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From the Heavens

Chapter Text

 

The star date was starting its next millennium. The Galran race was on the cusp of yet another new year. Their world hadn’t iced over, nor had it heated up, neither had it hurtled itself towards the strong gravitational pulls of the planets around it as it was fabled to do so many centuries ago. The well of Quintessence that made their life force was increasing infinitesimally, instead of depleting. Technology was evolving. Life on the planet was better than it had ever been before. Daibazaal was, as it always had been, walking forward.

However Yorak, Crown Prince and Saviour of Light to the throne to the Galran Kingdom found himself at a standstill.

He could still remember sitting in the observatory he frequented in the palace he called his home, thick tombs of space and star related books on the table next to him, peering in to the telescope protruding out from the highest tower on the eve of the new year. He loved coming here staring at the once beautiful blood red sky outside.

An ominous blue cloud had ripped through the ever present atmosphere, creating fissures of thunder crashing along the skies. Lightning fizzled like a strobe light show. It hurt his eyes, but he couldn’t stop looking at the beauty of it. The entire kingdom was standing on the raised platform roads outside, their gazes fixated on what he was looking at. It was so beautiful. And just like everyone else. Yorak knew that this was the end. Their planet was being destroyed.

The clock struck midnight, marking the start to another millennia. But the once ephemeral chimes that woke the city to the new year seemed less beautiful now. The new millennium year was supposed to be blissful. It was supposed to bring a new life to those who wished for it. Technology and businesses were supposed to boom, life was supposed to be better.

But this fateful day was the worst day of Yorak’s life.

Daibazaal was a peaceful planet. Their sustenance of Quintessence came from the very earth they took care of made it so they didn’t want for anything else. It left their planet without worry for any intergalactic invasions. Those who ventured rarely left after witnessing the beauty of the planet. However, the Galran’s were very invested in intergalactic travel, But space soldiers were few and far apart.

The king, his father, with the help of the prince, had used the budding technology to create Sentries; robotic soldiers that could withstand anything, even deep space. With these sentry soldiers, the Galran's thought they were safe from the weather, from the abnormality in the sky. They were wrong.

They were much too late to the game. With the blue cloud came a monstrous demon with a harrowing breath that brought a virus to the Galran's, a virus with devastation in its mind. The extra-terrestrial epidemic had swept through the small world within days, causing pandemonium. Lightning filled clouds covered their once clear red skies, black tar like acid rain fell from the skies in torrential rivulets. The air thickened, making it harder to breath.

It had started off so small. An anomaly, a case of freak weather that was not all that uncommon to Daibazaal. But it escalated quicker than they had imagined possible, turning into something uncontrollable. The sufferers started off with small cases of influenza, but then suddenly, without warning, they would heat up to such an antagonising state they would melt from the inside out. Bodies were dropping like the black rain that fell from the darkened skies. And all the Galran’s could do was watch in horror and fear.

The remaining world leaders had spoken with the king and sent out a decree for a planet-wide evacuation. Masses of the remaining population were sent into ships and space vehicles, forced to other worlds as a haven. The rule was simple, if you showed any signs of illness, you’d be shipped right back to die. It was cruel, but essential. It was for the growth and preservation of a new Galra, a new humanity.

But the monstrous space beast had learned, the clouds thickened, lightning roared and rain fell harder. It was impossible for the Galran’s to retreat from their primitive planet to the stellar age of space. They were stuck, stranded on a dying planet they once called home.

No longer a haven. Yorak looked forward to being frozen.

 

Prince Yorak watched in awe as the place he once called home drifted from his view. Daibazaal, the large planet that held all of their God’s creations within itself was disappearing, getting smaller and smaller, leaving only darkness in its wake.

A prince leaving the place he called his home, leaving his family, his friends, his very culture, all so he could survive and continue on the Galran line. His gaze turned from the porthole window of the large bunker ship he was sitting in. Small lights were inlaid into the wall, creating an eerie dimness, showing some of the passengers and hiding many others. Everyone here was a palace worker or an important dignitary, but right now, they were all one in the same.

The metal seats were freezing and hard, the straps across his chest holding him into place were too tight and cutting into his skin. But Yorak wasn't afraid…he was ready to embark on this adventure, however scary it may be. He had dreamed of this ever since he had been a little cub. And he couldn't wait to go out there and see the universe. Protect it from the same fate that had fallen on his home planet.

He was going to make his mother proud and be the beacon of light, the Saviour, he was going to be the alpha Galran like his father had wanted him to be. He was going to go out into the new world and show that he was worthy, that he was not just some mere prince, but a Galran of standing, someone to be revered, to be followed. He was going to go out there and learn the cultures of the planets, he was going to befriend the locals and he was going to start a coalition to save his planet, and his people.

He looked around the bunker ship. There were hundreds of young Galran’s seated to the metal, strapped in just as tightly as he was. They were some of the last of their kind, the chosen few out to find a new place to call home. There was no turning back now. The scent of polished metal was revoltingly new to Yorak, the iron like smell made his stomach turn. Other than the sound of the ship and the laboured breathing of those who were afraid, there was no sound. No one spoke. Only one thought running through their minds.

