyes softened at that, his shoulders relaxing just a little more. Lance always knew what to say, how to make him feel grounded, even when everything else felt like it was falling apart.

"Thanks, Lance," Keith murmured, his voice quiet but sincere.

Lance chuckled softly, his mood lightening now that Keith seemed a little more at ease. He grabbed his fork again, taking a bite of his food, but kept his gaze on Keith, watching him closely. Keith might not realize it, but Lance had noticed the subtle shifts in his emotions—how every new piece of information seemed to weigh on him differently, and how thoughts of his family brought both hope and fear.

For now, though, they had time. Time to rest, to process everything, to prepare for whatever came next. Lance knew Keith would need time to come to terms with everything that had happened, and he would make sure that Keith had all the support he needed—whether from him, the Galrans, or even the family he longed to find.

"We’ll have plenty of time to get ready for the trip," Lance said after a moment, his tone casual but reassuring. "No rush. You’ll be ready when the time comes."

Keith nodded, but his mind was still distant, thinking of what might be waiting for him when they met with the Galrans. His brother. His mother. Could they really still be alive? Could Lotor have known? Could his father’s cryptic words have meant more than they realized? He didn’t want to get his hopes up, but at the same time… it was the only thing keeping the fear from overtaking him entirely.

Lance, sensing the shift again, glanced at Keith with a knowing smile. "Whatever happens, we’ll face it together," he said, his voice soft but steady. "You don’t have to figure it all out right now."

Keith gave a small nod, though his thoughts were still heavy. But Lance was right—he didn’t have to figure it all out now. Not alone, at least. With Lance by his side, maybe—just maybe—he could make it through whatever was coming next.

After breakfast, Lance could sense that Keith was barely holding it together. The conversation with Alfor weighed heavily on him, and Keith was visibly drained, both physically and emotionally. His eyes had that dull, distant look, the kind that told Lance he needed a break from everything.

The recent revelations—about Lotor, the experiments, the potential fate of his family—it was all too much to process in one go.
As they returned to the bedroom, Keith flopped onto the bed without a word, his wings folding awkwardly beneath him. Lance sat beside him, running his fingers gently through Keith’s hair, trying to offer what comfort he could. He watched Keith for a moment, his mind already formulating a plan to help ease some of the tension that clung to his partner.

“Hey, Keith,” Lance said softly, trying to coax him out of his spiraling thoughts. Keith stirred, turning his head slightly to face him. “Let’s go to the hot springs again,” Lance suggested with a gentle smile. “I know you’re sore, and after everything… I think you could really use it.”

Keith, still leaning against Lance, blinked a few times before his face softened, though there was still a hint of exhaustion in his voice. “Yeah? What about your parents? Won’t they be upset if we just disappear?”

Lance chuckled, shaking his head. “They won’t even know we’re gone. Besides, they’ll understand. Come on, I know you’re tired, but I’ll help you get there.” He stood up, extending a hand toward Keith. “We’ll stay as long as you want.”

Keith hesitated for a moment but eventually smiled weakly and accepted Lance’s hand. Lance pulled him to his feet, intertwining their fingers as he led Keith toward the door. He was careful, moving at a slow pace, knowing that Keith was still recovering from the battle and the emotional strain of the morning.

They gathered some supplies—snacks, towels, and a change of clothes—before heading out of the castle. The long path that led toward the forest was familiar, and despite the heavy conversations that had just transpired, there was something calming about the routine of it. The wind was perfect, cool enough to refresh without chilling them, and the sun filtered through the trees in soft, golden rays. The birds above chirped and flew in patterns that seemed almost like a dance. It was a quiet, peaceful walk, just what Keith needed to take his mind off everything that had been swirling in his head.

Lance kept a close eye on Keith as they made their way through the forest, watching as Keith’s gaze wandered to the sky, distracted by the birds and the swaying branches. He could tell Keith was still deep in thought, but there was a kind of peace in the silence between them. They didn’t need to talk right now—just being together like this was enough.

As they neared the hot springs, Keith’s pace slowed, his breath coming out in shallow puffs. Lance noticed immediately and set their things down at the edge of the spring. “Go ahead and get in, Keith,” he said, gently letting go of Keith’s hand. “I’m right behind you.”

Keith nodded, though he was clearly a little winded from the walk. He carefully peeled off his shirt, mindful of his wings, which folded tightly against his back as he did so. The sight of his scars—old and new—caught Lance’s attention. The one where Lotor had stabbed him stood out, a jagged reminder of the past, but what really drew Lance’s gaze was the scar in the center of Keith’s chest. It was different, not like the others. Lance had noticed it before, but now, knowing what he knew, it seemed to carry a different weight. He decided not to bring it up for now, though. This wasn’t the time.

Keith slid off his pants, stepping into the water slowly, lowering himself until he was submerged up to his shoulders. A soft, contented sigh escaped him as the heat of the water began to soothe his aching muscles. He leaned his head back, closing his eyes as the tension in his body gradually melted away. It was the most relaxed he’d looked since yesterday.

Lance watched him with a fond smile before undressing and slipping into the water beside him. The warmth immediately enveloped him, and he let out a low sigh of relief as he leaned back against the smooth rocks surrounding the spring. He glanced over at Keith, who was already lost in the sensation of the hot water.

“This feel better?” Lance asked quietly, his voice soft in the peaceful silence.
Keith nodded, his eyes still closed as he hummed in agreement. “Mhm… feels a lot better,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I like it here. It’s quiet… but I like the birds singing.”

Lance’s smile grew as he reached over, resting his hand lightly on Keith’s arm. “Me too,” he murmured. “I’m glad I get to be here with you.”

Keith shifted closer, leaning his head on Lance’s shoulder, wrapping his arm around Lance’s in a gentle embrace. “Me too,” he whispered, his voice sounding lighter now, more at peace. The tension that had plagued him for days seemed to fade, at least for the moment.

They stayed like that for a while, letting the warmth of the spring and the quiet of the forest wrap around them like a comforting blanket. Lance could feel the steady rise and fall of Keith’s breathing, and it reassured him that Keith was finally beginning to relax. He needed this—an escape, even if only for a few hours.

Lance’s eyes drifted to the scar on Keith’s chest again, his mind wandering back to what Alfor had said. Lotor’s experiments, the dragon, the heart that wasn’t Keith’s. There was still so much they didn’t know, and it weighed on Lance just as much as it did on Keith. But here, in the quiet of the hot springs, with Keith resting peacefully against him, Lance allowed himself to push those thoughts aside for now. There would be time to face those questions later. Right now, all that mattered was Keith.

As the birds continued to sing softly overhead, Lance leaned his head back, closing his eyes and letting himself relax fully for the first time in days. They would figure everything out in time. This was only the beginning. But for now, they had each other, and that was enough.

Chapter Text

As the days passed, Keith’s emotions became a whirlwind, an unrelenting storm that he couldn’t calm. Confusion, sadness, happiness, anger, and love all swirled together, each emotion colliding and feeding off the other. And underneath it all, he was scared. Terrified, in fact. He couldn’t shake the irrational fear that Lotor, even though reduced to nothing but ashes, would somehow come back. Maybe it was the power of Lotor’s magic, the remnants of his influence that still lingered in the back of Keith’s mind. Or maybe it was because Keith wasn’t entirely sure how to live in a world without the looming threat of his cousin.

Worse than that fear, though, was the growing certainty that he really was the monster they had all seen. A beast, terrifying and uncontrollable. He remembered the faces in the ballroom, frozen in horror as he unleashed the flames that consumed Lotor. The memory gnawed at him. They were right to be mortified, weren’t they? He had claws, fangs, wings—he wasn’t even sure if he looked more human or dragon some days. The monster label was starting to feel like the only truth he could hold onto.

Lance knew something was wrong. He could see it in the way Keith would clench his fists when he thought no one was watching, the way his eyes would shift nervously when anyone got too close. He could feel it in the air between them, heavy with unspoken words. Lance had tried to talk to him, to reassure him, but every time he brought it up, Keith would shut down, change the subject, or avoid the conversation altogether. It was as if Keith was afraid of acknowledging the turmoil inside him, as though speaking about it might make it real.

Then there was the journey beyond Diabazaal. At first, Keith had been excited, ready to face whatever awaited him, but now that the day was almost upon them, fear had taken over. What if he wasn’t what the Galrans expected? What if they didn’t accept him in this new form? Would they see him as the prince they lost, or would they see only the dragon in him, the thing Lotor had made? The possibilities circled in his mind, most of them bad, and the thought of disappointment settled heavily on his chest. He didn’t want to go anymore, but King Alfor’s patience was wearing thin. The journey had already been delayed, and they couldn’t afford to push it back again.

The last few days had been chaotic. Keith couldn’t bring himself to face the Alteans anymore. The way they looked at him after the ballroom incident—those eyes, wide with fear—it haunted him. The whispers followed him wherever he went. “He burned a man alive.” “Did you see his face? The rage in his eyes?” “Those wings, those horns…he’s not one of us anymore.” The love they once felt for the lost prince had been fleeting, and now it had turned to fear.

Lance sat on the edge of the bed, picking at his dinner. He took small bites, waiting for Keith to join him, though it had been a while since he’d started his bath. He wondered what was taking him so long. The room felt too quiet, too empty without Keith’s presence, and Lance couldn’t shake the sense that something was wrong. His fork hovered over his plate as he strained to listen for any sign of movement from the bathroom. And then he heard it.

Sobs.

Lance’s heart clenched. He was on his feet in seconds, rushing to the bathroom door, pressing his ear against it. His suspicions were confirmed—the sound of Keith crying came through the wood, muffled but unmistakable.

He didn’t knock at first. He just stood there, listening. Keith wasn’t one to cry openly, and hearing him like this felt like a blow to Lance’s chest. His mind raced, trying to think of the right words, the right thing to do. But nothing seemed good enough, nothing felt like it would take away the pain Keith was carrying. He knew Keith thought he was hiding his feelings well, but Lance had always been able to sense when something was wrong. And right now, it was worse than ever.

Taking a deep breath, Lance finally knocked gently on the door. “Keith?” His voice was soft, careful not to startle him. “Are you okay in there?”

There was a pause, a hitch in Keith’s sobs. “Yeah…” Keith’s voice cracked, weak and unconvincing.

Lance’s hand rested on the doorknob. “Can I come in?”

For a moment, there was silence, and Lance wasn’t sure if Keith would answer. But then, barely above a whisper, Keith said, “Yeah.”

Lance hesitated before he quietly opened the bathroom door, the soft creak of the hinges barely audible over the sound of muffled sobs. His heart clenched as he stepped inside, immediately spotting Keith sitting on the floor, knees pulled tightly to his chest, wearing one of Lance’s robes. His raven-black hair hung damp and tangled around his face, and his horns rested against his knees, adding to the weight of his hunched posture. The bathwater was still rippling in the tub behind him, but Keith had long since finished, retreating to the floor in a mess of emotions that he hadn’t let out until now.

Lance took a breath, steadying himself before he crossed the room. “Hey…” he said softly, his voice barely more than a whisper as he approached. He knelt down beside Keith, his presence gentle, unassuming. “You wanna tell me what’s going on?”

Keith didn’t look up. He kept his head down, his arms wrapped tightly around his legs. His whole body trembled with the effort of holding himself together, of keeping everything in when all he wanted was to let it fall apart.

Lance frowned at the sight, his chest aching. “You… don’t want to talk then?” he asked, his voice quieter, careful not to push too hard.

Keith shook his head, hugging his knees tighter, his fingers digging into the soft fabric of the robe. His wet hair clung to his skin, and his horns, normally something Lance loved to admire, seemed to add to the burden weighing down on him.

“Okay…” Lance said softly, shifting slightly as he sat down fully beside him. “How about you listen then? Will you do that?”

There was a long pause. Keith sniffled, his shoulders still shaking, but after a moment, he peeked up at Lance, his red-rimmed eyes filled with hesitation. “Okay…” he mumbled, his voice shaky and fragile, like it might break at any moment.

Lance smiled softly, relieved that Keith hadn’t shut him out completely. He leaned back against the cool tile of the bathroom wall, folding his legs under him as he situated himself beside Keith. He thought for a moment, tapping his chin, then, with a quiet hum, he began speaking.

“Once upon a time, there was a man. A brave knight, known across the land for his courage and strength. He’d fought many battles, saved many lives, and was loved by all. But there was one person who captured his heart—a girl from the forest. The most beautiful girl you ever saw. She had a smile that could light up even the darkest of days, and wherever she went, flowers bloomed in her wake.”

Keith slowly lifted his head a little more, his tear-streaked face turning toward Lance. His curiosity was piqued, even if the sadness still clung to him.

“They would meet every day under a giant oak tree in the heart of the forest,” Lance continued, his voice calm, almost hypnotic. “They laughed, they talked, they shared their hopes and dreams. The knight had never been happier. But one day… the girl didn’t show up.”

Keith’s eyebrows knitted together, a faint frown forming. “Why didn’t she?” he asked softly, his voice still thick with the remnants of his tears.

Lance glanced over at him with a small smile before continuing. “The knight didn’t know. He waited for hours under that oak tree, but she never came. He was devastated. He knew something must have happened—something bad. So, he set off into the deepest part of the forest, determined to find her. He searched for days, through freezing nights, through storm and rain, his armor soaked and heavy, his body weak from hunger and exhaustion. But no matter what, he didn’t give up. He couldn’t. His love for her kept him going.”

Keith’s eyes softened as he listened, his frown easing slightly, but his body was still tense, his grip on his knees unrelenting.

“After three days of searching, he still hadn’t found her,” Lance continued. “He was starting to lose hope. But then… he heard something. A faint sound, like the wind singing through the trees. At first, he thought it was nothing, just the forest playing tricks on him. But the more he listened, the more he realized it wasn’t the wind at all. It was her… she was singing.”

Keith tilted his head slightly, his curiosity deepening. “Singing?” he echoed.

Lance nodded, humming the same tune he’d mentioned earlier. His voice was gentle, melodic, as he repeated the simple tune, his eyes focused ahead, lost in the story. “La, la, la, la, la, la, la…” His voice rose a little higher. “La, la, la, la, la, la, la…”

Keith’s ears twitched, his eyes glued to Lance now. His tears had stopped, his breathing becoming slower, more controlled as he listened to the soothing hum of Lance’s voice. The song was simple, but it held a kind of magic, drawing Keith in further with each note.

Lance glanced at Keith, noticing the shift in his posture, the way his sobs had subsided. He smiled and hummed the melody again, just a little softer this time. “And he followed her voice. It led him deeper into the forest, to a place he’d never been before. And there, standing among the trees… he finally found her.”

Keith’s eyes brightened slightly, though a frown lingered on his face. “Where was she? What happened to her?”

Lance’s smile faltered just a little, his gaze softening. “Well… the girl had been cursed by a witch. Turned into a terrifying monster—her hair as dark as night, her skin as cold as ice. Her eyes, once bright and full of life, had become a haunting red. She had claws like a beast, sharp and deadly, and wings as black as a moonless sky.”

Keith’s frown deepened, his mind drawing parallels to his own reflection. “Why would the witch do that to her?”

“Because the girl was happy,” Lance explained, his voice growing softer. “And the witch hated happiness. She wanted to take everything away from the girl, to make her feel ugly, unwanted… like a monster.”

Keith’s grip on his knees tightened again, his chest tightening as the story hit too close to home. He could feel that same weight pressing down on him, the same fear that maybe the people at the ball were right to be afraid of him. Maybe he was a monster too.

“But when the knight saw her,” Lance said, breaking through Keith’s dark thoughts, “he didn’t see a monster. He didn’t flinch or turn away. He wrapped his arms around her and held her close, relieved that she was alive. The girl was confused. She asked him, ‘Aren’t you scared of me? Don’t you think I’m horrifying?’ But the knight just smiled and said, ‘I could never be afraid of you, no matter what you look like. You will always be my flower, thorns and all.’”

Keith stared at Lance, his heart pounding. The words echoed in his mind, filling the spaces that had been consumed by self-doubt and fear. He swallowed hard, his voice barely a whisper. “Did she ever turn back?”

Lance shook his head slowly, reaching over to lift Keith’s chin gently so that their eyes met. “She didn’t need to, starlight,” he said, his voice tender. “She was already the most beautiful rose in the garden… even with the thorns she couldn’t see.”

Keith’s lip quivered as he fought to hold back the tears that had been threatening to spill over for days. Lance’s words lingered in the air, wrapping around him like the robe he was wearing—soft, comforting, but almost too much to bear. His heart ached, not just from the story, but from the way Lance looked at him, as if he truly believed every word he had just spoken.

Keith stared at him, his breath catching in his throat. For a moment, he felt like that girl in the story, lost and changed, unsure of how anyone could ever look at him and not see the monster that he feared he had become. His mind flashed back to the ballroom, the horrified faces, the whispers. The memory of the man turning to ash beneath his claws made his stomach twist. How could Lance still look at him like this—like he was anything but terrifying?

But Lance’s eyes held him steady, unwavering. His expression didn’t change, didn’t falter. Keith’s vision blurred as the tears he had been holding back finally spilled over, his shoulders shaking as the sobs he had tried so hard to suppress came flooding back. He let out a quiet, broken sound, something between a sigh and a sob, before burying his face in Lance’s chest.

Lance didn’t hesitate. He wrapped his arms around Keith, pulling him close, as if he could shield him from all the pain, all the fear that had been weighing him down. He held him as though Keith might shatter if he let go, one hand stroking through Keith’s damp hair, the other resting firmly on his back, grounding him.

“It’s okay…” Lance whispered, his voice barely audible over the sound of Keith’s quiet sobs. “It’s okay, starlight. I’ve got you.” He pressed his lips to the top of Keith’s head in a gentle kiss, his breath warm against his hair. “You’re safe with me.”

Keith clung to him like he was his lifeline, his fingers clutching at the fabric of Lance’s shirt as if letting go would send him spiraling into the dark void of his fears. “I’m scared,” Keith’s voice was muffled, his words broken between quiet sobs. “What if… what if I really am a monster?”

Lance shook his head, his grip tightening around Keith. “You’re not a monster, Keith,” he said firmly, but his tone was still soft, soothing. “You’re not. You’re my Keith. The same Keith you’ve always been. And nothing—not your wings, or your claws, or anything else—can change that.”

Keith’s sobs began to quiet, though his tears still flowed freely. He pressed his face further into Lance’s chest, his body trembling with the effort of trying to believe those words. Lance continued to hold him, gently rocking him back and forth, his hand never leaving Keith’s hair.

“I love you,” Lance whispered after a long pause, the words slipping out like a confession, as if he had been holding them back for far too long. “I love every part of you. Even the parts you don’t think anyone could love.”

Keith froze, his breath catching in his throat again, but this time for a different reason. Slowly, he lifted his head from Lance’s chest, his tear-filled eyes searching Lance’s face for any sign of doubt. But there was none. Lance’s gaze was steady, sincere, filled with nothing but affection.

Keith opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out. His throat felt tight, his heart pounding so loudly he was sure Lance could hear it. Instead, he just stared at Lance, his mind racing, his emotions swirling in a confusing storm of relief, fear, and something else—something warm and unfamiliar.

Lance smiled softly, reaching up to wipe away the remaining tears on Keith’s cheeks with his thumb. “You don’t have to say anything,” he said gently, as if sensing the turmoil in Keith’s mind. “Just know that I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere. Not ever.”

Keith’s lips trembled as he tried to form some kind of response, but the only thing he could do was throw his arms around Lance again, holding him even tighter than before. His head rested against Lance’s shoulder, his eyes squeezed shut, as if trying to hold onto this moment for as long as possible.

“Thank you,” Keith whispered, his voice so quiet it was barely audible.

Lance pressed another soft kiss to Keith’s hair, his arms still wrapped protectively around him. “You’re welcome, starlight,” he murmured. “Always.”

They stayed like that for a long time, the world outside the bathroom fading away until it was just the two of them, wrapped in each other’s warmth. For the first time in what felt like forever, Keith allowed himself to let go of his fears, even if only for a little while, and trust that, in Lance’s arms, he was safe.

Lance’s fingers traced slow, soothing circles on Keith’s back as they lay together, the quiet of the room wrapping around them like a comforting cocoon. The soft flicker of candlelight cast long shadows on the walls, their flickering flames mirroring the unease Keith had been struggling with for days now.

“You know we have to go tomorrow, don’t you?” Lance’s voice was gentle, barely louder than a whisper, but it broke the silence like a stone dropped into still water. His hand continued its calming rhythm, his touch grounding Keith in the moment.

Keith shifted slightly in Lance’s arms but didn’t pull away. He nodded, but his body remained tense. “I know… I’m just… scared,” he admitted, his voice a fragile thread of vulnerability he usually kept hidden. “What if… what if she’s not there?” The uncertainty weighed heavily on him, and it seeped into every word, like an anchor pulling him down into a sea of doubt.

Lance hummed softly, thoughtful as his hand continued its comforting motion on Keith’s back. He understood the weight of Keith’s fears more than words could express, but he also knew Keith needed reassurance, not more questions. “Then I suppose,” he began slowly, “we’ll just have to keep looking. We won’t stop until we find her. Together.”

Keith turned his face into Lance’s chest, his brows furrowed, his mind swimming with so many possibilities—most of them bad. “And… what if she is there?” Keith’s voice was quieter now, almost lost in the fabric of Lance’s shirt. “What do I do? What do I say?” His breath hitched as he asked, the vulnerability in his voice more apparent than ever. He hated feeling this way, so unsure of himself, so exposed.

Lance’s hand paused for a moment before he smiled softly, a warmth in his expression that he hoped would reach Keith. “You’ll know what to say, Keith,” he replied with certainty. “No matter what happens, she won’t care about your horns or your wings. She’ll see you, the real you. And you’ll be okay. I’ll be with you every step of the way, remember?”

Keith sighed, his breath shaky but not as burdened as before. The words felt like a lifeline, something to cling to in the midst of the storm inside him. He let his head rest fully against Lance’s chest, the steady rhythm of Lance’s heartbeat soothing his frazzled nerves. It was something real, something constant, when everything else felt like it was spiraling out of control.

“You know, starlight,” Lance said after a long stretch of silence, his voice breaking through Keith’s thoughts like a beacon, “you’re the strongest person I’ve ever met.”

Keith’s eyes fluttered open, surprise flickering in them as he tilted his head up slightly to look at Lance. “I am?” His voice was quiet, uncertain, as if he couldn’t quite believe it.

“Of course you are,” Lance answered, his tone full of conviction. His hand drifted from Keith’s back to his hair, running his fingers gently through the damp strands. “You survived being with the most evil sorcerer for almost your entire life, Keith. You came back from the dead, literally. Not to mention…” Lance chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through his chest, “you gave my dad a good talking to at the ball. Not many people have the guts to do that.”

Keith let out a small, breathy laugh at that, though it was tinged with weariness. His lips twitched upward into the faintest of smiles, but the weight of his worries still hung over him like a cloud. “I just… I don’t know. I’m still scared. There’s so much I don’t know about her. And about my past. What if it’s all too much?”

Lance’s smile softened, and he rested his chin on top of Keith’s head, holding him a little tighter. “It’s okay to be scared, Keith. You’ve been through hell and back, and no one expects you to have all the answers right away. But I know you. You’re going to do great things, things that’ll change everything, for you and for everyone else.”

Keith stared at the fabric of Lance’s shirt, his fingers gripping it lightly as if searching for something tangible to hold on to. After a moment, his voice came out, softer but with a glimmer of hope. “You mean we’re going to do great things?”

Lance pulled back slightly, just enough to look down at Keith, his smile growing wider. “Yeah,” he said, nodding. “We’re going to do great things. Together.”

Keith felt the warmth of those words settle into his chest, easing the tightness that had been there for days. The future was still uncertain, full of potential pain and challenges, but Lance’s presence beside him made it feel just a little less terrifying. His gaze softened as he looked up at Lance, and for the first time in what felt like forever, there was a spark of light in his eyes.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” Keith whispered, his voice full of sincerity.

“You won’t ever have to find out,” Lance replied, his own voice steady and sure as he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to Keith’s forehead. “I’m not going anywhere, starlight.”

Keith let out a shaky breath, closing his eyes as he leaned into the kiss, the tension in his body finally beginning to melt away. Wrapped in Lance’s arms, the world didn’t seem quite as frightening. The journey ahead still loomed over them, but for now, Keith allowed himself to rest, knowing he didn’t have to face it alone.

Chapter Text

The morning came with a surprising sense of calm, the kind of peace that felt almost surreal considering the journey they were about to embark on. Lance stirred softly, still half-asleep, feeling the familiar warmth of Keith nestled against him. Keith’s red, gold-flecked tail was coiled gently around Lance’s leg, its slight weight comforting in its presence. Lance could feel the rhythmic rise and fall of Keith’s chest, his soft, even breaths whispering against Lance’s skin as he slept with his head resting on Lance’s chest.

The sunlight crept slowly through the curtains, casting a soft golden glow across the room. It painted everything in warm hues, the light catching on Keith’s raven-black hair and illuminating the glittering scales of his tail. Lance blinked his eyes open, the world still hazy with the remnants of sleep. He let out a quiet yawn, careful not to disturb the sleeping prince in his arms. For a moment, he just lay there, taking in the serenity of the scene.

Keith looked so peaceful like this, curled up against him, his body relaxed in a way it so rarely was during the day. His worries and fears seemed to melt away in sleep, and Lance couldn’t help but smile softly, his heart swelling with affection. It was rare to see Keith so unburdened, his usual guarded demeanor replaced with this quiet vulnerability.

They had a little more time, Lance reminded himself. There was no rush. Their bags had been packed the night before, every detail of their journey meticulously prepared. The only thing left to do was wait for Adam to come fetch them. Everything was ready, but for now, the world outside their room could wait.

Lance shifted just slightly, careful not to wake Keith, his arms tightening around him protectively. He felt a deep sense of responsibility in moments like this, knowing that if Keith was asleep, at least he wasn’t worrying. The weight of everything they were about to face—the uncertainty, the questions, the fear—could wait until Keith woke up. For now, Lance wanted to give him this time, this brief respite from the storm of thoughts that no doubt plagued him when he was awake.

He tilted his head slightly, gazing down at Keith’s sleeping face. There was a gentleness there, a softness that was often hidden beneath layers of pain and guardedness. Lance’s thumb brushed lightly over Keith’s arm, the touch barely there, but enough to remind him of the connection they shared. He felt the warmth of Keith’s body pressed against him, the steady beat of his heart a quiet, constant reassurance.

Lance sighed softly, his gaze drifting to the sunlight filtering through the curtains. The world outside seemed so far away, so removed from this peaceful moment. He wanted to hold onto it for as long as he could. Because once Keith woke, the day would begin, and with it, the journey they had been preparing for. But right now, none of that mattered. Right now, it was just the two of them, wrapped in the quiet stillness of the early morning.

He closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the warmth, the closeness. It felt like they were suspended in time, just for a little while. And Lance would hold onto that, giving Keith every second of peace he could.

Because soon, the world would come knocking, and they would have to face whatever awaited them beyond these walls. But for now, Lance held him, protecting him in the only way he could, by letting him sleep a little longer.

It wasn’t much longer before a firm knock echoed through the quiet room, breaking the tranquility of the morning. Lance sighed softly, not quite ready to let go of the peaceful moment he and Keith had shared. But he knew the day had to start eventually. Sitting up carefully with Keith still nestled in his arms, Lance called out, “Come in.”

The door creaked open, revealing General Adam standing in the doorway. His posture was as straight and formal as ever, but there was a hint of curiosity in his expression as his eyes landed on Keith, still drowsy from sleep. “Good morning, your highnesses,” Adam greeted with a respectful nod. “It’s time for us to go. Your mother is already waiting to say her goodbyes.”

For a brief moment, Adam’s gaze lingered on Keith, the boy he had heard so much about but hadn’t had the chance to meet properly. There was something in his eyes, a mix of curiosity and awe. This was the dragon prince, the one who had stirred both fear and admiration throughout the kingdom. But right now, Keith didn’t look intimidating at all—just a sleepy boy with mussed hair and wings folded close to his back.

Lance nodded, offering a polite smile in return. “Yes, we’ll be there shortly. Thank you, Adam.”

“Of course,” Adam replied, bowing slightly before retreating from the room, the door closing with a soft click behind him.

Lance chuckled as he glanced down at Keith, who was starting to blink awake. The way Keith yawned, stretching his arms and wings in a sleepy, cat-like motion, made Lance’s heart swell. There was something endearing about how vulnerable he looked in these moments. “Did you sleep well, starlight?” Lance asked, his voice gentle as he reached out to brush a few strands of hair away from Keith’s face.

Keith nodded, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes. His wings fluttered slightly as he stretched, the faint shimmer of his scales catching the light.

“Good,” Lance said with a satisfied smile. “We’ve got a long day ahead of us. It’s going to take two days to get where we’re going.” He stood, groaning softly as he stretched his stiff muscles. Sleeping with Keith wrapped around him had caused a few aches, but he didn’t mind. “You ready, your highness?” Lance teased, grinning playfully as he extended a hand to help Keith up.

Keith sighed, another yawn escaping his lips as his sharp fangs briefly flashed in the morning light. “Mm… I’m ready as I’ll ever be,” he muttered, the hint of nervousness in his voice betraying his calm facade.

Lance could sense the underlying anxiety in Keith’s words. He leaned down and ruffled Keith’s already messy hair, trying to lighten the mood. “Remember, Keith,” Lance said softly, “you’ll always be my flower. Thorns and all. And if no one else can handle your thorns…” He let the words hang in the air for a moment, giving them weight. “…then they don’t deserve your real beauty.”

Keith’s cheeks flushed a soft pink at Lance’s words, and he ducked his head with a shy smile. “Okay,” he murmured, the nervousness in his voice melting into something softer, more secure.

“Come on, now,” Lance said, grabbing a few small blankets from the side table. “Adam’s waiting, and we can take a nap in the carriage. Doesn’t that sound like fun?”

Keith tilted his head slightly, his curiosity piqued. As they left the room, making their way down the hallway toward the grand foyer, Keith glanced over at Lance. “Who’s Adam?” he asked, his voice quiet but inquisitive.

Lance chuckled, not surprised by Keith’s question. “I’m actually not surprised you don’t remember him,” Lance began, his tone light but fond. “He and your brother used to… well, they used to date.”

“Date?” Keith repeated, frowning slightly as he tried to wrap his head around the word.

“Yeah, like you and me,” Lance explained with a grin. “They loved each other. But, well… our fathers didn’t exactly approve of it. They had different plans, like wanting Allura to marry Shiro.” Lance’s smile grew wry as he shook his head. “But neither of them liked that idea. Guess they could’ve waited until we got older, huh?”

Keith’s eyebrows furrowed. “So… what happened?”

Lance sighed, the smile fading slightly as he continued. “Well, your brother—Shiro—left right when the war started. He couldn’t bear to fight against Adam, so he… he ran away.” There was a pause, the air growing heavier with the weight of the story. “Adam’s still pretty broken up about it. So, maybe don’t bring it up, okay?”

Keith nodded solemnly, understanding the gravity of what Lance was saying. “I won’t say anything. Promise.”

Lance’s smile returned, albeit a little softer this time. “Good. Now, let’s go find your people,” he said, his tone becoming more upbeat as he guided Keith toward the next step of their journey.

As they approached the grand foyer, the familiar sound of their footsteps echoed off the marble floors. The morning light streamed through the tall windows, casting long shadows across the hall. Lance’s hand rested gently on the small of Keith’s back as they walked, providing a steadying presence for the nervous prince beside him. Keith’s heart raced, his mind swirling with a dozen uncertainties. When they turned the final corner, Keith’s breath hitched. There, standing at the entrance of the castle, were King Alfor, Queen Nancy, and Princess Allura, all dressed in their royal finery, waiting for them.

The sight of them sent a wave of apprehension through Keith. He felt as though they were being sent off on a mission of life or death, the weight of what lay ahead pressing down on him. The enormity of it all was suffocating for a moment—facing the Galran fleet, seeking answers about his past, and coming to terms with his new form. He wasn’t just worried about what they would find, but how his people would receive him. What if they rejected him? What if his mother wasn’t there at all?

Queen Nancy, ever the calming presence, smiled warmly as she spotted the boys approaching, still in their pajamas. Her eyes softened with fondness, and a small laugh escaped her lips. “Are you planning to nap in the carriage?” she teased gently, her voice light and full of affection. Allura, standing beside her, shook her head with a chuckle.

“Some things never change,” Allura said with a smile, her gaze flicking to Lance with a knowing look. She had grown up watching her brother get away with the most unconventional choices, and this was no different.

Lance grinned sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “What can I say? We’re both tired,” he admitted, shooting a sideways glance at Keith. “I figured we could at least sleep until we can’t anymore.”

The queen laughed softly, her eyes twinkling as she regarded the boys with maternal fondness. “You boys always know how to make the most of your time,” she said. Then, more seriously, she added, “But do take care of each other. There’s much that awaits you, and it’s not an easy road ahead.”

“We will,” Lance said with quiet determination, squeezing Keith’s hand gently. “We’ll be safe, I promise.”

King Alfor stepped forward, his posture tall and regal as always. Despite the solemnity of the moment, there was warmth in his eyes as he looked at the two of them. “I know you’ll return with good news,” he said with confidence. His gaze then shifted to Keith, who stood a little straighter, sensing that the king had more to say.

Keith’s ears perked up, and he instinctively straightened his back, facing the king with a hint of anxiety. “Yes, Your Majesty?” he asked, his voice formal and laced with tension.

But Alfor chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Loosen up, Keith,” he said, his tone kind. “You’re family now. There’s no need for such formality. And I assure you, your people—they’ll be happy to see you again. Don’t forget, you’re not just the dragon prince. You’re their prince.”

Keith felt the tightness in his shoulders begin to ease, though his nerves still hummed beneath the surface. He let out a breath and nodded, dropping some of the rigidity in his stance. “I’ll try… Thank you,” he said quietly, his voice a bit softer now. The king’s words helped, even if only a little. It was a reminder that no matter how monstrous he sometimes felt, there were people who still believed in him, who still saw him as worthy of love and acceptance.

Lance, sensing Keith’s slight shift, chuckled as he took Keith’s hand once more, lacing their fingers together. “Well, off we go then,” he said cheerfully, injecting some much-needed levity into the moment. “We’ll be back in a week! Hopefully with some answers.” His voice was bright, full of hope, as he glanced between the king and queen, trying to keep the mood light for Keith’s sake.

Nancy smiled, watching them with a hint of motherly pride. “Take care of each other,” she repeated softly, her eyes lingering on them both.

Keith offered a small, shy smile as he nodded. He still wasn’t entirely sure what lay ahead, but knowing that Lance was beside him made it easier to face. Together, they turned toward the large doors that led out of the castle, where the carriage waited for them. Adam stood nearby, his usual stoic expression in place, though there was something softer in his demeanor as he prepared for the journey.

As they descended the castle steps, the crisp morning air greeted them. Lance chuckled, pulling the blankets he had grabbed earlier under his arm. “We’re going to take the most comfortable nap ever,” he said, winking at Keith. “I mean, who doesn’t want to sleep while being chauffeured in a royal carriage?”

Keith gazed around the interior of the carriage, his brow furrowing in curiosity. Everything felt so new, yet vaguely familiar, as if he’d once known this kind of luxury but had long since forgotten it. The cushions were soft beneath him, and the windows framed the early morning landscape, now beginning to blur as the horses stirred in their traces.

“I suppose so,” he muttered, still lost in thought. “But I don’t remember ever being in one of these.”

Lance chuckled, his voice breaking the quiet that had settled between them. “Oh, you have,” he said warmly, nudging Keith’s side gently. “We used to travel like this all the time, back when we were kids. You and I would sit together, passing the time with naps, games, or just making up stories. We’d read books aloud, pretending to be knights or princes in faraway lands. And of course, you were always the prince.”

Keith blinked at the memory, or perhaps the lack of one, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He could picture it, even if the details were hazy, and something about the way Lance spoke made it feel real—like a piece of his forgotten past. “That sounds… nice,” Keith said, his voice softening. “Maybe we can do that again?”

Lance grinned, his eyes lighting up. “Definitely! We’ve got more than enough time to relive all that. Two whole days ahead of us, starlight,” he said with excitement, his usual bright energy cutting through the early-morning drowsiness. “We’ll play pretend, nap, read, and do whatever we feel like. It’s going to be fun.”

Keith couldn’t help but smile, his laugh bubbling up from his chest as he nodded. “Okay, that sounds good. Let’s do it.”

Just then, the door to the carriage creaked open slightly, and Adam appeared, standing tall and formal in his uniform, though there was a trace of warmth in his gaze. “Good morning, Your Highnesses,” he greeted them, bowing slightly as his eyes briefly met Keith’s before shifting to Lance. “Are you ready to start the journey?” His voice was calm and measured, perfectly reflecting the role of protector he’d taken on for this trip.

Keith tilted his head slightly, the tip of his tail twitching with curiosity. “Will you be driving us?” he asked, glancing between Adam and the horses that were already harnessed outside.

Adam shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. “No, not today. Master Coran will be handling the horses. He’s quite skilled. I’m here solely for your protection.” His gaze shifted back to the horizon for a brief moment before returning to Keith. “I’ll be sitting with Coran upfront, keeping an eye on things. The cabin is yours—you’ll have plenty of privacy.”

Lance grinned at Adam’s formality, sensing the general’s no-nonsense attitude but appreciating the humor tucked beneath his words. “Very kind of you, Adam,” Lance said, still chuckling. “But if the front seat gets boring, or if Coran talks your ear off, feel free to join us in here.” There was always something playful in Lance’s tone, as if he could lighten the mood of any situation.

“Thank you for the offer, my prince,” Adam replied, his voice dipping into a lower, slightly amused tone. While Adam didn’t often let his guard down, there was something about Lance’s energy that even he couldn’t entirely resist. “But I think I’ll manage.”

After a moment, Adam’s expression shifted back to his usual seriousness, his hand resting on the door as he straightened. “We must get going. The road ahead is long.”

“Alright, alright,” Lance said, turning to Keith with a playful smile. “Let’s get going, then.”

Lance climbed into the carriage first, turning back to help Keith settle in. Given Keith’s wings and tail, it wasn’t the easiest task—they had to be careful not to cramp him up in the tight space. But after a few moments of adjusting and some light shuffling, Keith found a comfortable position, his red-and-gold, glittering tail curling along the seat beside him. His wings folded carefully, resting against the soft cushions. It was a snug fit, but one that somehow felt cozy.

Once Keith was situated, Lance, instead of taking the empty seat opposite him, plopped down right beside him, practically molding himself into Keith’s side. He stretched out his legs, leaning into Keith’s warmth as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “You’re gonna love this,” Lance said, already yawning, the early morning catching up to him. “Carriage rides are so relaxing. I’m already tired just thinking about it.”

Keith smirked slightly, watching Lance get comfortable as he too stifled a yawn. His body, still waking up, felt heavy with the remnants of sleep. “I’m tired, too,” Keith admitted, his eyes drooping a little as he relaxed into the cushions. The gentle swaying of the carriage was already soothing him into a calmer state.

“Perfect,” Lance murmured, snuggling into Keith’s shoulder, reaching down to gently grab Keith’s tail. He held it like a makeshift teddy bear, the scales soft and smooth against his hands. “Let’s nap, then,” Lance said sleepily, his voice muffled as he rested his head against Keith’s shoulder.

Keith chuckled softly, his amusement light but genuine. There was something comforting about the way Lance always found a way to make everything feel okay, even when they were heading toward the unknown. “Yeah… okay,” Keith agreed, his voice low and sleepy. He stretched his legs out, resting his feet on the opposite seat, as he adjusted his wings behind him.

As the horses began to trot, the carriage lurched forward, the wheels creaking and rumbling over the cobblestone road. Keith felt the rhythmic motion of the carriage sway them from side to side, almost like a cradle rocking gently in the wind. Outside, the gates of Altea slowly faded from view, giving way to the open road ahead, stretching far into the horizon.

For a moment, Keith let himself close his eyes, focusing on the sound of the horses’ hooves, the distant hum of the world beyond the carriage walls, and the soft breaths of Lance beside him. The gentle rocking, combined with the warmth of Lance pressed against him, lulled him further into relaxation. He could feel the tension in his body slipping away, the anxiety of the journey momentarily forgotten.

They hadn’t left the safety of Altea for the unknown wilderness of Daibazaal just yet, but in this quiet moment, nestled together in the back of the carriage, everything felt peaceful. Keith’s mind drifted, caught between sleep and waking, as the carriage rolled onward. He felt Lance’s steady breathing, the way his chest rose and fell with each breath, and the reassuring weight of Lance’s arm draped across him.

Outside, the sun began to climb higher into the sky, casting long rays of light over the land. But inside the carriage, all was still and quiet. The world outside could wait for a little while longer.

Keith’s last thought before sleep took him was simple: wherever this journey took them, he knew he wouldn’t be facing it alone. And that, for now, was enough.

Chapter Text

Their journey began quietly, with a much-needed nap. Lance, exhausted from the previous night’s emotional whirlwind, had quickly dozed off, his head resting on Keith’s shoulder. Keith, however, was not as lucky. Though he tried, sleep evaded him. He drifted in and out, but his thoughts kept pulling him back to wakefulness. Finally, unable to settle, he sat up in his seat, careful not to disturb Lance, and gazed out the window.

The scenery outside the carriage was serene at first. Trees thick with green, the sun glinting off their leaves as they passed. They crossed gentle hills, and at one point, a bridge that spanned over a sparkling river. The rhythmic clatter of the horses’ hooves over the cobblestones had a calming effect, but still, Keith’s mind raced. The farther they traveled, the more the landscape began to shift. Green gave way to barren land, the warmth of the sun replaced by a biting chill.

By the time they neared Diabazaal, it felt like they’d crossed an invisible threshold. The trees were skeletal, stripped of life. The grass had turned brittle and brown, and patches of snow littered the ground in a strange contrast. It was a sudden and almost magical transformation of the landscape, one that took Keith by surprise. He pulled the blanket Lance had packed tighter around himself, watching his breath fog up the window.

Then, without warning, the carriage came to a stop. Keith blinked and leaned forward, wondering if something had gone wrong. Just as he was about to wake Lance, the door opened and Adam stepped inside.

“Is everything okay?” Keith asked, his voice a mix of curiosity and mild concern.

Adam nodded reassuringly, closing the door behind him as the carriage started to move again. “Yes, everything’s fine, your highness.” He settled into the seat across from Keith, rubbing his hands together. “I’d like to join you in here, if you don’t mind. My armor isn’t exactly suited for this kind of weather.”

Keith raised an eyebrow and glanced at Adam’s metal armor. “Isn’t it going to be like this where we’re going?”

Adam shook his head. “Not quite. The area around the old kingdom is cold, but nothing like this. Your homeland has a barrier of blizzards around it—one of its old defenses. Though the storms have weakened over the years, it’s still not a climate fit for metal armor. We’ll be fine once we get closer.”

Keith nodded slowly, understanding. He glanced down at Lance, still sound asleep beside him, his tail wrapped loosely around his leg. “I see,” he murmured.

Adam chuckled softly, noticing Lance’s peaceful state. “Looks like Prince Lance is still out cold.”

Keith couldn’t help but smile at that. “He spent all night holding me. He didn’t get much sleep.” He paused, then looked back at Adam. “You don’t have to be so formal, you know. Just call me Keith. And him, Lance. I’m… still getting used to all this prince stuff.”

Adam gave a small smile, nodding in agreement. “I’ve heard as much. Well, if it’s what makes you more comfortable, Keith it is.”

For a moment, there was a comfortable silence between them, the quiet clatter of the carriage the only sound. Then Adam spoke again, his tone thoughtful.

“You know,” he began, “you’re a lot like him.”

Keith tilted his head, his ear perking up in interest. “A lot like who?”

“Your brother,” Adam said quietly.

Keith straightened at the mention of his brother, his eyes widening slightly. His brother—Shiro. The man he barely remembered but whose absence had always haunted him. His heart beat a little faster at the thought of him.

“How?” Keith asked, his voice quieter now, curiosity and longing mingling.

Adam leaned back, his eyes growing distant for a moment. “It’s in the way you carry yourself. The way you try to handle everything on your own, even when you don’t have to. Shiro was the same. Always putting everyone else first, always bearing the weight of the world on his shoulders. Even when he was hurting, he wouldn’t let anyone see it.” Adam sighed softly, his breath misting in the cold air. “He was a protector, just like you.”

