#lancelot just leaks angst without me having to think too hard about it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dreamworksworddump · 7 years

Note

Can I request an angst galra Keith/altean Lance fic. It should have a sad ending.

Happy birthday bae!

His sister glares at him over her chalice, her purple-pink irises not leaving Lance even once as he storms out of the ballroom. He feels a twinge of guilt at interrupting his sister’s coming of age party like that, but could she really expect anything less after what that man had said? ‘A common birthed bastard’, he’d said, watching Lance with those slimey green eyes like a fliporn cat stalking a mouse. The insult hurts more than it should, in any case. That man was only a duke, only invited to the damn party in the stead of his dying king; he doesn’t even know Lance beyond the rumors.

As Lance has grown to understand, if an insult truly stings, it’s because it holds a kernel of truth till, the insult holds a kernel of truth.

Lance’s mother never married his father, and had died before being naming him. By all means, Altean tradition would have him be a bastard, to be killed in the cradle. It was only because of his father’s great love for his mother that he survived infancy to be decreed Prince of Altea. Nevermind that it was impossible for him to inherit the throne, or that the most he could do for his people was be married off to another royal to ensure a strong alliance.

Lance huffs, and steps out onto the balcony. The midnight sky glimmers with stars and satellites alike, casting their reflections into the wading pool below. It’s not quiet, not at all, but it’s serene. There’s no gawking royals, gossiping about who’ll take Lance home, as if he is nay but a trophy for them to flaunt. There’s no eyes to stare him down when he speaks, when he moves or does anything at all out of place. It’s just him and the stars and the water.

“He can’t just call me a bastard to my face and expect me to accept it quietly. Even if I am just a bargaining chip, I’m not just gonna take it without any rebuke.” He kicks a wilted blue blossom flower off the balcony, and watches as it slowly drifts onto the ground below. “I was just in calling him a worm that his mother regretted birthing.” The retort doesn’t seem as cool as it had when he’d first said it, nor as scathing. He wonders if Allura was more upset over his horrible response than the fact that he’d actually responded.

Without the heat of a roomful of eyes resting on him, Lance’s head finally clears of anger, and he begins to feel some guilt at reacting that badly. He should’ve let his sister handle it. It looks bad on his family when he acts like a petty child (even if he’s very much not). He turns back, resolved to apologize, and to return to the party.

“You must have some big balls to speak so brazenly.” Someone says lazily. Lance turns around, head whipping back and forth, unable to find the source of the speaker. “Down here, Prince Lancelot.”

He peers over the edge of the balcony, his gloved hand clutching the banister for support. Sitting on the shore of the pool is a solitary Galra, his pants rolled up, and feet in the water.

Lance’s cheeks flush. He hadn’t known that anyone was out here, and it’s more than a little embarrassing to know that someone had heard his stupid little rant. “Uh, thanks.”

“As a fellow member of The Unwanted Bastards club, I would suggest ditching the rest of that party before it gets even worse.” The Galra turns, and offers Lance a sardonic grin. “And I can promise that it will get much worse.”

“How?”

“Come down and I’ll tell you.” The Galra offers, turning back to the water. He shifts, and ripples spiral away from his feet.

Lance considers leaving; talking with a stranger in the garden instead of apologizing probably isn’t a good way to remedy his little outburst, but then again, this stranger is really interesting, more so than that party is likely to become if he returns. Careful not to trip, he pulls himself over the banister and onto the thin ledge on the other side. Crouching, he grabs onto the edge as tightly as he can, and then lowers himself so that he’s dangling off of the balcony. He lands in a crouch on the grassy ground beneath it, and walks onto the fake shoreline.

The Galra turns, and for the first time, Lance gets a good look at his face. The somewhat animalistic features native to the Galran species have been dulled by obvious Altean heritage, visible by the dull scales beneath his beaming yellow eyes, and the black mop of hair dangling around his ears and into face. “Wow. You actually came down. That’s surprising.”

Lance scoffs, and sits down beside him, forcing himself not to wince at the dampness of the sand as it sinks into the seat of his pants. “It’s not like it’s a particularly hard task to climb down.”

The Galra shrugs. “The way my brother talks about you, I thought you were too prissy to do something like that.”

“Well your brother doesn’t know me well. Probably.” Lance scowls and pulls his boots off, setting them aside from the reach of the water. “Who are you anyway? I don’t think I’ve seen you around before.”

“I’m Keithian, Lotor’s younger brother.” Keithian scowls, looking out at the water. “And you definitely haven’t seen me before. I’ve only just finished my imperial training last month, so I’ve only just been allowed to be seen in public this last month.”

“Oh. Cool.” Lance says as he tugs off his socks. Scrunching his pants legs up, he slides his feet into the water, and sighs at the comforting warmth. “So about that party?”

“Lotor is going to ask your sister to marry him. I doubt she will say yes, but he’d deluded himself into thinking he loves her.” Prince Keithian says offhandedly, as if the prospect of the High Galran prince proposing to the heiress of Altea is a matter of handmaiden’s gossip. “Father doesn’t have much of an opinion on the matter, but I’m sure your father will.”

Realization dawns on him. It’s not as if his father can turn down a marriage offer so easily; it’s insulting both to Prince Lotor, who Allura will have to deal with when she ascends, and to the Galran empire as a whole. With their still tenatious alliance, it’s not a risk that King Alfor can take. And what’s the next best thing to giving Allura up for marriage? “He’s gonna offer me up.” Lance says, shock slowing his words.

Prince Keithian laughs bitterly. He pulls from his waistband a knife, deceptively small in size, and twirls it between clawed fingers. “And Lotor will most definitely decline, and that’s when father will step in.”

Lance turns his head so fast, he can hear it snap. “You?”

“Yup.”

Behind them, something crashes through a window, allowing the yelling voices to leak from the party into the night air.

Prince Keithian looks nonplussed by the disturbance, as if chairs falling into gardens is a perfectly normal occurrence. His ears twitch as he grabs his boots from beside him, and pulls them back on without bother to grab his socks. Lance watches as he stands, and offers him a hand. Ungloved of course, which while acceptable in Galran society, is highly impolite.

When they get married, will Keithian have to give up his home or will he? As a part of the Altean race, the so called ‘diplomats of the universe’, will Lance be expected to give up things like his gloves, and his facemasks and his culture?

“Oh, right. You’ve got the modesty thing, right?” Keithian asks, not looking up to see Lance’s replying nod. He pulls his sleeve down to cover his hand, so that only the tips of his fingers are visible. He offers the hand again. “Better?”

Lance takes his hand carefully, and allows himself to be pulled to his feet. “Thank you, Prince Keithian.”

“You can just call me Keith, seeing as how we’re to be betrothed.”

Lance winces at the word; he hadn’t really expected marriage or betrothal to come up so soon, and the thought of it- He forces the thought away. It’s a reality. It’s going to happen. He’d better get used to it. “If we are to be more…familiar, you might’s well just call me Lance.”

“Alright. Lance then.” Keith withdraws his hand, and turns towards the gardeners entrance, propped open with a stone taken from the edge of the pathway. “I’ll see you around.”

Lance waves halfheartedly as he disappears inside, the door closing behind him. It’s only as the lock clicks that Lance realizes that the only way back inside is to climb back onto the balcony, which is nearly ten feet up, much too high to reach. He sighs and glares at the balcony.

What a horrible day this is turning out to be.

#voltron #klance #altean lance #galra keith #happy birthday present for bae

32 notes · View notes