Keith felt his throat tighten at that, a flood of emotions welling up inside him. His tails grip on lances leg tightened a little. He wasn’t sure what to say, so he simply nodded, looking down at his hands as his mind raced. Protector. That word lingered in his mind, pulling at something deep inside him.

“I barely remember him,” Keith admitted after a moment, his voice small. “Sometimes it feels like… like I don’t even know him.”

Adam’s gaze softened. “You knew him, Keith. Maybe not in the way you wanted, but you knew him. And he knew you. He loved you—he talked about you all the time.”

Keith blinked, taken aback. “He did?”

Adam nodded. “Of course. He was always thinking about you, even when he wasn’t with you. You were the reason he kept fighting. He wanted a better world for you to grow up in. When you disappeared, I think it hurt him the most of all. That’s why he left. To find you.”

Keith’s chest tightened at that, a lump forming in his throat. He didn’t know what to say. All this time, he had thought he was alone, but hearing this—hearing that his brother had been thinking of him, even when he was far away—it was almost too much to process.

Adam smiled gently. “You remind me of him in the best ways, Keith. But you’re your own person too. You’ve been through things he never had to face. You’ve grown into someone strong—stronger than you might think.”

Keith swallowed hard, his eyes stinging with unshed tears. He quickly blinked them away, not wanting to seem weak. But Adam noticed, his expression softening even more.

“It’s okay to miss him. I miss him too,” Adam said softly, his voice filled with quiet understanding. “It’s okay to feel lost sometimes. You’re not alone in this.”

Keith nodded, trying to hold himself together, his lips pressed into a thin line as he stared out of the carriage window. The bleak, snow-covered landscape stretched out before them like a desolate world, cold and unforgiving. It mirrored what he felt inside—isolated, burdened with emotions he couldn’t quite process. The gentle sway of the carriage was the only rhythm that anchored him in the present, but his thoughts continued to drift toward his brother, toward everything he’d lost and everything he still didn’t understand.

After a long pause, Keith finally broke the silence. His voice was quiet, almost hesitant. “Lance said… not to talk about him around you.”

Adam let out a soft, unexpected chuckle. “Is that what he said?” There was a hint of amusement in his tone, but it was tinged with sadness. “Well, that’s just Lance looking out for me, I suppose. He doesn’t want me to be sad… Shiro left without saying goodbye, after all.”

Keith felt a pang of sympathy at that. “He did? Oh… I’m sorry,” he murmured, his brow furrowing.

Adam shook his head slowly, his eyes distant, as though he were recalling memories that still stung. “None of this was ever your fault, Keith,” he said gently, his gaze shifting to meet Keith’s. “Shiro was never really good at goodbyes, and… he knew he had to go alone. He didn’t want to fight in that war. Neither did I.” He sighed deeply, the weight of the years and the choices made hanging in the air. “But… it turns out, it wasn’t for nothing, huh?” His lips curled into a small, bittersweet smile.

Keith tried to smile back, but it faltered almost immediately. The thought of war, of everything that had happened because of him—because of his very existence—churned in his stomach like a sickness. His people, the Alteans, wiped out, or at least driven to near extinction. The Galrans, too, fighting for control, for power. And all of it, in some way, tied back to him, to his lineage, to the blood that ran through his veins.

His throat tightened, and for a moment, he felt like he couldn’t breathe. He wanted to say something, to push back against the guilt that gnawed at him, but he couldn’t find the words. He just sat there, his hands clenching and unclenching in his lap, his gaze fixed on the snowy wasteland outside, as though he were trying to will himself into being invisible.

Adam, ever perceptive, noticed the shift in Keith’s demeanor. He reached over and placed a hand on Keith’s shoulder, a firm yet comforting touch. “I know what you’re thinking,” Adam said, his voice soft but steady. “But you have to remember, it’s not your fault. None of this is. The war… it could’ve been avoided if the leaders had just talked to each other. But you know how Galrans are—stubborn, proud—and Alteans, well, they’d do anything to prove they’re right. This was never on you, Keith. It’s not on any one person.”

Keith took a deep breath, Adam’s words sinking in, but the guilt was hard to shake. He’d heard it before—from Lance, from others—but hearing it from Adam, someone who had loved his brother and been part of the war’s aftermath, made it feel more real. Slowly, he nodded, forcing the tension in his shoulders to ease, though the heaviness in his chest lingered.

“Thank you,” Keith finally whispered, his voice small but sincere.

Adam smiled, a quiet, understanding smile, and lowered his hand. “We’ll be nearing the castle soon,” he said, his tone shifting back to a more practical, reassuring cadence. “We’ll stop there for the night, get some rest. Then tomorrow, we’ll head toward the fleet.”

Keith nodded again, grateful for the change in subject. Though, the thought of being in that cold, dark castle again made something inside him itch. But he supposed there was no where better to seek shelter. He leaned back in his seat, casting a glance at Lance, still sleeping soundly beside him. His heart softened as he watched him, peaceful and unaware of the weight that hung between him and Adam’s conversation.

As the carriage continued to rattle along, the world outside began to fade into twilight, the cold air thickening as the snow swirled in soft flurries against the windows. Keith felt the weariness begin to creep up on him again, though it wasn’t the kind that sleep could easily fix. He tried to focus on what lay ahead—the castle, the rest, the journey beyond that—but his mind kept circling back to his brother, to everything that had been left unsaid, to everything that still felt unfinished.

He wondered what Shiro would think of him now—what he’d say if he saw him like this. Would he be proud? Or would he still see the little brother he left behind all those years ago? Keith didn’t know, and the uncertainty gnawed at him like a shadow he couldn’t shake.

Keith felt Lance shift beside him, the gentle weight of his head leaving his shoulder as Lance stretched and rubbed his eyes. He yawned deeply, his voice still thick with sleep as he mumbled, “How long was I out?”

Adam, who had settled in across from them, leaned back with a soft sigh, his lips curling into a teasing smirk. “Long enough for it to get dark outside,” he quipped, giving Keith a playful side glance.

Lance blinked, startled by the statement, and sat up straight, his eyes darting to the window. “Wha-? Really?!”

Adam chuckled, shaking his head. “Not exactly. We’re in Diabazaal right now. It just looks dark because of the clouds,” he clarified, amusement still evident in his tone.

Lance let out a long sigh of relief, sinking back into his seat with a groggy smile. His hands rested lazily on his lap as he glanced around the dimly lit cabin, the tension slipping away from his body. “For a second, I thought I slept the entire day away,” he mumbled. Then, noticing Adam’s presence in the carriage, he pieced together the reason for his company. “You’re here because of the cold, aren’t you? That armor can’t be doing you any favors in this weather.”

Adam nodded, his face more serious now. “Yeah, the temperature out there is dropping fast. It’s not the kind of weather that metal armor was made for,” he said, glancing briefly out the window at the snow-covered landscape. “We’ll be at the castle soon, though. We’ll set up camp there for the night.”

Lance frowned slightly at the mention of the castle, the unease creeping back into his features. He cast a worried glance at Keith, searching his expression for any sign of discomfort. “The castle?” His voice lowered as his concern grew. “No, we can’t go in there…”

Keith felt the weight of Lance’s words, the hesitation in his tone. The castle—that castle—held so many dark memories, painful echoes of the past that neither of them wanted to face. But Keith also knew there was no avoiding it. They needed a place to stay, and the castle was the only real shelter in the harsh landscape of Diabazaal.

He placed a gentle hand on Lance’s arm, feeling the tension there. “It’s okay,” Keith said, his voice calm but firm. He met Lance’s eyes, trying to reassure him. “I can handle it.”

Lance’s frown deepened, uncertainty flashing in his eyes. He searched Keith’s face for a moment, as though he was trying to find the strength Keith was claiming. “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice softer now, laced with worry.

Keith hesitated, the memories flickering in the back of his mind like shadows. The cold halls, the way the stone walls seemed to close in on him, the echoes of Lotor’s voice… But he buried it. Just for now. There was no other option, and he couldn’t let his fear show, not now, not when Lance was counting on him to be strong.

He nodded, though his heart raced a little faster. “Yes,” Keith said, his voice steady despite the tightness in his chest. “I can do it. It’s just for tonight.”

Lance sighed, the sound filled with reluctant acceptance. His hand slid over Keith’s, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Okay,” he said, though the doubt lingered in his eyes. “But if it gets to be too much, we’ll find somewhere else. We don’t have to stay if it’s too hard.”

Keith smiled faintly at that, appreciating Lance’s protectiveness, even if it wasn’t needed. “I’ll be fine,” he reassured him, though inside he knew it wouldn’t be easy. The thought of walking through those doors again, of sleeping in the same place that held so much darkness—it was daunting. But he had to do it. There was no running from it.

Adam watched their exchange quietly, his eyes thoughtful. He knew the history of the castle too, knew what it had been during the war. But he trusted Keith’s resolve. “We’ll be there soon,” he said gently, hoping to ease the tension a bit. “It’ll just be one night.”

Keith nodded, shifting his gaze back to the window as the carriage continued through the bleak landscape. The snow was falling heavier now, the world outside turning into a monochrome blur. Inside the carriage, though, there was warmth—Lance beside him, and Adam close by. And for now, that was enough to keep him steady.

As the carriage rolled to a slow stop, Keith’s eyes locked onto the looming silhouette of the castle. It was the first time he had really seen it from the outside, and the sight sent a shiver down his spine that had nothing to do with the cold. He remembered being dragged out of this place, half-conscious, too disoriented to even register what was around him. But now, as they approached, the full reality of it settled over him like a weight.

The castle was just as eerie as he had imagined—no, worse. Dead, gnarled vines clung to the stone walls like skeletal hands, their brittle fingers digging into the cracks and crevices. The once-grand front door was nothing but a shattered memory, its remnants ripped from the hinges, leaving the entrance gaping open like the mouth of a beast ready to swallow them whole.

Keith’s eyes drifted up the walls, his gaze catching on the boarded-up windows. Each one was covered with thick wooden planks, the scars of war etched into the stone around them. All except for one. His breath hitched when he saw it—the single unboarded window, high up in the tower, its glass cracked but still intact. It was the same one he had looked through so many times during his captivity, staring out at the world beyond while feeling trapped inside. The sight of it made his stomach churn.

His chest tightened with the familiar surge of anxiety. The cold air seemed to press in on him, the weight of memories threatening to overwhelm him. He had spent so many years trying to forget this place, trying to push it into the darkest corners of his mind. And now, here he was, right back at the door of the nightmare.

But Keith clenched his fists, taking a deep breath. He couldn’t let it show. Not now. Not when they were almost there. It’s just for one night, he told himself. He could survive one night. He had survived worse.

As the carriage came to a complete stop, Keith felt a warm hand slide into his, pulling him out of his spiraling thoughts. He turned to see Lance beside him, his grip firm but gentle, anchoring him in the present. Lance’s face was calm, his eyes soft with understanding. And though his own anxiety was written on his brow, he managed a small, reassuring smile.

“I’m with you this time, starlight,” Lance said, his voice low but steady, like he was making a vow. “I won’t leave your sight the second we step in there. Not for one second.”

Keith looked into Lance’s eyes, feeling a warmth spread through his chest despite the icy grip of fear. Lance wasn’t just saying it to comfort him—he meant it. Keith nodded slowly, his grip tightening around Lance’s hand as he tried to steady his breathing.

“I know,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. The fear was still there, clawing at the edges of his mind, but with Lance beside him, it felt more manageable. It wasn’t gone, but it didn’t feel like it would consume him.

The carriage door creaked open, and Adam stepped out first, surveying the surroundings. He gave a nod to Coran, who had been driving the horses, and then turned back to the boys. “We’ll set up camp inside one of the main halls,” Adam said, his voice low but efficient, as though this was any other mission. “It’s not far from here. Stay close.”

Keith swallowed hard and stepped out of the carriage, his boots crunching against the snow-covered ground. The air was still, unnaturally so, as if the very land around the castle was holding its breath. He kept his gaze forward, forcing himself not to look up at that cursed window again. Instead, he focused on Lance beside him, feeling the steady warmth of his hand.

The entrance to the castle loomed ahead of them, dark and gaping. The broken door hung crookedly on what was left of its hinges, the wind whispering through the cracks. Keith’s heart raced as they drew closer, each step feeling heavier than the last. His pulse thudded in his ears, but he kept walking, one step at a time.

As they passed through the threshold, the air seemed to shift. It was colder inside, the chill seeping through the walls and wrapping around them like a shroud. The silence was oppressive, broken only by the distant sound of their footsteps echoing in the empty hallways. Keith could feel the weight of the castle’s memories pressing down on him from all sides, the shadows in the corners whispering things he didn’t want to remember.

But Lance’s grip was still firm in his hand, grounding him. “I’ve got you,” Lance whispered, leaning in close enough that only Keith could hear. “We’ll get through this together.”

Keith took a deep breath, his heart still racing but the fear slowly ebbing away, bit by bit. He nodded again, grateful that he didn’t have to do this alone.

They followed Adam deeper into the castle, the darkened hallways twisting and turning until they finally came upon a large, empty hall. The ceiling soared high above them, the remnants of old tapestries hanging from the walls, tattered and frayed. The cold air swirled around them, and despite the eeriness, it felt slightly better to be in an open space rather than the tight, suffocating corridors.

“This will do for the night,” Adam said, his voice echoing in the vastness of the hall. He began to unpack a few supplies, laying out blankets and lighting a small fire to ward off the cold.

Keith glanced around the room, his mind still battling the memories clawing their way to the surface. But when he felt Lance gently pull him down to sit beside him on one of the blankets, the familiar warmth of his presence soothed him.

Lance smiled softly, leaning against Keith’s shoulder as the fire began to crackle and pop, casting flickering shadows on the walls. “Just one night,” Lance reminded him gently, his voice like a lifeline in the quiet. “We’re almost through this.”

Keith nodded, his eyes focused on the fire, letting its warmth and Lance’s quiet strength keep the darkness at bay. Just one night, he repeated to himself, letting the sound of Lance’s breathing beside him be the thing that kept him grounded.

Chapter Text

The fire crackled softly in the background as Keith tried to make himself comfortable on the cold stone floor. His wings were pressed awkwardly against his back, and his tail, curled beneath him, wasn’t faring any better. The tension in his muscles was still there, the weight of old memories clinging to him like a persistent shadow. But as they settled in for the night, some of his anxiety began to ease.

Just sleep, he told himself. That’s all they needed to do—sleep and leave first thing in the morning. He could face the deeper fears when they were far away from the cold walls of this cursed place. For now, the goal was just to survive the night.

Across from him, Adam and Coran had already made themselves comfortable, seemingly unaffected by the hard floor. They were soldiers, used to the discomfort of makeshift camps. It didn’t take long for the two to fall asleep, their quiet breaths blending into the background noise of the castle’s stillness.

Lance, on the other hand, was anything but comfortable. Keith watched as Lance tossed and turned, grumbling under his breath. He could see the frustration growing on Lance’s face as he shifted again, trying to find a position that didn’t leave him aching.

“All the places in this castle, and we pick the floor,” Lance finally complained, his voice low but clearly exasperated.

Keith couldn’t help but chuckle at Lance’s grumbling. Despite the discomfort and tension surrounding them, Lance’s complaints managed to lighten the atmosphere just a little. “Well, it’s not your feather-filled mattress, that’s for sure,” Keith teased, a small grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “But like you said, it’s only for one night.”

Keith tried to adjust himself, but it was no use. His wings felt pinned, the hard stone beneath him bending them at odd angles, and his tail, crushed beneath his body, only added to the discomfort. He huffed in frustration, feeling his muscles tense as he tried to make the situation work.

Lance noticed, sitting up and glancing at him. “Hey,” Lance whispered, his voice soft and concerned. “You alright?”

Keith sighed, shifting again. “It’s just… my wings and tail. This floor isn’t exactly accommodating.”

Lance nodded, his eyes darting over to Adam and Coran, both sound asleep. The two of them seemed perfectly fine sleeping on stone, as if they could do it in their sleep—well, literally. But Lance and Keith? That was a different story. Lance had grown up with the luxury of soft beds and warm blankets, and ever since Keith had experienced that comfort, he too had gotten used to it.

A mischievous glint sparked in Lance’s eyes as an idea began to form. He leaned in closer to Keith, a playful smile spreading across his face. “I’ve got an idea,” Lance whispered, his tone making it clear that whatever he was about to suggest involved some kind of scheme.

Keith, shifting uncomfortably, turned his head to look at Lance, his curiosity piqued. “What is it?”

Lance glanced again at the sleeping forms of Adam and Coran, making sure they wouldn’t wake up. He leaned in closer to Keith and whispered, “Why don’t we sneak off to one of the bedrooms?”

Keith blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “One of the bedrooms?” he repeated, frowning slightly as the idea sank in.

“It’ll be a lot more comfortable,” Lance continued, his voice filled with excitement at the prospect of finding a real bed. “I mean, look at this place. There’s got to be a room with a huge, soft bed somewhere. We could sneak off, just for the night.”

Keith hesitated, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his features. His memories of this castle were far from pleasant, and the thought of wandering through its dark, empty halls wasn’t exactly appealing. He hummed softly in thought, his wings twitching as he considered it.

But before Keith could protest, Lance quickly cut in, his voice reassuring. “It won’t be your room,” he promised, his hand squeezing Keith’s gently. “I’d never make you go back in there, you know that. I was thinking… maybe your parents’ room. Their bed was huge, and it’ll be warm under the blankets. Just you and me. We’ll be comfortable, and we’ll actually get some rest.”

Keith’s frown deepened for a moment as he considered the idea. The castle still held so much pain, so much of his past, but Lance was right about one thing—it would be far more comfortable. And being with Lance, just the two of them, made the idea a little less daunting. He could already feel the cold seeping through his clothes, the stone floor doing nothing to keep them warm. A real bed sounded like heaven right now.

“Okay,” Keith finally agreed, his voice quiet but steady. He glanced around the room, trying to remember the layout of the castle, but his memories were blurry. “Do you know where it is? I… I don’t really remember.”

Lance gave him a small, encouraging smile as he stood up, tugging Keith along with him. “We’ll find it together,” he said confidently, his eyes bright with determination. “Come on, starlight, let’s go.”

Keith let Lance pull him to his feet, the warmth of Lance’s hand in his grounding him as they moved quietly across the room. The sound of their footsteps was soft against the stone, careful not to wake Adam or Coran as they slipped out of the hall.

The corridors were dimly lit, the castle’s eerie silence pressing in on them as they moved through the winding halls. The air was colder here, the shadows long and creeping. But Lance’s presence beside him kept Keith grounded, his heart steady as they made their way through the familiar but unsettling space.

Lance’s hand never left his, their fingers intertwined as they navigated through the castle’s labyrinthine layout. Despite the lingering sense of dread that clung to the castle, there was something comforting about having Lance beside him, the warmth of his presence cutting through the cold.

After a few turns and some whispered guesses, they finally came upon a large set of double doors. Lance’s smile widened as he nudged the door open, revealing a room that, while dusty and long-forgotten, still held the remnants of a life that once thrived here.

The bed was massive, draped in heavy blankets that looked warm and inviting despite the years of neglect. It was far better than the cold stone floor they had been trying to sleep on.

Keith felt a strange pang in his chest as he took in the room—the remnants of his parents’ presence still lingered here, but it was a quiet kind of sadness, not the overwhelming pain he had expected.

Lance gave his hand a gentle squeeze, his voice soft as he spoke. “See? This’ll be way better. Just us, a nice warm bed. No nightmares tonight.”

Keith nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips as they moved toward the bed together. For the first time since they had entered the castle, he felt a small glimmer of peace.

As they moved toward the bed, Keith’s focus was on the warmth and comfort that awaited them. But then, a sudden creak echoed from the corner of the room, sharp and unsettling. His ears shot up instantly, his entire body going tense. Without thinking, Keith’s arm moved protectively in front of Lance, shielding him.

“Did you hear that?” Keith asked, his voice low and alert, his eyes scanning the dimly lit room.

Lance flinched slightly at the sudden touch, his confusion evident as he glanced at Keith. “Hear what?” he asked, his voice soft but laced with uncertainty.

“Something’s in here…” Keith’s tone was sharp as his gaze darted across the room, searching the darkened corners. His heightened senses were on full alert, the faint rustling and shifting in the room putting him on edge.

Lance’s eyes widened as his own senses finally caught up, and that’s when he saw them—a pair of glowing yellow eyes staring back at them from the shadows. The creature growled low and deep, and Lance’s heart skipped a beat. For a split second, his mind flashed back to the night he found Keith in the castle—lost, injured, and surrounded by darkness. But these eyes were different. This presence was different.

Keith saw the eyes too, his head tilting slightly in confusion as he stepped forward. “Is that…” he began, trailing off as recognition dawned on him.

“Kosmo??” Keith’s voice was full of surprise and excitement as the creature barked in response, stepping into the faint light of the room. The creature that had seemed so ominous and terrifying just moments ago was now fully visible—a large, majestic wolf with shimmering black fur and those familiar, glowing yellow eyes.

As the wolf bounded toward them, Keith’s face broke into a wide smile, his protective stance dropping instantly. “Kosmo!!” he laughed, kneeling down with his arms outstretched to greet the wolf.

“Kosmo??” Lance echoed, still confused but relieved that Keith didn’t seem afraid anymore. “Wait, you know this wolf?”

Before Lance could fully process the situation, Kosmo ran straight into Keith, tackling him to the ground with playful enthusiasm. Keith laughed, his arms wrapping around the wolf as Kosmo licked his face.

Lance gasped, rushing forward in alarm. “Keith!!” he called out, his voice filled with concern. He knelt beside them, a bit panicked as he watched the massive wolf practically pin Keith to the ground. “Hey, do you know this wolf?!”

Keith was laughing too hard to respond at first, his hands ruffling through Kosmo’s fur as the wolf continued to shower him with affection. “Yeah!” he finally managed between breaths, his voice filled with joy. “He’s my friend!”

Lance blinked, taken aback. “What—wait—you have a wild wolf for a friend?!” he asked, his tone a mixture of disbelief and awe. “How come you never told me about him?”

Keith sat up, still grinning as he scratched behind Kosmo’s ears. “Well, he wasn’t around the last couple of days I was here,” he explained, his voice softening as he spoke. “He left to go find help, and honestly, I thought he got lost…”

Kosmo wagged his tail, his tongue lolling out as he panted happily, clearly thrilled to be reunited with Keith. The wolf’s presence brought a strange sense of comfort to the room, and for the first time since entering the castle, Keith’s unease seemed to fade entirely.

Lance, still a bit hesitant, watched as Kosmo shifted his attention to him. The wolf sniffed him cautiously, circling around him as if to assess whether or not he was a threat. Lance held his breath, uncertain of what to do as the large wolf came closer, but then Kosmo’s posture relaxed. He seemed to recognize that Lance smelled like Keith, which was good enough for him.

Kosmo gave a satisfied huff before nudging Lance’s hand with his nose, urging him to pet him. Lance blinked in surprise, slowly reaching out to give the wolf a tentative pat on the head. “He’s… he’s friendly?” Lance asked, his voice still laced with disbelief.

Keith chuckled, sitting up fully as he continued to rub Kosmo’s back. “Yeah, he’s the best,” Keith said fondly. “I found him when I was out here alone. He kept me company… and kept me safe. I thought I’d never see him again.”

Lance’s gaze softened as he watched Keith interact with Kosmo, the bond between them clear and strong. It was strange, almost magical, to see Keith so happy, so relaxed despite everything they’d been through. And somehow, Kosmo’s sudden appearance seemed to have lifted the weight of the castle’s dark memories off Keith’s shoulders, even if just for a moment.

“He’s really something,” Lance said quietly, smiling a little as he continued to pet Kosmo. The wolf had a warmth to him, a presence that felt more protective than threatening.

Keith nodded, his eyes shining with gratitude. “He is. He’s always been there for me when I needed him. And now… I guess he’s here for both of us.”

Kosmo gave a low, contented growl as he nestled between the two of them, his large frame somehow managing to fit comfortably despite his size. Lance and Keith exchanged a glance, both of them feeling an unexpected sense of peace settle over the room.

With Kosmo by their side, the castle didn’t seem quite as terrifying anymore. The cold, the darkness, the memories—it all felt a little more bearable now.

“Okay,” Lance said with a chuckle, stretching his arms as he settled into the room’s newfound warmth. “Maybe this place isn’t so bad after all.”

Keith smiled, the tension that had coiled in his chest since arriving at the castle loosening, his heart feeling lighter than it had in days. “Yeah… maybe not,” he murmured, his gaze shifting to Kosmo, who was now calmly lying at his side, as if the wolf had always belonged here with them.

Lance chuckled again, running a hand through his tousled hair. “Alright, let’s get some sleep before we leave in the morning. Kosmo can come with us if you want.”

Keith’s eyes lit up at the suggestion, surprised but touched by Lance’s offer. “Really? Oh, he would love the castle,” he said, already imagining the wolf bounding through the halls.

Lance grinned, clearly entertained by Keith’s enthusiasm. “We’ll give him a fancy collar,” he added, his tone playful.

Keith rolled his eyes, but the fondness in his expression was undeniable. “A fancy collar?” he repeated, amusement lacing his voice. “He’s a wild wolf, Lance. He doesn’t need a collar.”

Lance just shrugged, smirking as he flopped down onto the large bed, the mattress creaking under his weight. The bed was massive, its gold-threaded embroidery shimmering faintly in the dim light of the room. The deep red comforter, though a bit dusty from years of neglect, was heavy and warm, enveloping them like a shield against the cold night. Compared to the cold stone floor they’d almost resigned themselves to, this bed felt like a sanctuary.

As Keith climbed in beside him, he hesitated for just a moment, his fingers brushing over the golden threads that decorated the comforter. It had been his parents’ bed once—a relic of a past he barely remembered. The memories of them were fleeting, distant, but for the first time, lying here didn’t feel as overwhelming as he thought it would. The weight of the bad memories seemed to lift, replaced by the steady, comforting presence of Lance at his side and Kosmo curled up on the other.

Keith nestled into the bed, tucking himself close to Lance. His wings shifted behind him, stretching out before he finally managed to fold them comfortably. He felt Lance shift beside him, his arm sliding around Keith’s shoulders in an instinctive gesture of reassurance. On the other side, Kosmo huffed quietly, his large, warm body pressing against Keith’s back as if the wolf were guarding him in his sleep.

For the first time since they arrived at the castle, Keith felt… safe. The bitter cold of the castle’s stone walls and the darkness that clung to its corridors no longer seemed so oppressive. Instead, he was surrounded by warmth—Lance’s steady presence beside him, Kosmo’s soft fur brushing against him, the heavy comforter shielding them from the chill in the air.

Lance glanced down at him, his blue eyes softened with affection. “Comfy?” he asked, his voice a low murmur in the quiet room.

Keith smiled softly, nodding as he let his head rest against Lance’s shoulder. “Comfy,” he replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

Satisfied, Lance smiled back before he let out a long, content sigh and closed his eyes. Within moments, the tension in his body eased, and Keith could feel his breathing slow as he drifted off to sleep. Keith remained awake for a little longer, his thoughts drifting in the peaceful quiet.

The bad memories that had haunted him when they first approached the castle were still there, lurking in the corners of his mind. But right now, they felt distant. Faded. With Lance’s arm draped around him and Kosmo guarding him from the other side, those memories didn’t have the same power they once did.

Keith closed his eyes, feeling the warmth of the room settle into his bones, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he felt at peace.

Just when he was about to drift off to sleep, Keith felt a nagging sense of restlessness. It crept in slowly, tugging at the edges of his mind until it became impossible to ignore. His eyes fluttered open, and with a soft sigh, he turned toward the door. He didn’t know exactly what it was, but something was keeping him from falling asleep. The silence in the room felt too heavy, too still. He rubbed his face, trying to shake the unease.

Beside him, the wolf stirred. Kosmo, always in tune with Keith’s emotions, raised his head from where he was curled at the foot of the bed. His bright eyes blinked in the dim light as he studied Keith, sensing the unrest that hummed just beneath his skin. With a low, soft whine, Kosmo nudged Keith’s arm, as if asking what was wrong.

“Shh…” Keith hushed him quietly, his voice barely a whisper. His gaze shifted toward the sleeping figure on the other side of the bed. “Don’t wake Lance…” he murmured, glancing at the way Lance shifted, his face relaxed in sleep. Keith felt a small wave of guilt wash over him. Lance had been so exhausted lately, and the last thing he wanted was to disturb him.

Carefully, Keith pushed himself into a sitting position, moving slowly as to not wake his partner. He watched Lance for a few moments, his breathing slow and steady, before slipping out of bed. The cool air of the room brushed against his skin, making him shiver slightly as his feet touched the floor. Kosmo jumped down after him, landing lightly on the wooden boards with barely a sound, and sat by Keith’s side, tilting his head inquisitively.

Keith crouched down, running a hand through Kosmo’s soft fur. “Just a few minutes,” he whispered, more to himself than the wolf. “Then we’ll come back. I just… I just need to look around, that’s all.”

Kosmo blinked at him, his tail swishing quietly against the floor, clearly ready to follow wherever Keith went. Keith rose to his feet, moving toward the door as quietly as he could, his mind still swirling with the strange restlessness that refused to settle. Kosmo padded along behind him, his steps silent, as if he, too, sensed the need for quiet.

Keith reached for the door, pausing for just a second to glance back at Lance, who hadn’t stirred. The comfort of his presence tugged at Keith, making him hesitate, but the feeling that something wasn’t right wouldn’t let him go back to sleep so easily. With a final deep breath, Keith opened the door and slipped into the darkened hall, Kosmo faithfully at his side.

Chapter Text

Keith stepped away from the warmth of his parents’ room, his hand lingering for a moment on the doorframe before he gently pulled the double doors shut behind him. The faint sound of the latch clicking into place was swallowed by the silence of the night. He glanced back, briefly considering returning to bed, to Lance, who lay fast asleep within, but the tug of unease was stronger. It gnawed at him, this feeling he couldn’t quite place, and the sense of something being… off.

Kosmo padded quietly beside him, the wolf’s presence a constant, loyal comfort. Keith’s tail, sleek and dark, trailed low behind him, swaying slightly with each step as he moved deeper into the long, dimly lit hallway. The chill of the stone floor seeped through his bare feet, grounding him in the present, yet his mind was adrift, wrestling with thoughts that wouldn’t settle.

As he walked, the hall stretched out before him, its silence broken only by the faint rustle of his clothes and the soft padding of Kosmo’s paws. The walls, adorned with tapestries and portraits, drew his eye. They were familiar, yet distant, like fragments of a memory he couldn’t quite grasp. He slowed his steps, letting his gaze linger on each portrait as he passed.

The first to catch his eye was one of his father. A heavy pang of recognition hit him as he looked into the painted eyes of the man he had seen in his vision, standing on the brink of death. His father’s face was as it had been in the vision—regal, stern, yet filled with a warmth Keith had only known through experience. His father had been a kind man, even if he carried the weight of the crown with solemnity. Keith could still hear his voice echoing in his mind: ‘Say hello to your mother for me…’ The words haunted him, heavy with both meaning and mystery.

In the portrait, his father looked the same—dressed in royal garb, his posture noble and proud. Yet Keith had seen beyond that. He had felt the kindness in his father’s hand on his shoulder, the strength in his voice that had calmed him as a child. But now, there was only the cold, still image. Keith’s gaze moved to the next portrait, and his heart clenched.

It was his mother. She stood beside his father in the painting, her expression soft, her eyes full of something he hadn’t remembered feeling in so long: warmth. Unlike his father, her face was a mystery to him. He hadn’t seen her in any visions. He barely remembered her at all, and yet, here she was, captured in time on this canvas, standing tall, serene, as if she had always been waiting for him to return. Keith felt a lump rise in his throat. Was she still alive?

He ached with the uncertainty. He didn’t even know if she had survived the years of his absence. The thought weighed on him, heavier with each step he took down the hall. A mother’s love—he had glimpsed it, even if not for himself. He had seen it in the way Nancy, Lance’s mother, cared for her son. How she would pull Lance into her arms and hold him close, her touch radiating a kind of love that Keith had never known. And he longed for it. That warmth. That safety.

Keith paused in front of the next portrait, staring at a depiction of himself as a child, standing between his parents. He was so small, so wide-eyed with innocence. His brother, older and taller, stood beside him with an arm slung protectively over his shoulder. Keith stared at the painted version of his younger self, trying to connect the boy in the portrait with who he had become. It all felt so distant, like a lifetime he had dreamed rather than lived. He could barely remember being that child, let alone what it felt like to be part of this family, to belong here in the palace with them.

The memories were fleeting, fragments of moments that never fully formed in his mind. He hated that so much of his past had been taken from him—those early years that should have been filled with laughter, with love. He didn’t remember the sound of his mother’s voice or the way she looked at him with pride. All of that had been stolen from him, buried beneath the years of loss and loneliness.

With a deep sigh, Keith continued down the hall, his eyes scanning the remaining portraits of their family. They stared back at him, frozen in time, reminders of a past he could barely recall. It all seemed so far away, so unreachable, and the gap between then and now stretched on, impossible to bridge.

Keith reached the end of the hall, his steps faltering as the weight of everything bore down on him. He let out a long, quiet sigh, his gaze falling to the floor. This was no time to let his emotions get the better of him—no time for mourning, no time for sadness. He had to believe that everything would be fine, just like Lance had promised. Lance had never broken a promise, and Keith clung to that, drawing what strength he could from the memory of his words. But the ache in his chest lingered.

Keith stood frozen, the dim glow from the sconces along the hallway casting flickering shadows that danced around him like ghosts of the past. His mind was caught somewhere between now and the memories of what once was, a heavy cloud of loss and pain threatening to engulf him. He squeezed his eyes shut, his hands balling into fists at his sides as he fought to push it all away. This wasn’t the time for mourning. He repeated the thought like a mantra, trying to convince himself that he didn’t need to be weighed down by it right now. Lance had promised him things would be okay, and Lance never broke a promise.

With a soft exhale, Keith shook his head, attempting to dispel the fog of old memories that clung to him. He turned on his heel, ready to make his way back to the room. But the moment he turned, his body froze mid-step.

At the far end of the hallway, standing just beyond the reach of the sconces, was Lance.

Keith blinked, his mind struggling to catch up with what his eyes were seeing. The dim lighting cast an eerie, shadowy outline around Lance’s figure, the edges of his silhouette flickering slightly in the low light. He was just… standing there. Silent. Still.

“Lance?” Keith called softly, his voice barely rising above a whisper. He took a hesitant step forward, a small, uncertain smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he tried to shake off the growing sense of unease creeping into his chest. “What are you doing up? I was just looking at some pictures and—”

He stopped mid-sentence, the words dying in his throat as Lance’s voice filled the silence.

“La, la, la, la, la, la, la…”

The soft, familiar melody floated down the hallway toward him, the tune instantly recognizable. It was the lullaby from the story Lance had told him—the one meant to bring him comfort, to ease his worries when things felt too heavy. But now, here in the dimly lit corridor, it didn’t bring the warmth and reassurance it normally did. Instead, the notes hung in the air unnaturally, echoing through the space in a way that made Keith’s skin crawl.

Keith paused, his heart skipping a beat. Something felt wrong. Off. The comforting familiarity of the song had been twisted into something eerie, unnatural.

“Lance?” Keith’s voice wavered, the nervous edge creeping into his tone.

Lance stood there, unmoving. He slowly raised his arms, his hands outstretched, beckoning Keith to come closer. But his movements were too slow, too deliberate. The humming continued, but it had shifted, dragging out the notes in a way that sent a cold shiver down Keith’s spine.

“La, la, la, la, la, la, la…”

Keith’s smile faltered. His feet felt rooted to the floor, unable to move as his pulse quickened. His mind was racing, trying to make sense of what he was seeing—of the strange tone in Lance’s voice, of the way his movements seemed… wrong.

“Lance…” Keith forced out a nervous laugh, his voice trembling. “Let’s go back to bed, okay?”

But then, in the flickering light, his vision sharpened. His eyes finally registered the subtle but undeniable change in Lance’s figure. The glowing, unnatural yellow of his eyes pierced through the dim light, the warmth and tenderness that Lance always carried gone. A cold dread washed over Keith as his breath hitched in his throat. His instincts screamed at him, and Kosmo reacted immediately, his growl rumbling low from deep within his chest as he stepped protectively in front of Keith.

This wasn’t Lance.

Keith’s back pressed hard against the stone wall as he tried to retreat, his heart pounding in his chest like a drum. His breaths came out in short, shallow gasps as his mind scrambled to make sense of the scene before him. The figure—the thing that looked like Lance but clearly wasn’t—stepped closer, its eerie yellow eyes glowing brighter in the darkness.

“L-Lotor?” Keith whispered, the name escaping his lips before he could stop it. It didn’t make sense, but nothing about this did. The Lance standing before him was wrong. The voice, the eyes, the way it moved—everything was wrong.

The figure’s face twisted into a cruel smile, and when it laughed, the sound was cold, empty, devoid of the warmth that Lance’s laugh always held. “You think escaping me will be that easy?” the voice taunted, a deeper, more menacing version of Lance’s usual tone. It was mocking, cruel, dripping with malice. “You will always be mine, Keith. Whether I’m alive or not. I made you!”

Keith’s heart raced, his panic rising as the voice echoed down the hallway, louder and more oppressive with every word. “You’re only alive because of me!” The voice boomed, shaking the very air around them.

Keith shook his head violently, squeezing his eyes shut as he pressed his back harder against the wall. “No… no, you’re not real,” he panted, his voice barely holding steady. His chest was tight, his breaths coming faster. “You’re not real. You’re just—”

Suddenly, the figure before him began to shimmer, its form warping and distorting in the flickering light. The familiar image of Lance dissolved, twisting into something taller, more menacing. Long white hair cascaded down the figure’s back, and the yellow glow of its eyes intensified, burning brighter as it took on a form Keith knew all too well.

“Just what?!” The figure sneered, stepping closer. Its voice was low, guttural, filled with dark amusement. “Dead?” It let out a sinister laugh, one that sent a chill racing down Keith’s spine.

Keith’s entire body trembled as the figure loomed over him, his breath catching in his throat. He couldn’t move, couldn’t think. The air felt thick, suffocating, as the darkness closed in around him.

But then, cutting through the haze of fear, came a familiar voice. A real voice.

“Keith!”

Keith gasped, his eyes snapping open as his body jerked upright. He was in bed, his chest heaving as he fought to catch his breath. His hand was clutched tightly to his chest, his heart still pounding violently beneath his fingers.

“Keith?” Lance’s voice was soft, laced with concern as he reached out, his touch gentle and grounding as he placed a hand on Keith’s shoulder. “Are you okay?”

Keith blinked, his vision still swimming from the remnants of the nightmare. He turned to look at Lance, his eyes wide and tear-filled as he searched his face for any trace of the nightmare’s haunting image. But all he saw was Lance—his Lance, real and alive, full of warmth and concern.

“I… I…” Keith struggled to find his voice, his throat tight. He didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know how to explain the terror that still clung to him.

Lance’s brow furrowed with worry, but his hand never left Keith’s shoulder. “Keith?”

“Wh… what happened?” Keith’s voice trembled, barely a whisper as he forced the words out. His throat felt tight, and his chest ached as he fought back the tears threatening to spill. The lingering terror from the nightmare clung to him, making it hard to breathe. Every breath felt heavy, weighed down by the vivid images still playing at the edges of his mind.

Lance frowned, worry etched deep into his features. Without hesitation, his hand moved to Keith’s back, rubbing slow, soothing circles. His touch was warm, grounding. “I think you had a nightmare, love,” Lance said softly, his voice low and gentle, the kind of tone he used when he wanted to coax Keith out of his shell. “You were talking in your sleep.”

Keith swallowed hard, his body trembling as he leaned into Lance’s touch, searching for some kind of stability. The nightmare had been too real, too close, and he still felt the cold, suffocating grip of it around his chest. His pulse hadn’t fully calmed, and the images—those twisted, distorted shadows—still flickered in the corners of his mind. He buried his face against Lance’s shoulder, desperate for comfort, desperate to feel something real, something solid that could pull him out of the darkness.

Lance didn’t hesitate. He wrapped his arms around Keith, pulling him close, holding him tight. His grip was firm but full of warmth, an unspoken promise that he wasn’t going anywhere. “Do you want to talk about it?” Lance’s voice was soft, patient, laced with understanding. He didn’t push, didn’t demand. He simply offered, like he always did, ready to listen if Keith needed it.

Keith shook his head, his voice muffled against Lance’s chest. “Do I have to?”

Lance let out a soft sigh, his hand moving up to brush through Keith’s hair, his fingers trailing gently through the dark strands. “No, I can’t make you,” he murmured, his voice even softer now, barely above a whisper. “But I don’t want you to carry this alone. You can tell me when you’re ready, okay?” His hand moved slowly, the familiar motion of his fingers in Keith’s hair a gesture of comfort that never failed to soothe him.

Keith let out a shaky breath, a small nod his only response. He didn’t want to relive it, not yet. The nightmare had left him shaken, and talking about it would only bring it all rushing back. Right now, all he wanted was to feel safe, to feel grounded. He let out a soft yawn, the adrenaline that had kept him awake and on edge beginning to fade, leaving behind a bone-deep exhaustion.

He rubbed at his eyes, leaning more heavily against Lance. His body felt heavy, drained, but the warmth of Lance’s embrace was slowly starting to ease the tension from his muscles. “Okay…” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

Lance smiled softly, the worry in his eyes easing just a little as he held Keith close. His fingers never stopped their gentle rhythm through Keith’s hair, the slow, comforting strokes lulling him into a state of calm. Lance’s touch was familiar, grounding, and Keith could feel the remnants of the nightmare slowly fading away, the sharp edges of fear dulling under the soothing presence of Lance’s care.

The room was quiet, the only sounds the soft rustle of sheets and the steady, calming rhythm of Lance’s breathing. And then, just as Keith’s eyelids started to droop, Lance began to hum. The same tune as before, the lullaby he’d always used to comfort Keith when the world became too much, but this time, it was different. There was no eerie echo, no twisted malice hiding in the notes. It was soft, gentle, warm—everything Keith needed it to be.

“La, la, la, la, la, la, la…”

The melody wrapped around Keith like a blanket, warm and reassuring. It was the sound of home, of safety, and it chased away the last remnants of the nightmare that had haunted him. Keith let out a long, slow sigh, the tension in his body melting away under Lance’s touch. The fear that had gripped him so tightly was slipping away, replaced by a deep, comforting sense of calm.

Lance’s voice continued to hum the soft tune, his hand still moving gently through Keith’s hair, and slowly, Keith felt the pull of sleep returning. But this time, it was different. There were no shadows waiting for him, no twisted figures lurking in the corners of his mind. There was only Lance, holding him close, his presence steady and unwavering.

Keith yawned again, his body growing heavier as sleep began to pull at him. His eyelids fluttered closed, the soft hum of Lance’s lullaby guiding him back into the peaceful depths of slumber. Safe, warm, and protected.

And as he drifted off, his last conscious thought was of the comforting warmth of Lance’s arms, holding him tight, keeping the darkness at bay.

The night passed quietly, the weight of the earlier nightmare seeming to dissipate as Keith slept peacefully in Lance’s arms. Kosmo lay nestled against Keith’s back, his large body a comforting warmth as he snored softly alongside them. But despite the calm, Lance’s mind couldn’t rest as easily. He gently ran his fingers through Keith’s hair, the motion repetitive and soothing, but his thoughts churned with unease.

Keith had never had a nightmare like this before—at least not one that had taken so much effort to pull him out of. Lance could still feel the way Keith’s body had trembled, the sound of his voice so desperate as he cried out in his sleep. The image of that terrified look on Keith’s face was burned into his mind. He could only guess that being here, in this castle, surrounded by the memories and shadows of his past, was dredging up feelings Keith had buried long ago.

Lance sighed softly, brushing a stray lock of Keith’s hair back from his face. He hated seeing Keith like this—haunted by memories of a time he barely remembered yet still carried with him. Being here seemed to drag Keith back to the darkest parts of his past. Lance had thought it might help bring closure, but now, he wasn’t so sure. They needed to leave this place—needed to get away from the ghosts that still lingered in these halls.

Tomorrow. They would leave in the morning.

Lance’s eyelids grew heavier as his hand continued its soft, rhythmic motions through Keith’s hair. The room was quiet, peaceful now, with Keith’s soft breathing filling the space. Almost without realizing it, Lance felt sleep pull him under, his hand resting lightly on Keith’s shoulder as he drifted off beside him.

By the time morning came, the soft light filtering in through the curtains, Lance had sprawled out across the bed, one arm still draped lazily over Keith. Keith, too, had shifted in his sleep, lying half on his side, half on his back, with Kosmo stretched out on top of him, his head resting heavily on Keith’s chest. The steady rise and fall of Keith’s breathing sent Kosmo’s ears twitching with each gentle exhale.

Lance stirred, blinking against the sunlight, but before he could fully wake, a voice echoed down the hall.

“Prince Lance!” Adam’s voice called, growing closer. “Prince Keith!”

Lance groaned and shifted slightly but didn’t yet move. Beside him, Keith was still sound asleep, snoring softly, completely oblivious to the noise outside the door.

“They couldn’t have gone far, General,” Coran’s voice responded, his usual calm demeanor evident even from a distance.

Adam’s voice carried an edge of frustration. “They shouldn’t be wandering wherever they please. I’m here to protect them, and this castle is far more dangerous than we realized. I don’t want anything to happen to them.”

Coran’s footsteps echoed as he walked from room to room, likely searching for the two princes. Adam, however, made his way down the hall with more purpose. He stopped in front of the door to Keith’s old room.

“Prince Keith?” he called again, his voice trailing off as the sight of the room struck him. The door creaked open slowly, revealing a space frozen in time. Scattered toys littered the floor, torn books lay strewn about, and the small bed in the corner had been overturned. But it was the chains—those golden chains, broken and discarded in the corner—that caught his attention. They lay in a tangled heap, surrounded by torn pages from a book, a haunting reminder of what this room had once been: Keith’s prison.

Adam’s chest tightened, a wave of emotion washing over him. This was where Keith had been held, where his childhood had been stolen from him, before Lance had found him. The room felt oppressive, suffocating, as if the walls still held the echoes of a young boy’s fear and loneliness. Adam closed the door quietly, not wanting to disturb the memories that lingered there.

He turned, making his way down the hall, but stopped in front of another door—Takashi’s room. His hand hovered over the doorknob, hesitating.

Memories of nights spent in this room with Takashi flooded back to him—stolen moments of quiet between the chaos of their responsibilities. They hadn’t had many nights together, but the ones they had shared were etched deeply into Adam’s heart. Takashi had always been strong, unyielding, but in those moments, Adam had seen the parts of him that no one else did. The softness, the vulnerability. It had been their safe space, their sanctuary.

Adam’s hand rested on the doorknob, his heart aching. He had avoided this room for so long, unable to face the reality of Takashi’s absence. Every night he prayed that it was all a bad dream, that he would wake up to find Takashi beside him, smiling, alive. But now, standing here, he couldn’t bring himself to open the door. It was too much, the pain too raw.

Just then, Coran’s voice broke through his thoughts. “I found them, General!” he called from down the hall.

Adam flinched, his hand jerking away from the doorknob as if it had burned him. He swallowed the lump in his throat and turned away from the door. “Very well,” he called back, his voice steady, though his heart was far from it. “Let’s head out. We’ll reach the fleet by nightfall.”

Without another glance at the door, Adam turned and walked away, the sound of his footsteps fading into the distance as he left behind the room, the memories, and the pain that he couldn’t yet face

Coran sighed softly as he looked over at the two boys still half-asleep in the bed, their limbs tangled together in a mess of warmth and blankets. He gave them a moment longer before he spoke up, his voice gentle but firm. “You heard the man,” he said with a slight smile. “Let’s head out.”

With that, he quietly left the room, giving them a few more moments to wake up fully and get ready. The door clicked softly behind him, leaving the room in peaceful silence once more.

Lance was the first to stir, yawning and rubbing at his eyes as he stretched. His hand reached out instinctively for Keith, brushing against his arm. “Mmh… Sleep okay, Keith?” he asked, his voice still groggy from sleep.

Keith yawned in response, rubbing his own eyes as he slowly sat up. Kosmo gave a soft huff from where he lay at the foot of the bed, his ears perking up. “Yeah, I slept okay,” Keith mumbled, though there was a slight hesitance in his voice. He glanced toward the door where Coran had disappeared. “Did he say we’ll be at the fleet soon?”

Lance hummed as he stretched, the joints in his shoulders popping. “Yeah, by tonight,” he said. His sharp eyes caught the flicker of nervousness in Keith’s expression, the way his gaze lingered just a bit too long on the door. Reaching out, Lance placed a hand on Keith’s knee, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “No turning back now, love,” he said softly, his voice calm and steady. “Everything will be fine. I promise.”

Keith gave a small nod, the corners of his lips pulling into a weak smile. There was a part of him that wanted to believe Lance’s words with all his heart, to trust in that unwavering certainty Lance always seemed to carry. But deep down, there was still that knot of anxiety twisting in his chest—about what they would find, what awaited them with the Galran fleet.

Lance’s hand lingered on his knee for just a moment longer before he stood up, offering his hand to Keith. “Come on,” he said, his voice warm and encouraging. “Let’s get ready.”

After pulling themselves from the comfort of the bed and dressing, Lance and Keith walked hand in hand down the hallway and descended the grand stairway, their footsteps echoing softly in the otherwise quiet castle. Kosmo padded along beside them, his large form moving with silent grace, always keeping close to Keith’s side.

Before they stepped out into the cool morning air, Lance paused, shrugging off his jacket. He turned to Keith with a soft smile, draping it over his shoulders and pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. “I don’t want you to get cold,” he said, his tone full of affection.

Keith smiled sheepishly, his cheeks warming slightly as he pulled the jacket tighter around himself. It smelled like Lance, a comforting and familiar scent that eased some of the tension in his chest. “Thanks,” he murmured, chuckling softly.

With Kosmo trailing close behind, they made their way to the carriage waiting for them outside. Adam was already sitting up front with Coran, his expression unusually quiet and reserved, a far cry from his usual stern but talkative demeanor. Lance noticed the shift in Adam’s mood but didn’t comment, figuring there was a lot weighing on his mind.

They all climbed into the carriage—Keith, Lance, and Kosmo settling comfortably inside while Adam and Coran took their places up front. The carriage jolted slightly as it started moving, the wheels crunching over the gravel path as they began their journey.

The air was filled with the soft sounds of the horses’ hooves clopping steadily, the hum of the wheels turning, and the occasional snort from Kosmo as he shifted his head on Keith’s lap. The atmosphere inside the carriage was calm, though an unspoken tension lingered beneath the surface. Keith leaned into Lance, resting his head on his shoulder, his thoughts swirling with everything that awaited them at the Galran fleet.

Lance gently wrapped his arm around Keith’s shoulders, pulling him closer as he rested his cheek against Keith’s hair. “We’ll be there soon,” he whispered, more to reassure Keith than anything else.

By nightfall, they would arrive at the Galran fleet—and whatever answers, or challenges, awaited them there.

Chapter Text

As the carriage rattled along the uneven path, the landscape slowly transitioned from the dense, shadowed forests around the castle to a more open, vast terrain. The looming presence of the Galran fleet lingered in the distance, a reminder of the uncertainty waiting for them. Keith stared out of the window, his expression unreadable, but inside, a storm brewed. This wasn’t just a journey to meet the remnants of the Galran people—it was a return to a part of himself that he’d never fully understood, a legacy he had barely begun to confront.

The Galran fleet. What was left of his people after the war. Keith’s thoughts swirled, tugging at him like a constant undercurrent of doubt. He didn’t know what to expect. These were his people—his subjects, technically. But he wasn’t sure he felt ready to face them. How many knew of his existence? Did any of them still hope for his return, or had they long since resigned themselves to surviving without their prince? The questions gnawed at him, and despite his best efforts to push them aside, they kept creeping back, each one heavier than the last.

Lance, sitting beside him, could sense it. The tension in the air was thick, palpable, radiating off Keith in waves. He’d felt it from the moment they left the castle, and now, hours into their journey, it hadn’t eased. Lance watched him closely, his brow furrowed in concern. Keith wasn’t one to talk about his feelings easily, but Lance knew better than to let him carry this alone. He always knew when Keith was holding something back.

“Hey…” Lance’s voice cut through the quiet, soft but steady, as if he were trying to pry open the barrier Keith had built around himself. Kosmo’s ears perked up at the sound, and Keith shifted his gaze from the window to look at Lance. His hand instinctively dropped to Kosmo’s head, fingers weaving through the wolf’s fur in a steady, calming rhythm.

“I know you haven’t been telling me everything that’s going on in that head of yours,” Lance continued, his tone gentle but persistent. “And I don’t want to force you, but I’d really like it if you would tell me. I want you to share the load you’re carrying.”

Keith’s first instinct was to brush it off, to dismiss Lance’s words with the same vague reassurance he’d been giving since they left. He opened his mouth, ready to tell Lance it was fine, that he was fine. But the weight in his chest was too heavy, and the words fell short. He sighed, eyes flickering with the struggle of holding it all in.

“It’s… it’s okay,” Keith said finally, his voice quieter than before. “Whatever happens, happens.”

Lance watched him carefully, his gaze unwavering. “It’s good to think like that,” he said, “but I know you’re worried. You’ve been carrying that worry with you since last night.”

Keith tensed at the mention of the nightmare, the memory of it still clinging to him like a shadow he couldn’t shake. His fingers tightened slightly in Kosmo’s fur, and his jaw clenched involuntarily.

Lance reached over and placed his hand on Keith’s arm, the warmth of his touch gentle and grounding. “Whatever you dreamed about,” Lance said softly, his voice full of quiet reassurance, “it’s not real. And I won’t let anything happen to you.”

For a moment, Keith didn’t respond. He stared at Lance’s hand on his arm, feeling the comfort and the steady presence it offered. Slowly, he exhaled, the tightness in his chest loosening just enough for him to speak.

“Okay…” Keith’s voice was barely above a whisper. He glanced up at Lance, meeting his eyes for the first time since they’d left the castle. “Okay, I’ll tell you…”

And so, in the safety of the carriage, with the wind softly brushing against the windows and the horizon stretching out before them, Keith began to speak. He wasn’t sure where to start, but with Lance there, patient and unwavering, he knew he didn’t have to carry it alone anymore.

Keith took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts before he began. His voice was quiet at first, as if the memory itself still held a strange power over him. “It started off normal… or at least, I thought it was normal. I saw you, Lance. It felt like you were there, standing at the end of the hallway. You were humming that song you always sing to me.” Keith paused, his eyes distant as he recounted the dream. “But then… something was off. The way you moved, the way your voice sounded—it wasn’t you. It was like a twisted version of you. Your eyes were glowing, and your voice, it was wrong. Everything felt… wrong.”

Lance’s heart sank as he listened, watching the way Keith’s fingers absentmindedly fidgeted with the edge of Kosmo’s fur. He could see how much the dream had shaken him, and the thought of Lotor still haunting Keith like this—after everything—made his blood boil. He hated that someone like Lotor had this kind of hold on Keith’s mind, even now.

“I thought it was you, but then… it turned into him.” Keith’s voice dropped, barely above a whisper. “It was Lotor. He said I couldn’t escape him. That I’d always be his, because he made me. That I’m only alive because of him.” Keith’s breath hitched slightly, his chest tightening at the memory. “I know it’s not possible. He’s dead. But… it felt too real, Lance. Like he was still there, somehow. I’m scared he’s… that he’s not really gone.”

Keith paused, rubbing at his eyes as if to wipe away the lingering traces of the nightmare. “I know it sounds stupid. I get that he’s gone, physically. But…” He shook his head. “Something in me says otherwise.”

Lance listened intently, his heart aching for Keith. He could see how much this nightmare had stirred up old fears, deep insecurities. And though Lance knew, logically, that Lotor was gone, he also understood how real that fear could feel. Especially after everything Keith had been through.

Lance’s grip on Keith’s arm tightened slightly, a protective gesture that came as naturally as breathing. “Keith,” he said softly, his voice low and steady. “I’m so sorry, starlight. I hate that you’ve been carrying this fear.” He paused, his eyes softening with warmth and resolve. “But you don’t have to worry. He’s gone. He’s not coming back, not in any real way. And even if he could… you’re not the same person you were back then. You’re a lot stronger now. And I’m here. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Lance chuckled softly, trying to inject a little light into the moment. “And seriously, what’s he gonna do without a body anyway? Float around and annoy us?” He gave Keith a playful nudge, hoping to at least get a smile out of him.

Keith tried to laugh, but it came out a little awkward, the heaviness of his thoughts still lingering. “I guess you’re right…” he sighed, though his shoulders relaxed a bit at Lance’s words. It helped, hearing that reassurance, even if part of him still clung to that uneasy feeling from the dream.

Kosmo, sensing Keith’s unease, nudged his head against Keith’s hand, and Keith responded by scratching behind the wolf’s ears, grateful for the distraction. The gentle, rhythmic motion seemed to ease his nerves, and he let out a soft breath, the tension in his body slowly ebbing away.

“I know it’ll be fine,” Keith said quietly, as if trying to convince himself as much as Lance. “It’s just… the unknown. It scares me.” He didn’t want to admit it outright, but the thought of what lay ahead—meeting the remnants of the Galran people, facing his own heritage, perhaps even discovering what had happened to his family—it weighed heavily on him.

And yet, despite the fear, there was also a flicker of hope. Seeing his people, the possibility of reconnecting with his mother, maybe even his brother—it felt like something he’d longed for, even though he’d never fully allowed himself to hope for it. But he couldn’t let that hope take root too deeply. Not yet.

Keith sighed again, leaning his head back against the seat, his eyes drifting back to the passing landscape outside the carriage. “I guess I just don’t know what to expect,” he admitted, his voice soft. “Seeing the fleet, the people… It’s all so uncertain.”

Lance, still holding his arm, gave him a gentle squeeze. “We’ll face it together,” he said simply, his tone full of quiet assurance. “Whatever happens, we’ll handle it. You don’t have to do it alone.”

Keith turned to look at him, and for a moment, the weight in his chest lightened just a little. Maybe Lance was right. Whatever was waiting for them on the other side of this journey, they’d face it together.

Keith smiled, a faint but genuine smile that reached his eyes. “You’re right…” he said softly, his voice losing some of its earlier tension. The weight on his chest felt a little lighter, and for the first time in what felt like hours, he let himself relax.

Lance’s heart lifted at the sight of that smile, a mix of relief and comfort settling into his features. It always tugged at him when Keith was afraid or burdened by something he couldn’t control. But now, seeing the small shift in Keith’s demeanor, Lance felt like they were making progress, like Keith was starting to trust that he didn’t have to carry everything alone.

“You know…” Lance began, his voice playful as he tried to lighten the mood even more, “we’re almost there. How about we play a game to pass the time? Just like we used to on long trips.”

“A game?” Keith raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued but unsure where Lance was going with this. “What kind of game?”

Lance leaned back a little, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “Well, we could… count how many buildings we see,” he suggested, then quickly added, “or maybe animals? Oh! We could name as many animals as we can think of. Like… Kosmo’s friends but, you know, more than just wolves.”

Keith chuckled at Lance’s enthusiasm, already finding some amusement in the conversation. “That’s what we used to play?” he asked, tilting his head slightly.

Lance sighed dramatically, throwing his hands up in mock defeat. “Okay, okay, I admit it, They’re a little boring after a while,” he said with a sheepish grin. “But! Ooh, what if I tell you a story instead?” His eyes lit up as if he had just come up with the perfect idea.

Keith couldn’t help but roll his eyes, though he was clearly amused. “Your stories always have parallels,” he pointed out with a hint of a smirk. “And they always make me cry.” He crossed his arms, giving Lance a knowing look.

Lance laughed, the sound light and genuine. “Not this time, I promise! I’ve been saving this one—it’s good! And I’ve come up with hundreds of stories, trust me,” he said, leaning in and giving Keith a playful nudge. “Come on, it’ll be fun.”

Keith sighed, though the corners of his lips curled into a reluctant smile. “Alright… fine,” he relented, shaking his head a little. “I’ll give you a chance.”

Lance’s grin widened in victory. “Good! Now scooch in close, because this one’s really good,” he said, holding out his arms in invitation.

Keith hesitated for only a moment before shifting closer, settling into Lance’s arms. The warmth and comfort of Lance’s embrace wrapped around him like a blanket, and he felt a sense of security that he hadn’t realized he’d been craving. Kosmo lay at their feet, his fur brushing against Keith’s leg, and the steady rhythm of the carriage wheels rolling beneath them became a soothing background hum.

“Perfect,” Lance murmured, his voice soft as he hugged Keith close, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of his head. He took a deep breath, his mind already spinning with ideas for the story he was about to tell.

Keith’s head rested comfortably against Lance’s chest, the steady rhythm of Lance’s heartbeat beneath him easing the tension from his body. His eyes were half-closed, the weight of the day’s worries fading away under the warmth of their shared embrace. Keith felt safe here, wrapped in Lance’s arms, his guard lowered in a way it never was with anyone else.

“So,” Keith murmured, his voice quieter now as he settled in, “what’s this story about?”

Lance’s tone shifted, soft and captivating, the way it always did when he launched into one of his stories. His words seemed to weave a spell, pulling Keith in from the very first sentence. “Once upon a time… there was a siren,” Lance began, his voice dropping into a smooth, storytelling cadence that had Keith instinctively leaning closer.

“A siren?” Keith blinked, curiosity creeping into his voice. “What’s a siren?”

Lance smiled, loving the way Keith always got drawn in, even to the simplest tales. “A siren,” he explained, letting his tone grow dramatic, “is a magical creature that lives in the ocean. They’re known for having voices so beautiful, so enchanting, that they can lure anyone who hears them… right to their doom!” He paused, his voice lowering for effect. “Almost everyone who hears their songs is eaten by the sirens themselves!”

Keith’s eyes widened in surprise, a gasp escaping him. “Really?” he asked, appalled but intrigued by the concept.

“Really,” Lance confirmed with a solemn nod, enjoying Keith’s reaction. “But that’s not quite how this story goes,” he added quickly, leaning in as if sharing a secret. “See, this siren? She was different. A lot different from the rest of her pack.”

Keith tilted his head, his curiosity deepening. “How different?”

“Well,” Lance continued, lowering his voice again for emphasis, “most sirens are strong and terrifying. Their muscles are built for dragging ships down into the depths, their claws sharp enough to tear through anything. But this one? She was… well, she was smaller, skinnier. She had long, dark black hair and these piercing green eyes that could see right through you. But the most important thing? She had never eaten a human.”

Keith blinked, surprised again. “Never?”

“Nope,” Lance shook his head. “She didn’t like the idea of it, really. So while the others hunted, she stuck to the sea floor, eating fish and crabs. Her family thought she was strange, but they wanted her to prove herself. They wanted her to lure in a human, and not just any human—a pirate! Because, of course, pirates were seen as the most foolish and greedy people in all the world. The perfect prey for a siren.”

Keith’s eyes were glued to Lance now, already fully immersed in the story. “Did she do it?” he asked, the suspense clear in his voice.

Lance shook his head again. “Not exactly. She didn’t agree with her family, so she just… stalled. Every night she would go to the surface, but instead of luring pirates, she’d just sit there and wait, then come back and tell her family there was nothing to catch. But they didn’t give up. They made her go back, again and again. Every night, the same thing.”

“And?” Keith asked, his voice barely above a whisper, completely absorbed. Lance’s storytelling skills were always magnetic, pulling him in effortlessly, but this one seemed to hold an extra layer of intrigue.

“And then,” Lance said, pausing dramatically, “one night, something changed. As she waited at the surface, she finally saw a ship approaching. But this wasn’t a pirate ship.” Lance leaned in slightly, his voice hushed as if sharing a mystery. “From her hidden cave, the siren watched as the ship got closer… and closer. But the closer it got, the more she heard something strange. Something that wasn’t the usual clamor of pirate voices or the crashing of waves.”

Keith’s eyes widened. “What did she hear?” he asked, his voice soft, like he was afraid to break the spell Lance had woven.

Lance smiled, knowing he had Keith hooked. “She heard singing. And not just any singing,” he continued, his voice filled with wonder. “As she looked closer, she could see a girl standing at the bow of the ship. She had platinum blonde hair that shimmered in the moonlight, and these big blue eyes that sparkled like the sea itself. She had a pretty pink scarf wrapped around her neck. She was a princess from a faraway land, and she had the most beautiful voice the siren had ever heard. It didn’t even compare to the songs of her own family.”

Keith’s expression softened, a strange mixture of emotions crossing his face. “A princess?” he asked.

Lance nodded, his voice growing more intense. “Yes, a princess. And in that moment, the siren fell in love. She didn’t know why or how, but the sound of the princess’s voice captivated her in a way nothing else ever had. But then, another thought crossed her mind—something darker.”

Keith frowned, sensing the shift in the story’s tone. “What thought?”

Lance lowered his voice even more, adding a touch of gravity to his words. “The siren realized that if she lured this princess to her, if she ate her, her family would be so proud. Not just a pirate, but a princess? That would be a prize above all others. She would never have to eat another human again. Her family would respect her, and she’d finally belong.”

Keith’s frown deepened, conflicted by the turn the story had taken. “But… she loved the princess,” he murmured, more to himself than to Lance.

Lance nodded. “Exactly. She loved the princess, but she also wanted to prove herself to her family. And she didn’t know what to do.”

Keith was quiet for a long moment, his eyes searching Lance’s face. “So… what did she do?” he asked finally, his voice barely a whisper, as if the answer might change everything.

Lance’s expression softened, his eyes warm as he looked down at Keith. “She made a choice,” he said gently. “A choice that changed everything.

Lance’s voice softened as he continued, his storytelling tone captivating Keith even more. “The siren began to sing,” Lance said, his voice lilting like the beginning of a melody. “Her voice was mesmerizing, flowing like the ocean waves. At times, it sounded as though three different voices were singing at once—layered and harmonious, yet haunting. But to the siren, her own song didn’t seem nearly as beautiful as the princess’s.”

Keith’s eyes were glued to Lance, his attention unwavering as he imagined the scene. He could almost hear the siren’s voice blending with the princess’s in his mind, the way their songs wrapped around each other like the ocean mist.

“Their voices mingled in the air,” Lance continued, “a strange duet that no one had ever heard before. The princess, standing on the bow of her ship, didn’t look frightened, even as the ship came to a stop, drawn in by the siren’s song. Instead, she looked down at the siren with calm curiosity, her eyes meeting the creature’s. And then… she smiled.”

Keith’s heart skipped a beat, something about the moment in the story resonating with him deeply. “She wasn’t scared?” he murmured, caught up in the tale.

“No,” Lance said softly. “The princess wasn’t scared. She knew what sirens were supposed to do—what their songs did to sailors and pirates who heard them. But instead of fear, she smiled and said, ‘Your voice is quite beautiful.’”

Keith’s eyes widened a little, a sense of wonder filling him as he listened to the exchange.

Lance continued, his voice gentle, but rich with the depth of the siren’s feelings. “The princess added, ‘But I suppose I’ve found myself at the end now, haven’t I?’ She knew the stories. She knew what was supposed to happen next.”

Keith leaned in closer, as if he could see the scene playing out before him. “So… what did the siren do?” he asked softly.

Lance smiled slightly, his voice taking on the emotional weight of the moment. “The siren just shook her head. She didn’t want to hurt the princess. Instead, she looked up at her and said, ‘I would never want to harm a creature as beautiful as you.’”

Keith’s chest tightened at those words, something raw and tender stirring inside him as he imagined the siren’s feelings.

Lance continued, his voice softening even more. “‘Your voice is like the sea itself,’ the siren said, her gaze locked on the princess. And for the first time, the princess smiled—not out of politeness, but out of genuine affection. She saw something in the siren that no one else had.”

Keith couldn’t help but lean further into Lance, the story pulling him in completely. He could feel the tenderness between the two characters, the unspoken connection between them. “What happened next?” Keith asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Lance chuckled softly, pleased with how absorbed Keith had become. “The siren asked the princess for two things,” he said, pausing for a moment before continuing. “‘I want the scarf you’re wearing around your neck,’ the siren said, ‘and I want you to come back. I want to see you again.’”

Keith’s brow furrowed slightly in confusion, mirroring the princess’s reaction in the story. “The princess was puzzled,” Lance explained. “‘Why do you want my scarf?’ she asked. It was an odd request, wasn’t it? She had expected the siren to demand something else—her life, maybe, or something far more valuable. But all she asked for was a scarf.”

Keith nodded, eager to hear the siren’s answer. He couldn’t imagine why the siren would want something so simple.

Lance smiled, a hint of mischief in his voice as he leaned in a little closer. “The siren smiled back at the princess, her green eyes shimmering with emotion. ‘Because,’ she said, ‘it smells like the wind and the sea, and it reminds me of you. If I have your scarf, I’ll feel like you’re with me, even when you’re far away.’”

Keith’s breath caught in his throat. The simplicity of the siren’s request, the purity of it, tugged at something deep inside him. He understood now. The siren wasn’t asking for anything material—she wanted something personal, something that connected her to the princess.

Lance’s voice softened again as he spoke the princess’s next words. “The princess’s heart softened as well. ‘I suppose I could give you my scarf,’ she said, ‘but only if you promise not to lure any more ships to their doom.’ The siren agreed immediately, without hesitation.”

Keith felt warmth spread through him at the thought of the siren’s promise. “Did the princess come back?” he asked, unable to help himself.

Lance smiled, his arms tightening around Keith. “She did,” he whispered. “But that’s a story for another night.”

Keith frowned, his lips pressing into a thin line as he looked up at Lance. “Why stop now? We can finish the story,” he urged, the disappointment in his voice clear. He didn’t want the tale to end just yet, not when it was providing a momentary escape from the swirling anxiety that had been gnawing at him ever since they set off.

Lance chuckled softly, shaking his head as he gently untangled himself from Keith. “We’re almost at the fleet, Keith,” he said, his smirk tinged with both amusement and seriousness. “I’ll tell you the rest another time, promise.” He flashed a wink, but Keith could hear the subtle shift in Lance’s tone, the underlying awareness that they were about to face something neither of them could fully predict.

Keith let out a groan, his shoulders slumping as he reluctantly pulled himself away from Lance’s warmth. The familiar comfort of being held in Lance’s arms, of hearing his voice weave stories that made him forget the looming dread ahead, was slipping away too quickly. “Fine…” he muttered, though the reluctance was clear in his voice.

As he sat up, the weight of reality settled back on his chest. The distraction of the story had done its job, momentarily pulling him away from his worries. But now that bubble had popped, and the tension returned, creeping back into his muscles, knotting them with uncertainty.

Keith turned his gaze forward, his eyes scanning the horizon as the treetops thinned. Just beyond them, not far now, awaited the Galran fleet. His people. The weight of that realization pressed down on him, and he swallowed hard. Would they even recognize him? Had they given up hope after so many years? How would they react to seeing him now, changed in ways no one could have imagined?

Kosmo, sensing Keith’s unease, padded up to his side, pressing his cold nose against Keith’s hand in a reassuring nudge. Keith absently scratched behind Kosmo’s ears, grateful for the small comfort, but his mind was racing with a thousand questions. His heart pounded in his chest, heavy with the burden of what was to come.

Lance glanced over, reading Keith’s body language like an open book. “Hey…” he said softly, his voice cutting through the thickening silence. He reached out and rested a hand on Keith’s shoulder, his touch grounding him. “We’re in this together, okay? You’re not alone in this.”

Keith nodded, though his jaw tightened. He didn’t have words right now, but Lance’s presence, steady and unwavering, was the anchor he clung to. The story had been a good distraction, but now there was no escaping the reality waiting just beyond the treeline.

Lance moved closer to Keith, his arm brushing against his as they stood side by side. He didn’t say anything more, sensing that Keith needed the silence right now, the space to process what they were walking into. But the warmth of Lance’s presence was a reminder that no matter how uncertain this reunion would be, Keith wouldn’t have to face it alone.

As the last line of trees gave way, revealing the tents and huts, people walking and Turin going to look at this unannounced carriage, Keith felt a surge of both dread and hope. The unknown stretched out before him, vast and unpredictable. But somewhere in that unknown, there had to be answers—answers about his family, his mother, and the role he was meant to play in this fractured world.

Lance gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze, his voice low and steady. “Whatever happens, Keith… we face it together.” He reminded.

Keith nodded, his heart still pounding, but Lance’s words gave him the strength to take the next step forward. Beyond the trees, beyond the fleet, was a future neither of them could have imagined. But they would face it side by side, no matter what awaited them

Chapter Text

As the carriage came to a halt, Keith’s heart pounded in his chest. He could already feel the weight of the moment pressing down on him, like an invisible force tightening around his lungs. His hands trembled as he looked over at Lance, fear clear in his wide eyes. “Lance… I don’t know if I can do this,” Keith whispered, his voice barely above a shaky breath. Panic swirled in his chest, making it hard to think, let alone face what was waiting outside.

Lance saw the terror etched into Keith’s face, and without hesitation, he reached out, placing his hands firmly on Keith’s shoulders. “Keith… deep breaths, okay?” Lance’s voice was calm, soothing, the kind of tone that could cut through the chaos in Keith’s mind. “Everything’s going to be okay. I promise.” His thumb gently brushed over Keith’s cheek, sweeping his hair away from his eyes. “We just have to go out there and show them who you are. I’ve got you, no matter what.”

Keith closed his eyes for a brief moment, trying to find some semblance of control as he drew in a shaky breath, Lance’s touch grounding him. The muffled sounds of people gathering outside the carriage made it impossible to ignore the reality of what was about to happen. He could feel their presence, sense their curiosity—and their judgment.

Then, a voice cut through the air outside, firm and demanding. “State your business, Alteans. What are you doing here?” It was a girl’s voice, sharp with authority, yet young.

Keith’s eyes snapped open, and Lance gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

“They’ve surrounded us,” Keith murmured, his heart racing.

Outside, Adam moved from his seat at the front of the carriage, his steps purposeful yet cautious. “Don’t worry,” Adam said, his voice calm and diplomatic as he approached the girl with the spear. “We come in peace. My name is Adam, the Altean General. May I speak to the person in charge?”

There was a pause, a moment of uncertainty. The girl’s grip on her spear tightened as she glanced over the gathering crowd, her gaze flickering back to Adam. After what felt like an eternity, she called out, her voice carrying over the murmuring Galrans.

“Takashi!”

Adam froze, his breath catching in his throat. Takashi? He hadn’t heard that name in years, and the sound of it struck him like a physical blow.

Inside the carriage, Lance’s head whipped toward the door, his eyes wide. “Shiro?” he whispered, his voice barely audible but full of disbelief.

Keith’s brows furrowed in confusion. “Shiro? You mean…”

Lance looked at him, his expression a mix of shock and realization. “Your brother,” he murmured, his voice hushed. “That’s your brother, Keith.”

Keith’s heart nearly stopped. He had expected many things today, but not this. His pulse thundered in his ears as he tried to process Lance’s words. Shiro was alive? His brother, the one he thought he’d never see again?

Outside, the crowd began to shift, parting to reveal a figure emerging from their midst. He moved with the same commanding presence that Adam remembered so well, though there was a weariness to him now, a heaviness in his step. It wasn’t long before Shiro—Takashi—stood before Adam, his eyes locking onto the Altean general with a mixture of surprise and something more complicated, something unreadable.

The girl with the spear lowered her weapon slightly and spoke again. “The Altean wishes to speak with you,” she said, her voice carrying a note of respect as she gestured toward Adam.

Shiro’s gaze lingered on Adam, taking in the sight of the man he hadn’t seen in so long. The same face, but worn by time and responsibility. He hadn’t changed much—still the same Adam, still that unshakable strength in his eyes. But something about this reunion felt different, strained.

“Takashi…” Adam’s voice cracked, filled with the weight of years and unspoken words. “You’re alive.”

Shiro’s throat tightened, a flood of emotions surging through him. “Adam…” he started, his voice soft, burdened by guilt. “I never meant to—”

But Adam cut him off, his expression hardening. “I’m not here for you,” he said, his tone cold, cutting through whatever apology Shiro had been about to offer. Adam’s gaze flickered away from Shiro, focusing on the task at hand. “I’m here on business. Altea has come to a decision, in light of a discovery made by Prince Lance.”

The sudden shift in conversation left Shiro stunned. He had expected—he wasn’t sure what he had expected. Maybe relief, maybe some kind of reunion. But not this. Adam was all business, his tone louder now, addressing not just Shiro, but the entire crowd of Galrans that had gathered around.

Shiro’s frown deepened, and a strange hollowness settled in his chest. Adam had changed—he could see it in the way he held himself, the way his words came out sharp and unyielding. Whatever bond they had once shared seemed distant now, severed by time and circumstance.

But even as the weight of the moment pressed down on them, something else was brewing inside the carriage. Keith and Lance, still hidden from the eyes of the Galrans, sat in tense silence, their hearts pounding. Keith’s thoughts spun wildly. His brother—alive. Here, among these people. The enormity of it all was almost too much to grasp.

“Keith,” Lance whispered, his voice low, his hand finding Keith’s. “Whatever happens, I’m right here.”

Keith nodded, though his heart felt like it was beating out of his chest. The fear that had been gnawing at him earlier was still there, but now, it was mingled with hope. A hope he hadn’t dared let himself feel in so long. His brother was out there. His people were out there.

And now, he was moments away from facing them.

Shiro’s mind was racing, but he forced himself to keep a calm facade. This was neither the time nor the place for personal reunions, no matter how much his heart screamed for answers, for understanding. Adam’s words weighed heavily on him, and now he had to confront a reality he hadn’t prepared for. Prince Lance? That was a name from the past, one that stirred bittersweet memories. Lance, his younger brother’s best friend—what had Lance discovered that was important enough to bring them here?

Inside the carriage, Lance had grabbed Keith’s hand, his grip firm and reassuring. Keith’s ears flicked nervously, betraying the calm front he was trying so hard to keep. His tail curled anxiously behind him, and his wings folded as tightly as possible against his back. It was all too much—the weight of the moment, the pressure of stepping out into a world that expected so much of him, a world that didn’t even know he had survived.

Shiro’s eyes darted toward the carriage, but before he could ask more, Adam stepped forward, his hand gripping the door handle with a sense of finality. The entire crowd fell into an expectant hush, their collective breath seemingly held as Adam spoke with a commanding tone.

“Good people of Daibazaal…” Adam’s voice echoed, filled with a weight that made the moment feel monumental. “I present to you, your lost prince. Prince Keith.”

“Keith,” Lance whispered softly, his voice grounding Keith in the moment. “It’s time.”

Keith nodded, though his heart felt like it was going to leap out of his chest. He took a deep breath as the door swung open, and the light from outside flooded into the carriage.

The carriage door creaked open, and for a moment, the world stood still.

Keith. Their lost prince.

Shiro blinked in disbelief. He hadn’t expected this—he hadn’t even considered this a possibility. His mind raced, trying to grasp what Adam had just said, trying to make sense of how the little boy he once knew, the one who had vanished, could be standing before him now. His heart pounded in his chest, the mixture of shock and disbelief nearly overwhelming.

The crowd’s collective gasp filled the silence, and Shiro could feel the energy shift, the awe and confusion radiating from the gathered Galrans. All eyes were on the carriage, waiting to see their prince. Waiting to see the boy they had thought long gone.

The crowd went utterly silent. A sea of faces, some worn with age, others young and full of hope, stared up at him in awe. Lance stepped out first, still holding Keith’s hand, and helped him down from the carriage. Keith’s feet touched the ground, but it felt unsteady, as though the earth beneath him was shifting, and he had to cling to Lance to stay upright.

The crowd was far larger than Keith had imagined. He had thought the Galrans had been reduced to a small, struggling group after the war, but this… this was an entire kingdom. A thriving community, and now all eyes were on him. They looked at him like he was a legend come to life, a ghost returned to reclaim his place. The weight of their expectations pressed down on him like a physical force, making it hard to breathe.

Shiro watched, still frozen in place as Lance helped Keith onto the ground. He couldn’t take his eyes off of Keith, couldn’t believe what he was seeing. His brother—alive, standing before him. Keith was taller than the last time he’d seen him, older, but there was no mistaking those familiar eyes, the wild hair, the quiet strength that had always been there. But now… now there were wings, a tail, those sharp ears. He took it all in, his mind struggling to catch up with the reality unfolding in front of him.

He couldn’t move. He didn’t know what to say, how to begin.

Keith stood, trying to steady his breath as he looked out at the sea of faces, then slowly turned his gaze toward the man standing at the edge of the crowd. He knew, without a doubt, who this was. The stories, the whispers—he had heard about Shiro, his brother, but seeing him now, in the flesh, was something entirely different. His heart pounded in his chest as he met Shiro’s eyes, and for a moment, time seemed to stop.

Shiro stepped forward slowly, his eyes fixed on Keith, his expression a mix of disbelief and something deeper, something raw and emotional. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t trust his voice to say what he felt. All the years, all the guilt and loss, had left a deep scar, and now, standing in front of him, was the very thing he thought he’d never see again.

Keith’s voice broke the silence, though it wavered, unsure and fragile. “You’re… Shiro,” he said, his eyes searching Shiro’s face for confirmation, for the truth. “You’re my brother…”

Shiro’s heart twisted painfully at the sound of Keith’s voice. He could hear the uncertainty, the hope, the vulnerability in every word. He had waited so long for this moment, but now that it was here, he didn’t know how to respond.

“Yes…” Shiro’s voice was hoarse, filled with emotion he hadn’t expected to feel. “I’m your brother, Keith. I’m your brother.”

Keith’s breath hitched, his body trembling as the reality of it all sank in. Shiro was here, in front of him, alive. The brother he had thought was lost to him forever. The brother who had never given up looking for him, even when all hope seemed lost.

Lance stayed close, his hand still on Keith’s arm, ready to support him through whatever came next. The crowd remained silent, watching, waiting, as if this moment between the two brothers was sacred, something too important to interrupt.

Keith swallowed hard, trying to find his voice again. “I didn’t know… I didn’t know you were alive.”

Shiro shook his head slowly, his eyes never leaving Keith’s. “I didn’t know you were either. I thought… I thought I’d lost you.”

For a long moment, they just stood there, two brothers reunited after years of separation, both carrying the weight of everything that had happened, everything that had changed. The past hung between them like a shadow, but so did the promise of something new, something better.

Keith wasn’t sure what to do, what to say. His heart felt like it was going to burst. But in that moment, looking at Shiro, knowing that his brother was here, alive, everything else—the fear, the uncertainty, the weight of what was to come—faded into the background.

For the first time in a long time, Keith felt like he had found a part of himself that had been missing. And it was enough to give him hope.

Shiro’s composure shattered as his eyes filled with tears, a vulnerability the Galrans had never witnessed from their strong leader. The weight of the years, the endless searching, and the overwhelming relief all collided in a single moment. With a choked sob, he threw his strong arms around Keith, pulling him into an embrace that spoke of both joy and sorrow. Shiro held his brother tightly, as if afraid he might disappear again, his tears soaking into Keith’s shoulder.

“Keith…” Shiro’s voice was thick with emotion, trembling as the tears fell freely. “I never stopped looking for you… I’m so sorry… so, so sorry…”

Keith felt Shiro’s body tremble against his own, and he returned the embrace, wrapping his arms around his older brother. His hands didn’t even meet behind Shiro’s broad back, but it didn’t matter. This moment, this reunion, was everything he had hoped for. His chest tightened with emotion, but he kept his voice soft, trying to calm the storm of guilt he could feel radiating from Shiro.

“It’s okay,” Keith whispered gently, his words meant to soothe. “I never once blamed you. I just wanted to find you. I didn’t know you’d be here…” His voice wavered, but there was only reassurance in his tone. He didn’t want Shiro to carry any more guilt than he already did.

Shiro let out a deep, shuddering sigh as he slowly pulled away, though his hands remained on Keith’s shoulders, as if grounding himself in the reality that his brother was here, alive. His eyes, still brimming with unshed tears, roamed over Keith’s face, taking in every detail. He needed to see, to truly believe that this wasn’t just some cruel dream. But then his gaze landed on something that hadn’t been there before—the horns, the wings, the tail. His brows furrowed in confusion, his heart sinking as a fresh wave of concern swept over him.

“What… what is all this?” Shiro’s voice was filled with a mix of bewilderment and worry as he gently touched one of Keith’s horns. “What happened to you?”

Keith shifted uncomfortably under the weight of Shiro’s gaze, feeling the eyes of the Galrans on him as well. It wasn’t easy to explain, especially not here, in front of so many people. His heart raced, the gravity of everything suddenly pressing down on him. He opened his mouth to speak but found that the words wouldn’t come.

“It’s… it’s a long story…” Keith finally managed, glancing at the crowd of curious, expectant faces. They were waiting for answers too, but this was not the place to share everything.

Lance, who had been standing close by, watching the exchange with a soft, protective gaze, stepped forward. He placed a reassuring hand on Keith’s shoulder, sensing his discomfort. His voice was calm, steady, as he spoke up for Keith.

“A story that we should tell… just you,” Lance added, looking at Shiro meaningfully. He knew Keith would need time and space to open up, and this reunion—while monumental—wasn’t the right moment to unravel the entire truth.

Shiro met Lance’s eyes and nodded, understanding immediately. He glanced at the crowd, the silent spectators who had been waiting for something, anything, to explain the return of their lost prince. But this wasn’t for them to hear—not yet. Shiro knew how delicate this was for Keith, how much he must have gone through, and he wouldn’t push him before he was ready.

“Of course,” Shiro said softly, his tone gentle now. “We’ll go someplace private, away from all this…” His voice trailed off as he glanced at the sea of Galrans. He needed to tend to Keith first, to give him the comfort and privacy he deserved. “We’ll get you something to eat, too. You must be starving.”

Keith nodded gratefully, feeling some of the tension ease from his body. Shiro’s words, his warmth, made Keith feel like he could breathe again. This was his brother—strong, steady, and full of love, just as he remembered.

As Shiro gestured for them to follow him, the crowd began to part, whispering among themselves, but keeping a respectful distance. The reality of their prince’s return was still sinking in for most of them. Some were in awe, others in quiet disbelief, but all eyes remained on Keith as he and Lance moved to follow Shiro.

The three of them stepped into the modest hut, the door closing with a soft creak behind them. Shiro led them through the small entryway, his movements purposeful yet gentle, as though he didn’t want to disturb the fragile sense of reunion that hung in the air. Adam and Coran had stayed behind, tending to the horses and engaging with the Galrans, likely discussing alliances and the intricacies of their arrival. But here, inside this small hut, it was just them—Keith, Lance, and Shiro.

As they entered the kitchen, Keith caught the scent of something warm and familiar. It immediately grounded him, the smell of cooking filling the air with a sense of home. His eyes landed on the pot simmering over the hearth, steam rising from it and carrying the rich aroma of soup through the room. It was a simple comfort, but one that stirred emotions Keith hadn’t allowed himself to feel for years.

Shiro approached the pot, grabbing a ladle and filling three bowls with care. He set them down on the small table in the center of the room. “There we go… Mom made this herself,” Shiro said, a smile tugging at his lips as he glanced back at Keith. “She’s going to be so happy to know you’re alive. She’s never stopped hoping.”

The word “Mom” hit Keith like a jolt. He froze, the bowl halfway to his mouth, and looked up at Shiro with wide eyes. “Mom…” he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper. “So, she’s alive?” His mind raced, flashes of memories, dreams, and visions mixing together. “I knew it. I knew that wasn’t just a dream…”

Shiro turned to him, concern etched across his face. “Dream?” he echoed, sitting down across from Keith and Lance. “Keith, start from the beginning. Tell me everything. Don’t leave anything out.”

Keith glanced at Lance, who gave him a reassuring nod. His heart pounded in his chest, the weight of everything he had to say pressing down on him. He took a deep breath, setting his bowl down. “The person who took me… his name was Lotor. He’s our cousin.” The words felt strange on his tongue, the reality of it still hard to grasp. “King Alfor told us that Lotor conducted experiments—magical, biological experiments. And I was his first successful attempt at merging a human with… a dragon.”

Shiro’s eyes widened slightly, but he stayed silent, listening intently as Keith spoke. The emotions on his face shifted—anger, concern, disbelief—but he never interrupted.

Keith swallowed hard, his voice growing quieter. “I don’t just have wings and horns. Lotor… he changed what makes me, me. He turned me into… this.” He gestured vaguely to his body, to the wings folded against his back, the horns curling from his head. “I have claws, fangs, and I… I breathe fire when I’m angry. It’s only happened once, but…” His voice faltered as he relived the memories, the fear and confusion he’d felt during that moment when he had lost control.

Shiro’s hands tightened into fists, his knuckles white. The idea of his little brother being subjected to such horrors made his stomach turn, but he remained quiet, letting Keith continue.

Keith looked down at his hands. “Lotor took out my heart and replaced it with a dragon’s. One of the smaller ones… I think they’re extinct now.” His voice cracked slightly as he recalled the years of isolation. “I was kept in a tower for years. Alone. Until Lotor brought me to the castle. And then…” Keith glanced at Lance, his gaze softening. “Lance found me. He’s helped me so much. I could barely walk or talk when I first got out. But now… I’m who I’m supposed to be. A prince. I’ve learned how to act like one.”

Shiro’s chest tightened as he listened. He knew how strong Keith had always been, but this—this was unimaginable. “Lance…” Shiro said softly, nodding in gratitude toward him.

Lance gave a small smile, his hand resting gently on Keith’s shoulder. “We’ve been through a lot, but he’s stronger than he realizes,” he said quietly.

Keith smiled briefly, but the next part weighed heavily on him. “Lance threw me a party. It was supposed to be a celebration, but Lotor showed up. I… I killed him.” Keith’s voice dropped, the weight of the confession pulling his shoulders down. “But… I died too.”

Shiro’s heart plummeted, his breath catching in his throat. “You… died?” he echoed, his voice barely a whisper, struggling to understand.

Keith nodded, his gaze distant. “He stabbed me, and… I saw Dad.” The silence hung heavy between them as the words sunk in.

“Dad…” Shiro’s voice was thick with emotion. He hadn’t heard that name in years, the memory of their father long buried under layers of grief.

Keith nodded again. “He told me I wasn’t done yet… and to say hi to Mom.” He took a shaky breath, glancing at Shiro. “That’s why I thought it was a dream. But now… now I’m here. And I wasn’t expecting to find you. Or Mom.”

Shiro sat back in his chair, his head spinning. He could hardly process everything Keith had been through. The relief of having him back was overshadowed by the pain of knowing how much he’d suffered. “Mom’s not here,” Shiro said softly, shaking his head. “She’s been on another search. For you.”

Keith’s eyes widened, his heart clenching. “She’s still looking for me?”

“Every day,” Shiro replied. “She never stopped. But when she gets back, I’ll tell her. She’ll want to come see you right away.” Shiro smiled, a glimmer of hope returning to his eyes despite the storm of emotions swirling within him.

Keith exhaled, the tension in his body easing just a little. “I can’t wait to see her,” he said softly.

Shiro leaned back in his chair, the weight of the day’s emotions settling over him. His gaze softened as he looked at Keith and Lance, his younger brother finally safe in front of him after years of being lost to the world. He exhaled slowly. “We’ll figure out how to tell the others in the morning,” he said, his voice gentle but firm. “But for tonight, you need to rest.” His eyes flicked to Keith, taking in how much he’d changed, and yet how much he was still the same boy he’d always known. “I can’t even begin to imagine everything you’ve been through.”

Keith smiled softly, a sense of relief washing over him as he heard Shiro’s words. This was a peace he hadn’t felt in so long. It was strange, but comforting at the same time. “Thank you…” he murmured, his voice quiet but sincere. He glanced at his brother, knowing there was something more unsaid between them. “And… you should go talk to Adam. He’s missed you.”

Shiro raised an eyebrow, as if he hadn’t considered that Adam would feel the same weight of their separation. But he could see in Keith’s eyes the truth of it. He chuckled, the sound low and familiar, easing the tension in the room. “I’ll think about it,” he said with a small smirk.

Lance, who had been quietly watching the interaction, couldn’t help but laugh as he leaned over to Keith and gently wiped a spot of soup from the corner of his lips. “Keith’s right, whether Adam will admit it or not,” Lance teased. “He’s missed you. It’s written all over his face.”

Shiro’s chuckle deepened, shaking his head as if to brush off the comment, though a part of him knew it was true. “I’ll deal with Adam soon enough,” he said with a wink. Pushing his chair back, he stood up, stretching his arms overhead. “But you two need to rest. There’s a bed in the guest room—it’s small, but judging by the look on both your faces, I doubt you’ll mind much.” His teasing grin widened before he laughed and headed for the door.

Keith felt the heat rise to his face, his blush deepening at Shiro’s playful comment. He shifted slightly in his chair, trying to hide his embarrassment. Despite the sudden awkwardness, Shiro’s humor had done wonders to release the tension that had been building up in his chest all night. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt so… at home.

Lance snickered and nudged Keith with his elbow, his smile playful as he leaned in close. “Looks like Shiro’s got jokes,” he teased, his voice full of affection. Keith’s blush darkened, and Lance couldn’t help but find it endearing.

Keith rolled his eyes but smiled despite himself. “He’s just happy to have me back,” Keith muttered, his voice still a little flustered.

Lance stood up and extended his hand to Keith, a gentle smile on his lips. “Come on, love,” he said softly, his tone shifting from teasing to tender. “Let’s get some sleep.”

Keith looked up at Lance, his heart swelling with warmth. He took Lance’s hand, feeling the familiar comfort in his touch, and allowed him to pull him up from the chair. As Keith stood, Lance leaned in, brushing a soft kiss across his lips. The kiss was brief, but it was enough to make Keith’s heart race all over again.

Blushing even harder, Keith chuckled nervously and nodded, his heart still fluttering as he followed Lance toward the small guest room. The warmth in his chest only grew as Lance squeezed his hand, leading him through the hallway, past the quiet murmurs of the night outside, and into the soft glow of their shared space. For the first time in what felt like forever, Keith felt a sense of peace wrapping around him.

As they stepped into the bedroom, Lance gently closed the door behind them. Keith looked around, taking in the modest room. It was small, as Shiro had said, but it was cozy, the bed neatly made with a blanket that looked soft and warm. The walls were bare, but the atmosphere was filled with the same sense of comfort that Keith had begun to rediscover since arriving here.

Lance turned to Keith, his eyes warm and full of affection. “You ready?” he asked softly, his thumb gently brushing over the back of Keith’s hand.

Keith smiled, his heart settling into a steady rhythm as he gazed back at Lance. “Yeah,” he whispered, squeezing Lance’s hand in return. For the first time in a long while, he wasn’t afraid of what tomorrow would bring. With Lance by his side, and now Shiro too, the future didn’t seem so daunting.

Chapter Text

The morning seemed to come slowly, as if the night itself was reluctant to let go. A muted, bluish glow crept into the room, revealing soft tendrils of frost weaving across the windows. The cold here was nearly unbearable for those accustomed to Altea’s temperate climate, and it seeped into every corner, pressing against the walls as though trying to invade the warmth within. Despite the chill, Keith and Lance were wrapped up in a cocoon of shared warmth, hidden beneath layers of thick blankets that held the bitter cold at bay.

Beneath the blankets, Keith lay nestled close to Lance. His tail was securely wrapped around Lance’s leg, an instinctual act of possession and protection. His powerful, dark wings draped over both of them, shielding them from the creeping cold like a living blanket. Lance, in turn, held him close, one arm resting across Keith’s back, his fingers tracing small, gentle circles near the base of Keith’s spine. Lance’s breath was warm against the scales at Keith’s neck, each exhale forming a slight mist in the cold air. They were silent, save for the steady rhythm of their breathing—soft, synchronized, and comforting.

Atop the tangle of limbs and blankets lay Kosmo, sprawled across them both, his big body rising and falling with each soft snore. His paws occasionally twitched, caught in the grip of a dream, and every now and then he’d let out a tiny sigh. His fur added another layer of warmth to their shared refuge, a small but essential comfort in this icebound place. The room was otherwise silent, still save for the rise and fall of their chests, wrapped in peaceful slumber.

In the next room, however, peace was far from Shiro’s mind. He sat alone at the kitchen table, his fingers absently tracing patterns on the cold surface as he struggled to come to terms with everything he’d learned. Last night’s conversations felt like a fever dream, the kind that left you wondering if you’d really heard what you thought you had. His brother alive, transformed by some kind of genetic manipulation, part dragon now… It sounded like the stuff of legends, not reality. Yet here he was, struggling to come to terms with it all, grappling with the anger and grief that gnawed at him.

Shiro let out a slow, shaky breath, leaning forward with his elbows braced against the table, his fingers massaging his temples. His thoughts were a chaotic tangle of memories, worries, and unspoken fears. His brother—alive, but altered beyond recognition. The endless conflict that had forced them into hiding. The bloodshed he’d left behind in a desperate attempt to stop the war… It all loomed heavy over him.

The quiet was broken by the soft creak of the front door opening, a sound that seemed to echo in the silence. Shiro’s gaze lifted, and he watched as Adam stepped inside, looking as weary and haunted as Shiro felt.

“Adam…” Shiro’s voice was hesitant, almost tentative, as he took in the sight of him. “What are you doing here?”

Adam sighed, crossing the room to sit across from him. His movements were slow, as though weighed down by something invisible but undeniably heavy. “This is… a nice place you’ve got here. Far away from trouble.” He looked around, his expression unreadable. “The people here… they’re all so kind. I still can’t believe you all had to hide out here just to get away from us…”

“Adam, that’s not—” Shiro began, his brow furrowing in frustration, but Adam held up a hand, cutting him off.

“I know, Takashi. I know.” Adam’s voice was soft, but there was a note of something deeper, something almost pleading. “But you didn’t even let me know. I was never against you. None of us were. And you know that.”

Shiro’s gaze fell to the table, his fingers tracing circles over the worn surface as he sighed. “There was nothing I could do, Adam. You know that. Father wouldn’t listen. Most of the Galrans wouldn’t listen. And Alfor… Alfor only looked out for Altea. He had to protect his people; I understand that. I just… I couldn’t let anyone know I was leaving.”

Adam’s hands clenched into fists, his gaze burning with the pent-up frustration and pain that had been building within him for so long. “Not even me?” His voice cracked, a tremor betraying the depth of his anguish. “You think I wanted to be there, Takashi? Do you know how many people I’ve had to kill? People I didn’t want to hurt, but I had no choice. And every time… I thought of you. How you just… left.”

Shiro’s head bowed, his shoulders tense. “I lost my brother, Adam. The only way I could think to stop the war was to find him. To… to make things right.”

Adam shook his head slowly, his gaze steely. “And look who ended up finding him.” He paused, the weight of his words hanging heavily between them. “Listen, Shiro. We can fix this. We can still make things right. If you and the others are willing… the king is open to talks. There’s a chance, Takashi. An alliance. Maybe… maybe something even greater. Diabazaal could come alive again.”

Shiro’s eyes narrowed, a flicker of hope warring with the shadows of old wounds. “Diabazaal is dead, Adam. And even if… I need to talk to the king myself. You understand that, don’t you? He was the one who gave the order to kill my father.”

Adam swallowed, his voice thick with unspoken regret. “Takashi—”

“Just… stop.” Shiro sighed heavily, rubbing the bridge of his nose, trying to stave off the storm of emotions threatening to overwhelm him. “Let’s… let’s not go there. Let’s just… talk. About something else. How have you been?”

Adam let out a bitter laugh, his eyes hardening as he stared at Shiro. “How do you think I’ve been, Takashi?”

Shiro paused, his words catching in his throat, the weight of everything he wanted to say pressing down on him. “I mean… with everything else…” he murmured, almost to himself. His gaze dropped, his fingers twisting together as he tried to steady himself.

Adam gave a short, humorless chuckle, the sound bitter and raw. “You know…” he began, his voice laced with an edge Shiro hadn’t heard before. “You were the only person I had. After you left?” He paused, as if weighing each word carefully, eyes fixed on some distant point past Shiro. “I didn’t have anyone. So… things haven’t exactly been great.” His arms crossed tightly over his chest, a reflexive attempt to shield himself from the vulnerability his words revealed.

Shiro winced, feeling the unspoken pain in Adam’s voice as if it were his own. “Yes…” he replied quietly, nodding as he sat back, the weight of his own regrets sinking heavily into his shoulders. “It was the same here. I mean… I thought my mother was dead until she found me. And even then, after everything… I didn’t have anyone for a while, either.” His gaze flickered away, unable to meet Adam’s eyes. “And even after everyone else was here… it still didn’t feel the same.”

Adam’s eyes softened just slightly, though he maintained his guarded stance. “Is this your way of apologizing?” he asked, voice edged with both challenge and faint hope.

Shiro let out a sigh, a soft, defeated sound. “No… there’s no simple way for me to apologize,” he admitted, his voice low, almost a whisper. “I don’t think any apology could ever make this right.” He leaned forward, his hands clasped tightly in front of him as he searched for the right words. “But… I’ll keep trying. Every chance I get. And you don’t have to accept it if you don’t want to, but… I want you to know that leaving you, leaving everyone… that was never what I wanted. I didn’t want to leave anyone, especially you.”

His voice faltered, and for a moment, he struggled to continue. “You were…” he paused, inhaling a shaky breath as he gathered the courage to speak the truth he’d held back for so long. “You are… everything to me. And I thought about you every day. I wanted to come back, Adam. But without Keith, without my brother… I knew it would only end badly. I had to find him. I had to try and make things right.”

For a long moment, Adam didn’t say anything. The silence stretched between them, heavy with the weight of all the words left unspoken, the shared memories, the fractured bond they both struggled to mend. Adam’s gaze softened as he looked at Shiro, something unreadable flickering in his eyes.

Finally, he sighed and stood up, his movements slow and deliberate, as if the weight of their conversation was pressing down on him. “We should… figure out a way to introduce Keith, shouldn’t we?” he said, his voice quiet but resolute. “If you want an alliance… they’re going to have to see him. To see the truth of what you’ve been fighting for.” He glanced toward the door, his expression unreadable, but there was a hint of something—determination, perhaps, or even a flicker of understanding.

“We’ll talk later,” Adam added, giving Shiro a final, searching look before he turned and walked out. The door closed softly behind him, leaving Shiro alone with the echoes of their conversation, and the uncertain path that lay ahead.

Shiro rose from his chair with a heavy sigh, letting the tension from his earlier conversation with Adam slowly ebb away as he made his way to the guest room. The air was colder down this hallway, each step echoing quietly in the dim morning light filtering through the windows. Reaching the door, he hesitated for a moment, hand resting on the worn handle as he steeled himself.

With a quiet creak, he pushed the door open just a sliver and peered inside. The sight before him softened his expression, and for a fleeting moment, a faint smile crossed his face. Keith and Lance were nestled together, tangled up in a cocoon of blankets. Lance’s arms were draped around Keith protectively, his face relaxed in sleep, while Keith lay tucked close, his face nuzzled against Lance’s shoulder. Kosmo was sprawled atop them, a small mound of fur rising and falling with his gentle snores, completely oblivious to the chill outside their sanctuary.

Seeing Keith like this—calm, safe, his features softened by sleep—stirred something deep in Shiro’s heart. His brother, after so many years lost to them, was finally here. And Shiro could see it, clear as day: Lance made Keith happy, and had brought him a peace that Shiro had almost thought impossible. Memories flashed through Shiro’s mind—of Keith as a small, eager child, always playing pretend with the younger prince. Now here they both were all grown up in each other’s arms still.

Shiro’s thoughts drifted to their mother. She would be overjoyed to learn that Keith was alive and, if not entirely well, then at least whole. She’d have Keith back, no matter the changes. And for that, they owed everything to Lance. If he hadn’t found Keith and brought him back, Shiro didn’t know if he’d ever have his brother again.

After a long, quiet moment, Shiro gathered himself and gently knocked on the door. “Hey, you two,” he called in softly, not wanting to startle them. “It’s time to discuss some things.”

Keith groaned softly in response, his nose crinkling as he buried his face further into the crook of Lance’s neck, clearly reluctant to leave the warmth and comfort of their shared space.

Lance stirred, letting out a big yawn before blinking his eyes open, still holding Keith in his arms. He chuckled softly, rubbing his eyes with his free hand. “We’ll be out in a minute,” he mumbled, his voice still thick with sleep. “It takes him a few moments to wake up…” He grinned faintly as he glanced down at Keith, who was making a small, half-hearted attempt to hide his face again.

Shiro nodded, a smile tugging at his lips as he watched them for a moment longer. He allowed himself one final look at his brother—no longer the little boy he remembered, but still, in many ways, the same Keith. With a soft sigh, he eased the door closed and headed back to the kitchen table.

Settling into his seat, Shiro’s thoughts drifted to the last time he’d seen Keith. He’d only been ten—just a kid with boundless energy, full of questions, always tagging along beside Shiro. Now, years later, he wasn’t entirely sure how much Keith understood about the weight of everything that had happened, about the complexities of war and alliances. Did Keith know just how much rested on his shoulders? Shiro was uncertain, but he knew he wanted to be there for him, to help him through it all.

A few minutes later, Keith and Lance emerged from the guest room. Keith looked like he was still fighting off sleep, his tail trailing lazily behind him, his ears drooping, and his wings slack at his sides. He let out a massive yawn as he shuffled over to the table, sinking into a chair with all the grace of a very tired dragon.

Lance, a bit more alert, followed behind, grabbing a couple of pieces of fruit from a bowl on the counter. He handed one to Keith, who accepted it with a mumbled “thanks,” biting into it while his eyes remained half-closed. Lance sat beside him, clearly amused by Keith’s half-awake state, and gave him a gentle nudge. “You awake for this conversation, love?” he asked with a soft laugh.

Keith hummed a small response, nodding as he chewed on the apple, the hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “Mhm,” he mumbled, taking another bite.

Lance turned his attention to Shiro, offering him a reassuring smile as he settled in next to Keith. “We’re listening,” he said softly, giving Shiro his full attention.

Shiro took a deep breath, his eyes moving between them, feeling a surge of warmth at the sight of his brother sitting here, safe and surrounded by people who loved him. He met Keith’s eyes, then Lance’s, letting himself take in the reality of this moment before he began.

Shiro took a deep breath, steadying himself as he prepared to lay out the task before Keith. His voice softened, careful not to overwhelm him. “Today…” he began, pausing to meet Keith’s gaze, ensuring he had his attention. “You’ll need to talk to the people who are left of Diabazaal. They’ve been waiting a long time for this moment, Keith. They need to see you, hear from you.” Shiro’s tone was both firm and gentle, guiding his younger brother without pushing him too far.

Keith’s eyes, still a bit bleary from sleep, began to sharpen with understanding, and he swallowed, visibly taking in the gravity of the task. The sleepy haze that had softened his expression started to fade as he realized just how much energy he’d need to summon. It reminded him of the speech he’d given at the party—only now, the stakes felt higher, the weight heavier.

Shiro continued, his gaze steady and supportive. “I know it won’t be easy for you. But remember, Lance and I will be here. If you need us to step in, we will. But the people… they’re asking for you specifically. They want to hear about what happened. They want to know what’s next.” He paused, his voice gentling. “But you don’t have to say everything. Anything you want to keep to yourself, that’s your choice. It stays private.”

Keith took a deep breath, letting the words settle over him. The responsibility felt daunting, the expectation heavy, yet he didn’t flinch. He glanced over at Lance, who was watching him with a soft, reassuring smile.

Lance leaned closer, his voice calm and encouraging. “They need to know the war is over, Keith. And that it’s been over for a while now. You could tell them about Altea, about how things have changed, how different it is from the past they remember.” He gave Keith’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. “And remember, I’ll be there too. I know my father’s plans; I understand what needs to be said. So this isn’t all on you.” His words were steady, a quiet promise of support.

Keith nodded slowly, the tension in his shoulders easing just a bit. “I… I think I can do that,” he replied, the resolve strengthening in his voice as he looked between Shiro and Lance. “And then… what happens after?”

Lance’s eyes softened as he replied, his voice filled with a warmth and certainty that reassured Keith. “Then… we go home,” he said, a gentle smile crossing his face. “We’ll go straight through this time. No stops, no detours. No castle, I promise. The sooner we get home, the sooner we can start building this alliance properly.” His words held a weight, a promise of the future they’d been fighting for.

Keith’s expression grew thoughtful, a glimpse of longing flashing across his face. The idea of no more fighting, of everyone being together, just like they used to be—it was almost too good to believe. But for that possibility, he would do anything. He nodded, his decision clear. “I can do that,” he said with quiet conviction. “If it’ll stop all this hiding… if it means they..everyone, can finally just… live.”

Shiro placed a comforting hand on Keith’s back, his pride evident. “It’s going to help a lot, Keith,” he assured him. “More than you know.”

Keith gave a resolute nod, taking in one final deep breath. “Okay…” he murmured, standing up with a renewed sense of purpose. “I’ll… I’ll go get ready.” With a slight, determined smile, he turned and made his way down the hallway, his footsteps steady, his heart and mind already preparing for what lay ahead.

Shiro watched him disappear into the room, a chuckle escaping his lips. “He’s… still the same Keith,” he said, a mixture of nostalgia and affection in his voice.

Lance, leaning against the table, gave a small laugh. “He sure is.” A fond smile crept onto his face. “Even when I found him, all the changes… I could still see it. He was still Keith.”

Shiro looked at Lance with a newfound appreciation, the hint of a question lingering in his gaze. “How… was he? When you found him?” he asked, his voice gentle, cautious, almost as if he feared the answer.

Lance’s smile faded, his expression darkening slightly. He shook his head slowly, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “You don’t want to know, Shiro. With all due respect, I think… I think you’ve been through enough. Keith doesn’t want anyone to know what he looked like… like that.” He glanced down, a flicker of pain crossing his face. “That’s not who he is anymore. It’s… it was never who he was. And it’s not something he wants to hold onto.”

Shiro nodded, absorbing Lance’s words, a mixture of relief and sadness in his eyes. “I see…” he murmured, falling silent as he processed the lingering ache, the realization of what his brother had endured.

After a long pause, Shiro looked back at Lance, his gaze steady, almost imploring. “Is there anything I can do to make this up to you? Anything at all, you have my word. I can’t thank you enough for this… for everything.”

Lance laughed softly, shaking his head, his eyes warm. “I don’t need anything anymore, Shiro.” He glanced toward the door Keith had disappeared through, a quiet happiness settling over him. “Keith… he was all I needed. If I can stay with him, that’s enough. More than enough.”

Shiro’s smile softened, his respect for Lance growing with every word. “You really love him, don’t you?” he said quietly, his voice filled with a gentle warmth. “I can tell… and he loves you, too.”

Lance’s face brightened, his gaze softened as he looked down, almost shy. “I love him more than anything, Shiro,” he admitted, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I would do anything for him.” His eyes grew distant, thoughtful. “And I know he’d do the same for me… and he has. If all I get is a lifetime with him, that would make me the happiest person in the universe.”

Shiro nodded, a smile spreading across his face, touched by Lance’s words. “Then it’s settled,” he said with a knowing look, his voice filled with promise. “When the time comes, of course.”

Lance chuckled, his cheeks flushing slightly. “I know, I know. It’s too early to think about that,” he replied, a hint of playfulness in his tone. “But… one day. When things are right.”

Shiro reached over, clapping him gently on the shoulder, his smile full of hope. “One day,” he agreed, both of them sharing a moment of understanding, a quiet promise of the future that waited for all of them.

Chapter Text

Now, as Keith stood behind the heavy velvet curtain, he could hear the murmuring crowd outside. Hundreds of Galrans had gathered, their voices rising and falling in a wave of anticipation. Keith felt the familiar flutter of nerves in his stomach, but there was something different this time—a new calmness settling over him, one that allowed him to breathe steadily. Lance was right beside him, a constant and quiet presence, his hand resting in Keith’s, fingers intertwined in a way that grounded him. He glanced over, and Lance met his eyes with a warm smile.

“You feeling okay?” Lance asked, his thumb gently rubbing over Keith’s knuckles, a small, soothing motion that Keith was sure Lance wasn’t even aware of.

Keith felt a smile spread across his face, nodding. “Yes… I’m okay.” He took a steadying breath, his eyes shifting briefly to the curtain that separated them from the gathered crowd. “Actually… I’m kind of excited, really,” he admitted, a hint of surprise in his voice, as if realizing it himself for the first time.

Lance’s lips tugged up into a soft, affectionate smile. “Is that so?”

Keith chuckled, his nerves easing a bit more. “Yeah. I think… I’m excited that maybe everyone can be together again. I know it’s not that easy, and I know there’s a lot of work to do. But I really think we can get there.” He straightened, his expression turning determined. “And if I’m the one who has to step up, then… I will.” His voice was quiet but filled with conviction, his eyes shining with a confidence that was unfamiliar yet comforting.

Lance’s smile grew, pride evident in his gaze. “I’m happy you’re not so anxious. You’re really brave, Keith,” he said, his voice soft, almost reverent.

Keith flushed, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand, his fingers still laced with Lance’s. “Thanks…” he murmured, the words feeling both foreign and comforting. He could hear the crowd settling outside, a hush falling as the anticipation grew. The realization hit him—he was moments away from stepping out there, from being seen as someone his people could look to. And yet, for the first time, he didn’t feel like running. He felt ready.

Then, a thought crossed his mind, one that pushed aside his own nerves for a moment. He glanced over at Lance, his eyes searching his face. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice quiet, almost hesitant.

Lance blinked, raising an eyebrow as he looked at Keith in surprise. “Huh? Why wouldn’t I be?” he asked, a bit caught off guard.

Keith shifted, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his expression. “Well… I know you haven’t been this far from home before, especially not for this long. And with me being so… confused, scared, all over the place… you haven’t really had time to think about yourself,” he admitted, sounding slightly guilty. “I just… wanted to know if you’re okay.”

Lance’s expression softened, his surprise melting into warmth. He reached over, ruffling Keith’s hair in that familiar, affectionate way, a laugh escaping his lips. “I’m just fine, my Starlight,” he murmured, letting his hand drift down to Keith’s cheek, cradling it with a tenderness that made Keith’s heart race. “As long as I have you… I’m more than okay.”

Before Keith could respond, Lance leaned forward, closing the space between them, pressing a gentle kiss to Keith’s lips. Keith felt a warmth bloom inside him, a comfort that chased away every last trace of doubt and fear. He leaned in, his fingers tightening around Lance’s as he deepened the kiss, letting himself sink into the moment, forgetting the world just beyond the curtain. It was just them, wrapped in each other, holding onto the promise of the life they could finally, maybe, have.

When they finally pulled away, Keith’s face was flushed, his eyes sparkling with a look that could only be described as love-struck. He chuckled, a little shy, a soft, sheepish smile spreading across his face. “Me too, Sunshine…” he whispered, the nickname slipping from his lips like a confession, one he was more than happy to share.

Lance grinned, chuckling as he watched Keith’s expression, his heart full. Keith’s reaction was so endearing, a reminder of just how precious and new all of this was to him. They’d only shared a few kisses before this, each one a quiet moment of stolen peace. But now, with the future unfolding before them, Lance knew there would be many more. So much more to come. And he couldn’t wait for every single moment.

The sound of a distant voice calling for the gathering to begin broke their shared silence, and Keith took a deep breath, letting the familiar, grounding presence of Lance’s hand in his calm him. He gave Lance one last, grateful look, his heart full.

Lance squeezed Keith’s hand, giving him one last, reassuring smile. “I’ll be out there soon, Starlight,” he said softly. “You’ve got this.” His thumb traced over Keith’s knuckles, and his gaze was warm and full of faith.

Keith gave a slight nod, taking a steadying breath as he walked toward the curtain. He felt Lance’s confidence in him like a cloak around his shoulders, solid and reassuring. When he stepped out, a hush fell over the crowd. Hundreds of eyes turned toward him—some bright with curiosity, others filled with awe or skepticism. Before him stood Galrans of all ages—children clutching their parents’ hands, elders leaning on canes, men and women whose faces bore the lines of hardship and resilience. All were waiting, watching him, hoping for answers.

Keith’s gaze caught on Shiro, standing near the edge of the platform, just close enough to be a comforting presence but giving Keith the space he needed. Keith saw his brother watching him with pride and something that looked like a mixture of nostalgia and surprise. Shiro hadn’t seen him like this before; he was no longer a frightened, uncertain child. Keith stood tall, meeting the gazes of his people with a quiet, growing confidence. He saw them—all of them. And they saw him.

Keith took a deep breath, his voice soft but steady as he began. “Good morning, everyone…” His tone wasn’t exactly regal, but it was strong and sincere, carrying through the silent crowd.

“I know you’re all probably very confused… and maybe even angry. You’ve been wanting answers. For those who don’t remember me… I’m Keith.” He glanced at the children, his gaze softening. “I used to be… well, I used to be one of your princes,” he said, letting the title sit heavily for a moment before he continued. He wanted them all to understand, even the little ones, even the elderly who might’ve forgotten or given up hope.

“Something bad happened… a long time ago. I was taken from you.” His voice wavered just slightly, his tail giving a slow, reflective sway behind him. “Someone took me away, and for years… I was hidden. Kept from you, kept from my family.” He hesitated, feeling the weight of that memory. “The man who took me wasn’t like any of us. He wasn’t fully Galran,” Keith explained, and a murmur rippled through the crowd. “But he wasn’t Altean either.”

The crowd fell silent, a hush of surprise settling over them as he looked out into their faces. “He was both,” Keith continued, watching as realization dawned on many. He didn’t miss the shock and confusion mirrored in their eyes.

“But… the war, everything we went through—none of it was for nothing. I know so many of us lost people, and I feel that guilt every day. I carry it with me. But the hatred… it has to stop.” His voice grew firmer. He needed them to hear this, to understand what he’d come to realize for himself.

He took a steadying breath, unfolding his wings, feeling the weight of them and all they symbolized. “He turned me into… this,” Keith said, glancing at the leathery stretch of his wings and the clawed hands at his sides. He heard the murmurs, the soft gasps, and chuckled slightly, trying to ease their tension. “I know I look different. I look… scary. Sometimes, I feel that way myself.” His tone softened, his eyes searching the crowd. “But I promise you, I’m not a monster. I’m still Galran. I’m still… one of you.” He smiled as he spoke, feeling warmth spread through him as he saw their faces, not filled with fear or distrust but with wonder.

He let his gaze drift over them, feeling a small spark of pride at how they seemed to lean in, listening to him not as a stranger but as someone they could believe in. “I’ve been through a lot to get here. And I had to learn how to be myself again. I’m still learning… it’s hard, but I’m doing it.” His eyes softened as he glanced back at Lance, his voice filled with gratitude. “Prince Lance of Altea was the one who found me. And Altea… they’ve changed. They’re different now. They never wanted to fight.”

Keith’s words held a conviction that reached the crowd. “I’ve met their king, their queen, and their people. I’ve seen what they had to go through, and… they didn’t want to lose anyone either. Not like this.” He lifted his head high, a fire in his eyes. “The war… it’s over. I know it’s hard to believe, but it’s true.”

The crowd fell silent, absorbing his words. Keith let them feel the weight of it before he continued, his voice softer. “After this… I’m going back to Altea with Prince Lance.” His words hung heavy in the air. “I can’t stay here with you. My heart…” he paused, glancing at Lance, his eyes full of emotion. “It tells me my home is with him now.”

He took a step closer to the edge of the platform, his gaze sweeping over the crowd. “But I do want all of you to think about what I’ve said. I want each of you to ask yourself what kind of life you want. An alliance with Altea is possible. King Alfor doesn’t want this conflict any more than we do. We may not be a kingdom in the way we once were, but we’re still together. And that’s worth fighting for.”

As Keith stepped back, Shiro moved to his side, placing a hand on his shoulder with a proud smile. “My brother is right,” Shiro addressed the crowd, his voice calm yet commanding. “When Krolia returns, we’ll travel to Altea and meet with King Alfor. We’ll discuss what’s possible for us. I know it won’t be easy; there will be those who doubt this path, even among our own people. But this is the way forward. If you wish to stand with us, let me know before my mother returns.”

Shiro smiled down at Keith, then turned to the crowd. “Now, if you’ll stay, Prince Lance would like to say a few final things.”

Keith watched Lance step forward, noticing the tremor in his hand as he faced the crowd. This wasn’t his realm, and these weren’t his people. The Alteans had cast the Galrans out, making this moment fraught. Lance glanced at Keith, nerves showing in his eyes, and Keith reached for his hand, holding it tightly, grounding him.

Lance took a shaky breath, his voice soft but sincere. “Hello, people of Diabazaal,” he began, eyes scanning the crowd. “I haven’t seen Galrans in a long time. It’s… it’s good to see you all again.” His voice warmed as he recalled, “I remember the last time. It was at Keith’s birthday. Everyone was together… everyone was happy.” A distant smile spread across his face, bittersweet. “I’ve always wished it could be like that again. And… I believe it can.”

He swallowed, his hand trembling slightly in Keith’s. “No one wanted things to turn out like this. Every day, I wished I could’ve saved him sooner…” A flash of pain crossed his face, and he seemed to falter, but Keith’s hand squeezed his own, grounding him. Lance gathered himself, his voice steadying. “I’ve watched my father struggle with his choices… with regret. I’m sorry for everything that’s happened. But please, don’t forget what happened, and don’t forgive it if you can’t. Just… let’s find a way forward.”

For a few moments, the crowd remained still, the air thick with quiet contemplation. Keith shifted, feeling a nervous flutter in his chest, his tail flicking back and forth. But then, slowly, a small sound broke the silence. A clap, bright and clear, came from a young girl near the front, her eyes bright with joy as she jumped up and down. Her mother joined in, a laugh escaping her lips, and soon enough, the entire crowd broke into applause. The warmth in the air was palpable, a sense of unity filling the space.

Keith’s chest swelled with an overwhelming warmth, something that chased away the cold that had clung to him for so long. He turned to Lance, his eyes shining with excitement as he bounced on the balls of his feet.

Lance chuckled, his hands still holding Keith’s as he looked at him fondly. “See?” he murmured, his voice low and full of pride. “I knew you could do it, Starlight.”

Keith’s face broke into a grin. “You did too,” he said, beaming. “When we bring everyone together, I want to throw a big celebration.”

Lance laughed, his voice bright with joy. “Oh, we’ll have a grand one, don’t worry. Everyone can come.” He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to Keith’s lips.

Keith blushed, laughter bubbling up as he looked out over the crowd. “So… we can go home now?”

Lance nodded, glancing at the people gathered around. “We’ll get ready first, but… it looks like there are some people who want to meet you.” He nodded toward a small group of children that had made their way to the front, gazing up at Keith with wide, awe-filled eyes.

Keith chuckled, giving them a warm wave as he stepped down to greet them. His eyes softened as he knelt to their level

Lance stood back, watching as Keith walked over to the children gathered at the front of the crowd, their faces wide-eyed and filled with wonder. The children looked up at Keith as if he were something out of a story—half dragon, half prince, with a heart they could sense was genuine. Keith knelt down to their level, his wings folding gently behind him, creating a soft, welcoming shape around his shoulders that made him seem less intimidating and more approachable. He offered them a warm, gentle smile, his tail swishing slightly with excitement and nervous energy.

Keith’s voice was soft as he greeted them, and Lance could tell he was doing his best to keep his tone friendly, letting his natural warmth shine through. There was no air of authority or distance in his words, only kindness and a genuine curiosity about them. He asked their names, leaning in just a bit so he could hear each one as they introduced themselves. His attention didn’t waver; he looked at each child as though they were the only person in the world.

One of the children, a small girl with dark hair and wide eyes, reached out timidly and touched Keith’s wing, her tiny fingers brushing over the leathery surface with curiosity. Keith chuckled softly, not pulling away, but instead shifting his wing a bit closer, so she could feel it more easily.

“Does it hurt?” she asked, her voice small but clear.

Keith smiled, shaking his head. “No, it doesn’t hurt at all,” he said, his tone gentle and reassuring. “It’s just… part of who I am now.” He gave her a wink, and she giggled, some of her initial shyness melting away.

Another boy, braver than the others, pointed at Keith’s wings. “Can you fly?” he asked, his eyes wide with anticipation.

Keith chuckled, glancing over his shoulder at his wings. “Not very well,” he admitted, scratching the back of his head with a sheepish smile. “I’ve tried before but…who knows? Maybe I’m great at it!” He puffed his chest out just a bit, playfully proud, and the children laughed, encouraged by his down-to-earth demeanor.

Lance’s heart swelled as he watched this side of Keith—a side that was gentle, playful, and open. It reminded him of the boy Keith had been before all the darkness had come into their lives. Despite everything, Keith’s spirit hadn’t been dampened; if anything, it had grown stronger. Lance felt a deep, abiding love well up within him as he watched Keith interact with the children, speaking to them as equals rather than from a place of authority. It was as if he saw himself in them, a child among children, meeting them where they were.

As the children continued asking questions, one little boy, who seemed younger than the rest, clutched a small, stuffed toy close to his chest. His eyes were big and nervous, and he seemed unsure of how to approach Keith. Keith noticed him and shifted his position slightly, extending a hand in invitation.

“Hey there,” he said softly, his voice filled with kindness. “What’s your friend’s name?” he asked, nodding toward the toy.

The boy’s face lit up with a shy smile. “His name’s Liro. He’s… he’s a lion,” the boy whispered, glancing up at Keith with a mix of admiration and awe.

Keith’s expression softened even more, and he leaned in as if the boy had shared a secret. “A lion?” he said with a grin, his eyes widening in mock amazement. “That’s perfect! Lions are strong and brave, just like you.” The boy beamed, hugging the toy close as if Keith’s words had given it new life. “I have a stuffed dragon named Red. He’s brave like Liro is!”

Lance felt his chest tighten with warmth, seeing Keith bring the boy out of his shell so naturally. Keith had grown so much, and yet he still held onto that spark, that openness that allowed him to connect with others in a way Lance deeply admired. It wasn’t an act; it was just who Keith was—someone who cared about others without pretense, someone who genuinely wanted to make others feel safe and seen.

The children continued to crowd around him, sharing stories, showing him small trinkets they carried, and asking him all manner of questions. One little girl reached up, poking the sharp tip of one of Keith’s horns with curiosity. Keith laughed, tilting his head down so she could inspect it more closely.

“Do they hurt?” she asked, her brow furrowed in concentration.

Keith grinned. “Not at all. They’re just… there, kind of like your fingernails,” he explained, wiggling his fingers for emphasis. The girl laughed, satisfied with his answer, and gave him a shy smile in return.

Lance leaned against a nearby pillar, a fond smile tugging at his lips as he watched Keith. His partner was a complex blend of strength and gentleness, a powerful figure who could have easily intimidated but instead chose to approach everyone with patience and kindness. Lance knew that Keith had endured so much, but seeing him now, surrounded by laughter and small voices, he realized just how resilient Keith truly was.

As the children began to disperse, drawn back to their families, Keith rose, glancing back at Lance with a smile that was both shy and radiant. Lance’s heart skipped a beat, and he stepped forward, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from Keith’s face.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” Lance whispered, his voice full of admiration.

Keith blushed, looking away with a sheepish chuckle. “I don’t know about that…” he muttered, but his eyes shone with warmth as he met Lance’s gaze.

Lance pulled him into a gentle embrace, holding him close for a moment before stepping back. “Those kids… you were incredible with them,” he said softly. “It’s like you can see right into their hearts.”

Keith smiled, his gaze softening as he looked back at the children now scattered among the crowd. “Maybe… because I know what it’s like to be a little lost,” he murmured, his voice barely audible but filled with understanding.

Lance’s chest swelled with love, and he held Keith’s hand tightly. He knew that Keith, with all his strength and scars, was not just his partner but someone who could help bring about the change they both longed for—a world where kindness could break down the walls between them all.

Shiro strolled over, wearing a satisfied smile, and wrapped an arm around both Keith and Lance. His gaze was warm, his voice filled with pride and a touch of relief. “Well, we did it,” he said, his tone soft but brimming with excitement. “Now, it’s getting a bit too late for you both to head back. Why don’t you stay for dinner? We’ll have you set off in the morning, nice and rested.”

At the mention of dinner, Keith’s stomach immediately rumbled, loud enough to make him blush. He placed a hand over his stomach and laughed a bit sheepishly, glancing at Lance. “I think… that sounds like a really good idea,” he admitted, a hint of eagerness in his voice.

Lance laughed, unable to resist a grin. “I’m with Keith on this one,” he said. “We could both use a proper meal before we head out.”

Shiro’s smile broadened. “Great! Then it’s settled—a celebration dinner it is,” he declared, clapping a supportive hand on Keith’s back, his pride in his younger brother radiating through the gesture.

“Celebration dinner?” Keith echoed, tilting his head curiously as he glanced between Shiro and Lance.

Shiro nodded, his eyes lighting up with a nostalgic warmth. “Yes. It’s a clan tradition. Everyone gathers together for a meal, to share stories, laughter, and just… be together,” he explained, a fond smile tugging at his lips. “We haven’t had one since… well, since Mom was here. And now, it’s your turn. Tonight, the celebration’s for you.”

Keith’s eyes widened, a flicker of emotion crossing his face as he took in the meaning of Shiro’s words. For a moment, he stood there, rubbing his arm shyly, a bit overwhelmed by the thought of an entire celebration being held in his honor. “Really?” he asked, his voice quiet, almost hesitant.

Shiro gave him an encouraging nod, his smile reassuring. “Really. They’re already preparing everything. Everyone wants a chance to meet you properly, now that they know who you are.”

Lance chuckled, his gaze warm as he looked at Keith. “It’s true,” he added. “You’ve already had quite a few little ones brave enough to come say hi.”

Keith smiled at the memory, a soft chuckle escaping him. “Yeah… they were really curious,” he said, his eyes brightening. “It was… actually kind of nice. I didn’t think I’d get to meet everyone like this.”

As they stood there, talking, the faint aroma of food began to waft through the air. Keith inhaled deeply, catching hints of roasted meat, freshly baked bread, and a rich, earthy blend of spices unique to the Galran dishes he remembered from his childhood. His stomach rumbled again, louder this time, making him laugh along with Lance and Shiro.

“Come on,” Shiro said, nudging Keith and Lance toward the large fire-lit hall where the clan dinners were held. The hall was a massive, open space, filled with long, sturdy wooden tables and benches that could hold dozens of people. The ceiling was draped with banners of deep purple and silver, bearing symbols of the clan that shimmered in the dim firelight. Laughter and the low hum of conversation filled the air as families and friends found their seats, their faces eager and full of warmth.

As they walked in, Keith felt the weight of hundreds of eyes on him, and he instinctively hesitated, gripping Lance’s hand a little tighter. Lance gave his hand a gentle squeeze, his thumb brushing over Keith’s knuckles in silent support.

Shiro led them to a central table, guiding them to sit among the clan elders and a few familiar faces from his past. A hush fell over the crowd as people leaned in, curious to catch a glimpse of their long-lost prince. Keith could feel the intensity of their gaze, not with judgment or fear, but with respect, and even a sense of pride.

One of the elders, a woman with silver hair and warm, wise eyes, stood up and raised a glass in a silent toast to Keith. “Welcome back, Prince Keith,” she said in a voice that held both strength and tenderness. “To the son of Diabazaal, who has returned home to us.”

Keith’s heart swelled as he nodded, lifting his glass with a grateful smile. Around him, others raised their glasses, and soon the hall was filled with voices, all toasting to him, to the return of family, and to the hope of peace.

As the food was served, Keith felt himself relax. Plates piled high with hearty dishes were passed around, and the clan’s laughter and voices grew louder. Lance watched Keith closely, smiling every time he saw Keith light up as he tried a dish he hadn’t tasted in years, or when someone from the clan leaned over to tell him a story from his past.

“See, you’ve got this,” Lance whispered, nudging Keith with a grin. “And you’re not doing it alone.”

Keith glanced over, his eyes soft with gratitude, and returned the nudge with a gentle bump of his shoulder. “Thanks, Sunshine,” he murmured. He looked around, feeling the warmth and love of the clan surround him, like a family he never expected to find again.

By the time the night finally wound down, Keith’s belly was comfortably full, and a sense of peace and belonging settled over him. The laughter of the night still seemed to echo softly around the now-quiet hall, lingering like a warm glow even as the last of the clan dispersed. The children had long since been ushered off to bed, sleepy-eyed and giggling, and the elders, content and tired, had also bid goodnight. Those who remained were tidying up, stacking chairs, and carrying dishes to the back. It was a scene of gentle togetherness, the kind that follows an evening shared with family and friends.

Keith and Lance, their hearts full and grateful, had offered to help clean up. Together, they gathered dishes from the tables, laughing softly as they stacked plates and scraped off the last crumbs of the feast. They worked seamlessly, side by side, navigating around each other in an unspoken rhythm as they rinsed plates and washed out mugs. The warm kitchen light illuminated their movements, casting soft shadows on the walls. It felt oddly domestic, almost like a dream — something that felt both real and yet like it could slip away if they weren’t careful.

In the corner of the hall, Shiro and Adam were in their own world, Shiro’s laughter loud and a bit unsteady after a few drinks. They were laughing, talking quietly with their heads leaned close together, the tension of the past few days finally giving way to a quiet, heartfelt reconciliation. Seeing them together, Keith felt a surge of warmth and happiness for his brother, a reassurance that the bonds they’d all built had only grown stronger.

With the final plates put away and the tables wiped down, Keith and Lance quietly slipped outside, letting the cool night air wash over them. The village was mostly dark now, with only a few scattered torches casting flickering shadows over the stone pathways. Outside the hall, a fire pit still glowed with a soft, steady warmth. They settled down on a bench nearby, leaning against one another as they watched the fire flicker, sparks drifting up into the night sky.

Keith leaned back, his gaze drifting upwards to the blanket of stars above. The sky was clear and vast, each star sharp and bright against the endless dark. It felt infinite, stretching out in every direction, and it brought a soft, bittersweet ache to his chest. He remembered how, as a child, he’d looked up at the stars in awe, dreaming of the day he might see what was out there. Now he had seen so much of it, more than he ever could have imagined, and here he was, still mesmerized by the sight of those distant, glittering lights.

He turned, glancing down at Lance, who was resting his head on Keith’s shoulder, eyes half-closed and a faint smile on his lips. Keith felt his heart swell, a warmth so deep he thought he might never find words for it.

Lance let out a soft chuckle. “Galrans sure know how to cook,” he murmured, breaking the silence. His voice was low and content. “Way better than Altean food. I think we’re gonna have to bring some of these dishes to the party… can’t have a real celebration without those rolls they made tonight.”

Keith laughed, the sound quiet but genuine, his chest rumbling softly against Lance. “Agreed,” he replied, his eyes drifting back up to the stars. “Altean food might be fancy, but there’s something about this that… just feels like home.”

They sat in a companionable silence, the fire crackling softly beside them, the night air crisp and cold against their faces. The world felt vast and yet impossibly close, as though they were the only two people in it. After a moment, Keith turned to Lance, his gaze warm and unwavering.

“Thank you, Lance,” he said softly, his voice barely more than a whisper. “For everything. For finding me… for bringing me back. I… I don’t think I could’ve done this without you.”

Lance smiled, his hand reaching out to lace his fingers with Keith’s. The gesture was gentle, tender, and it felt like a promise. “And thank you, too, Keith,” he replied, squeezing his hand. “For coming back. For being brave enough to face all of this. You don’t know how much it means to me… having you here.”

They stayed that way for a while, their hands entwined, sharing the quiet and the cold and the warmth of the fire. Keith felt a peacefulness settle over him, a sense of belonging he hadn’t felt in so long. And as they sat there, with Lance by his side, the sky vast above them, he knew he was home.

Chapter Text

The morning came soft and quiet, a calmness settling over the village. As the sun rose, casting a warm golden light over the fields, it felt like the whole clan was holding its breath, savoring the last moments with Keith and Lance before they set off on their journey back to Altea. The air was thick with the bittersweetness of farewell, and even the early morning birdsong seemed softer, as if nature itself was respecting the gravity of the moment.

Keith had packed everything the night before, ensuring their few belongings were neatly stowed in the carriage. Now, with everything ready to go, they stood near the edge of the village, saying their goodbyes one by one. The little ones, who had spent the past few days trailing after Keith with starry-eyed admiration, were clustered around him, their small faces looking up at him with wide, sad eyes.

“Do you have to go?” asked the little boy with the stuffed lion, his voice barely above a whisper. His small fingers clutched the toy tightly to his chest, as though holding onto it would keep Keith here just a little longer.

One of the girls chimed in, her voice bright but tinged with a hint of pleading. “You can stay with us! We’d keep you safe, and you wouldn’t ever have to leave,” she promised earnestly, as if she alone could make it true.

Keith knelt down to their level, looking into their hopeful eyes with a soft smile. His heart ached, but he kept his voice gentle, reassuring. “I’m sorry, but I can’t stay,” he said quietly. “But I promise, this isn’t goodbye forever. We’ll meet again, sooner than you think.” He turned to the girl with a soft smile, his eyes lighting up as he thought of Altea. “When we meet again, I’ll show you all of Altea. They have the most beautiful flowers there—every color you could imagine. You’ll love them.”

The girl’s eyes sparkled, her sadness momentarily forgotten as she imagined a field of endless flowers. Keith then looked at the boy, his smile widening. “And maybe,” he added with a playful grin, “Red can meet Liro.” He gestured to the boy’s beloved lion toy, and the boy’s face lit up with excitement.

“Okay,” the boy said with a decisive nod, his voice full of trust. “We’ll see you real soon then!”

Keith ruffled the boy’s hair affectionately, standing up to take in the sight of the crowd gathered around them. Behind the children, the rest of the clan had gathered, waiting their turn to say goodbye. Elders, families, friends, all stood together, some with soft smiles, others with tears shimmering in their eyes. The strength of their unity and pride was palpable, and Keith felt his heart swell with gratitude.

“We have to be off, everyone,” he announced, his voice strong but warm. “I hope to see many of you when my mother and Shiro come to Altea to meet with the king!” He lifted a hand in a farewell wave, his smile bright and full of hope.

Slowly, a ripple of applause grew through the crowd, a cheer rising up as the villagers raised their voices in encouragement. The energy was contagious, and the children jumped up and down, clapping along with everyone else as Keith and Lance made their way to the carriage.

Shiro stepped forward, his eyes soft and full of emotion. He smiled, pulling both Keith and Lance into a hug, holding them close. “I’ll be seeing you both soon,” he promised, his voice low. “Mother will be so happy when she sees you, Keith. She’s been waiting for this for so long.”

Keith nodded, his own emotions threatening to spill over. “I can’t wait,” he said, voice slightly rough with feeling. He hugged Shiro a moment longer, breathing in the familiar scent of his brother, anchoring himself in this last shared moment. “Goodbye, Shiro.”

Shiro pulled back, placing a steadying hand on Keith’s shoulder. “Goodbye, Keith. Take care of each other,” he said, his gaze shifting to Lance with a knowing smile.

Lance gave a nod, a quiet promise in his eyes. “Always,” he replied.

With a final nod, Shiro walked up to the front of the carriage where Adam stood waiting, his expression reserved yet soft. Shiro approached him, taking a deep breath before speaking. “I hope to see you, too, Adam,” he said, his voice laced with unspoken sentiment.

Adam’s lips curved into a slight smile, one that hinted at so much beneath the surface. “You will, Takashi,” he replied, his tone gentle and sure.

Shiro nodded, his gaze lingering on Adam for a moment longer. “Safe travels,” he murmured, voice barely audible, but Adam gave a small nod, understanding.

With the last of their goodbyes shared, Keith and Lance climbed into the carriage. As they took their seats, the cheers from the clan rose once more, echoing through the valley as the carriage began to move forward. Keith leaned out the window, waving until the village was just a distant speck, their faces still clear in his mind.

As the carriage turned down the winding path, Keith settled back in his seat, a sense of peace washing over him. He looked at Lance, who was watching him with a gentle smile, their fingers lacing together as they rode on, leaving the past behind and stepping boldly into the future they would build together.

Lance turned to Keith, his eyes warm with affection as he opened his arms in an inviting gesture. Keith’s face lit up, and without a second thought, he shifted closer, nestling himself comfortably into Lance’s embrace. He let out a soft, contented hum as he settled in, the early morning still lingering in his bones and leaving him pleasantly drowsy.

Lance’s arms wrapped around him securely, and Keith could feel the gentle rise and fall of Lance’s chest beneath his cheek. A sigh slipped past his lips, filled with a satisfaction he hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Feeling relaxed?” Lance murmured, brushing his fingers through Keith’s hair with a touch as light as a whisper.

Keith nodded, a small, lazy smile tugging at his mouth. “Yeah… I am,” he replied softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m just… really happy. This whole thing went so much better than I ever thought it would.” He paused, his gaze turning thoughtful as he recalled the warmth of the clan, the way they’d embraced him without hesitation. “They… they really liked me. For the first time in a long time, I felt like I belonged, like I was someone they were actually proud of.” His heart swelled at the memory, his voice catching slightly as he spoke. No one had looked at him with fear or suspicion. No one saw a monster when they looked at him—only Keith.

“Well,” Lance’s voice broke through his thoughts, playfully teasing, “no one loves you as much as I do.” He grinned, reaching up to ruffle Keith’s hair in that affectionate way that always made Keith’s heart skip.

Keith let out a laugh, shoving Lance lightly. “Oh, stop it,” he chuckled, a faint blush warming his cheeks. But he nestled back against Lance, his hand resting on Lance’s chest as if anchoring himself in the warmth and steadiness he found there.

The carriage rolled along, the gentle rhythm soothing, and for a few precious moments, they sat together in a comfortable silence, each soaking up the presence of the other. After the chaos of the past few days, the peace was a balm to their spirits, and they leaned into it, savoring the rare stillness.

Finally, Lance broke the quiet, his voice a soft murmur in Keith’s ear. “How about we finish that story?” he suggested, a smile playing on his lips.

Keith tilted his head up, his eyes bright with anticipation. “The one about the princess and the siren?” he asked, already feeling a spark of excitement at the thought of hearing the next part.

Lance nodded, a twinkle in his eyes. “That’s the one. I mean, look at us—we’ve got hours before we reach the city. Seems like the perfect time to finally see what happened to them, don’t you think?”

“Well, what happened?” Keith asked, his eyes wide, his voice tinged with a mix of anticipation and worry. “Did the princess come back? And what did the siren tell her family?”

Lance laughed softly, giving Keith a gentle squeeze. “Alright, alright—settle in,” he said with a smile, brushing a hand over Keith’s hair. He let out a little sigh as he adopted that warm, inviting storytelling tone Keith adored, the kind that brought every word to life. Keith’s anticipation was practically tangible as he leaned in, ready to be swept away.

“The princess,” Lance began, his voice low and rich, “left the siren without her beautiful scarf, and as she disappeared beyond the horizon, the siren’s heart ached to see her again, to hear her voice just one more time.” Lance glanced down, seeing how Keith’s expression softened, clearly engrossed. “But for the siren, there was something important she needed to do before she could come back.”

Keith’s brows knitted in curiosity. “What was that?” he asked quietly, his voice almost hesitant.

Lance chuckled, giving Keith’s hand a reassuring squeeze before he continued. “You see, the siren, determined to make use of the beautiful scarf, wove a little lie. She had caught a glimpse of the princess’s radiance, her beauty, and knew that no ordinary person could have owned such a scarf. And so, that night, after feasting on her fill of fish and crabs, the siren returned home with the scarf in hand, eager to make an impression. She held it up to her family with a sly grin and said, ‘I ate a princess!’” Lance leaned in, his voice lowering mischievously. “Her family was in awe, never doubting her for a moment, and they showered her with praise. She wore that scarf not just with pride, but with a longing—hoping, each day, that the princess would return and fulfill her promise.”

Keith’s smile faded as he listened, his eyes filling with a quiet sorrow. “Does…does she come back?” he asked softly, barely louder than a whisper.

Lance paused, letting the question hang in the air, before he finally spoke again. “Well…” His voice grew softer, almost wistful. “The siren, with her heart aching, returned to the shore every night, long after her family had drifted off to sleep. She would wait at the water’s edge, singing her part of the duet they had shared together under the moonlight. And every night, she listened, hoping she would hear that other voice—the one that had intertwined so perfectly with hers. But night after night, she sang alone.”

Keith’s face fell, his heart aching for the siren. He bit his lip, holding Lance’s hand a little tighter. “Oh…” he said, his voice barely a breath. “That’s… that’s so sad…”

Lance glanced down at him, a tender smile on his face. He brushed his thumb over Keith’s knuckles, his own gaze filled with a mixture of fondness and understanding. “It is,” he agreed softly. “But the siren kept going back, night after night, even when it felt hopeless. She couldn’t stop herself. Some part of her believed that the princess would come back—that one day, she’d hear her voice again.”

Keith’s gaze fell, a pang of sympathy tightening in his chest. He understood that feeling far too well—the feeling of waiting, holding onto hope, even when it seemed impossible.

Lance looked down at Keith’s face, touched by the way his eyes held onto every word, as if he were trying to will the siren and princess back together. A warm smile spread over Lance’s lips, and he continued, a gentle lilt returning to his voice as he spun the story onward.

“So, one night, as the siren sat on the shore, her heart heavy but still full of that same, unwavering hope, she began her song again,” Lance continued. “Her voice rose through the waves, carrying the notes of their duet across the water. She sang with everything in her heart, filling the night with her longing.”

Keith leaned in closer, his eyes big and round with anticipation.

“But this time,” Lance said, a spark of excitement weaving into his tone, “just as the siren thought she would be left singing alone once more, she heard something. A faint, distant melody—soft at first, but growing louder, clearer. It was the princess’s voice, joining hers.”

Keith’s face lit up, a smile breaking through his worried expression. “She came back?” he whispered, almost as if he were afraid to break the spell.

Lance grinned, nodding. “Yes. She kept her promise. The princess had missed her too, just as much as the siren had. She couldn’t stay away. And when their voices met, it was as if the stars themselves had come down to listen to them.” Lance’s voice softened, becoming almost a murmur. “The princess had been pulled back by the memory of their song, unable to forget the way her heart had felt lighter with the siren, as if she’d found something she hadn’t even known she was looking for.”

Keith’s eyes shimmered with the reflection of those stars, as if he, too, were hearing the song.

“They met at the water’s edge,” Lance went on, his voice warm, “and the princess took the siren’s hand, looking into her eyes. She’d been scared—worried that maybe the siren would forget about her, that maybe the bond between them wasn’t as strong as she’d hoped. But when she looked at the siren, she saw the same love and longing in her eyes.”

Keith let out a soft sigh, a smile on his lips as he imagined it.

“The siren couldn’t believe it. She’d never thought someone from the world above could see her as anything but a monster. But the princess looked at her with kindness, with admiration. She told her that she wanted them to be together—not just in memory, but truly together.” Lance’s voice grew tender, his gaze softening as he looked at Keith.

“What happened next?” Keith murmured, his voice just as soft, as if he didn’t want to break the magic of the moment.

“Well,” Lance smiled, “the siren’s heart was so full, it felt like it might burst. She knew they couldn’t be together all the time—not with the princess’s responsibilities on land and her own in the sea. But they made a promise that, no matter where life took them, they’d always return to this place. And whenever the world felt too lonely, they’d sing their song to remember the love they’d found.”

Keith’s hand tightened around Lance’s, his eyes glistening. “That’s beautiful…”

Lance chuckled softly, brushing a thumb over Keith’s cheek. “The siren and the princess found happiness, even if they had to be apart sometimes. Because they knew that, no matter the distance, they’d always be together in spirit. And when they sang, the ocean and the sky would carry their love across worlds.”

Keith’s gaze lingered on Lance, his heart warm and full. “Thank you for telling me,” he murmured, a soft smile gracing his lips.

Lance leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. “Thank you for listening, Starlight…”

As the carriage wheels creaked along the worn paths back to Altea, Lance and Keith filled each moment with conversation and laughter, letting their excitement and dreams carry them away. They were endless in their stories, sharing fantasies of what their lives might look like once the alliance was in place and the people of both worlds could walk freely among one another.

Lance’s enthusiasm for Keith’s upcoming reunion with his mother was boundless. “You have no idea how much she’ll love you,” he said, his eyes bright with anticipation. “I bet she’ll start planning all sorts of family dinners or you show her your favorite places in Altea. And just imagine—seeing her pride when she finds out how brave you’ve been.”

Keith chuckled, though his heart warmed at the thought. “And I get to finally show her I’m okay…that I made it out of everything.” He paused, looking out the carriage window. “And I want her to know about you. About…how much you mean to me.”

Lance grinned and squeezed Keith’s hand. “I’m ready. I’ll gladly introduce myself as the guy who got hopelessly enchanted by the strongest , most handsome dragon I’ve ever met,” he teased, and they both laughed.

Hours melted away as they talked, their voices filling the air with dreams of peace, silly ideas for adventures they’d take together, and heartfelt promises of things they wanted to share. They even speculated about what life in Altea might be like once they settled in. Lance described the Altean gardens in full bloom, and the way the moonlight reflected off the marble towers, painting everything in a silver glow. Keith’s eyes sparkled at the image, entranced.

When they reached the edge of Galra territory, and the castle loomed in the distance, Lance noticed a flicker of unease in Keith’s eyes. He reached over and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pulling him close and keeping him focused on their conversation. “You know,” he said lightly, “there’s a story I haven’t told you yet, about a little girl and a big bad wolf named Kosmo!”

Keith laughed, looking down at Kosmo who was lying beside them, wagging his tail, and happily distracted from the imposing sight of the place that held so many memories. Kosmo perked up at his name, tilting his head as Lance continued the story, weaving it with exaggerated flourishes that made Keith laugh until his worries were all but forgotten.

Soon after, Lance decided to pass the time by teaching Kosmo a few new tricks. “Alright, Kosmo, sit,” he said, holding out his hand. Kosmo cocked his head, giving a curious bark before clumsily plopping down on his haunches.

Keith chuckled, giving Kosmo an approving scratch behind the ears. “I think he’s getting the hang of it. Maybe next time he’ll learn to fetch?”

“Baby steps,” Lance replied, grinning. “Sit and lay down are all I can promise right now.”

The days that followed were full of naps, more stories, and the simple joy of being with each other, while the lush, green lands of Altea slowly emerged around them. Finally, on the second day, the carriage crested a hill, and the familiar silhouette of the Altea castle stood before them, bathed in the warm afternoon sun.

“We’re home,” Lance whispered, looking over at Keith. Exhaustion had softened their expressions, but their excitement still glimmered brightly.

Keith let out a long, contented sigh. “It feels like it’s been so long since we left.”

Lance nodded, his hand finding Keith’s as they sat in silence, watching the castle gates open slowly before them, welcoming them back. The journey had felt like an eternity, but now, back in the familiar sights of Altea, they knew everything had changed for the better.

The carriage had barely come to a halt in the castle courtyard when the Queen appeared, hurrying forward with her arms outstretched. Lance stepped out first, stretching out his cramped legs after the long journey, only to be swept into his mother’s embrace.

“Oh, thank goodness you’re alright!” Queen Nancy murmured, her relief evident. “How was it? How did everything go? Were you safe? Are you two alright?” Her questions poured out in a concerned stream as she held him close, eyes darting over Lance, checking for any sign of trouble.

Keith, stepping out of the carriage behind Lance, couldn’t help but chuckle at her flurry of motherly concern. “We’re alright, your grace,” he reassured her with a warm smile, trying to keep a bit of the formality he knew she’d appreciate.

Nancy turned to Keith, raising an eyebrow in mild surprise. Keith had left Altea with an air of quiet reserve, still carrying so much of the wariness he’d built up over the years. But now, even after just a few days, there was something different about him—a newfound ease, a warmth in his gaze. Her confusion quickly turned into pride as she saw how he carried himself now. She reached out, pulling him into a hug as well.

“I’m so happy you’re okay,” she whispered, looking back and forth between him and Lance. “Both of you.”

Keith blushed slightly at the embrace but couldn’t stop smiling, glancing over at Lance with a knowing look. Lance returned it, laughing softly as he hugged his mother again.

“Alright, Mama,” Lance said gently, “we’ll tell you and Father everything at dinner. Right now, we just need to settle in—and we could both use a bath,” he added with a wry grin, feeling the lingering effects of travel.

Keith sighed in agreement. “And I’ve missed Lance’s bed,” he murmured, the weariness in his voice softened by the fondness in his eyes.

Nancy chuckled knowingly. “Of course! Go, rest, both of you. I’ll have a wonderful meal waiting for you tonight,” she promised, giving them each a parting squeeze before sending them off down the hall.

As they made their way to Lance’s room, the familiar corridors felt both welcoming and oddly distant. Altea felt different now—not because it had changed, but because they had. Lance looked over at Keith and grinned.

“Not quite a Galran meal waiting for us, hm?” he teased as they strolled down the hall.

Keith sighed dramatically. “I already miss the meat and potatoes,” he said, with a wistful look that made Lance burst out laughing.

“We’ll get you some soon,” Lance promised, still chuckling. They walked in comfortable silence the rest of the way, the echo of their laughter lingering in the halls.

When they finally reached Lance’s room, Keith took a deep breath as he stepped inside. The familiarity of the space washed over him, filling him with a sense of comfort. It was like returning to a place that was slowly becoming a part of him—a home that was beginning to feel truly his.

“I don’t think I’ve ever looked forward to a bath this much in my life,” Lance said, kicking off his shoes and stretching with a groan. He glanced over at Keith, noticing how he’d simply stopped in the middle of the room, looking around as if savoring every little detail.

Keith grinned and nodded. “This place… I missed it too,” he admitted. “It’s like… everything else can fall away here. It’s just us.”

Lance stepped closer, wrapping an arm around Keith’s shoulders and pulling him into a brief, warm hug. “Well, it’s good to have you back here,” he said softly. “Now, let’s go get that bath, dragon boy,” he teased, pulling him toward the washroom.

Keith chuckled, his voice warm as he followed Lance into the softly lit bathroom. It was a space of serenity, the tiled walls illuminated by the late afternoon light spilling through the window, casting gentle shadows that seemed to hold their own warmth. Lance moved with easy familiarity, reaching over to turn the brass handles of the large bathtub, adjusting the taps until a steady stream of steaming water began to fill the basin. He selected a bottle from the nearby shelf, uncapping it and pouring a rich, fragrant soap into the water, creating swirls of soft, silken bubbles.

The scent of lavender and chamomile soon filled the room, a soothing blend that Keith immediately recognized. Lance always chose this one, knowing how much Keith loved the calm it brought. As the tub filled, they exchanged a glance—one that held a wealth of shared memories and unspoken words. Without needing to say anything, they began undressing, each movement unhurried, as though savoring the moments that led to the rare luxury of a bath together after days of rough travel.

They slipped into the hot water, their skin instantly tingling at the contrast to Diabazaal’s lingering chill. As they sank in, each let out a contented sigh in unison, a sound that made them both smile. The warmth wrapped around them like a blanket, the gentle floral scent mixing with the soft splashes of water as they shifted to find a comfortable position.

Lance leaned back against Keith’s chest, fitting into him as if they were puzzle pieces made for each other. He tilted his head slightly, letting out a soft, contented hum as he closed his eyes, surrendering himself to the warmth and the security of Keith’s embrace. “This…” he murmured, a gentle smile curving his lips, “this is perfect.” His voice was barely above a whisper, as if speaking too loudly might shatter the fragile beauty of the moment. He relaxed completely, his shoulders releasing the tension from their long journey, the stress of recent events slipping away.

Keith smiled, his heart swelling with affection. He lifted a hand, fingers threading gently through Lance’s hair, feeling its softness against his skin as he moved in slow, calming strokes. The floral scent around them mingled with the steam, creating a calming atmosphere that felt worlds away from the harsh cold of Diabazaal. The chill of those days, the stark landscapes, and the uncertainties they’d faced seemed like a distant memory in the embrace of this warm, sunlit room.

Outside, the late afternoon light cast a golden glow through the window, filling the bathroom with a sense of quiet magic. The sunlight played across the water’s surface, reflecting tiny prisms that danced in the steam. Keith closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the simple peace of it. Here, there were no looming decisions, no weight of duty pressing on them—just the soft rhythm of Lance’s breathing and the steady beat of his own heart.

Keith’s thoughts drifted briefly to the days ahead. In just a few days, he would be part of an agreement that could shape the future of Altea and Diabazaal, and hopefully bridge the worlds they came from. The prospect filled him with a mix of excitement and anxiety, the responsibility feeling both overwhelming and thrilling. But in this moment, all of that faded away. Here, with Lance leaning against him, he felt more grounded than ever before.

Lance’s eyes fluttered open, a mischievous gleam sparking in them. “You know, when this alliance thing is finally set, we’re taking a proper break. Just you and me,” he murmured, tilting his head up slightly to meet Keith’s gaze, his eyes warm and playful. “Somewhere far, far away from politics and meetings and anything else that isn’t just…us.”

Keith chuckled, brushing his thumb along Lance’s cheek. “I’d like that,” he said softly, his voice full of sincerity. “After everything we’ve been through… I think we deserve that.”

A comfortable silence fell between them again, and Keith continued to play with Lance’s hair, feeling the silky strands slip through his fingers as he traced gentle patterns across Lance’s scalp. It was these little moments that he treasured most—the quiet intimacy, the sense that nothing else mattered but being here, together.

Lance sighed contentedly, tilting his head back against Keith’s shoulder. His voice was barely above a murmur when he spoke again. “I can’t believe it’s finally happening. This alliance… it’s like everything we’ve dreamed of, Keith.” His words were soft, almost reverent, as though the weight of their journey was just now settling on him.

Keith’s arms tightened around him, a small smile playing on his lips. “Yeah… and I couldn’t have done any of it without you.” He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to Lance’s forehead, feeling a surge of gratitude for the man beside him. Lance had been his rock, his support, the one who had seen him at his best and his worst and had stood by him through it all.

They lapsed into another quiet, comfortable silence, simply letting the warmth and the fragrance and the soft light hold them. It felt like time had slowed, stretching out the minutes so they could savor every second. The world outside could wait. Here, in the embrace of the water, surrounded by soft sunlight and shared peace, everything felt right.

Chapter Text

The dinner table was set with more than just food; the air was thick with anticipation and curiosity as Keith and Lance entered the grand dining hall. They had chosen their most comfortable clothes—Keith in his simple, worn shirt that made him feel like himself, and Lance in a loose, cozy sweater that brought out the brightness in his eyes. Despite the grandeur of the room, this moment was theirs to share with family, not as prince and ally, but as Keith and Lance.

As they approached the table, the familiar faces of Alfor, Nancy, and Allura turned toward them, each wearing expressions that ranged from curiosity to delight. Alfor, with his eyes warm but searching, sat at the head of the table, his bearing dignified yet softened by affection. Nancy’s gaze sparkled with motherly pride, while Allura practically vibrated with excitement, unable to contain her eagerness to hear every detail of their journey. They had all clearly noticed that something about Keith and Lance had shifted—something more assured, something that spoke of growth and newfound purpose.

Lance barely made it into his seat before reaching for his plate, his hunger winning out over any desire for conversation. Without ceremony, he dug into the meal, his eyes brightening with the first bite. “We missed you all,” he managed to say, though his words came out somewhat garbled through a mouthful of food.

Keith laughed, unable to hide his amusement. “You’re starting to act like me,” he teased, grabbing his fork and taking a hearty bite himself. The warmth and richness of the food filled him, grounding him after the whirlwind of emotions and discoveries he’d experienced in Diabazaal. For a moment, he simply let himself enjoy the comfort of the meal, the flavors mingling with the satisfaction of being home.

Alfor watched them both, a gentle smile on his face that was tinged with pride and curiosity. It was clear to him that this short journey had changed both of them in profound ways. “You both had quite the journey,” he said, his voice calm but laced with anticipation. “Would you care to enlighten us?”

Lance, still preoccupied with his food, nodded enthusiastically but made no move to speak. Keith, sensing the invitation and glancing at Lance’s contented chewing, took the lead. He looked up at the king, meeting his gaze with a bright but respectful expression.

“It was… a great success,” Keith began, his voice steady but carrying a note of excitement. “My brother, Shiro—he’s alive. Not just alive, but leading the whole clan.” He couldn’t keep the pride from his voice, his eyes gleaming as he shared the news that had brought him so much hope.

The impact was immediate. Allura’s eyes widened, her face breaking into a radiant smile. “Shiro is alive?!” she gasped, her voice filled with unrestrained joy.

Keith nodded, his own smile spreading as he met her gaze. “He is. And not just him—the entire clan, they were so welcoming. Kind, even,” he continued, his voice softening. “Some are still skeptical, sure, but… they want the same peace and unity as we do. They made me feel like I belonged.”

Lance, having finally slowed his eating, looked up and grinned. “And he did,” he chimed in, his tone warm and teasing. “Everyone loved him. Especially the kids—they were practically glued to him.” He chuckled, remembering the way the little ones had crowded around Keith, their admiration and curiosity unwavering.

Keith’s expression softened, a warmth in his eyes that reflected the bond he’d felt with the children. But then, he took a breath, steadying himself as he looked at Nancy. “And… my mother is alive, too.”

Nancy’s hand trembled as she set her wine glass down, her eyes filling with disbelief. Her voice cracked slightly as she spoke, her gaze locking onto Keith’s. “Krolia?” she asked, barely more than a whisper.

Keith nodded, his own emotions clear on his face. “She’s alive,” he said softly. “I didn’t get to see her, but Shiro told me she’ll come with him when they visit. They’re bringing a whole group from the clan.” His voice carried a rare sense of wonder and anticipation, the long-awaited reunion filling him with hope and excitement.

Nancy’s eyes shone with tears, a single drop tracing down her cheek as she whispered, “That’s wonderful, Keith.” She smiled, reaching across the table as if to hold his hand. “I can’t tell you how much this means to me, too. Krolia… she was my dearest friend.”

Keith nodded, his own emotions mingling with hers. He felt the weight of those years—of his own losses, of Nancy’s grief, of the hope that they might all find peace in reconnecting. “They’ll be here soon,” he said, glancing at Alfor. “Shiro promised they’d come as soon as my mother returns to their camp. They’ll come to talk, to try to make things right.”

Alfor took a deep breath, a mixture of relief and apprehension crossing his face. “That’s all we’ve hoped for,” he said quietly. “To put things right, to build something that lasts.” But there was a shadow of regret in his eyes as he added, “I have so much to apologize for.”

Keith met his gaze, his voice steady and comforting. “They’ll listen, Alfor,” he said, the sincerity in his tone unshakable. “After everything, they understand. My mother… she’ll understand too. I believe that.”

A gentle silence settled over the table as they all absorbed the weight of the conversation, each lost in thoughts of what might come. The reunion, the potential alliance, the chance to heal old wounds—it was all within reach, yet it carried a sense of fragility, as if everything rested on the delicate balance of their actions.

Nancy broke the silence, her face soft with hope. “Well, that’s enough heavy talk for now,” she said, her voice warm and gentle. “Tonight, let’s celebrate your safe return. We have much to look forward to, and even more to be grateful for.”

Everyone nodded, and as the meal continued, the weight of the conversation slowly eased, replaced by laughter and stories of the journey, of the clan’s warmth, and of Lance’s antics that left them all chuckling. Alfor shared tales of his own youth, his voice carrying the memories of friendships and alliances that now seemed to be rekindling through their children.

When dessert arrived—a warm, spiced cake drizzled with honey and berries—Keith and Lance shared a glance, their laughter ringing out across the table as they dug in with a shared eagerness. It was a perfect end to a meal that felt like the start of something new.

As the last of the dishes were cleared from the table, a comfortable warmth settled over the dining hall. The evening stretched on as they all continued to talk, weaving together the threads of memories, hopes, and shared laughter. Lance had never felt this kind of ease at the table, not in a long time. He remembered the countless meals he’d once spent in silence, his mind clouded by anger or distance, pushing his food around just for the sake of appearances or retreating to his room where he could eat alone. He’d learned to endure those empty, heavy silences, nights where the weight of unspoken words felt like it could swallow him whole.

But tonight had been different. For the first time in years, he felt like he was exactly where he belonged. His family’s laughter had blended with his own, filling the spaces that had once been haunted by silence. They’d shared stories, memories, and plans—more than just the food on the table; they’d shared themselves, their love and excitement for what lay ahead. It had been that way in Diabazaal, too, he realized. Keith’s family, strangers who welcomed him with open arms, had offered him a warmth and acceptance he hadn’t felt in so long. Things really were coming together, like pieces of a puzzle that had finally found their place.

As the evening wore on, one by one, his family began to retire for the night. Alfor and Nancy left with warm embraces, their voices carrying promises of more conversations in the days to come. Allura, her excitement finally giving way to tiredness, offered them both a sleepy smile before heading to bed. Soon, it was just Lance and Keith left in the dining hall, their plates pushed aside as they lingered in the lingering quiet.

Keith noticed the subtle shift in Lance’s expression as he stared absently at his hands. There was a softness to his gaze, but also a glimmer of something deeper—a vulnerability, a mix of happiness and the faint ache of old memories. Keith gently reached out, wrapping his fingers around Lance’s hand. “Everything okay, sunshine?” he asked, his voice gentle, a note of concern threading through his tone.

Lance looked up, his lips curving into a small, almost shy smile. He took a moment, drawing in a breath as if he was pulling the words together. “I’m just… really happy,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “That I found you. That you’re here with me. None of this could’ve happened without you, you know that, right?” He paused, his gaze falling to their hands. “I haven’t felt this close to my family in years. And it’s… it’s because of you.”

Keith’s expression softened, and he squeezed Lance’s hand, a gentle warmth in his eyes. “Lance,” he said, a hint of a smile playing on his lips, “it’s you who keeps your family together. They’re here because of you. They’re closer because of you.”

Lance gave a quiet chuckle, but Keith held his gaze, his face earnest, determined. “I mean it,” Keith insisted. “All this time you’ve been telling me how wonderful I am, how I’m the reason this is all happening, but… it’s you, Lance. Without you, I wouldn’t even be here. I’d be… I don’t know, lost, or worse. Maybe I would’ve become that monster I was always afraid of becoming. But you didn’t let that happen. You saw something in me, you had this… this strength, this resolve. All of this, everything, it’s because of you.”

The words seemed to echo through the room, filling the silence with a warmth that wrapped around them like a blanket. Lance felt his eyes start to sting, a tear slipping down his cheek as he tried to laugh it off. But the tears kept coming, soft and quiet, as he leaned forward, wrapping his arms around Keith. Keith held him close, his hands rubbing soothing circles on Lance’s back, his own eyes brimming with unshed tears. They stayed like that, in each other’s arms, the quiet of the hall broken only by the soft sound of their breathing, the unspoken promise of the future settling around them like a gentle hush.

Keith’s voice was a whisper in Lance’s ear, soft but steady. “You always say you’re going to protect me, that you’ll always be here for me,” he said. “I want you to know it’s the same for you, too, Lance. I’ll be here, no matter what.”

Lance pulled back just enough to look at Keith, his heart full. His lips trembled, a soft smile breaking through as he pressed his forehead against Keith’s. “I know,” he said, his voice rough but steady. “I know, Keith.”

Keith let out a soft chuckle as he brushed his thumb gently across Lance’s cheeks, catching the stray tears that shimmered in the candlelight. “Hey, I’m the crier,” he teased, his voice warm and comforting, a glint of humor dancing in his eyes. But the way he held Lance was so steady, so tender, that it felt like a promise.

Lance rolled his eyes, a wet laugh escaping as he sniffed. He tried to laugh it off, but each chuckle only seemed to break him a little more, releasing emotions he hadn’t realized he was holding back. It was as if all those years of putting on a brave face, of carrying his family’s burdens, had finally cracked open. And here he was, vulnerable and unguarded, in Keith’s arms.

Keith’s smile softened, understanding in his gaze as he held Lance tighter, rubbing gentle circles on his back. Lance had been his rock, his constant through everything. He had been strong, stronger than Keith had any right to ask him to be, always there with a reassuring word or a comforting presence. Keith brushed his fingers gently through Lance’s hair, his voice a soft murmur. “I’ve got you, sunshine,” he whispered. “I got you.”

They stayed like that for a while, Keith holding him as Lance let the tears come, quiet and cleansing. There was something healing in that simple embrace, in knowing that no words were needed, that Keith was here, grounding him and holding him steady.

Eventually, the weight of the day, of everything they’d been through, settled over them in a calming exhaustion. They moved together, instinctively, finding their way into bed, limbs tangling naturally, as if it were the only way they knew how to sleep. Keith pulled the blanket over them, cocooning them in warmth as they gazed out the window, watching the stars blink against the dark night sky.

Lance sighed contentedly, his voice a little hoarse, raw from the emotions of the night. “Keith,” he whispered, glancing up at him with a small smile, his eyes heavy with sleep.

“Yes?” Keith replied, his gaze soft and full of affection as he looked down at him.

“How about…you tell me a story tonight?” Lance asked, his voice tinged with a playful challenge.

Keith’s cheeks flushed, and he let out a soft chuckle. “I’m not as creative as you are,” he protested with a shy smile. But there was a sparkle in his eye, the hint of a story waiting to be told.

“Oh, come on,” Lance coaxed, his grin widening. “I’m sure whatever it is, it’ll be perfect. Besides, I’m so sleepy I’ll probably fall asleep before you even finish…so go on.”

Keith laughed, nudging him playfully. “Alright, alright,” he relented, settling back against the pillows. He took a deep breath, his mind spinning as he tried to summon a tale from thin air. “Once upon a time…” he began, his voice low and soothing, like a gentle lullaby.

Lance looked up at him, his gaze soft and unwavering, tracing the lines of Keith’s face as he spoke. He took in every detail—the way Keith’s eyes glinted with sincerity, the subtle curve of his smile, the slight pink in his cheeks. Every imperfection, every scar, every shadow—it was all utterly perfect to him. In this moment, Lance didn’t care about the politics, the alliances, or the uncertainty of the future. All he knew was that this, here with Keith, was the future he wanted.

Keith’s voice flowed, weaving a story about a brave prince and his loyal dragon, of their adventures across lands unknown, of challenges they faced and the bond they shared. Lance felt himself growing drowsy, the rhythm of Keith’s voice like a lullaby, grounding him as he nestled closer, resting his head against Keith’s chest. He listened to the steady thump of Keith’s heartbeat, letting it lull him deeper into relaxation, grounding him in a peace he hadn’t felt in years.

Keith watched him, smiling as he felt Lance’s breaths grow softer, more even. Gently, he wrapped his wings around them both, drawing him in close, holding him protectively to his chest as he whispered the final lines of his story.

“And they lived happily ever after,” he murmured softly, pressing a gentle kiss to Lance’s forehead. Keith lingered for a moment, just watching him, feeling the quiet joy of simply being here, together. The soft glow of the moonlight painted Lance’s sleeping form in silvery light, and Keith couldn’t help but think how lucky he was to have found him, to have this.

With a final contented sigh, Keith closed his eyes, letting sleep take him too, their breaths synchronized in the quiet of the night, two souls wrapped around each other in perfect peace.

The morning crept in softly, bathing the room in hues of warm pinks and gentle oranges as the sun rose beyond the hills. Keith blinked awake, squinting as he adjusted to the soft light filling the room. Lance lay nestled in his arms, still fast asleep, his face peaceful in a way that made Keith’s heart swell. He stifled a yawn, his fangs peeking briefly before he stretched out his wings with careful, measured movements, trying not to disturb Lance’s slumber.

Keith felt tired but content, the kind of happy exhaustion that came from feeling truly at ease. He sighed, letting the warmth of the morning sink into his bones, and ran a gentle hand over Lance’s back. They hadn’t had many moments like this in the past few weeks, moments where they could just exist without worry, without the weight of the world pressing down on them. He let himself savor it.

It would still be days before the Galrans arrived at Altea, which meant there was no urgency, no need to think about negotiations or plans. He could see the relief in Lance’s face even as he slept, the faint worry lines softened, his breathing deep and steady. Keith knew they both needed these days, days that belonged only to them, filled with whatever small pleasures they chose. He thought back to the hot springs Lance had taken him to, the way the warm water had melted his tension, and he made a mental note to ask if they could go again. And he wanted to see Hunk and Pidge too; he imagined a day spent hiding in the library, raiding the hidden snack stashes, their laughter echoing in the quiet rooms.

Keith chuckled softly at the memory of sneaking through the castle hallways with Lance, back when only a handful of people knew he was here. There had been a thrill to it, a kind of quiet rebellion that Keith now missed just a bit. But things were different now. He was no longer a secret, and though that brought its own challenges, he was ready for it. Ready for these better days, days where he didn’t have to hide and could hold his head high.

He looked down at Lance, still curled up against his chest, his soft brown curls tumbling messily over his forehead. With a gentle hand, Keith brushed a few strands back behind Lance’s ear, his fingers lingering there. Lance shifted slightly, murmuring something incoherent, his face instinctively turning toward Keith’s touch. A small smile tugged at Keith’s lips as he watched him, his heart full of affection.

There was no rush. He’d stay like this, holding Lance, letting the sun fully fill the room. The world could wait, if only for a little longer. And when Lance finally woke up, they would begin the first of many days that were truly, entirely theirs.

Chapter Text

As the warm morning sunlight crept over Lance’s face, he blinked his eyes open, feeling the soft rise and fall of Keith’s chest beneath him. The room was filled with a gentle golden glow, casting everything in a quiet serenity that made him want to stay right where he was. He yawned and stretched, snuggling deeper into the warmth of Keith’s chest, the blankets cocooning them both in a cozy embrace.

Keith had been awake for a while now, watching Lance sleep with a fond smile. As Lance shifted and stretched, Keith couldn’t help but chuckle, his hand instinctively rubbing Lance’s back. “Good morning, sleepyhead…” he murmured, his voice soft. “Did you sleep well?”

Lance, still lost in the comfort of sleep, groaned and pressed his face further into the blankets, barely lifting his head. “Mmm,” he mumbled, a sleepy sound of contentment. His arm wrapped around Keith’s waist, holding him close as if he was afraid this calm, safe moment might slip away.

Keith chuckled, continuing to rub Lance’s back in soothing circles, giving him time to fully wake up. “We’ve got the next few days all to ourselves,” he said quietly, his voice filled with excitement that he couldn’t quite contain. “We can do anything we want. Maybe we can go hang out with Hunk and Pidge again! Or have another picnic, just like last time. And then there’s the hot springs! We should go at night this time; I bet it would be amazing under the stars…”

He rambled on, a spark of enthusiasm in his voice as he imagined all the things they could do together. Lance’s sleepy smile widened with every suggestion, and he felt a warmth spread through him that was more than just the sun. He let Keith’s words wash over him, listening to the happiness in his voice, the genuine excitement. After everything they had been through, it felt like a precious gift.

Finally, Lance sighed and peeked up at Keith with a grin. “Maybe… breakfast first?” he suggested, his voice still slightly raspy from sleep. “Don’t you think?”

Keith’s cheeks flushed, and he laughed, giving Lance a light squeeze. “Oh. Right, breakfast. Yes, that’s probably a good idea.” He carefully sat up, keeping an arm around Lance’s shoulders as he pulled him close. “How are you feeling?”

Lance leaned against him, letting out a deep, satisfied sigh. “I think… I just needed a good cry,” he admitted softly, his eyes meeting Keith’s. “Thank you for being there… for letting me just… let go.”

Keith smiled, a warmth filling his gaze as he brushed a thumb over Lance’s cheek. “I’ll always be here, Lance. And… you don’t have to be so strong for me anymore,” he said, his voice tender and reassuring. “You’ve done an incredible job, more than I could have ever asked for. But now… I can be strong for you, too. We’re in this together.”

A sense of peace settled over them, a quiet understanding that neither needed to face the world alone anymore. Keith’s words wrapped around Lance like a promise, steady and unwavering, and Lance felt the weight he’d been carrying slowly lift. They sat there in silence for a moment, each lost in their own thoughts, both grateful for the other’s presence.

After a while, Lance took a deep breath and looked toward the door. “Alright,” he said with a soft laugh, squeezing Keith’s hand. “Let’s go get that breakfast.” And with a newfound lightness, they stood together, ready to face the day side by side, knowing they had each other—today, and always.

Lance and Keith made their way down the hallway, shoulders occasionally bumping as they walked. The delicious smell of breakfast wafted through the corridors, making their mouths water with anticipation. Lance could pick out the familiar scents of crispy bacon, scrambled eggs, and, of course, pancakes. Keith’s eyes lit up at the smell, and his steps quickened, practically pulling Lance along.

When they reached the dining hall, the table was already laid out for them with heaping plates of food. It seemed the rest of the family had already finished their breakfast and had gone off to begin their daily routines, leaving the room quiet and cozy—just for them. They exchanged a quick grin and eagerly took their seats, both diving in without hesitation.

Keith piled his plate high with everything within reach, his face lighting up as he took his first bite of pancakes, savoring the fluffy texture and sweet taste of syrup. Lance watched him with an amused smile, his own plate filling up quickly as he took generous helpings. The quiet clinking of their forks and contented sighs filled the room as they enjoyed their meal, each comfortable in the other’s presence.

A few minutes into their breakfast, Lance paused mid-bite, glancing at Keith with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “Alright,” he began, leaning back slightly. “What are we going to do today, Keith?” He asked around a mouthful of pancakes, his grin widening as he watched Keith’s expression shift to one of surprise.

Keith took a moment to think, tapping his fork against his plate as he chewed thoughtfully. “Well… we could do anything!” he said, excitement bubbling in his voice. “What’s something we haven’t done yet?” His eyes sparkled with curiosity, eager to make the most of their free time.

Lance tapped his chin, pretending to think hard, though a smile played at the corner of his lips. “Hmm… well, we’re already eating now. Maybe for dinner, we could visit Hunk and Pidge?” he suggested, envisioning a lively evening spent with their friends.

Keith nodded, looking pleased with the idea. “Sounds perfect. But…” He glanced around the empty dining hall, then back at Lance, eyebrows raised playfully. “What do we do until then?”

Lance laughed, leaning back in his chair with a thoughtful expression. “Alright, alright, let me think…” He drummed his fingers on the table. “We could go into town,” he suggested. “Maybe see some sights, meet a few new faces?” He grinned, picturing Keith’s somewhat reluctant but good-natured interactions with the townsfolk.

Keith shook his head, chuckling. “I think I’m all peopled out for now,” he admitted, leaning back with a content sigh. The recent days had been a whirlwind of reunions, meetings, and formalities. The thought of taking a break from all that sounded ideal.

“That’s fair,” Lance conceded with a nod, his mind turning over other options. He hummed thoughtfully, glancing out the large dining hall window where the early morning sun cast a gentle glow across the gardens.

“What about something quieter?” Lance suggested, a spark of inspiration lighting his face. “There’s that big old library I showed you the other day. We could just… hide away for a while. Find a quiet spot, read, maybe sneak some snacks in there.” His voice softened with warmth, envisioning a day of lazy companionship and whispered conversation.

Keith’s eyes brightened, and he gave an enthusiastic nod. “I like that idea. The library’s practically empty in the mornings, so we’d have it all to ourselves.” He took another bite of his pancakes, a contented sigh escaping him as he imagined curling up in one of those cozy nooks, Lance by his side.

“Perfect,” Lance grinned, feeling a flicker of excitement. “And later, we can go back to that spot outside where we can watch the stars.” He leaned forward, his eyes meeting Keith’s, his smile widening as he added, “Or maybe we can even sneak into the hot springs.”

Keith chuckled, his cheeks tinting a faint pink. “That sounds incredible… as long as we don’t get caught,” he teased, giving Lance a playful nudge. The idea of a day with no responsibilities, nothing but laughter and warmth, made his heart feel lighter than it had in weeks.

They lingered over breakfast, savoring each bite and each moment of peace. As they finished, Lance finally stood, stretching his arms above his head with a satisfied sigh. “Alright then,” he said, holding out a hand to Keith. “The library awaits.”

Keith took his hand with a grateful smile, standing and matching Lance’s pace as they walked out of the dining hall, their laughter echoing in the empty hallways. It felt like the world had slowed down just for them, like every small moment could be stretched out forever, and neither wanted to miss a second of it.

And so, the two made their way to the grand, quiet library, weaving through sunlit hallways with fingers intertwined, taking their time as if savoring every step. Once they reached the library doors, Lance quietly pushed them open, leading Keith inside. The space was expansive and dimly lit, filled with the scent of old parchment and polished wood. Rows upon rows of shelves stretched out before them, and the soft morning light spilled through tall, arched windows, casting gentle beams across the floor.

They settled into one of the coziest reading nooks by a window, hidden away among the towering bookshelves. Lance found a small stack of books and snuck a few pastries from his bag, which he’d thoughtfully brought along, knowing Keith’s sweet tooth. With a grin, Lance handed Keith a pastry before cracking open the first book. Keith took a bite, the buttery sweetness instantly bringing a smile to his face.

For the next couple of hours, they were lost in a quiet world of whispered words and warm embraces. Lance’s voice was soft and steady as he read, his fingers tracing along the pages, completely engrossed. Every so often, Keith would close his eyes, simply listening to Lance’s voice with a peaceful smile. There was a comfort in Lance’s tone, each word unfolding like the gentle cadence of a lullaby. Keith tried to read once, managing a few lines before chuckling, handing the book back. “You’re better at this,” he said, settling back to listen once more.

The stories, the laughter, the shared glances—it felt like a world within a world, as if nothing else mattered outside those walls. They lost track of time until their stomachs reminded them it was midday, and with a lingering glance around the cozy nook, they gathered their things and left for the town square.

They strolled hand in hand through town, taking in the vibrant scenes of daily life. The square was bustling with people, and they found a shady spot beneath an old oak tree to spread out a picnic blanket. Lance had packed a variety of foods, but it didn’t take long for Keith to dive straight for the sweets. Lance chuckled, sliding a sandwich onto Keith’s plate with a gentle insistence. “Gotta balance it out,” he teased, earning a playful eye roll.

Between bites, they chatted with locals who recognized them, exchanging warm words and laughter. A small group of children gathered nearby, whispering and staring in awe at Keith. He smiled at them, his eyes lighting up, and invited them over. The kids quickly grew comfortable, asking him endless questions, touching his wings in fascination, and hanging on his every word as he shared stories from his adventures. Lance watched with a fond smile; it was rare to see Keith so completely at ease.

As the day wore on, the sun began its descent, painting the sky in hues of gold and pink. The town square started to quiet down, and the warm evening light cast a gentle glow over everything. Lance leaned back, taking it all in. “This is the perfect time to go to the springs,” he suggested with a glimmer of excitement in his eyes. “We’ll be back in time to get ready for dinner with Hunk and Pidge.”

Keith’s eyes sparkled, his wings giving a little flutter in his excitement as he sprang to his feet. His hand reached out to Lance, his smile widening. “Yes!” he exclaimed, almost bouncing on his toes. “I’ve been waiting for this since the moment we got back. After everything, this is exactly what we need.”

Lance laughed, feeling a warmth spread through him as he took Keith’s hand and let him pull him up. He started gathering their things, securing their picnic blanket and basket, and together they set off. The air was crisp and filled with the scent of pine as they walked away from the castle, their footsteps crunching softly against the forest floor.

They slipped into a comfortable silence, each savoring the simplicity of the moment. Keith’s eyes darted everywhere, taking in every movement, every sound. Birds flitted between branches, a family of squirrels scurried across their path, and Keith’s tail swished behind him, curling slightly every now and then as he absorbed all the life around them. His wings fluttered now and then, mirroring his curiosity and contentment. It was clear how much he belonged in this space, how natural it felt for him to move among the forest.

After a while, Lance glanced at Keith, a thoughtful hum escaping him. “Hey, Keith…”

Keith’s ears perked up, turning toward Lance with a curious expression, head tilted slightly. “Yes, Lance?”

Lance chuckled, enjoying the way Keith’s head tilted like a curious puppy. “I was thinking about what that kid said back there… and, actually, one of the kids asked you in Diabazaal, too.”

“Oh?” Keith’s eyes brightened with interest. “What about?”

“Can you fly?” Lance asked, watching Keith closely.

Keith blinked, then chuckled, his gaze shifting forward. “Well… not very well.” His wings gave a small twitch as he considered it. “Probably not at all anymore, if I’m being honest.”

“But you could?” Lance pressed, intrigued. “Before, I mean?”

Keith hummed thoughtfully, watching his own footsteps for a moment. “Sort of… Lotor gave me these wings with the intent that I’d be able to fly, and it worked to some extent. But I haven’t figured out if I can use magic to help me fly. Without it, I’m too heavy to keep myself in the sky.” His tone was thoughtful, tinged with a hint of disappointment as he glanced at his wings, folding them closer to his back.

“Oh, I see,” Lance murmured, feeling a pang of sympathy. “Well, we know you have magic. We figured that much out,” he added encouragingly.

Keith laughed lightly, but his voice was uncertain. “Yeah, but I have no idea how to use it. All I know I can do is… come back from the dead.” He chuckled, but the laugh felt hollow. “And I don’t even know if that’s… I mean, I don’t know how often that can happen, you know?”

Lance nodded slowly, his hand brushing against Keith’s arm. “Hopefully, we’ll figure it out eventually. Maybe Lotor left behind some kind of information, something that tells us more about you.”

“Maybe,” Keith replied, though he seemed to drift back into his thoughts. He then shook his head, a small smile finding its way back to his face. “But honestly, I’d rather not worry about it right now.” As they walked, the sound of bubbling water from the hot springs drifted to them, its familiar sound soothing. Keith’s smile widened as they neared. “I have everything I need right here, anyway.”

Lance laughed, feeling his heart skip a beat at the sincerity in Keith’s words. “Right,” he said, unable to keep the grin off his face. He took Keith’s hands, pulling him close as they approached the edge of the springs. The two of them stopped, looking into each other’s eyes as the world seemed to slow around them.

Keith held Lance’s gaze, his expression softening as he allowed himself to get lost in the deep blue of Lance’s eyes. He felt the weight of every unspoken word in the way Lance looked at him, a warmth that reached into the depths of his heart. His gaze drifted down to Lance’s lips, lingering there a moment too long.

Lance noticed, a playful smirk curling on his lips as he whispered, “What? What’s wrong?”

Keith’s cheeks flushed a deep red, caught in the act. “N-nothing,” he stammered, a nervous laugh escaping him. “You’re just… staring.”

Lance leaned closer, his voice a soft, teasing murmur. “You’re adorable, you know that?”

Keith laughed, the sound catching in his throat as he tilted his head, letting out a small, flustered snort. “Stop it!” he protested, though his grin betrayed him.

“I mean it,” Lance whispered, his hand finding the small of Keith’s back and holding him close. He stared into Keith’s eyes, the moment stretching between them until all Keith could feel was the rapid thrum of his own heart.

Keith’s breathing slowed, his lashes fluttering closed as he leaned back slightly, his pulse racing. He felt a soft warmth envelop him as Lance closed the distance, pulling him into a deep kiss. Keith melted into it, his hands moving to rest gently on Lance’s shoulders.

The forest around them faded, leaving just the two of them, held together in this perfect, unbroken silence. In this world, there was no one to interrupt them, no burdens to bear, no battles to fight. It was as if they were the only two people in existence, and that thought alone made Keith’s heart swell.

When they finally pulled back, their foreheads touching, their breathing was soft and steady, still tinged with laughter and affection. Keith felt like he could stay here forever, in this simple, quiet moment, with the one person who understood him.

As they slipped out of their clothes, the cool air around them barely registered against the warmth radiating from the hot spring, beckoning them closer. They stepped in together, sinking into the water that wrapped them in a soothing heat, enveloping them like a gentle embrace. The moment they were submerged, the world seemed to blur at the edges, softening into nothing more than the sound of the water lapping against their skin and the soft rustle of leaves around them.

The forest around them faded into a distant murmur, leaving just the two of them in a cocoon of warmth. Lance slid closer to Keith, his arms naturally finding their way around his waist, and Keith’s arms wrapped around Lance in return. They settled together, chest to chest, forehead to forehead, their breaths mingling in the cool air. Lance could feel Keith’s heartbeat against his own, steady but racing, mirroring his own pulse.

They didn’t speak, not at first. Words felt unnecessary, almost intrusive in this moment that felt so delicate, so new. They were discovering each other in a way they hadn’t before—something deeper, more profound, unspoken. Lance’s hand traced lazy circles along Keith’s back, his fingertips gliding gently over each ridge and curve. Keith closed his eyes, leaning into the touch, letting himself melt into Lance’s arms, feeling safer than he ever had.

Keith tilted his face up, their eyes meeting as if for the first time, and Lance’s hand found its way to his cheek, brushing a stray lock of Keith’s dark hair back. Slowly, Lance leaned in, his lips meeting Keith’s in a gentle, lingering kiss that grew deeper, more intense with each heartbeat. They both lost themselves, savoring every second, every touch, every sensation.

Time itself seemed to stretch and fold around them, a curious mix of fleeting moments and eternal stillness. They moved in slow, rhythmic kisses, each one saying everything they couldn’t put into words. There was a softness, a vulnerability they shared that felt almost sacred, as if they’d uncovered something precious that only they could hold.

Eventually, their kisses slowed, and they found themselves simply holding one another, letting the peaceful silence settle around them. Keith rested his head on Lance’s chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart. It was calming, grounding, a reminder of everything that was real and good in his life. Lance leaned back against the warm rocks at the edge of the spring, his fingers gently combing through Keith’s damp hair, his thumb tracing soothing patterns along his shoulder.

After a while, Lance let out a soft, sheepish laugh, his cheeks flushing as he looked down at Keith. “Wow…” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the soft murmur of the water.

Keith glanced up at him, his own face just as flushed, his smile broadening into a soft chuckle. “Wow…” he echoed, a bit breathless himself, the word hanging between them with a shared understanding that went beyond language.

For a moment, they both lay there in a comfortable silence, their breaths slowly syncing, their fingers interlacing beneath the water. The sun had begun to dip below the treetops, casting golden light across the clearing and making the water around them shimmer. The world seemed to hold its breath, as if this moment belonged only to them, untouched and undisturbed.

Lance leaned his head back, his eyes drifting to the fading light through the trees. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt… this close to someone before,” he murmured softly, his hand gently squeezing Keith’s. “It’s like everything just… falls away when I’m with you.”

Keith lifted his head, his gaze softening as he took in the vulnerability in Lance’s eyes. “I feel the same,” he whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of Lance’s hand. “It’s like… all the walls I’ve had, everything I’ve tried to keep hidden… none of it matters here.”

They both fell silent, content in the understanding that lingered between them. There were no masks, no fears. Just them, side by side in a world that felt all their own.

Finally, Lance’s eyes fluttered closed, his head tilting back as he took a deep, contented breath. Keith nestled against his chest, his own eyes closing as he listened to the steady thrum of Lance’s heartbeat, letting it lull him into a state of pure peace.

The tranquility of the hot spring vanished as quickly as it had settled over them. Lance’s eyes flew open, his serene expression shifting to one of sudden panic. “Keith!” he blurted out, sitting up in a rush.

Keith jolted, instantly alert, his frown creasing in concern. “What’s wrong?” he asked, scanning Lance’s face for any sign of trouble.

“Hunk and Pidge!” Lance exclaimed, his cheeks reddening with embarrassment as he realized how lost they’d both gotten in the moment. “We were supposed to meet them for dinner, remember? We completely lost track of time!”

Keith’s eyes widened in realization, and he immediately scrambled to his feet, water dripping from his clothes as he moved to get out of the spring. His own cheeks flushed pink as he grabbed his tunic from the rocks, fumbling to get it on. “Oh, no. You’re right! We gotta go!” he said, his voice filled with a mix of amusement and urgency.

They both clambered out of the spring, nearly tripping over each other in their haste to get dressed. There was a flurry of clothes being tugged on and buttons fastened with hands that were still damp and slippery from the spring. Keith tugged on his boots, still laughing under his breath at how utterly flustered they both looked, and glanced over at Lance, who was struggling to fix his collar with fingers that were still trembling slightly.

“Come on, Lance, we’re late enough already,” Keith chuckled, playfully swatting Lance’s hand away to help him. Once they were both dressed, they exchanged a quick, sheepish look—an unspoken agreement that they’d somehow explain themselves to Hunk and Pidge.

With that, they hurried back down the forest path, moving as fast as their legs could carry them through the trees. The sun had dipped lower in the sky, casting a warm orange glow over the path, and the soft crunch of leaves underfoot filled the air. Neither spoke, but every now and then, their hands would brush, a gentle reminder of the quiet moment they’d just shared.

They made it to the town just as dusk was setting in, the lanterns flickering to life around them as they approached the small, cozy inn where Hunk and Pidge had arranged to meet them. They exchanged a final, amused look before stepping inside, the warmth of the place washing over them as they spotted their friends at a corner table, already waving them over.

“Where have you two been?” Pidge asked, raising an eyebrow as they slid into their seats. Her gaze flickered between Keith and Lance, noticing the faint color still lingering on their cheeks.

“Oh, you know… got a little distracted on the way over,” Lance said, his smile sheepish as he glanced at Keith. Hunk rolled his eyes, a knowing smile tugging at his lips, but didn’t pry.

They settled into their meal, laughter and stories filling the room as they enjoyed each other’s company. The hours slipped by, filled with familiar jokes, shared memories, and plans for the future that felt comforting in their familiarity. And as they talked, Keith felt a new warmth settle over him, a quiet contentment that only deepened with each passing moment.

The days that followed were just as filled with small, joyful moments that carried a weight all their own. They spent their mornings wandering the bustling market, browsing the stalls with Hunk and Pidge, sampling treats, and getting lost in the colorful displays of fabrics and trinkets. Keith discovered a newfound love for sweets, much to Hunk’s amusement, while Lance insisted on buying him a tiny, handmade trinket—a little silver charm shaped like a dragon wing, meant to bring good luck.

In the afternoons, they’d find themselves back in the library, lounging together on the soft cushions, hidden in the cozy corner where no one else would think to look for them. Lance would read aloud, his voice weaving through the stories as Keith leaned against him, content just to listen. Sometimes they’d take small naps there, wrapped up in each other, the soft sounds of the library lulling them into peace.

Evenings were reserved for quiet dinners with their friends, warm conversations that stretched late into the night. Keith found himself laughing more than he ever had before, his guarded edges softening with each passing day. And when the nights grew late, he and Lance would slip away, wandering beneath the stars, sharing whispered thoughts and dreams for the future.

They both knew that the peace couldn’t last forever. They were still waiting for the Galrans, still anticipating the alliance and the changes it would bring. Each day brought them a step closer to that future, to the responsibilities that awaited them. But for now, none of that mattered. They were together, holding onto these small moments like precious gems, each one a reminder of the love that had brought them here.

And so, they savored each day as if it were their last. Because they knew, deep down, that these quiet moments—filled with laughter, warmth, and the simple joy of each other’s company—were what they’d carry with them into whatever came next. They’d be ready when the time came, but for now, all that mattered was here and now.

Chapter Text

The past week had been nothing short of bliss for Lance. Every day spent with Keith brought out new sides of him, pieces Lance hadn’t known existed. He watched as Keith shed his shyness, his formality, and embraced the freedom to just be himself. It was like seeing sunlight after days of rain. This, right here, was the Keith that Lance loved—a Keith unburdened, laughing and curious. A Keith who seemed more alive than ever.

This afternoon, they’d settled in their room, the soft golden light filtering through the windows as Lance taught Keith how to sew. After all, he’d reasoned, it might come in handy if Red’s saddle or any of their travel gear ever needed mending. Keith had taken to the lesson with surprising eagerness, leaning close as Lance showed him the simple steps. His fingers fumbled at first, and he kept glancing up to Lance with that endearing look of concentration.

For a while, they worked in comfortable silence, broken only by Keith’s occasional questions. Lance enjoyed these quiet moments—the soft rhythm of their breathing, the way Keith’s brow furrowed as he carefully pulled the needle through the fabric, the gentle warmth of his arm brushing Lance’s every so often. It was ordinary in the best way, a small, quiet intimacy that made Lance feel as if he were floating.

But then a knock broke the tranquility.

“Your Highnesses…” came a familiar voice from the other side of the door.

Both of their heads snapped up, exchanging glances before Lance responded. “Yes, you may enter.”

Adam stepped into the room, his posture formal, gaze respectful. “Good afternoon,” he greeted them, nodding.

“And to you,” Lance replied, setting his sewing aside as he sat up straighter. “Is everything alright?”

Adam’s expression softened just a little as he nodded. “The clan—they’re here. And they’d like to see Keith.”

Keith’s eyes went wide, his breath catching. “They’re here?” he asked, nearly bouncing as he sprang to his feet, excitement radiating from him. “My brother?”

Adam nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Yes, all of them. And… your mother too.”

Keith’s heart seemed to skip a beat, and he looked to Lance, unable to contain the smile breaking across his face. His mother, his family—they were here. He’d waited so long, dared to hope, but now it was real.

Lance grinned back at him, his own heart lifting at the sight of Keith’s joy. He squeezed Keith’s hand, nodding. “We’ll be right down, Adam. Thank you.” He watched Adam step out, closing the door quietly behind him.

The moment the door shut, Keith turned to Lance, barely able to stand still. “She’s here!” he nearly shouted, his eyes shining. “They’re all here!” He looked himself over, suddenly self-conscious. “Do I look okay? Should I change? What if—”

Lance couldn’t help but laugh softly, shaking his head. He stepped close to Keith, reaching out to smooth down the collar of his tunic. “Keith, you look perfect,” he assured him, his voice gentle. He could feel Keith’s excitement vibrating beneath his hands, an infectious energy that made his own heart race.

Keith took a deep breath, nodding. But his hands were still trembling, and his wings were fluttering slightly, betraying his nerves. Lance reached for him again, pulling him into a quick, reassuring embrace. “They’ve come all this way to see you, Keith,” he murmured. “You don’t need to do anything but be yourself.”

Keith’s heart thudded painfully in his chest as he looked down, his thoughts a whirl of memories and hopes he had barely dared to entertain. “Do you think…she’ll recognize me?” he asked, voice soft and hesitant. His gaze drifted up to meet Lance’s, eyes wide and uncertain. “Do you think she’ll be…scared?”

Lance’s laugh was gentle, filled with a warmth that seemed to seep into Keith’s bones. “No, starlight,” he said, reaching out to touch Keith’s face, letting his fingers graze the curve of Keith’s jaw with a comforting familiarity. “Your mother’s been waiting ten years for this moment. None of this”—he gestured to the horns, the wings, the unusual contours that made Keith who he was now—“none of it is going to matter to her.”

Keith exhaled shakily, shoulders relaxing just a bit as he nodded, his lips pulling into a small, grateful smile. “Right…okay.” He took a steadying breath, clenching his fists slightly before releasing them, feeling a rush of courage building within him. “I think I’m ready.”

Lance gave him a supportive grin, his hand slipping down to take Keith’s in his, a reassuring squeeze grounding him. “Then let’s go, dragon boy,” he said, chuckling as he gently tugged Keith toward the door.

As they walked through the castle hallways, Keith found himself haunted by flashes of old memories. Bits and pieces of his childhood filled his mind—hazy images of a hand guiding him, the scent of lavender and earth, a gentle voice calling his name. And then, there were fragments of his mother’s face, faded with time but forever imprinted on his heart. He could barely remember what she looked like in real life, but he knew that the moment he saw her, he would know. Something deep within him would recognize her instantly.

Lance’s hand in his kept him present, steady, and real. He squeezed it back, grateful for the strength it gave him, for the reminder that he wasn’t facing this moment alone. Only a few months ago, Lance had been terrified of losing him, uncertain if he’d ever see Keith’s face again. And now, here they were—standing side by side, united, stronger together than they’d ever been before. It struck Keith that Lance was more than just his partner; he was the anchor that kept him from drifting away.

They arrived at the towering double doors to the foyer, and Keith’s hand hovered over the handle. His heart raced, anticipation and anxiety coiling within him as he turned to Lance. A flicker of fear showed in his eyes, but one look into Lance’s calm, confident gaze eased the turmoil inside him.

“You’ve got this,” Lance murmured, his voice a gentle promise. He placed a hand over Keith’s, helping him push open the doors. “I’m right beside you.”

Keith’s lips curled into a small, grateful smile as he nodded, then turned back to the door. With a deep breath, he pushed it open, stepping into the grand foyer.

The room was alive with familiar faces, his clan gathered in warm conversation with Lance’s family. The children were deep in discussion with Allura, who looked radiant, joy brightening her features as she chatted with him, her laughter ringing through the hall. Children from the clan were laughing, playing with the hem of Allura’s dress, their giggles infectious. Alfor, Lance’s father, was nearby, sharing a heartfelt conversation with Shiro. He had waited a long time to give a sincere apology, and his expression was full of respect and understanding.

And in the center, surrounded by the light and life of their kin, stood Krolia.

Keith froze the moment he saw her. She looked just as he remembered, yet different in ways that only time could change. Her short black hair framed her face, her piercing purple eyes holding the same intensity he remembered from his childhood. She looked tired, worn in a way that spoke of battles fought and lost, of waiting and hoping in ways that only a mother could understand. But there was warmth there too—an undeniable, fierce love that hadn’t dimmed in the slightest.

As soon as the doors opened, her gaze locked onto Keith’s, as if she’d known he was coming before he even stepped into the room. Her expression softened, her eyes filling with something unspoken, a mixture of disbelief and joy that mirrored Keith’s own.

Time seemed to stretch as she stepped forward, her hand outstretched. She didn’t falter, didn’t even glance at the horns or wings that marked him as different from the son she’d once held. She looked at him with nothing but pure, unfiltered love. Keith’s vision blurred as tears gathered, spilling down his cheeks as he took a shaky step forward, unable to tear his eyes from hers.

When she reached him, she lifted a hand to his cheek, her touch gentle and reverent. Keith leaned into it, his breath hitching, and managed a choked whisper. “M…Mom?” His voice wavered, heavy with emotion, as if he was afraid to believe this moment was real.

Krolia’s face softened into a smile, her own tears glistening as she pulled him into a fierce embrace, her arms wrapping around him like a shield from every hardship he’d ever faced. “Keith…my little boy,” she murmured, her voice breaking as she held him close, as if afraid to ever let him go again. “Oh, Keith…”

“Mom…” Keith’s voice cracked as he closed his eyes, his arms wrapping around her, one hand clutching the fabric of her cloak as if to anchor himself. The tears he’d held back for so long spilled freely now, and his shoulders shook with silent sobs. Nothing he’d experienced compared to this—the warmth, the comfort, the unspoken understanding that only his mother could give. Nancy’s hugs had been wonderful, a solace in his darkest times, but this…this was different. This was the touch of the woman who had brought him into the world, who had sacrificed so much for him.

He tried to speak, his words tumbling out between ragged breaths. “Mom, I’m so sorry… I tried, I-I couldn’t—”

“Shhh,” Krolia whispered, her hand moving to rub soothing circles on his back, her own voice wavering with emotion. “I know, my love. I know…” She pressed a soft kiss to his hair, her voice breaking. “Nothing is your fault, Keith. None of it. You’re here now, and that’s all that matters.” She pulled back slightly, looking into his eyes, her hand resting on his cheek. “I love you so, so much.”

Keith’s heart clenched, his own hand coming up to rest over hers as he tried to steady his breathing, his voice barely a whisper. “I love you too, Mom…” He hiccuped, holding her tightly once more, feeling like a child again in her arms, safe and loved beyond measure.

They stood like that, wrapped in each other’s embrace, both of them crying, their laughter mingling with tears as they reunited. For the first time in a long time, Keith felt whole—like the missing pieces of his heart had finally fallen into place. This wasn’t just his mother—it was his family, his people, his home, all wrapped up in this single embrace. And as he held her, he knew he would never be alone again.

He finally pulled back, wiping his eyes as he looked over his shoulder at Lance, who stood nearby, watching with a soft smile, pride shining in his gaze. Lance stepped forward, and Keith reached for him, intertwining their fingers, feeling the strength and support Lance offered just by being there. Krolia looked at Lance with a quiet, grateful nod, her eyes softening even more.

“Thank you,” she said softly, her gaze meeting Lance’s. “Thank you for taking care of my son.”

Lance shook his head, a shy smile tugging at his lips. “It’s my honor, truly,” he replied, his voice thick with emotion. “Keith… he saved me more than I saved him.”

The three of them stood together, bound by love, hope, and the promises of family—old and new. And in that moment, Keith knew that he was exactly where he was meant to be.

Krolia’s gaze softened as she turned to Lance, extending her arms and wrapping him in a motherly hug that caught him by surprise. Her embrace was warm, strong, and filled with a gentleness that reminded him of the many times he’d visited the castle as a boy. Back then, Krolia had always been a welcoming presence—soft-spoken, patient, and kind, always making time to acknowledge the rambunctious little boy who’d tag along after Keith. The familiarity of it made his heart swell, grounding him in the comfort of a family that was his in every way that mattered.

Lance hugged her back, smiling as memories from those long-ago days surfaced, memories of shared laughter, warm meals, and the feeling of belonging he’d always felt around Krolia. “Your son is the bravest, handsomest dragon I know,” he said, a hint of playful pride lacing his words.

Keith’s eyes widened, his cheeks coloring as he nudged Lance with a mock scowl. “Lance!”

Lance shrugged, grinning as he met Keith’s flustered expression. “What? I told you I’d tell her!” he replied, voice laced with mischief.

Krolia chuckled, glancing fondly between them as she gently brushed a stray strand of hair from Keith’s forehead. Her eyes were filled with warmth, but a flicker of regret lingered there too. “Shiro told me everything,” she said quietly, her voice softening. “About Lotor… about all that you went through.” She paused, her shoulders heavy with a burden only a mother could feel. “With Zarkon’s threats, and everything happening… I should’ve known, Keith. I should have been there sooner.” Her voice caught, and she shook her head as if scolding herself.

Keith reached up, covering her hand with his. “It’s okay, Mom,” he said, voice gentle. His gaze held a steady assurance, as if he could will away her guilt just by standing there. “All that matters now is that you’re here. You and Shiro… that’s more than I ever hoped for.”

A faint smile tugged at his lips as he continued, his voice growing a bit stronger, laced with hope. “And now we get to make this alliance a reality. To have all of you here with me… with us. That’s what I want more than anything.” He glanced at Lance, who was watching him with a proud smile, his hand still resting lightly on his shoulder.

Krolia’s laugh was soft, touched with pride and a deep love that had survived all the years of separation. She reached out, squeezing his hand with a nod of agreement. “I know, Keith. We’ll make it happen. And soon.” She looked around, taking in the royal family, the friends, the laughter and light that filled the room, and she smiled, her gaze returning to her son. “We’ll have that discussion soon enough,” she promised, her voice filled with the quiet strength of someone who would move mountains for the ones she loved.

In that moment, Keith felt as if every painful memory, every scar and battle he’d faced, had led him to this—this reunion, this love that would fuel him for whatever lay ahead. With his mother, his brother, and Lance at his side, he knew they could face anything the future had in store.

Keith’s voice softened, and he turned fully to his mother. “Oh, Mom… there’s something I need to tell you,” he began, his gaze holding a mix of warmth and sadness. “Dad wanted to say hello.” The words were quiet, reverent, like he was passing along something fragile and precious. “I saw him… in a dream,” he continued, glancing at Lance as if to confirm his words. “Well, it was more than a dream,” he added, his voice trailing off, a hint of wonder lingering in his expression. “I’ll explain it all later, I promise.”

Krolia’s eyes widened, shimmering with a quiet, bittersweet joy. She took a slow breath, and for a moment, she looked as if she might cry. “Your father?” she repeated, her voice a tender whisper, as though she were saying it for the first time in years. She reached up, gently brushing her fingertips against Keith’s cheek, her smile carrying a deep, unspoken love. “Thank you, dear… thank you for telling me,” she said, her words soft and filled with gratitude.

Before she could say more, Nancy, Lance’s mother, approached them with a warm, welcoming smile. She took Krolia’s hands, her joy evident as she embraced her old friend’s return. “Oh, Krolia… this is going to be so exciting,” she said, a sparkle in her eyes. “We’ll discuss the alliance at dinner tonight. I can’t wait to hear everything.”

Krolia laughed, her gaze softening as she looked back at Nancy. The two women shared a familiarity, a bond that had long been put on hold but now felt as if it had never waned. Their laughter held an ease, a lightness that made it seem as though no time had passed at all. They spoke in quiet tones, words of hope and old memories drifting between them like a melody. It was as though the years had dissolved, and they were simply friends again, reunited at last.

Keith stood back, his eyes following the exchange with a soft smile. Seeing his mother so at ease, hearing her laugh like this, filled him with a warmth that chased away years of loneliness. He’d waited so long for a moment like this, a chance to watch her be more than just his memory of her. His heart swelled as he took it all in—the laughter, the quiet promises, the way his mother and Nancy seemed to have stepped right back into their friendship, as if no time had passed at all.

Beside him, Lance watched his own mother with a similar, quiet contentment. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen her so happy, her eyes shining with genuine joy, not just for him or for the kingdom, but for herself. Nancy had given so much of herself to her duties, to her family, that Lance rarely saw this pure, unguarded happiness in her. And it filled him with a peace he hadn’t even realized he was missing, knowing that his mother, too, had her own piece of joy in all of this.

It was a quiet moment, but in its simplicity, everything seemed to fall perfectly into place. Lance reached for Keith’s hand, giving it a gentle squeeze, grounding both of them in the quiet beauty of the scene before them. For the first time, it felt as if all the fractured pieces of their lives were aligning, each of them finding their own happiness, their own completeness. For Keith, it was in the reunion with his mother, and for Lance, it was in witnessing his family, his kingdom, his heart, all coming together.

Keith looked at Lance, the unspoken bond between them stronger than ever. And in Lance’s eyes, he saw that same sense of wonder, of contentment, mirrored back at him. Neither of them needed to speak; their shared joy was more than enough.

Finally, Krolia glanced back at them, her eyes misty but bright. “Keith… Lance… thank you for making all of this possible,” she said, her voice warm and sincere. And in that moment, Keith felt as if every hardship, every moment of doubt, had been worth it, bringing him here, to this—surrounded by love, anchored by family, and with Lance by his side.

As the soft hum of conversation continued around them, Keith felt at peace. And he knew, with absolute certainty, that this was just the beginning.

Chapter Text

Morning drifted gently into the room, its light softened by thick clouds that painted the sky a murky gray. It was the kind of day that held a mysterious, almost magical quality, where the chill in the air hinted at stories yet untold. Outside, droplets clung to leaves and windowpanes, and the world felt hushed, as if holding its breath. Inside, Lance moved quietly, his excitement barely contained. Today was special—today was Halloween.

He held a plate of warm pancakes, each one carefully shaped like little ghosts, their uneven outlines giving them a charm he hoped Keith would find endearing. A mischievous grin spread across his face as he approached the bed where Keith lay sound asleep, curled around Lance’s pillow, his dark hair messy, one hand tucked under his cheek, looking as peaceful as Lance had ever seen him.

Lance leaned in close, setting the plate on the bedside table before whispering, “Keith…” he sang softly, his voice carrying a playful lilt. “Wake up, love,” he coaxed, brushing a few strands of hair from Keith’s forehead. “It’s Halloween!”

Keith stirred, his face scrunching up as he let out a soft groan. Slowly, he blinked open his eyes, still foggy with sleep. “Halloween?” he repeated, his voice hoarse as he stretched, a yawn escaping his lips. “What’s… Halloween?”

Lance laughed, his eyes bright. “Oh, you’ll see.” He settled beside Keith, picking up the plate and setting it in front of him. “Happy Halloween!” He pointed at the pancakes with a triumphant smile, though a hint of nervousness lingered as he waited for Keith to notice the ghost shapes.

Keith’s gaze dropped to the plate, studying the pancakes with a slight tilt of his head. “Ghosts?” he asked, glancing back up at Lance with a mix of confusion and amusement.

“Yes! Exactly,” Lance replied, a bit too eagerly. “See, Halloween is this holiday where kids dress up in costumes and go around asking for candy. And it’s all about spooky, scary things—ghosts, monsters, witches!” He wiggled his fingers, making a mock-scary face and letting out a playful cackle.

Keith raised an eyebrow, laughing softly as he shook his head. “Spooky, huh?” He looked thoughtful. “I don’t know, Lance. I’m not really into scary things.”

“Oh, but you were!” Lance nudged him gently, his tone teasing. “Halloween used to be one of your favorite holidays. We’d stay up all night, you’d wear the silliest costumes, and you’d talk about it for weeks. So, we’re bringing it back! Tonight, we’re going out to watch the kids trick-or-treating, maybe even take a walk in the forest if you’re up for it. And you know what?” He leaned in closer, lowering his voice to a dramatic whisper. “We’re making our own costumes.”

Keith chuckled, taking his first bite of the pancakes. “How about I go as… a dragon?” He grinned, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

Lance crossed his arms, pretending to be unimpressed. “You are a dragon, Keith.”

Keith rolled his eyes, a smile breaking across his face as he relaxed back against the headboard, the ghost-shaped pancakes now half-eaten. “Touché,” he said, taking another bite.

Lance watched him with a fond expression, feeling his heart swell. There was something so endearing about introducing Keith to a piece of his past, a piece he barely remembered but that had meant so much to him once. He wanted to make this Halloween unforgettable for Keith, to bring back a spark of the joy he used to feel.

“So… what are you going to be?” Keith asked, his curiosity piqued as he leaned forward, propping his chin on his hand.

Lance’s eyes lit up, a mischievous grin spreading across his face as he considered his options. “Good question. I always went as a knight when I was little, but…” he paused dramatically, “I wanna go as something actually scary this time.” He tapped his chin, feigning deep thought before snapping his fingers. “Oh! I know! I’ll be a werewolf!” He bared his teeth, curling his fingers into mock claws. “And you—well, you’d make a perfect vampire. You already have the fangs, and with those wings, you’re practically a bat.”

Keith chuckled, finishing the last bite of his ghost-shaped pancake. “Alright, alright. I’m in. A vampire it is.”

The rest of the morning slipped away in a flurry of activity as they worked on piecing together their costumes. Keith’s outfit came together quickly—Lance rummaged through some old trunks and managed to find a tattered black cape, which fit perfectly over Keith’s shoulders and draped dramatically down his back. A crisp, white shirt and black pants completed the look, and, of course, Lance insisted on applying makeup to give Keith’s already-pale skin an even more ghostly pallor.

Keith held still as Lance dabbed a bit of powder onto his cheeks and painted dark circles under his eyes. “You know,” Lance teased as he worked, “you could almost pass for a real vampire with those eyes of yours.”

Keith snorted. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“Not at all, Mr. Vampire.” Lance grinned, finishing his touch-ups with a dramatic sweep. “There. Perfectly terrifying.”

Now it was Lance’s turn. Keith had a laugh helping him apply makeup to create the illusion of fur around his jawline and cheekbones. His face began to take on a rugged, lupine look that made him look a little wild. He used some dark eyeliner to sharpen his features, and a smudge of brown and gray face paint to give his face that scruffy, werewolf texture. Then, they found an old shirt that Keith slashed with his claws, leaving jagged tears across the fabric to make it look like Lance had torn through his clothes during a werewolf transformation.

Keith held up the shredded shirt, smirking. “This good enough, ‘Mr. Werewolf?’”

Lance inspected it, grinning. “Perfect.” He paused, then with a playful glint in his eye, said, “Can I borrow your claws?”

Keith laughed, flexing his fingers. “Sorry, they’re kind of… attached.”

Lance chuckled, shrugging. “Eh, worth a shot. Though I’m sure you’d loan them to me if you could, right?”

“Yeah, sure, just as long as you don’t break them.”

They exchanged a grin before Keith handed him the shirt, which Lance threw over his shoulders, giving his costume a perfectly ragged look. After a few last-minute adjustments and some dramatic snarling practice, they stepped back, admiring their handiwork. They looked hauntingly perfect.

As they prepared to leave, Keith tugged his cloak around himself, glancing over at Lance. “So, we’re supposed to go around and ask for candy?”

Lance chuckled, shaking his head. “Oh no, that’s for the kids. We’re here as… what do you call it, ‘spooky ambiance.’ We’ll just wander around and see what everyone else is up to.” He grinned, already brimming with excitement. “Besides, we can find Hunk and Pidge! They always go all out with their costumes. We can’t miss seeing that.”

As they walked through the castle, their costumes swishing and catching shadows in the dim light, they caught sight of Allura, who rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide a smile. She gave them a playful wave. “Try not to scare the little ones too much!” she called. She herself had Halloween plans of her own, a quieter tradition of taking Romelle to the library to read spooky stories by candlelight.

With a final wave, Lance and Keith exited the castle, stepping into the crisp autumn air. They made their way down the winding path into town, where the streets were already bustling with excitement. Children darted through the streets, their small, brightly colored costumes adding splashes of color against the grays and browns of the town. Makeshift decorations adorned doorways and windows, from ghostly sheets to paper bats fluttering in the breeze, giving the entire area a spooky, whimsical feel.

The chill in the air only added to the thrill. Keith found himself breathing in the atmosphere, enjoying the faint scent of burning leaves and the crispness that came with the dying light of day. There was something almost magical about it—the whole world felt transformed, as if they’d stepped into a place where the ordinary was just a little more extraordinary, and where mystery seemed to hang in every corner.

Keith leaned into Lance as they strolled through the lantern-lit streets, watching the kids and parents pass by, all in costume. For the first time in a long while, he felt like he was experiencing something familiar and new all at once. He was beginning to understand why Lance was so excited.

The streets of the kingdom had transformed into a dark, mystical wonderland as Lance and Keith made their way to Hunk and Pidge’s cabin. As they approached, Keith marveled at the decorations: thick layers of fake spiderwebs sprawled across the front porch, while carved pumpkins with glowing, eerie faces stood guard by the door. Keith found himself grinning—this world of shadows and playfulness was as captivating as it was strange.

When they reached the cabin, Lance let go of Keith’s hand and knocked on the door with a sense of glee. He leaned over, nudging Keith, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “Get ready for this…” he whispered, barely containing his excitement.

Keith tilted his head, looking curiously at the door, but his thoughts were interrupted by the door flying open. There stood Pidge, and Keith couldn’t help but jump, his eyes widening at the sight. Her skin was an alarming shade of green, her eyes dark and sunken, and ragged clothes completed the undead look. She looked like something right out of a nightmare.

“Whoa!” Keith took a step back, his initial shock quickly melting into laughter. “You look so scary! What… what are you?” he managed, eyes wide with admiration and a hint of disbelief.

Pidge grinned, showing off her costume proudly. “I’m a zombie, Keith! Scary, right?”

Lance laughed, pulling Keith into the cabin and closing the door behind them. “Yeah, she’s terrifying,” he agreed. “But Keith and I have an announcement…” he gestured dramatically, as though he were making a royal decree. “We’ve decided: no scary pranks this year. Keith’s still… let’s just say he’s adjusting to the spookiness.”

Keith gave a small, embarrassed shrug. “Yeah, I’m, uh… still kind of jumpy about some of this stuff,” he admitted, scratching the back of his head. He couldn’t help feeling a bit sheepish under Pidge’s knowing smirk.

Pidge waved a dismissive hand, laughing as she leaned in. “Nonsense. There’s always next year. And who said we’d be scaring you anyway?” She gave Keith a wink, her eyes sparkling with mischief. Just when Keith thought he had a handle on this Halloween thing, Pidge made him wonder what new twist she’d surprise him with.

Before he could reply, Hunk entered the room, looking proudly at his own costume. His face and arms were painted white with dark lines and shadows, giving him the appearance of a grinning skeleton. He held his head high, clearly pleased with the results.

“Wow, Hunk!” Lance grinned, giving him a thumbs up. “That’s a pretty awesome skeleton costume.”

Hunk crossed his arms, giving both Lance and Keith a scrutinizing look. “Really? A werewolf and a vampire?” He raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk on his face. “Could you two be any more… well, predictable?”

Pidge chuckled, shaking her head with mock disapproval. “Honestly, you guys. Hunk’s right—you two are hopeless.” She looked from Keith’s dramatic black cloak to Lance’s shredded werewolf shirt. “I mean, classic, but still.”

Keith laughed, nudging Lance. “Hey, this was his idea! I don’t know much about Halloween to begin with. I just went along with it.” He gave Hunk a half-apologetic shrug.

Hunk’s eyes widened in realization, and he gasped. “Oh, that’s right! You haven’t celebrated Halloween in, what, ten years?” His voice softened with excitement. “We’ve got to make this night unforgettable for you.”

Keith nodded, feeling a bit of warmth in his chest at their enthusiasm. It was strange, having friends go out of their way to make him feel welcome in something so new to him. And here, with Lance, Hunk, and Pidge by his side, he felt like he was truly part of something.

Pidge, however, couldn’t contain her excitement. “What are we waiting for, people? Time’s a-ticking! Let’s get out there!” She threw open the door and practically dragged them all outside, ready to dive into the night’s festivities.

The group made their way down the bustling streets, where the sights, sounds, and colors seemed to leap out at Keith. He could see families huddled together in their costumes, young children giggling and yelling as they chased one another through the flickering lamplight. The decorations were even more vibrant here, with glowing jack-o’-lanterns peering from every doorstep and houses covered in shadowy webs and paper bats.

Keith felt a chill, but it was the thrilling kind. With every step, he took in the wonder of it all—the laughter in the air, the way the whole town seemed to come alive in the dim, flickering light. He didn’t know what surprises lay ahead, but one thing was clear: tonight was going to be unforgettable.

The night air wrapped around them like a dark velvet cloak as they stepped onto the lantern-lit streets, each of them caught up in the excitement and mystery of Halloween in their own way. Hunk’s eyes gleamed with a childlike excitement, his mind solely focused on finding candy to satisfy his sweet tooth. Pidge, meanwhile, seemed to be almost vibrating with anticipation, scanning the crowds for unsuspecting victims to spook. She had a mischievous glint in her eye, and Keith could tell she had a list of pranks planned, just waiting for the perfect moment.

Keith, however, was mesmerized by the ambient magic of the holiday itself. Everywhere he looked, there was something new to marvel at—the glowing jack-o’-lanterns with their flickering, jagged smiles, the eerie shadows cast by cobweb-covered lanterns, the strange and colorful costumes. He watched people drift by dressed as witches, ghosts, skeletons, and even animals. The kingdom seemed to breathe in a different rhythm tonight, a strange but comforting feeling of unity and wonder washing over everything.

Lance, though, couldn’t take his eyes off Keith. Every time Keith looked away, Lance found himself watching him with a fond smile. Keith’s expression was alight with curiosity, his violet eyes taking in the world around him as if he were seeing it for the first time. The faint blush on his cheeks and the slight widening of his eyes as he encountered each new sight made him look so young, so full of life and wonder. Lance could feel his heart thudding just a little faster, marveling at how amazing Keith looked in his costume, the long black cloak fluttering around him like the wings of a mysterious, alluring creature of the night.

Eventually, Keith’s gaze drifted over to Lance, catching him in the act. He blushed, nudging Lance with a soft laugh. “Staring again, Mr. Werewolf?” he teased, his voice barely above a murmur, but the hint of a smirk on his lips was unmistakable.

Lance chuckled, not bothering to hide his admiration. “I can’t help it,” he replied smoothly, letting his gaze linger a moment longer. “You look hauntingly gorgeous…” His voice trailed off, but his eyes said the rest. It was as if Keith had transformed from someone Lance knew so well into someone mysterious and captivating, and he wanted to savor every moment of it.

Pidge groaned, rolling her eyes dramatically. “You two are actually disgusting,” she said, though her smile gave her away. She shooed them forward with a playful push. “Can we get to scaring people? Or is this just going to be one long romantic stroll down Halloween lane?”

Hunk sighed, patting his empty candy bag with a pitiful look. “We can do that later, Pidge,” he said, almost whining. “Candy comes first. Priorities, Pidge! I haven’t had a single piece yet…”

Lance laughed, nodding along. “Agreed. Candy first, scares later. We’ll see what kind of treats we can score.” He flashed a grin at Keith, who looked unsure but intrigued. After all, Keith and Lance were princes—who was going to turn them away?

As they ventured deeper into the kingdom, they noticed the children’s eyes lighting up as they recognized the princes. Adults were equally charmed by their costumes, some offering sweets while chuckling at their makeshift outfits. Keith accepted candy with a mix of confusion and gratitude, clearly unused to receiving treats for simply knocking on a door.

Each house they stopped at brought new surprises. Some families had set up elaborate displays and eerie music, making the houses look like haunted mansions. Hunk and Pidge were having a ball, diving into each spooky setup, grabbing candy, and pulling Keith and Lance into the fun. The little ones around them pointed excitedly, whispering, “It’s the princes!” and running up to hand them small treasures of candy or miniature lanterns.

At one point, a woman offered Keith a handful of candy, her eyes twinkling. “Such a handsome vampire,” she said, smiling as he took the treats from her outstretched hand.

Keith looked over at Lance, who grinned and held up his own small stash of candy. “See? It’s all part of the Halloween charm,” Lance whispered, nudging him. Keith couldn’t help but smile, a warm feeling spreading through his chest as he looked down at the sweets in his hands. For the first time, he felt a part of something that went beyond just the royal duties or his own journey—it was a simple joy, shared with people he cared about.

Pidge darted ahead, pointing to a group of children dressed as ghosts and monsters. “Perfect,” she said, a wicked grin spreading across her face. “Watch and learn, boys.” She crept up behind the children, letting out a loud “Boo!” just as they turned around. The kids screamed, then broke into laughter, realizing it was only Pidge. She laughed along with them, joining in the playful spirit of the night.

Keith couldn’t help but laugh too, his nerves fading as he relaxed into the festive atmosphere. The night was young, and there was still so much to experience. Holding hands with Lance as they strolled through the kingdom, surrounded by friends and the laughter of children, Keith felt a warmth in his heart.

The night seemed to whisper as it stretched on, shadows growing longer and the lantern light dimming with every child that skipped off, clutching their bags of candy. Keith noticed the flickering jack-o’-lanterns lining the streets were gradually being blown out, casting an eerie darkness over the paths. A sense of quiet descended over the town, signaling the end of the festivities. Keith’s face softened with a touch of sadness as he looked over at Lance, a hesitant question lingering in his gaze. “Is… Halloween over?” he asked, almost hoping for a different answer.

Lance and Pidge exchanged glances, mischievous smiles spreading across their faces. “Absolutely not,” Pidge replied, sounding far too gleeful for someone who often acted like the kingdom’s resident troublemaker. She clasped her hands together as if she were plotting, leaning in with a gleam in her eyes. “This is the adults’ time. You didn’t think we’d let a little thing like bedtime end the night, did you?”

Keith blinked in surprise. “It’s… not?” He glanced at Lance, who shook his head, chuckling softly.

“No way, starlight. The night’s just beginning.” Lance squeezed his hand. “Now’s when we get to do the spooky stuff.”

Keith’s curiosity mingled with excitement. He wasn’t sure what Lance meant by “spooky stuff,” but the idea made his heart race in a thrilling way.

Hunk let out a nervous laugh. “Great. My favorite part,” he muttered, though he couldn’t hide the way he clutched his candy bag a little tighter, looking around as if the shadows might reach out to grab him at any second.

“Oh, relax, Hunk,” Pidge scoffed, bouncing with a little too much energy for the late hour. “We’re going to the woods tonight! And we’re gonna tell scary stories.” She took a dramatic pause, then leaned in, whispering like a dark secret, “Scary stories that might even be true…”

Keith felt a shiver dance down his spine. He’d seen the forest countless times, both under the sun’s gentle light and the moon’s mysterious glow, but tonight, it was as if the trees were hiding secrets, waiting to reveal them only to those brave enough to step into the shadows. The way the moon hung low in the sky, casting everything in silvery light, made the forest feel almost alive, like a place frozen in a hauntingly beautiful moment. He took in the sight of the darkened trees, their twisted branches seeming to reach toward him as the group started down the shadowy path leading to the forest’s edge.

He glanced at Lance, who wore a grin filled with excitement and just a hint of mystery. This was Lance’s world—fun, mischief, and a sprinkle of danger. The idea of stepping into the unknown alongside his friends thrilled him, and he couldn’t deny that part of him wanted to impress Lance too. Keith’s fingers brushed over his scales and horns, feeling the hard, dragon-like edges. He had never thought much about how he could look intimidating. But now, surrounded by the darkness of Halloween night, a wicked idea started to take root.

As they delved deeper into the forest, the world around them changed. The usual quietness of the trees was filled with the whisper of wind and the crunch of leaves underfoot, but tonight it felt like a symphony of secrets. Shadows pooled thickly between the trees, and the moonlight cast elongated shapes on the ground, transforming every little movement into something unknown and otherworldly. The path twisted and turned, winding them through the trees and into a secluded clearing that seemed to pulse with the eerie glow of the moon.

Pidge was already gathering sticks to make a small fire, her fingers nimble and quick as she arranged them in a pile. She grinned up at Keith, her eyes gleaming in the dim light. “Keith, trust me—you’re gonna love this.”

Keith chuckled nervously, glancing at the faces of his friends. “I’ll try… just don’t expect me to be good at scaring people. I’m not the biggest fan of jump-scares.”

“Oh, we know,” Lance teased, his voice a soft murmur as he leaned close, his hand brushing Keith’s arm. “But tonight, it’s all about facing the unknown. That’s the spirit of Halloween.”

As Pidge lit the fire, it crackled to life, casting warm, flickering shadows on their faces. Keith could feel the anticipation building. He shifted, the thought returning to him, whispering temptingly in the back of his mind. ‘They said they wouldn’t scare me… but they didn’t say I couldn’t scare them.’ The idea grew stronger, taking hold with each flickering flame, as he imagined the thrill of surprising them all.

He exchanged a look with Pidge, who winked, and Hunk, who sat cross-legged, nervously picking at his candy stash. Lance was right beside him, warm and steady, giving him a smile that made him feel safe. Keith was in love with this holiday, with the thrill of it all, and the idea of turning the tables on his friends.

As they sat in the circle around the crackling fire, Pidge launched into the first tale, her voice low and eerie. She spun a story about a haunting woman known as “The Lady of the Lake.” The legend claimed that she had drowned long ago in the cold, murky water nearby, and that her spirit walked atop the lake’s surface at night, searching for anyone who dared approach her domain. Pidge’s voice dropped to a whisper as she leaned in close, eyes wide and gleaming with mischief. “Sometimes, people say they hear her wailing, echoing over the water… calling for someone to take her place.”

Keith’s eyes widened, a grin tugging at his lips. He was hooked. Stories like this were a whole new kind of thrill—so different from the battles he’d faced or the challenges he’d overcome. This was about the unknown, the mystery of what lurked just beyond sight. He glanced at Lance, who was already watching him with a soft smile, clearly delighted by Keith’s fascination.

When Pidge’s story was done, Hunk took a deep breath and began his own tale, trying to sound bold but clearly a little rattled. He told them of a mad scientist who’d lived in a dark, isolated cabin on the outskirts of the kingdom. The scientist had become obsessed with creating life, and in his desperate experiments, he pieced together a creature from the parts of many different people. Hunk’s voice trembled as he described the scientist’s work, his hands gesturing nervously as if he could ward off the images his words were conjuring. “And when the creature opened its eyes,” he finished, “its gaze was empty, hollow, yet somehow… aware.”

Keith stifled a grin as an idea sparked in his mind. This was it—the perfect setup.

“That sounds… a lot like me,” he murmured, glancing thoughtfully at his own hands.

Hunk turned to him, brows furrowing in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Keith shrugged, glancing at his claws, the tips glinting in the firelight. “Well, you know… Lotor? He did something like that with me. He… added a few extra parts.” He flicked his tail, letting it curl under him with a nonchalant sigh. “I mean, the pain was… unforgettable.”

Hunk’s face paled as his eyes widened. “Oh… wow, Keith, I… I didn’t realize—”

Keith waved it off with a reassuring smile, feigning casual cheer. “No, really! I loved the story, Hunk. It was so..immersive.” He chuckled, and that’s when he made his move.

Without warning, Keith flapped his wings hard enough to snuff out the fire in one swift, chilling motion. The flames vanished, plunging the group into utter darkness. “Oh no, I’m sorry!” he gasped, feigning innocence as he backed up quickly and slipped into the shadows, moving soundlessly until he disappeared behind a nearby tree.

The sudden blackness sent a shiver through the group. Hunk clutched his knees to his chest, his eyes wide with fear. “Uh-oh…”

“Don’t worry, I’ll fix it!” Pidge dropped down beside the fire, hastily sparking it back to life. As the flames flickered up once more, she looked around. “All set! …Wait, where’s Keith?”

Lance’s face grew concerned, his brow furrowing as he scanned the shadows. “Keith?” he called softly. “Where did he go?”

Hunk sat up, wide-eyed, his voice barely a squeak. “Guys! A monster took him!”

Pidge shook her head, rolling her eyes. “Keith’s fine. He’s just messing with us.” She cupped her hands around her mouth, shouting into the dark. “Keith! Stop hiding!”

But the forest remained silent, the only sound the crackling of the fire. Just as they began to relax, a deep, guttural growl rumbled through the trees, echoing around them like a threat. The group froze, eyes darting to the edge of the clearing where the sound had come from.

“What… was that?” Hunk’s voice was barely a whisper, his face pale with terror.

Lance swallowed, his voice wavering. “It’s… probably just… the wind?”

But the growl grew louder, and from the shadows emerged a figure—larger, more imposing than before. Keith stepped into the firelight, his wings stretched wide, his stance predatory and low. His cape was gone, his clothes rumpled and torn, his hair wild, and his eyes glowing with an unnatural, eerie yellow. His lips curled back to reveal fangs coated in what looked like fresh, dripping blood. A low, animalistic growl escaped him as he advanced, his tail flicking behind him like a serpent poised to strike.

Hunk’s eyes were as wide as saucers. “Oh no… he’s… he’s turned into a monster!”

Pidge bit her lip, her face frozen in shock, before squeezing her eyes shut and clutching her head. “Keith, I swear if you eat me, I’m coming back to haunt you!”

Lance stood frozen in disbelief, his mouth agape as he tried to process what he was seeing. “Keith?! No, we… we must’ve scared him too much. He’s… changed…”

Keith’s fanged smile twitched, barely able to keep the act up as he watched their reactions, enjoying every second. He crouched lower, preparing to lunge. Then, unable to hold it in any longer, he broke into laughter, dropping his menacing posture as he clutched his stomach.

The group blinked, their terror giving way to shock as Keith held out a handful of bright red berries. “It’s just berries!” he laughed, wiping his mouth and grinning triumphantly. “I can’t believe I actually scared you all!”

Pidge let out a groan, covering her face. “I thought you were going to kill us! I was ready to haunt you forever.”

Hunk was still catching his breath, hand over his heart. “That… was not okay. Not. Okay.”

Lance crossed his arms, trying to keep his composure, though his lip was twitching in an amused grin. “Not scary, huh?” he teased, glancing at Pidge.

Pidge elbowed him, rolling her eyes. “Oh, admit it, you were terrified too!”

Keith finally settled back down, wiping his eyes as he let out a satisfied sigh. “I’ll admit, I’m pretty proud of myself. That was… a thrill.”

Lance pulled him close, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “You got us good, starlight. But next time, maybe a little warning?”

The fire crackled warmly as they shared a round of laughter, the lingering tension melting away. As they leaned back, watching the flames dance, the forest felt less ominous, almost cozy. Keith was in love with this holiday, in love with the feeling of shared fear and laughter, of being together in the dark, knowing they’d all be safe. And tonight, that was all he needed.

Chapter Text

The room was filled with a quiet but tense anticipation. Every gaze flicked towards Lance, the prince whose destiny had been shaped, twisted, and paused for a decade, waiting for this exact moment. And Keith, the prince of a kingdom once stolen away, was finally here at Lance’s side, his presence a promise of reconciliation and renewal. Ten agonizing years had led to this moment, to the conversation that would bring two fractured kingdoms together again.

The long dining hall in the Altean palace was bathed in the warm glow of chandeliers, casting gentle light on faces both familiar and strange to one another. Lance took a slow breath, his eyes drifting across the table as he took in the faces of his friends and allies. He remembered when this room was a second home, a place of laughter, comfort, and unity. But now it was foreign, a distant memory brought to life, and filled with allies and strangers alike. Seated at the head was Alfor, a figure of authority and respect, joined by his daughter, Allura, who sat beside Adam. Shiro, the voice of strength and reason, sat across from Krolia, Keith’s steadfast mother and the Galran clan’s matriarch. Nancy, ever the observer with a calm, knowing smile, completed their circle.

Then there was Keith, seated beside Lance with an almost unreadable look, a mixture of nostalgia and apprehension in his eyes. Lance, ever mindful, reached out under the table, squeezing Keith’s hand in silent reassurance. Keith’s face softened, a silent understanding passing between them—Lance would be his anchor, his constant.

Alfor stood up, lifting his glass in a solemn gesture that brought the chatter to a hush. “We welcome you, Galra, to Altea once more,” he began, his voice warm yet edged with the weight of loss. “Though I wish it could be under different circumstances. The scars from these years of strife mark both our people. We’ve lost friends, family, pieces of ourselves that can never be replaced… but those losses have brought us here.” He paused, eyes heavy with the unspoken weight of their history. “Today, we honor them. Let us celebrate the lives and memories of those we lost as we look toward a future together.”

Krolia, ever graceful, lifted her own glass in response, a gentle smile softening her otherwise fierce demeanor. “This is all we ever wanted, Alfor. To set aside what divides us and work towards a future where our children can see a world beyond war. It will not be easy… but we are ready.”

Shiro chuckled, breaking a bit of the solemnity in the air. “The only question left is… how exactly do we make this official?” His voice carried a sense of calm authority, and a few people exchanged knowing glances around the table.

Adam nodded in agreement, his face thoughtful. “The Altean people… they need something more than words.” He looked across the table at Shiro, who nodded in agreement.

“As do the Galrans,” Shiro added. “Our people—they’ve been fed so much fear. So much distrust. And with Lotor’s actions—” he trailed off, letting the words hang. The room shifted uncomfortably at the name, a reminder of the darkness both sides had endured.

Keith’s eyes moved from person to person as the conversation continued, a slight frown on his face. An alliance, he thought. That’s what this gathering was all about. But they’d already agreed to the peace, hadn’t they? Why was Lotor still haunting this conversation?

Lance sensed Keith’s unease and squeezed his hand a bit tighter. The gentle pressure brought Keith back to the present, and he found himself met with Lance’s warm, knowing smile—a silent promise that everything was going to be okay. No matter how complicated, they would face it together.

Allura nodded in agreement with Shiro. “It’s true. Lotor… he was a product of both worlds, Galran and Altean. It made him a symbol of what we all feared most—the mingling of two very different people. And even now, that fear lives on. Our people hesitate, question if peace is even possible.”

Nancy, who had been quietly observing the table, glanced over at Lance and Keith, noticing the silent exchange between them. She smiled, warmth and purpose glimmering in her eyes as she leaned forward. “I have a suggestion,” she said, her voice soft but filled with quiet determination.

All eyes turned to her, curiosity and a spark of hope lighting up the room.

Krolia tilted her head, intrigued. “What might that be, Nancy?”

Nancy’s smile widened ever so slightly as she looked around the table. “Perhaps… the people need to see a true union. One that shows how deeply we can intertwine, despite all that has passed. A bond that proves there is more than just peace between us… but trust, respect, and something new altogether.”

There was a ripple of curiosity, of realization, as her words settled over the table.

Krolia’s gaze softened as she met Nancy’s eyes, the silent understanding passing between them unmistakable. She knew exactly what Nancy was suggesting, and though she’d only recently reunited with her son, Krolia could sense the deep connection Keith and Lance shared. It wasn’t just a fleeting romance; it was a bond that, even across years of separation, had only grown stronger.

One by one, everyone around the table began to catch on, and soon, every eye shifted to Keith and Lance. Lance looked around, a bit bewildered as the attention settled on him and Keith. But Keith noticed first, a slow blush creeping up his cheeks as he gripped Lance’s hand more tightly under the table. His usual confidence wavered, replaced by a rare shyness as he muttered, “Uh…”

Lance raised an eyebrow, glancing from Keith to his mother, Nancy, in confusion. “Wait… us?” His question was half-spoken, half-laugh as he tried to catch up to what they all seemed to be implying.

Nancy’s smile deepened, filled with warmth and a mother’s quiet pride. “Lance, my dear,” she began gently, her gaze steady on him. “You are the happiest I have ever seen you. This entire castle feels lighter, filled with laughter and love because of you. And in just these few weeks, you’ve managed to do the same for Keith.” Her eyes softened as she looked at Keith, as if speaking directly to him now. “I’ve never seen a love like the one you two share. It’s rare, precious. You bring out the best in each other.”

Lance’s face grew warm as the realization dawned on him, and he stammered, “But… that would mean…” He trailed off, struggling to wrap his mind around the full implications.

Alfor, his voice calm but serious, nodded. “An engagement,” he said, his eyes holding a mix of hope and gravity. “It would symbolize the true unity between Altea and Diabazaal, binding our kingdoms in a way that words alone cannot.”

Lance echoed the word under his breath, his cheeks reddening further. “Engagement…”

Beside him, Keith looked thoroughly bewildered, his brow furrowing as he tried to piece together what everyone was saying. “Wait… what is everyone talking about?” His voice was uncertain, caught between confusion and the quiet hope flickering in his eyes.

Lance looked over at Keith, his heart pounding as he realized he would need to explain it in terms that would make sense. Clearing his throat, he spoke gently. “Well… to form an alliance, there needs to be a formal agreement. Something that goes beyond just words or treaties. It’s a show of absolute unity…” He paused, feeling a bit awkward as he chose his next words carefully. “And… usually, it’s sealed by… marriage.”

Keith’s eyes widened, and a vivid blush colored his cheeks as he processed what Lance was saying. “Marriage?” he echoed softly, stunned. His gaze searched Lance’s face, as though he needed confirmation. “You mean… you?”

Lance gave a small, reassuring nod.

Keith swallowed, his gaze flickering between Lance and the others seated around the table. “And… me?”

Lance’s lips quirked into a slight smile, a touch of amusement creeping into his expression. “Yes, Keith. They’re all suggesting that we… get married.” His tone softened, taking on a hint of playful confidence. “For the sake of our kingdoms, of course.”

Keith’s eyes moved around the table again, taking in the faces of both his family and Lance’s—Alfor’s approving nod, Shiro’s encouraging smile, Krolia’s prideful gaze, and Nancy’s knowing look. Each face held a quiet joy, as though they were genuinely happy for him. Keith’s heart beat faster as he realized this wasn’t just a duty or a burden. No one was forcing him into this. It was a choice—his and Lance’s.

“So… this will make everyone forget about Lotor?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, as if clinging to that hope.

Lance’s face softened, a touch of sadness entering his eyes as he shook his head. “Oh, Keith…” He reached up, his hand brushing against Keith’s cheek in a gentle gesture. “Unfortunately, it’s not that easy. But this… this would show everyone that Lotor was wrong. That it’s not about where you come from or what’s in your blood… but who you are inside.” He smiled, a glimmer of pride lighting up his face. “And everyone here, everyone who knows you, loves you for exactly who you are.”

Keith held Lance’s gaze, searching his eyes for a long, quiet moment. He took in the love and reassurance reflected back at him, feeling the warmth and weight of Lance’s promise. Slowly, he looked around the table one last time, each approving face cementing his resolve.

Finally, Lance’s eyes sparkled as he brought Keith’s hand to his chest, his voice steady and filled with emotion. “So…” he began, his gaze never leaving Keith’s. “Will you marry me, Prince Keith of Diabazaal?”

A shy smile spread across Keith’s face, his heart pounding as he realized this was not just a proposal for their kingdoms—but for him, for the two of them. He laughed softly, nodding as a hint of tears glistened in his eyes. “Yes… I will.”

The room erupted into applause, cheers echoing off the walls as joy filled the hall. The tension that had weighed down the air melted away, replaced by laughter and clinking glasses. The feast continued in full celebration—not just of a long-awaited alliance, but of a love that had survived distance, conflict, and the passage of time. It was a love that, bound by duty or not, was unbreakable.

Keith’s heart felt light, his usual worries melting into the warmth of the evening. With every glance at Lance, every reassuring squeeze of his hand, the future became clearer, brighter—a true happily ever after, just like the stories Lance used to tell him. His mind drifted to thoughts of their wedding, a fairy tale woven just for them. He imagined the two of them in the grand hall, friends and family gathered around, every detail a reflection of their love. For once, he could picture a future without fear—a future that belonged to them.

Lance noticed the gleam in Keith’s eyes, the way his tail flicked in quiet excitement. It was a look he’d come to cherish, one he’d waited years to see. It was crazy to think of how quickly everything had happened, yet he felt a profound happiness. Keith was beside him, the alliance was set, and together they would build a new world. It was everything Lance had dreamed of.

As the evening continued, laughter and joy filled the air, a celebration that felt as timeless as it was new. For many, it was a return to the happiness of old times, as if they had stepped back into a place of safety and familiarity. For others, especially those meeting Keith and the Galrans for the first time, it was the beginning of a hopeful future. Bonds were forming, one shared meal, one laugh, one toast at a time.

Allura, who had always loved planning celebrations, was brimming with ideas for the wedding. She caught Keith’s eye and gave him a mischievous smile, already thinking about how she could make the occasion even more spectacular. After all, despite the chaos that had surrounded Keith’s recent party—an event that had, for better or worse, included the “Keith nearly dying” fiasco—she was determined to make this wedding unforgettable. Keith could only shake his head with a smirk; if anyone could outdo his expectations, it would be Allura.

Meanwhile, Lance found himself unable to keep his eyes off Keith. Every time Keith looked away, engrossed in conversation with his mother or laughing with Alfor, Lance took the chance to admire him, drinking in the sight of the man who had become his reason for living. He was proud of how far Keith had come, how much he’d grown. But, more than that, Lance was grateful. Keith wasn’t just his partner in this alliance; he was his family, his heart. And tonight, Lance felt the overwhelming need to stay as close as he could.

Eventually, Keith turned back to Lance, catching his gaze with a soft smile. “What is it? Do I have something on my face?”

Lance chuckled, nudging him playfully. “A whole lot of pretty,” he replied, his voice filled with adoration.

Keith shook his head with a small laugh, but as the hour grew late, he stifled a yawn, his eyelids growing heavier. His tail, which had been flicking with energy earlier, now drooped slightly. He was reaching his social limit for the evening, and Lance knew the look well.

With a gentle smile, Lance rose from his seat, stretching slightly. “Well, we’re off to bed, everyone,” he announced, a contented warmth in his voice. “We’ll see you all tomorrow! Be sure to get a good night’s rest!”

Keith rose to join him, his tail giving one last flick as he said his goodnights. Krolia was the first to approach, wrapping him in a warm embrace. She held him close, whispering words only for him, her face filled with pride and love. As they pulled away, Keith glanced down to see a group of young children tugging at his arm, their wide eyes pleading for him to stay just a little longer. With a soft laugh, he knelt down, promising to spend more time with them tomorrow.

At last, Keith and Lance slipped away from the gathering, the sounds of laughter and cheerful chatter fading behind them. They walked down the dimly lit corridor in perfect silence, the night wrapping around them like a blanket. The quiet felt sacred, a chance to process everything, to hold each other close without a single worry in the world.

When they reached their room, Lance took Keith’s hand, drawing him close in the moonlight that filtered through the window. They stood together, letting the silence speak, both feeling the weight of the evening in their bones—but also a deep, steady peace.

Keith finally broke the silence, his voice a gentle whisper. “Thank you, Lance… for being here with me. For everything.”

Lance smiled, brushing a stray strand of hair from Keith’s face. “Always,” he murmured, his voice filled with love. “Now and forever.” And as they closed the door behind them, the promise of tomorrow felt as real as the touch of their hands entwined, as strong as the bond they had created and would continue to nurture, side by side.

As they lay together, the warmth of each other’s presence easing away the strains of the day, Keith and Lance gradually drifted toward sleep. Lance’s arm was wrapped around Keith’s shoulders, his fingers tracing gentle patterns along his back, while Keith’s head rested against Lance’s chest, lulled by the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. Wrapped in this quiet, sacred moment, their minds floated away to dreams of the life they were building, their future bright and unmarred. The laughter of their families, the alliance between their kingdoms, the promise of a wedding—all of it drifted in their minds like sunlight spilling over a meadow.

Outside, the night deepened, shadows lengthening across the kingdom’s walls as the last lights in the castle flickered out, one by one. The quiet streets, bathed in moonlight, seemed serene, almost enchanted. The kingdom, usually tense and vigilant, felt different tonight. There was an ease in the air, a collective sigh of relief that, after years of tension, war, and grief, peace was finally within reach.

But beyond the castle walls, where the kingdom’s light could not reach, the darkness lingered, deeper and colder than it should have been. Just at the edge of Altea’s boundaries, where even the most resilient lanterns cast no light, an unnatural shadow slithered through the trees. There was no sound, no movement but the faint stirring of leaves in a silent breeze. A darkness that was not merely the absence of light but a creeping, familiar stench—a warning of something wrong. It lay in wait, hidden just out of sight, watching the flickering lights of the kingdom.

In the distant woods, something began to stir. The shadows thickened. The smell of decay, sharp and unmistakable, clung to the air. It was the scent of things long dead and things yet to die, a promise of ruin and suffering. For as long as it existed, it fed off fear and misery, waiting for happiness to rise before swooping in to drag it back down to despair.

Chapter Text

In the thick of the night, the forest held a quiet, sinister secret, something buried in the folds of time and nearly forgotten by the people of Altea and Diabazaal. It was their gravest mistake—to think that their world was free of shadows, that all threats had been vanquished with the formation of their alliance. They believed the suffering and division were finally over, that their lands could rest in peace. Yet, nestled deep within the forest’s tangled branches and whispering winds, a force stirred—a presence they had overlooked.

Past the borders of Diabazaal, hidden far beyond the reach of the kingdoms, loomed a lone, decrepit tower. Its stone walls were weathered, gray, and cracked from years of neglect, vines creeping up its base, claiming it as their own. In the moonlight, it appeared as if the tower had been abandoned for decades, maybe centuries. Moss and rot covered the crumbling steps, while the iron gates lay rusted and twisted, as though a violent storm had twisted them. But appearances can be deceiving, and inside, within its cold, silent walls, something—someone—lingered.

Lotor. The name, once whispered in awe and fear across Altea and Diabazaal, had been lost to time. But he was still there, a twisted remnant of the boy he once had been. In his youth, Lotor had been full of promise, a brilliant, sharp-eyed teenager with a mind that gleamed like a finely honed blade. He was clever, quick-witted, and endlessly creative, with ideas that far surpassed his years. As the son of Zarkon, next in line for the Galran throne, he was raised with the adoration and respect due a prince. His parents doted on him, and he was the pride of his family, destined for greatness. The court admired him, marveled at his potential, certain that he would one day lead their people into a new era.

But fate had other plans. Zarkon, his father, was indeed a powerful Galran warrior, yet he had committed the unthinkable. He had fallen in love with Honerva, a stunning Altean woman whose beauty was matched only by her formidable intelligence and skill with magic. Their union, though a love story in itself, was scandalous. Galrans and Alteans despised one another, their ancient rivalry rooted in generations of mistrust and bloodshed. For Zarkon to take an Altean as his wife—and bear a child of mixed blood—was blasphemy.

The backlash was swift and ruthless. The Galran people refused to accept Honerva as queen, their disdain fueled by old prejudices and fears. In their eyes, a half-Altean prince was unworthy of the throne. Disgraced, Zarkon and Honerva were forced to step aside, while the crown passed to Lotor’s uncle, Heath, and his wife, Krolia. Lotor watched as his family was stripped of the title that was rightfully his, his dreams of power crumbling before his eyes. Rage bloomed within him like a dark, festering wound, one that he would carry for the rest of his life.

Heath and Krolia thrived, ruling with a strength and compassion that won over their people and the hearts of the young princes of Altea and Diabazaal. But to Lotor, it was a betrayal. Watching his cousin, form a bond of friendship—with the Altean Prince—made his blood seethe. They embodied everything he despised: a union of Galran and Altean blood, the symbol of the alliance that had robbed him of his birthright. It was as if the kingdoms were mocking him, flaunting the unity that had ruined his life.

Lotor, though denied his place in the royal council, had always been gifted in ways that no one else was. His blood was not purely Galran or Altean, but an unusual blend, and with it came an affinity for magic that surpassed both kingdoms’ expectations. He was, by all accounts, the most gifted sorcerer in Altea, wielding power beyond any Galran’s grasp and rivaling even the strongest Alteans. The people called him odd, whispered that his abilities were unnatural, but none could deny his talents.

So, left to his own devices, Lotor turned to the only passion that remained—his experiments. In the shadowed corners of his tower, he began work that would terrify even the bravest Altea scholars. He delved into the arcane arts, studying spells that were rumored to be cursed, forbidden magic, long since abandoned. And when magic alone wasn’t enough, he turned to science, a ruthless blend of both worlds. He began experimenting with life itself, pushing the boundaries of nature and reason, using any means necessary to achieve his goals.

His research was disturbing, even monstrous. He did not simply stitch together creatures from severed parts; he manipulated blood and DNA, conducting dangerous experiments to create life in unnatural forms. Lotor was no longer content to be merely a prince; he wanted to be a creator, to wield the power of life and death itself. He created creatures of his own design, warped forms that should not have existed, yet walked and breathed through his twisted genius. Each failed experiment was tossed aside, but he grew closer with each attempt, inching toward a perverse perfection.

And with each failure, each rejection from the council when he begged for a place by their side, his hatred grew. It burned through him like molten iron, consuming whatever kindness or light had once existed in his heart. He was a prince, after all, a rightful heir cast aside, and the indignity of being dismissed as “odd” by those who should have respected him gnawed at his very soul.

Lotor had always been a master of revenge, a mind sharp enough to wield pain as an art form. And when he set his sights on the Galran prince, he’d known precisely how to make his vengeance more than just an act of spite—it would be a masterpiece. After all, what better way to strike at the heart of those who’d betrayed him than to turn one of their own into his twisted creation?

Kidnapping the young prince had been easy, a silent raid under the cover of night, swift and efficient. But the true work began in the tower, that abandoned fortress where his darkest ambitions came alive. Days blurred into nights, his cruel experiments reshaping the Galran prince into something otherworldly. Lotor worked tirelessly, each twisted procedure drawing on forbidden magic and blood science, perfecting his monstrous vision with every scalpel’s cut and every whispered incantation. He’d combined the prince’s essence with that of a dragon—a creature as feared as it was magnificent, a blend of grace and terror that would be his creation’s new identity.

The prince was given wings that spanned over six feet, leathery, sinewed with dark crimson veins that pulsed with the power Lotor had channeled into them. They extended from his back, their shadows stretching across the walls of the tower in ominous shapes, sharp enough to slice through bone if he so desired. A long, scaly tail, armored and whip-like, trailed behind him, twitching with newfound instinct. His fingers had been transformed into deadly talons, claws that could cut through stone and metal as though they were paper. And atop his head, two horns jutted out, twisted and polished to razor points, symbols of the brutal strength that coursed through his new form.

But Lotor’s real achievement, his true pride, lay in the dragon’s heart he had forced back to life within the prince’s chest. It wasn’t merely beating—it surged with a powerful, relentless energy, imbued with resilience enough to endure the unspeakable pain of his transformation. In that dark, silent tower, Lotor’s creation had come alive, a being that was no longer human, no longer Galran—something greater and more terrible than both. The creature was beautiful, in a grotesque, horrifying way, and as Lotor looked upon his work, he knew he had created more than life—he had created a weapon.

And with his new creation hidden away, Lotor watched with satisfaction as the kingdoms descended into chaos. The alliance that had brought him so much anger was shattered, replaced by a brutal, decade-long war. Families were torn apart, homes reduced to ash, soldiers scattered like fallen leaves in the winds of battle. Altea and Diabazaal, once united, turned against each other with a ferocity that thrilled him. And all the while, the prince—his creature—believed himself a curse, an abomination cast aside, kept in shadows by Lotor’s deceitful words.

Each day, Lotor honed his twisted craft, shaping Keith into something that could barely remember its origins. The process was slow, deliberate, like chiseling stone. He chipped away at everything that made Keith a prince, a son, a human. Instead, he filled the boy’s mind with visions of darkness and horror, relentless whispers that told him over and over what he was: a creature of nightmares, an abomination not meant to be loved or even understood.

Hours stretched into days as Lotor tore at Keith’s identity, erasing what remained of his humanity piece by agonizing piece. Sometimes he’d mutter to Keith as if speaking to himself, almost absentmindedly, phrases that wormed their way into Keith’s psyche. “You’re no prince,” Lotor would sneer, his voice cold and cutting, “Just a beast. A weapon for my will.” He’d repeat it with such chilling calm that Keith began to believe it, to see himself not as a person but as something less—a mindless creature born from someone else’s hatred.

But Lotor’s methods were insidious. He knew that endless torture could only harden Keith’s resolve, so he played a subtler, crueler game. On some days, he’d change his tone completely, showing an almost fatherly kindness. He would speak to Keith gently, offering him food, clean clothes, and words that seemed almost comforting. “You’re doing well, Keith,” he’d murmur with a faint smile, “I’m proud of you.”

These moments of supposed care would only last long enough for Keith’s eyes to soften, his shoulders to relax, and a glimmer of hope to flicker to life. And then, as soon as Keith dared to believe he was being shown mercy, Lotor would snatch it away, letting his cruelty return like a blade to Keith’s soul. The back and forth, the whiplash of kindness followed by cold cruelty, was just another layer of torment.

Lotor took pleasure in watching the conflict it created in Keith, seeing him cling to each fleeting moment of kindness as if it were a lifeline, only to drown him in despair again and again. It was a twisted mirror of the agony Lotor himself had once felt—the love and the hate, the acceptance and the rejection, all wrapped into a poison that he now inflicted on Keith.

And it was all a calculated game to Lotor. He watched as Keith grew weary, his hopeful glances becoming tentative, his gaze wary, his spirit breaking bit by bit. To Lotor, it was artistry. He was destroying a boy, a prince, and in his place crafting a weapon—a creature that, stripped of any sense of self-worth or identity, would act on instinct and fear alone. And so, day after day, he remade Keith, not into the prince he once was, but into something twisted, something fearful.

Lotor loved every minute of it, for in every piece of Keith he broke, he saw echoes of the kingdoms he had torn apart. What he did to Keith was no different, no less satisfying. In turning this once-proud prince into a creature of nightmares, he was repeating history, piece by brutal piece.

It was perfect. For ten long years, Lotor watched the world he despised burn, an inferno fueled by his carefully crafted lies. The betrayal, the hatred, it all brought him a sinister satisfaction. But then came the day that changed everything—the day his creation turned against him.

He could still feel the white-hot agony of that betrayal, the searing pain as his creation, Keith, unleashed the fury he’d spent years containing. The memory was sharp, vivid as though it had happened just moments ago: the flash of the knife he’d plunged into Keith’s side, the desperation as he attempted to regain control, and then the smell—his own flesh burning as Keith retaliated, his fiery breath scorching Lotor’s skin, igniting his very bones.

The scream. The roar. It had been deafening, filling the Altean castle and drowning out all sound until there was nothing left but a deafening silence. His world faded to black, his consciousness slipping away, and for a moment, a long, silent moment, he thought it was the end. He had finally lost, defeated by his own monstrous creation.

But now, here he was.

He gasped awake, his lungs burning, his eyes snapping open to the dim, eerie light filtering through the decaying stones of his tower. He was lying on the cold, cracked floor, his body stiff, every inch of him aching with a pain so intense it almost felt unreal. He coughed, each ragged breath bringing with it the lingering stench of charred flesh—a smell that clung to him, suffocating and all-consuming.

Slowly, he forced himself upright, grimacing as he looked down at his hands. His skin was blackened, charred, a grotesque reminder of the flames that had licked his body and brought him to the brink of death. His fingers trembled as he flexed them, feeling the brittleness of his scorched flesh, yet somehow he was alive. His magic—it had saved him, woven into his very being and binding him to life, even when death had seemed inevitable.

The realization crept over him slowly, chilling him to his core. If he was still alive, if his magic had been strong enough to resurrect him from the ashes, then… Keith. The beast he had so carefully molded, the creature he had designed to be both a weapon and a symbol of his revenge—he, too, must still live.

The thought filled him with equal parts rage and exhilaration. His creation, the very being he had crafted with his own hands, had defied him, turned against him, and yet survived. It was as if his masterpiece had taken on a life of its own, unshackled and beyond his control. But this wasn’t over. No, this was only the beginning. He would not allow that “prince” to live freely, not while he still drew breath.

A snarl escaped his lips, his face twisting in fury. Keith had dared to defy him, dared to burn him, to attempt to end his life. But he would pay for that mistake—pay dearly. Staggering to his feet, he took a shuddering breath, feeling the remnants of his magic stirring within him, raw and crackling like embers in a dying fire. He would rebuild his strength, renew his power, and when he was ready, he would hunt down his creation and remind him of who held the chains.

As he stood there, the shadows of the tower seemed to swell, wrapping around him like tendrils, their darkness seeping into his skin. This was his domain, his sanctuary of suffering and secrets, and he would not let it fall. His lips twisted into a sinister smile as he envisioned the vengeance he would unleash—not only on Keith but on everyone who thought they could live in peace without consequence. The alliance they so cherished would crumble, and he would revel in its destruction once more.

Taking a step forward, he felt the familiar power surging back into him, filling him with renewed purpose. He whispered into the shadows, his voice a dark promise.

“Let them believe in their happily ever after,” Lotor murmured, his voice like poison dripping into the silence of the tower. The dim light of the dying fire in the hearth cast deep shadows over his face, accentuating the twisted grin spreading across his charred lips, the malice gleaming in his eyes. His flesh, scarred and blistered from the flames Keith had unleashed, only added to his aura of malevolent power. The pain, once searing and unbearable, had dulled into something else—something he could savor, a reminder of his miraculous, vengeful survival.

“My power is slowly coming back to me,” he said, his voice low and insidious, as tendrils of purple flame began to snake around his arms. The arcane fire crackled, casting an eerie glow that danced over his skin, reawakening the essence of his magic. It was slow, but he could feel it—his strength creeping back into his veins like venom, his connection to the dark energies strengthening with every heartbeat.

He closed his eyes, reveling in the sensation as the flames coiled tighter around him, the warmth blending with the pain, filling him with a delicious sense of anticipation. His lips parted, and he sighed in ecstasy, letting out a deep, guttural laugh that echoed through the desolate tower, each note dripping with venomous glee. His voice filled the empty halls, as though the very stones trembled at the return of his power.

“Oh, little Keith,” he sneered, his eyes snapping open, gleaming with unholy light. “You have made a terrible mistake!”

His voice rose to a ferocious roar, the sound reverberating through the tower walls like thunder. “Did you think you could break free from me? That you could erase your past, your curse, with nothing but the promise of peace?” His laughter grew louder, the flames on his arms flaring up in response, sending shadows skittering across the walls in wild patterns.

Lotor lifted his hands, watching as the purple flames licked over his charred skin, the arcane energy flowing back into him like water into parched earth. He could feel his magic tightening its grip on him once more, restoring his life, feeding his insatiable hunger for vengeance. The ecstasy was almost unbearable. It was as if every slight, every injustice he’d endured was finally fuel for the reckoning that was about to unfold.

“A curse flows through you, little prince,” he hissed, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper, yet it cut through the silence like a blade. “One that I control completely. Did you think I would let you forget? Let you go and live some foolish fairy tale while I rotted here? No… no, I am with you…always.”

He threw his head back, laughing as he reveled in the thought. His magic was not just a tool, but a poison that lived within Keith’s blood, his bones. He had designed it to linger, an unbreakable tether that bound them together. Keith’s wings, his claws, his very existence—they were all Lotor’s doing, each twisted limb and scaly transformation a part of his malice, a mark of his control.

As the laughter subsided, he dropped his gaze, a sinister calm settling over him. “Oh, and I can feel it,” he whispered, closing his eyes as he reached out with his mind, extending his power through the ancient enchantment that linked him to Keith. He could sense his creation somewhere beyond the tower walls, far away yet within reach, his heartbeat like a distant drum echoing in Lotor’s mind.

He could almost see him now, feel the warmth of the prince’s body, the flush of his love-struck heart beating steady and strong. Lotor’s grin widened at the thought, his jealousy twisting into a sick pleasure. Keith’s dreams of peace, his hope for a future with that Altean prince, were built on nothing but a fragile illusion. It wouldn’t take much to shatter it.

“So go on,” he whispered, his voice dripping with malevolence. “Enjoy your little moments of happiness. Dream of the life you think you’ve won. Because when the time comes, I will tear it all away. And then, Keith, you will remember exactly who you are.”

With a flick of his wrist, the flames around his arms flared, casting the room into sharp, flickering shadows, as if his hatred itself had taken shape in the fire. His laughter echoed once more, spilling from his lips in a dark, twisted symphony of fury and ecstasy. This time, he would let them believe in their fairy tale, knowing that when he finally struck, it would make their fall all the sweeter.

He waited, his mind sharp and focused, knowing that he had all the time in the world. Because curses, he thought, were timeless.

And with that, Lotor turned, a being of charred flesh and twisted malice, ready to strike once more at the kingdoms that had stolen everything from him. This time, he would not fail. The prince, the alliance, the kingdoms—they would all pay for daring to defy him. And he would be the last shadow standing, the final nightmare in their fairy tale.

Chapter Text

Keith was fast asleep, his arms wrapped securely around Lance. The room was filled with a serene stillness, their breaths rising and falling in unison, the only sounds were the soft hum of the night outside and the faint chirps of grasshoppers, muffled yet rhythmic, like a lullaby.

But something stirred within Keith’s dreams—a shadow creeping in at the edges of his mind. His face twitched, a faint frown forming. Somewhere deep within his dream, an uneasy feeling unfurled, a nagging sense that he had let his guard down. There was a weight, an ominous presence brushing against his subconscious, familiar yet twisted. His body shifted slightly, instinctively tightening his grip on Lance as if to reassure himself of his presence.

When he opened his eyes, Keith found himself alone in a vast, empty ballroom, the grand space cloaked in darkness, save for a single shaft of moonlight spilling through a tall window. The silence was thick, oppressive, broken only by the faintest whisper of a breeze. He looked around, disoriented, his heart pounding as he took in his surroundings. The polished marble floors gleamed underfoot, and chandeliers hung above, unmoving, like silent sentinels.

He glanced down and gasped. His fingers brushed over his chest, feeling the intricate embroidery of his masquerade suit. It felt real, the fine fabric cool under his touch, the embroidered threads delicate and unmistakable. He traced his fingers over it, his breath hitching as he whispered, “What… is this?”

“Keith!” A joyous voice broke through the silence, ringing out from somewhere behind him.

Keith spun around, his heart lurching. Standing there, framed by the moonlight, was Lance. He wore his masquerade suit too, his vest a brilliant, sparkling blue, shimmering like the surface of a lake beneath the stars. A silver-blue mask adorned his face, his eyes warm and inviting. It was Lance, yet…

“Lance?” Keith’s voice was a mixture of relief and confusion. He took a step forward, glancing around as if expecting others to be there, too. “What… what’s happening?”

Lance’s expression softened, but there was something unspoken in his smile, a glint of something unreadable. “I’m so glad you’re here…” he murmured, his voice warm, yet tinged with an undercurrent of mystery. He held out his hand, inviting, insistent. “Come dance with me.”

Keith hesitated, but the urge to be close to Lance was overwhelming. He stepped forward, slipping his hand into Lance’s. At that moment, a grand piano began to play, the music drifting through the ballroom, haunting and familiar. Lance’s grip was firm, yet gentle, his thumb brushing against Keith’s knuckles as he pulled him into a waltz.

“It’s… it’s the middle of the night,” Keith stammered, glancing around as they moved together in perfect synchrony. “Where is everyone?”

Lance chuckled softly, a sound that felt both warm and strangely hollow. “It’s just you and me,” he said, his gaze piercing. “Forever, just like we promised.” He tightened his hold, guiding Keith through the dance, his steps purposeful and strong. “That’s what you wanted… isn’t it?”

Keith’s heart fluttered, but a seed of doubt took root. “O-of course,” he stammered. He repeated the words as if to convince himself, “Just you and me…”

Lance smiled wider, reaching up to tilt Keith’s chin, his eyes sweeping over Keith’s face as though memorizing every detail. “Yes…” he breathed, his voice soft at first, then growing dark and twisted, a sickly, mocking edge seeping into his tone. “Just you and me… forever.” His eyes flashed, a sickly yellow glow piercing through the mask.

Keith’s breath caught in his throat, and he stumbled, pulling his hands free as if burned. “Lance?!” He took a step back, the dark ballroom stretching ominously behind him. He turned, stumbling toward the balcony. “No… no, this isn’t…”

“What’s wrong, starlight?” Lance’s voice turned taunting, dripping with mockery. “Isn’t this what you wanted? Just the two of us?” His smile twisted, his voice echoing off the marble, venomous and accusing. “Right, Keith?”

Keith backed away, his vision blurring, tears stinging his eyes. He felt a hand clamp down on his shoulder, gripping him with a strength that bordered on possessive. He was shaking his head, a pit forming in his stomach as he panted, each breath ragged. “You’re not real!” he shouted, his voice choked with panic. “This… isn’t real!”

Lance laughed—a low, cruel laugh that filled the room, darkening every corner, the sound thick with a rage that felt alien. His eyes blazed with that unnatural yellow, a harsh purple aura beginning to surround him, twisting and curling like smoke. “You’re mine, Keith!” he snarled, his voice resonating with an intensity that was both terrifying and all-consuming.

Keith squeezed his eyes shut, his hands flying up to cover his ears as he shouted, “STOP!”

“Keith!”

His eyes flew open, his breath hitching. He was back on the balcony, the cold night air biting against his skin. Tears traced down his cheeks, and he realized he was shaking, his whole body taut with the lingering terror of the dream. He looked down, seeing his familiar pajamas instead of the suit, and felt the warmth of real hands on his shoulders.

“Keith?” Lance’s voice, filled with worry, brought him fully back to the present. He was in his pajamas too, his face lined with concern as he held onto Keith, steadying him.

Keith’s vision cleared, the last remnants of the dream fading. He met Lance’s eyes, and in them, he saw only concern, warmth—no trace of that horrible yellow glow, no mocking laughter, only the person he trusted. He swallowed, forcing down the fear still fluttering in his chest.

“Lance,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. He felt as if he was clinging to reality by a thread.

Lance’s expression softened, and he reached up to gently brush a tear from Keith’s cheek. “I’m here. It was just a dream, Keith.” He pulled Keith close, holding him tightly as if he could chase away whatever darkness lingered. “It was just a dream,” he repeated, his words a steady anchor.

Keith exhaled shakily, leaning into Lance’s embrace. The warmth, the solidity, grounded him, finally pulling him back from the haunting shadows of the dream. With his head resting against Lance’s shoulder, he let his breathing slow, feeling his heart gradually calm as Lance continued to hold him, a quiet promise in his embrace.

Keith trembled in Lance’s arms, his voice barely a whisper. “H-how did we get in here?” His gaze darted around the balcony, the memories of his nightmare still too vivid, too real.

Lance’s hands moved gently, one rubbing slow, comforting circles over Keith’s back. “You got up, and you walked out here. I woke up and saw you leaving the room… I thought it was strange, so I followed you.” Lance paused, his voice quiet, worried. “You were talking… like you were speaking to someone, but no one was there.”

Keith swallowed, feeling the weight of Lance’s concern settle over him. He looked down, his brows knit in confusion and lingering fear. “I… I don’t know what happened. It felt so real… like I couldn’t escape.”

Lance let out a soft sigh, pulling Keith just a bit closer, resting his chin lightly on his head. “That’s the second time this has happened.” His voice was gentle, but there was a note of worry threading through it. “I thought maybe it was just a one-time thing, but…”

Keith pulled back just enough to look up at Lance, surprise flickering in his eyes. “It… is?”

Lance nodded, meeting his gaze. “Back at the castle. You had a nightmare then, too. You got up, just like tonight, and started talking… like someone was in the room with you.” His fingers traced soothing patterns along Keith’s arms, grounding him. “Is there something you want to talk about? Something that might be… haunting you?”

Keith sighed deeply, his shoulders sagging, but his arms remained around Lance, clinging to him like a lifeline. “I… I’d rather not.” His voice was barely audible, thick with exhaustion and lingering fear. “Can we just… go back to bed?”

Lance nodded without hesitation, his expression softening. “Of course, starlight. Whatever you need.” He wrapped an arm protectively around Keith’s shoulders, guiding him back toward their room, his touch steady and reassuring.

They stepped quietly across the threshold, and Lance led him gently toward the bed. The room felt warmer, safer, as though the walls themselves were warding off the shadows of the night. Keith hesitated for a moment, his eyes flickering over the familiar surroundings, as if he needed to be sure that this was real, that the nightmare couldn’t touch him here.

Once they were under the blankets, Lance pulled Keith close again, his fingers softly brushing through his hair in comforting strokes. “You don’t have to explain anything now, or ever, if you don’t want to,” he murmured, his voice a gentle lull. “I’m just here.”

Keith nestled into the warmth, feeling the last remnants of the nightmare slip away as he focused on Lance’s steady heartbeat. The tension in his muscles finally began to ease, and he let himself sink into the comfort of Lance’s presence, his breaths gradually matching Lance’s calm rhythm.

Comfy?” Lance’s voice was soft, a low murmur in the dim light of their room. He held Keith close, watching the way his partner relaxed, sinking deeper against him with each passing moment.

Keith nodded, a small, tired smile playing at his lips. He nestled closer, letting the steady rhythm of Lance’s heartbeat soothe him. “Yeah,” he whispered, a faint yawn slipping out. He closed his eyes for a moment, breathing in Lance’s familiar scent, the warmth and safety that always seemed to surround him.

Lance’s hand drifted up, his fingers brushing lightly through Keith’s hair in slow, rhythmic strokes. “Do you need anything?” he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper, as if afraid to disturb the fragile peace that had settled between them.

Keith’s eyes fluttered open just enough to look up at him. “Could you… could you sing something?” he asked, his voice hesitant. “Just until I fall asleep. You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

A gentle smile spread across Lance’s face, and he chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Of course I can,” he said, his thumb tracing a comforting circle along Keith’s shoulder. He paused, thinking for a moment, and then began to hum softly, a quiet melody filling the room as he tried to choose a song. The tune was warm and familiar, one he remembered his mother singing long ago—a lullaby that had always made him feel safe.

Then, slowly, the words slipped out, wrapping around them like a blanket. Lance’s voice was low, soothing, each note carrying a quiet warmth. The lyrics were simple, weaving a story of stars and peaceful dreams, of faraway places where nothing could harm them. His fingers continued to trail through Keith’s hair, as though lulling him to sleep with both the song and his gentle touch.

Keith closed his eyes, letting the melody wash over him. Each word, each note, softened the jagged edges of the nightmare, pushing the darkness further and further away. He sighed contentedly, focusing entirely on Lance’s voice, allowing it to ground him, to tether him to the safety of the moment. The fear, the lingering shadows, everything melted away until all that was left was Lance’s voice and the steady rise and fall of his chest. It wasn’t long before Keith’s breathing slowed, each exhale softer, deeper, until he drifted off, his body relaxing completely in Lance’s arms.

Lance kept singing, even after he noticed Keith had slipped into sleep. He let his voice trail off slowly, watching as Keith’s face softened, finally free of the tension that had gripped him so fiercely earlier. Lance held him close, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of his head, feeling a deep, quiet ache settle in his chest.

He glanced out the window, his gaze lingering on the stars, his heart heavy. He knew that Keith had been through so much—so much more than anyone should ever have to endure. Even in death, Lotor’s shadow haunted him, a lingering poison that seeped into Keith’s dreams, twisting them into nightmares. It made Lance feel sick, helpless. There was nothing he could do, no enemy to fight, no way to shield Keith from the memories that clung to him.

With a sigh, Lance settled back, keeping his arms wrapped firmly around Keith, as if he could protect him even in sleep. He knew he wouldn’t be getting any rest tonight. His fingers traced gentle circles on Keith’s back, soothing both him and himself. He would stay awake, keeping watch over Keith, ready to pull him back if the nightmares returned.

A part of him feared that this wouldn’t be the last time, that Lotor’s hold on Keith wouldn’t fade easily. But as he held Keith, he made a silent vow: he would be here, every single time. As long as it took, for as many nights as it happened, he would be here to chase away the shadows.

As the hours passed and the stars slowly faded into the first light of dawn, Lance’s gaze never left Keith. He held him through the night, a steady, unwavering presence, ready to face whatever haunted him—and determined that, no matter how many times it took, he would always bring Keith back into the light.

As the morning sun spilled through the curtains, its golden warmth brushing against his face, Keith blinked awake. His tail stretched out with a lazy shake, every muscle unwinding as he yawned deeply, the remnants of sleep fading away. He groaned softly, rubbing his eyes before his gaze landed on Lance, who was still seated beside him, his eyes weary but full of quiet concern.

Keith frowned, a hint of worry creeping into his voice. “Mm…how long have you been awake?” he asked, noticing the dark circles beneath Lance’s eyes.

Lance yawned, his eyelids heavy, and gave Keith a tired smile. “Didn’t get much sleep,” he admitted, his voice a little rough. “I wanted to keep an eye on you.” His hand reached out, brushing over Keith’s cheek, his touch gentle yet protective.

Keith’s frown deepened as he reached for Lance’s hand, squeezing it gently. “Lance… you need to sleep too. You can’t stay up all night just watching over me.”

Lance sighed, his gaze dropping for a moment before meeting Keith’s eyes. There was a depth of worry there that Keith hadn’t seen before. “Keith… you scared me to death last night.” His voice was soft but laced with the raw fear he’d felt in those early hours. “You walked right out to the edge of the balcony, barely awake. If I hadn’t woken up, you could have…” His voice trailed off, unable to finish the thought. “I can’t bear the idea of you getting hurt. So, if I have to lose a little sleep to keep you safe, I’ll just… find another way to manage.”

Keith shook his head, the weight of Lance’s words settling over him. “It won’t happen again, I promise,” he said earnestly, his hand still clutching Lance’s. “You can’t keep doing this. Please, Lance. You have to take care of yourself, too.”

For a moment, Lance was silent, his brows knit as he seemed to weigh Keith’s words. He sighed, leaning back against the headboard, his hand still intertwined with Keith’s. “Okay,” he murmured, his voice soft, though a hint of doubt lingered in his gaze. “But if it happens again… I’m not sleeping, and that’s final.”

Keith gave a reluctant nod, knowing there was no arguing with him once he made up his mind. But despite the reassurance, an ache of guilt settled in his chest, gnawing at him. The details of the nightmare had started to creep back, images and emotions flooding his mind, and a sharp wave of anxiety tightened around his heart. He swallowed, trying to push it down, but the question slipped out before he could stop himself.

“Lance?” His voice was quiet, almost hesitant.

Lance’s eyes softened, his hand gently tightening around Keith’s. “Yes, Keith?”

“When we’re… married,” Keith began, his gaze dropping to the blankets, his voice almost a whisper. “Will it just be you and me? Forever?”

Lance’s expression shifted, a gentle smile lifting the corner of his mouth as he considered Keith’s question. “Well… yeah, it’ll be you and me,” he said thoughtfully, “but not just us. It’s bigger than just the two of us, you know?” He tilted his head, giving Keith’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “That’s what the alliance is all about. It’s not just about us—it’s for everyone, so people can come together again.”

He paused, his smile growing softer. “Your family can stay here with us, and maybe even… well, maybe our family might grow a little bigger someday.” He chuckled, his smile widening, his hand coming up to brush a stray lock of hair from Keith’s face. “So, yeah, it’ll be forever, you and me—but we won’t be alone.”

Keith felt a surge of relief rush through him, washing away the last traces of the nightmare. Lance’s words grounded him, their warmth a stark contrast to the lingering shadows that had haunted him in the night. He managed a small, genuine smile, nodding as his shoulders relaxed. “Okay,” he whispered, his voice light and full of a quiet peace. “That’s all I needed to hear.”

Lance chuckled softly, reaching out to wrap an arm around Keith’s shoulders, pulling him close. “Good. Because I’m not going anywhere. And neither are you.” He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of Keith’s head, his voice a quiet promise against his hair.

Keith took a deep breath, feeling the warmth of Lance’s arm around him and the steady rise and fall of his chest. He closed his eyes, letting the last remnants of fear and dread seep out with each exhale, focusing on the comfort of Lance’s embrace, on the feeling of being safe and grounded. But even as he tried to relax, a small, lingering shadow settled in the back of his mind, refusing to let him go completely.

The nightmare had felt so real—every detail vivid, from the chill of the ballroom to the echo of the haunting piano, the sinister gleam in Lance’s eyes, twisted and yellow, and the cold, merciless grip that had seized his shoulders. He could still feel it now, the chill pressing into his skin, making his stomach twist. His hands flexed involuntarily, as if the memory of the nightmare were still clinging to him, like smoke from a fire that refused to fade. He shuddered, a subtle movement, hoping Lance wouldn’t notice.

As comforting as it was to be in the warmth and light of morning, something about the nightmare lingered in a way that felt different from others. It was more than a simple bad dream. Keith had a sense that this was just the beginning, that it was the shadow of something darker. The warning signs were there, lurking just at the edges of his consciousness, whispering that he hadn’t escaped as easily as he’d thought. This wasn’t over, his instincts seemed to warn. And what scared him more than anything was the sense that… somehow, Lotor wasn’t done with him.

He tried to dismiss the thought, to tell himself it was only a nightmare, that Lotor was gone, defeated. But the feeling clung to him, a dark presence he couldn’t shake. It was as if some part of Lotor’s hatred had burrowed deep within him, lingering even after death, biding its time. And the more he thought about it, the more convinced he felt that last night’s nightmare was no accident. It was as if a piece of Lotor’s malice had slipped past his defenses, rooting itself in his subconscious, waiting for the chance to twist his thoughts and turn his peace into fear.

Keith’s heart raced, his mind filling with questions he didn’t dare voice. Was Lotor truly gone? Or had he left something behind, something that would continue to haunt him even now? He opened his eyes, glancing toward the sunlight streaming through the window, trying to let its warmth push back against the creeping fear, but it only helped a little. The feeling that he was still in danger was too strong, too real.

Keith’s hand tightened against Lance’s chest. Lance, who had stayed up all night to protect him, who would do anything to keep him safe. He felt a wave of guilt wash over him. If he told Lance how he felt—about the nightmare’s chilling realism, his dread that Lotor might somehow still hold power over him—he knew it would only worry him more. And Lance had already been through so much. How could he burden him with this, when it might be nothing more than his imagination? But what if it wasn’t? What if Lotor’s influence was still there, waiting to resurface?

He let out another quiet sigh, his mind a storm of conflicted thoughts. Maybe this was something he’d have to face alone, or at least wait until he had a clearer understanding. But as he lay there in Lance’s arms, safe and warm in the light of morning, a faint chill lingered, a reminder that peace was not so easily won.

Chapter Text

Lance watched Keith intently, his gaze never leaving him for more than a moment. The worry gnawed at him, his mind replaying the events of the night over and over. The way Keith had walked out onto the balcony, lost in some nightmare-fueled haze, completely unaware of the danger—it was enough to make Lance’s heart pound even now, hours later. If he hadn’t woken up, if he’d been just a minute slower… He couldn’t shake the image of Keith standing there on the edge, vulnerable, almost ready to slip away.

He forced himself to take a slow breath, trying to calm his racing thoughts. Sleepwalking, especially after everything they’d been through, was more than unsettling—it felt like a warning sign, a hint of something darker stirring beneath the surface. Lance’s instincts screamed at him to stay alert, to watch over Keith even if it meant sacrificing his own rest. He couldn’t bear the thought of letting his guard down, of closing his eyes and leaving Keith vulnerable to whatever nightmares plagued him.

“Lance…” Keith’s voice broke through his thoughts, soft yet carrying a hint of exasperation.

Lance blinked, startled, his tired eyes snapping to meet Keith’s. “Huh?” he replied, the word slipping out almost automatically.

Keith gave a small, weary sigh, the faintest trace of a smile tugging at his lips as he looked at Lance, concern etched into his features. “Can you please go to sleep now?” he asked, his tone gentle but firm. “It’s morning. I’m fine now… you need to sleep, okay?”

Lance hesitated, his instincts battling with his exhaustion. Part of him wanted to argue, to insist that he needed to stay awake, that he couldn’t leave Keith’s side, but the exhaustion was catching up to him. He could barely keep his eyes open, and he knew Keith could see the strain on his face. With a reluctant sigh, he nodded. “Okay… fine,” he murmured, trying to sound reassuring. “Just… don’t doze off yourself, okay? I’ll feel better if you’re up and moving.”

Keith nodded in agreement, his expression softening. “I’ll be fine,” he said, standing up and moving to the side of the bed. Gently, he pulled the blankets up, tucking Lance in with a tender care that made Lance’s heart ache. Keith leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. “Please try not to worry about me… Get some rest, alright? Sweet dreams.”

Lance nodded, a weary yawn slipping out as he tried to keep his eyes open. He felt Keith’s hand linger for a moment on his shoulder, warm and grounding, before it drifted away, and that gentle presence alone was enough to allow the tension to ease slightly in Lance’s chest. His eyes grew heavier, and he felt himself sinking into the mattress, the comfort of the bed enveloping him like a soft cocoon.

Just as he was drifting off, he felt the faintest brush of Keith’s fingers against his hair, a final reassurance that he was safe, that he was here. Lance smiled softly, his breathing growing slow and even as he finally let go of the worry, if only for a little while. Within moments, he was asleep, his mind easing into a state of rest he hadn’t allowed himself in hours.

As Lance slept, Keith lingered by the bedside for a few moments, watching the rise and fall of his breathing. He didn’t want to leave, not really, but he knew Lance would rest easier if he saw Keith up and about when he woke. The exhaustion of the night had left him restless, and he could still feel the aftershocks of the nightmare lurking in his mind, like shadows waiting for their chance to resurface.

With one last glance at Lance, Keith turned and quietly slipped out of the room, his footsteps soft as he wandered down the hall. The morning sunlight filtered in through the windows, casting golden patterns across the floor, and Keith found himself drawn to the light. It was calming, grounding, but the echoes of last night’s terror clung to him, making his heart race despite the calm of the morning.

He walked slowly, taking in the familiar surroundings, his hand grazing the wall as he moved. He hoped that maybe, with each step, he could shake off the lingering dread, the feeling that Lotor’s presence still lingered like a ghost in his mind. But the memories persisted, the nightmare replaying in flashes—the ballroom, Lance’s twisted expression, the sinister words whispered in the dark.

Keith let out a long breath, trying to remind himself it was over, that Lance was safe and sound just down the hall. But as he looked out one of the windows, his gaze drifting over the landscape outside, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was still watching him, waiting for the right moment to strike again.

The chill returned, an unsettling reminder that last night’s nightmare might not be just a dream.

Keith turned, a flicker of alarm flaring up in his chest when he heard a voice down the hall call his name.

“Keith?”

For a split second, his body tensed, expecting the worst. But his nerves eased when he saw his mother standing there, her familiar presence calming him like a warm embrace in the chilly morning air.

“Mother…” he breathed, relief washing over him as he turned to meet her, stepping forward until they met in the middle of the hall. “Good morning.”

Krolia’s gaze softened, and she pulled him into a gentle hug, her arms wrapping around him protectively. “Good morning, dear,” she said, her tone warm but perceptive, as if she could see right through the calm facade he was attempting to keep up. She pulled back just enough to study him, her gaze flicking over his tired expression. “How are you feeling today?”

Keith rubbed his arm, his gaze drifting downward. He didn’t want to worry her, but the question made something in him sink. “Not… very well,” he admitted, voice barely above a whisper.

Krolia’s face fell, her brows knitting together in concern. “Oh? What’s the matter, dear?” she asked, her voice laced with worry.

Keith hesitated, the memory of the nightmare prickling at his mind like thorns. He debated telling her everything—the darkness, Lance’s terrifying transformation, the sense of dread that hadn’t yet left him. But he wasn’t sure he could explain it without sounding… paranoid. Finally, he settled on a partial truth. “I had a nightmare last night,” he said, his voice low, the weight of the memory pressing on his shoulders. “It felt… it felt really real.”

Krolia’s expression softened, a look of understanding flickering across her face. She reached up, brushing a stray hair away from his face. “Hmm… I see,” she said gently. “Would you like to talk about it?”

Keith hesitated, his mind churning with images of Lotor, of Lance, of everything tangled up in shadows and twisted dreams. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again, unsure of where to begin—or if he even wanted to. After a moment, he asked cautiously, “What do you know about… Lotor?”

The question seemed to catch Krolia off guard. She blinked, her expression shifting to one of mild confusion. “Lotor?” she repeated, clearly not expecting this topic.

Keith nodded slowly, feeling the question settle heavily between them. He realized how strange it was to be asking about someone who had once been such a large part of his life. After all he’d been through, he should have known everything about Lotor, should have felt confident in his understanding of him. But here he was, searching for something—anything—that might explain why Lotor continued to haunt him, even now.

Krolia seemed to sense his discomfort. Gently, she placed a hand on his back, guiding him down the hall in silence for a few moments. Her hand was steady, grounding, and it made Keith feel a bit more anchored. She sighed, as if weighing her words carefully. “Well, dear,” she began, her voice soft but thoughtful, “when Lotor was growing up… he was a quiet person. Very reserved. But incredibly intelligent. He was… driven, you could say, but his ambition often got the better of him. And he tended to get jealous quite quickly.”

Keith listened intently, his gaze focused straight ahead as his mother’s words filled in pieces of a puzzle he hadn’t even realized he was missing.

“Your father tried to give him a position at the castle once, hoping it would give him purpose, maybe help guide him down a better path…” Krolia’s voice trailed off, and she sighed. “But it didn’t go over well. He was… resentful, I suppose. I only met him a few times, but even from those brief encounters, I could tell there was a darkness in him. And then, before your birthday…” she hesitated, her expression darkening, “…I could feel something was off with him. He’d changed. He was no longer just that quiet boy. He was… something else.”

Her words left a strange weight in the air, like an invisible force pressing down on them. Keith swallowed, absorbing what she’d said. It was surreal to learn these things about Lotor now, after everything that had happened, and it made the memory of his nightmare feel even more sinister. The man he’d faced in dreams seemed to match this shadowed figure Krolia was describing—a person shaped by bitterness, jealousy, and hidden darkness.

But even as he processed this, the anxiety still lingered, gnawing at him. He needed more than just an explanation—he needed answers, something that could dispel the feeling that Lotor wasn’t truly gone. He knew what he had to do.

They reached the end of the hall, and Keith took a steadying breath, straightening as he looked at his mother. “Thanks, Mom…” he murmured, his voice filled with gratitude. “I… I think I just need some air. I’ll, um…” He stumbled over his words, his heart pounding with a strange mixture of resolve and dread. “I’ll see you at dinner tonight. Love you.”

Krolia gave him a gentle smile, her eyes warm and filled with understanding. She leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. “I love you too, Keith,” she said softly, her voice like a balm to his frayed nerves. “If you need anything, you know I’m here.”

He nodded, giving her one last reassuring smile before turning and heading down the hall. His steps quickened as he went, his mind racing. There was one person who might have the answers he needed, someone who could help him understand if this nightmare was just lingering trauma or if it truly was something more ominous.

Allura.

If anyone could understand magic and the strange, unsettling nature of his dreams, it would be her. She was the most magically gifted person in Altea, and if there was even a hint of Lotor’s influence still lingering, she would know. As he reached the end of the hall, he took a deep breath, the unease in his chest easing ever so slightly now that he had a purpose, a plan.

With one last look over his shoulder, he headed toward Allura’s quarters, a flicker of hope kindling in his chest. He didn’t know what he’d find, or what answers Allura might have, but he was determined to get to the bottom of this—once and for all.

Allura sat comfortably in her lavish room, her surroundings a striking contrast to the more modest quarters of her brother, Lance. Her chambers were adorned with vibrant tapestries, ornate furnishings, and large windows that bathed the room in soft, morning light. Today, her only company was her lady-in-waiting—and girlfriend—Romelle.

Allura had grown close to Romelle over the years, and it was no secret to either of them how deep their bond had become. Romelle had been at her side through countless moments, always dependable, always kind. Though she was petite, with delicate features, soft blonde hair, and piercing blue eyes, Romelle’s strength was undeniable. She had a feisty spirit that kept even the most hardened knights on their toes, a trait Allura found irresistibly charming.

When they were younger, Allura used to follow Romelle around the castle corridors, ignoring her parents’ suggestions to meet suitors. Her parents had often nudged her toward Shiro, a noble with a strong reputation, believing he’d be a fitting match. But Allura’s heart had never wavered, not even for a moment. Shiro, as it turned out, had found his own love, one as powerful and genuine as her feelings for Romelle.

This morning, they lay entangled under the soft sheets of Allura’s bed, the castle’s early hush creating a cocoon of intimacy. Allura carefully smoothed a soothing mask onto Romelle’s cheeks, brushing her fingers gently across her skin. “We have the whole day, Ro,” Allura murmured, her voice warm with promise. “My brother’s wedding prep can wait a few hours. Right now, they’re resting after the journey… which means we get a little more time to ourselves.”

Romelle chuckled, leaning into Allura’s touch. “It’s not often we get a full day, uninterrupted. I can’t wait to spend it with you,” she whispered, her voice soft and filled with affection.

Just then, a knock echoed from the heavy wooden door, breaking the peaceful moment. Allura sighed, a playful annoyance flickering across her face. She wiped her hands on a cloth and stood, smoothing down her dress and adjusting a few strands of her hair. “I wonder who that could be…” she muttered, glancing at the door. She turned back to Romelle, a teasing smile lighting up her face. “Don’t move. I just washed these blankets, and I’d rather not deal with another stain.”

Romelle rolled her eyes, grinning. “Yes, Your Highness. I’ll stay put,” she replied, mockingly obedient. But her eyes sparkled with affection as she watched Allura stride gracefully to the door, wondering what the day would hold for them both.

Allura opened the door to find Keith standing before her, looking far from his usual composed self. His hands fidgeted restlessly, his dark eyes flicking down the hallway before returning to hers. His tail swished anxiously behind him, and his ears were tilted downward—a clear sign he was unsettled. Allura’s brow knitted in concern, her mind already racing with possibilities.

“Keith?” she asked softly, stepping out of the doorway. She glanced down the corridor, half-expecting to see Lance. It was unusual to see Keith without him. “Is everything alright? Where is Lance?”

Keith shifted, his voice low as if even the walls could overhear. “He’s sleeping,” he replied, brushing a hand through his hair. “I… I wanted to come to you. I need your help with something, if… if you can help.”

Allura nodded without hesitation. “Of course, anything. Tell me, Keith—what’s troubling you?”

Keith hesitated, his gaze dropping to the floor. “What… what do you know about dreams?” he asked, almost whispering. A flush crept into his cheeks. “About… maybe magical dreams?”

A small, understanding smile played on Allura’s lips. She gave him an encouraging nod, recognizing the nervousness he was trying to mask. “Why don’t you come in?” she offered, opening the door wider and gesturing him inside. “Take a seat and tell me everything.”

Keith stepped into the room, casting a quick glance at Romelle, who looked at him with equal curiosity and concern. She shifted a bit on the bed, adjusting her blanket to make space, and offered a gentle smile.

Allura closed the door and joined him, guiding him to a plush armchair near the fire. She took a seat across from him, her posture attentive but calm. “Did something happen?” she asked, her tone soothing. “Did you have a nightmare?”

Keith shook his head, his hands clenched tightly in his lap. “No… I mean, yes. But it was more than that. I… I don’t know how to explain it.” His voice was tight with frustration, and he looked down, grappling with the right words. Finally, he took a breath and looked back up, meeting her gaze with a seriousness that sent a shiver down her spine. “Allura… I think… I think Lotor is back.”

The room went silent, the warmth from the fireplace suddenly feeling stifling. Allura’s expression hardened, her mouth opening as if to speak, but no words came. She exchanged a tense glance with Romelle, whose face had paled at the mention of that name.

“What do you mean, Keith?” Allura asked carefully, her voice steady despite the alarm beginning to swirl in her chest.

Keith took a shaky breath, looking as if he was struggling to pull himself out of a memory he didn’t want to relive. “It felt like I was awake,” he began slowly, his voice low. “Lance and I were together, and we were… dancing.” A faint, wistful smile flickered across his face, but it vanished as quickly as it appeared. “It was warm and safe. I could feel his hand in mine. Everything was perfect. And then… it wasn’t.”

He paused, his gaze fixed on some distant point in the room, his voice turning cold. “Suddenly, the room around us darkened, like all the warmth had been sucked out of it. Lance’s face twisted… changed. I don’t even know how to describe it. His eyes… they went dark, lifeless, like all the light in him had been snuffed out.” He swallowed hard, his eyes clouding with pain. “And that’s when I saw him. It wasn’t Lance anymore… it was Lotor.”

Allura’s breath hitched at the name. The mere mention of Lotor’s return stirred something dark in her, memories she’d fought to bury. She shook her head, trying to stay rational, to steady herself and Keith. “Keith… Lotor is gone. You destroyed him. I saw it myself,” she said, trying to sound reassuring, though a slight tremor betrayed her.

Keith’s hands began to shake, his fingers curling tightly into fists. “I thought I did too,” he murmured, staring down at his hands as if searching for some sign of the battle, of the destruction he had wrought. “I thought I incinerated him, killed him.” His voice was barely a whisper, almost as if he were speaking to himself. “But this wasn’t just a nightmare, Allura. It was him. I’m sure of it. He was… taunting me. His words, his voice—everything felt real.”

Seeing Keith so unsettled, Allura gently placed her hand over his, her touch both grounding and comforting. “Keith… are you absolutely certain?” she asked, her voice gentle but probing. “Dreams can feel real, especially for those of us touched by magic. But you have to be absolutely sure, because if we’re going to investigate this, we need to know what we’re up against.”

Keith met her gaze, his own eyes wide and haunted. “I’m sure, Allura. I… I can’t shake it. His presence, his anger—it was too vivid to be just a nightmare.” He hesitated, taking a shaky breath as his gaze drifted to the floor. “And there’s more. Lance… he’s been staying up, watching over me at night because he’s afraid of what might happen if I… lose control. Last night, I almost hurt myself in my sleep. I woke up on the edge of the balcony, and Lance was… he looked so scared.” His voice broke, and he turned his head away, his shoulders trembling. “I don’t want to put him through any more of this than I have to. He doesn’t deserve it.”

Allura’s heart ached as she took in Keith’s distress, the pain and guilt etched into every line of his face. She knew how much he cared for Lance, how deep his love ran, and the thought of Lance suffering because of these dreams was tearing him apart. She squeezed his hand a little tighter, her voice softening. “Keith… I believe you. If you say it felt real, then I trust you. I don’t know how it’s possible, but if there’s even a chance that Lotor has found a way to reach you… then we need to find out how, and why.”

Keith’s face softened with a mixture of gratitude and relief, though the worry still lingered. “Thank you, Allura,” he whispered. “I… I didn’t know who else to turn to. I haven’t even told Lance. He’s already so worried about me, I… I don’t want to add to it. I don’t want him to live in fear of something that may only be… my mind playing tricks.”

Allura’s eyes softened with sympathy. She understood Keith’s hesitation, his desire to protect Lance from the darkness that was creeping into his mind. “But keeping this from him might worry him even more, Keith. He cares about you. If he senses something is wrong—and I’m sure he does—it may only add to his fears.”

Keith closed his eyes, his shoulders sagging. “I know. I hate keeping things from him. But… if this is something I can handle, I’d rather not drag him down with me.” He opened his eyes, looking at Allura with a mix of desperation and determination. “But if there’s a way you can help… if there’s anything we can do to make sure Lotor’s really gone…”

Allura placed a gentle hand on Keith’s shoulder, her expression unwavering. “I’ll find a way to figure this out, Keith,” she promised, her voice full of conviction. “But… please, talk to Lance. He deserves to know. He’s not going to be happy if he finds out you’re keeping this from him.” Her gaze softened, knowing the weight of what she was asking.

Keith sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly under her touch. “I’ll… think about it,” he replied, though his tone held a hint of reluctance. His gaze flickered down, clearly caught between his desire to protect Lance and the need to ease his own burden. “Thank you, Allura. Really.”

He rose to his feet, his tall, solid frame a striking contrast to the soft pastels and graceful furnishings of Allura’s room. His dark clothing and sturdy boots, worn from training and travel, seemed almost out of place among the silken drapes and polished wood. There was a rawness to him, a sense of grit and determination, that felt at odds with the delicate elegance around him. Yet, in a strange way, he seemed to belong—his presence grounding, like a quiet strength amidst a world of refinement.

Allura rose as well, her expression shifting from resolve to something gentler. She reached out, her hand hovering over his arm before she spoke. “And, Keith…” Her voice was soft, almost hesitant.

He paused at the doorway, glancing back at her with a slight tilt of his head, his curiosity piqued.

“Nightmares can be terrifying,” she continued, her eyes reflecting the compassion of someone who understood fear well. “They can feel so real, so overpowering, like they have a grip on you that you can’t break.” She paused, as if weighing her words, then smiled encouragingly. “But there’s always a way to take control. Even in the darkest dreams, you have strength within you, Keith. You just have to trust yourself, to be confident in who you are and what you’re capable of. You’re stronger than you know.”

A faint smile tugged at the corner of Keith’s lips, softening his otherwise serious expression. He seemed to take in her words, letting them settle into his mind. “Thanks, Allura,” he murmured, his voice quiet but sincere. For a moment, he seemed lighter, as if her reassurance had lifted a small part of the weight he’d been carrying.

He lingered for a beat longer, his gaze meeting hers with a sense of unspoken gratitude. “I… should get back to Lance,” he said finally, his voice tinged with an uncharacteristic warmth. There was a flicker of something in his eyes—a softness that only surfaced when he thought of Lance. He gave Allura a small nod, a final gesture of thanks, and then turned toward the door.

Allura watched him as he left, her gaze lingering on the closed door for a moment after he’d gone. She released a quiet sigh, her heart heavy yet resolute. She knew this was only the beginning of something darker, something that could threaten them all. But she also knew she couldn’t let Keith or Lance face it alone.

Once the door clicked shut, Romelle shifted on the bed, drawing Allura’s attention. “Are you alright?” Romelle asked softly, her blue eyes filled with concern as she looked at Allura.

Allura gave a small, reassuring smile and moved to sit beside her. “I am,” she replied, though her thoughts were still clouded by the conversation with Keith. “But I can’t help worrying. If Lotor really is back… even in spirit…” She trailed off, a shiver running down her spine at the thought.

Romelle placed a gentle hand on her arm. “We’ll face it together, Allura. Just like we always have.” Her words were soft but determined, and her gaze held a fierce loyalty.

Allura took a deep breath, finding comfort in Romelle’s presence. “Yes,” she whispered, a newfound determination hardening her gaze. “We’ll stand together. For Keith, for Lance… and for everyone we’ve sworn to protect.”

Allura sighed deeply, her mind swirling with unease as she sank down onto the bed, her gaze distant. “It only worries me,” she murmured, almost to herself. “I’ve read about people reaching across the veil, finding ways to communicate after death. Some sort of residual energy or lingering spirit. I know Keith once saw his father… but Lotor? This feels… different.” Her brows knitted together, her voice dropping as she tried to make sense of it. “It’s strange. If Lotor really did reach him, it must mean they share a strong connection, something deep enough to bridge worlds.”

Romelle, sitting beside her, frowned and shook her head in confusion. “Connection?” she echoed, the doubt clear in her voice. “But Keith isn’t like that… he doesn’t want anything to do with Lotor. If anything, he’d do anything to keep him away.”

Allura nodded, understanding Romelle’s confusion but still unsettled. “Connections can take many forms,” she explained slowly, thinking aloud as much as responding. “Some are built on love or shared history… but others can be fueled by fear, by hatred. In some ways, those kinds of bonds can be even stronger.” She sighed, a hand running through her hair as she processed it. “And if Lotor isn’t actually dead…” Her voice trailed off, her face darkening with a mixture of anger and dread. “I have to do more research on this. Even as one of the most powerful Alteans, Lotor has always been a step ahead. His abilities are… well, they’ve always been greater than mine. He was… different.”

Romelle reached over, her lips curving into a small, reassuring smile as she gently touched Allura’s arm. “You’re pretty great yourself, love,” she said warmly, trying to lift her spirits. “You’re brilliant, kind, and brave. I know how determined you are, but… don’t push yourself too hard, alright?”

Allura met her gaze, her eyes softened with gratitude, but there was a fierce resolve behind them. “I must push myself, Romelle,” she replied quietly, the weight of responsibility heavy in her tone. “If there’s even a chance that Lotor is alive… no one is safe. I can’t let him hurt anyone else.”

Seeing the tension in her posture, Romelle leaned closer, placing her hands firmly on Allura’s shoulders and giving her a gentle squeeze. “Lura,” she said softly but with a firmness that held Allura’s attention. “Breathe. You’ve carried so much already. Don’t lose yourself to this fight. You’re not alone, remember? You’re brilliant, Allura, more gifted than you give yourself credit for. If anyone can figure this out, it’s you. But you don’t have to do it all at once. Lean on me if you need to, alright?”

Allura looked into Romelle’s eyes, a calming strength radiating from her. She took a deep, steadying breath, allowing the warmth of Romelle’s support to ease her nerves. “You’re right,” she murmured, nodding slightly. “Thank you. I sometimes forget that… it’s not all on me.” She reached up to place her hand over Romelle’s, offering a small but genuine smile.

After a pause, a determined glint returned to her eyes. “The library holds knowledge that may help us. Ancient spells, rituals, texts from centuries ago. If there’s anything to explain how Lotor might have survived, or if his spirit could still be lingering… we might find it there.”

Romelle’s expression softened, her smile widening as she saw Allura’s confidence returning. “Then let’s go,” she said, giving Allura’s hand a light squeeze before standing up. “A trip to the library it is. And maybe,” she added with a playful glint in her eye, “we’ll find something that doesn’t involve saving the world for once.”

Allura rolled her eyes playfully at Romelle’s remark, a warm laugh escaping her. “Alright, alright,” she chuckled, letting the humor ease the lingering tension. “But only after we help Keith. Then, maybe, we can focus on something a bit less… apocalyptic.” She threaded her fingers through Romelle’s, her touch lingering, a brief moment of warmth and reassurance before they moved forward into the unknown.

With a gentle hum, Allura led them out of her room and into the castle corridors, their footsteps soft against the polished marble floors. The air was cool and still, and only a few beams of early morning sunlight filtered through the high windows, casting delicate patterns on the stone walls as they walked. They didn’t speak, but the weight of their purpose hung between them—a shared understanding of the seriousness of what they were about to undertake. Allura’s mind was already racing, filled with thoughts of ancient texts and spells, trying to recall any fragment of knowledge she could about spirit communication, dark energy, and resurrection. If Lotor had somehow survived, then they needed every piece of information they could find. The stakes were higher than ever.

Meanwhile, down the long, winding hallways of the castle, Keith made his way back to Lance’s room, each step heavy with unease. His mind was a storm of conflicting emotions—fear, guilt, frustration, and a deep, aching worry for Lance. His fingers fidgeted anxiously, twisting together as he walked, a nervous habit that betrayed the turmoil he was fighting to keep at bay.

His thoughts looped in circles, replaying the dream in his mind, the sight of Lotor’s twisted expression as clear as if it had happened in front of him. He couldn’t shake it, the way Lotor’s presence had felt so real, so alive. The idea that Lotor had somehow managed to find a way back into his life, to haunt him from beyond death, was terrifying. Not just because of the danger it posed to him, but because of what it could mean for Lance. Lance, who had stood by him, who had risked so much, who had seen him at his most vulnerable.

Keith’s heart clenched as he thought of Lance lying beside him, watching over him as he slept, unable to rest himself for fear of what Keith might do. That look on Lance’s face from last night—the fear and worry etched into his expression as he’d pulled Keith out of the nightmare—was seared into Keith’s memory. It hurt more than anything Lotor could ever throw at him. He didn’t want to be the source of Lance’s pain and anxiety. Yet, here he was, wrestling with the very real fear that this wasn’t over, that Lotor’s grip on his life hadn’t loosened.

As he approached Lance’s door, he hesitated, his hand hovering near the handle. His stomach twisted. Part of him didn’t want to go inside. He didn’t want Lance to see him like this—tired, anxious, haunted. He didn’t want to burden him with more worry. But he also knew that Lance would never accept that. Lance would see through him in an instant, would catch on to every flicker of hesitation, every shadow in his eyes. There was no hiding how deeply this was affecting him.

He took a slow, deep breath, trying to steady himself. He needed to be strong, to hold it together. Allura had promised to help, and he had to trust her. She’d figure it out. She always did. And until then, he’d have to keep it together, for Lance’s sake.

Finally, he turned the handle, pushing the door open softly. Inside, the room was dim, only a faint light filtering in from the window. Lance lay sprawled across the bed, his breathing deep and steady, lost in the rare peace of sleep. For a moment, Keith felt a wave of relief wash over him. Lance looked so calm, so untroubled, and it was a reminder of everything he was fighting for. But that relief was quickly overshadowed by a familiar pang of guilt. He didn’t want to take that peace from him.

Moving quietly, Keith slipped into the room and settled into a chair by the window, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, his gaze fixed on Lance’s sleeping form. The soft rise and fall of Lance’s chest was strangely soothing, and Keith allowed himself a rare moment of quiet, his mind settling as he watched over him.

“Please, Allura… find something,” he whispered to himself, his voice barely audible. He was desperate for answers, for anything that might make this nightmare go away. He was scared, not just for himself but for Lance. If Lotor’s spirit or some remnant of him was still out there, Keith knew he’d go to any length to protect Lance from it. He would face any darkness, fight any battle—but the thought of Lance being dragged into his nightmare was almost too much to bear.

Keith sat in silence, a silent promise forming in his mind. He would shield Lance from this, whatever it took. He just hoped he was strong enough to keep that promise.