They would never see their home again.

Space…was a silent place indeed.

Memories of his parents erupted in his mind. His mother, the Queen who used to care for him, his father who used to tell him stories when he was afraid. He had left them behind. Would they remember him when he finally returned to a new age? Would they have survived so long?

Yorak felt the young girl sitting next to him shiver. He remembered her as one of the students in his sisters classes. Axca was always such a beautiful and lovely teacher to the young cubs. She had come to the sickness so quickly, trying to save her children, no one had seen it coming.

Yorak's heart ached at the memory of his lovely sister, of just how much she would tease him for his smaller stature, his native ways, his fighting skills. She was the sibling he would miss the most.

Looking down at the little cub, he noticed she reminded him of his sister. He suddenly felt a duty to take care of her. She was still shivering fiercely in her seat. Was she scared? Yorak wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer, hoping to give her some hapless solace. Poor thing looked only to be around six years old, having to go through such an ordeal at such a young age. Looking around, Yorak noticed that most of the people that inhabited the bunker were young children. The young were the slowest to get sick, the last to die when the disease hit.

“I'm scared, your majesty,” She muttered, burying herself into Yorak’s arm.

“Everything will be okay,” Yorak leaned his cheek into the young girl’s hair, patting her soothingly on her back, the same way Axca would do for him whenever father went away for his expeditions. Could Yorak really believe such a thing he was telling her? Would everything be okay? There was no telling what the other planets would be like. He didn’t have any information on other worlders other than the stories his mother used to tell him and the books he read through. But he knew how to keep a child from worry. “Tell me your name?”

“Lucinda, my prince,” She muttered, grasping onto Yorak’s arm as if he were her only sanctuary. “Please, don't leave me like mama and papa did.”

Yorak’s heart broke. She thought her parents had abandoned her. In some way, they had. He tightened his grip on the young girl and shook his head, whispering into her hair. “I’ll protect you. I won't let anything happen to you.”

A screeching siren erupted through the room followed by flashing red lights. Yorak’s attention turned to the metal frame at the far end of the bunker. He held his hands to his ears, wanting to block out the cries of the siren. Most of the passengers' attentions turned to the doorway, fear and confusion gripping them. What was going to happen?

A sentry stepped through the door, dressed completely in new age black armour, holding a large gun to his side. His armour spanned over his body, clipping at the elbows and knees and layering at the neck, hard enough to withstand an explosion, but flexible enough for ease in movement. His face was covered by a black helmet like mask; the glass of his helmet was tinted black. He held his gun in front of him and Yorak’s heart stopped.

The sentry was pointing the gun at him.

Yorak’s throat dried up, tears stinging his eyes. What was going on?

“Your majesty, please bring the child and follow me,” His voice was gruff and full of authority. Yorak turned to look at the young girl sitting next to him. She was shivering a lot more now, beads of sweat trickling from her brow as she buried herself deeper into her chair.

The heat of the sentry’s gun was pointed at the little girl, but Yorak didn't allow it, instead he held his arm in front of the girl, making the sentry point the gun at him again. “Leave her alone.”

“She is infected.” He stated.

With those words, the bunker erupted into chaos, loud screams and gasps echoed against the metal. The once suave dictators and presidents, mayors and royals were whining like little children, trying to claw away from the young girl, the tightness of the straps cutting into them, preventing them from moving much.

“She’s afraid,” Yorak reasoned. They couldn't blame an illness on a fearing child.

The sentry didn’t listen however. He took hold of the young girls arm and unstrapped her from the belts. Yorak yanked at his own straps, wanting to help the young child. He promised he would protect her! A second sentry came from the doorway, looking exactly like the sentry before them. He grasped tightly at Yorak’s hand and unstrapped the prince from his seat. Yorak held back a wince as the sentry yanked him up from his seat and took him and the young girl through the sealed doorways.

This room they entered was a technological geeks dream. There were buttons and wires of all kinds and screens almost everywhere. There was a walkway leading from the doorway and around a large circular platform that stood in the very centre of the room. Six tall tubes rose from the ground and cut off at the middle, reaching up to the ceiling. Wires of all sizes protruded from the top and the bottom of the tube, lacing around like snakes under the metal walkway.

The man held the young shivering girl up and placed her inside a tube. The glass slid over and seamlessly fell into place with a quiet whoosh, locking the girl inside. Fear made Yorak feel sick. The man’s grasp on his arm tightened. He thumped his fists into the sentry’s arms, hoping to get away. Seeing that was futile, he reached for a knife he kept in his boot and slammed it right into the sentry’s chest. The sentry didn’t even flinch, just let out a few sparks from where he had been stabbed. The sentry wrapped a tight arm around Yorak’s waist and hoisted him up. Yorak struggled, thrashing his arms and legs, screaming at the sentry to stop as he put him into a large tube. The thick glass slid down, caging him in.

“I am your crown prince, I demand to be released!” Yorak pounded against the unbreakable glass, hoping desperately that there would be some sort of permeable nook, a crack, anything. But to no avail.

His heart sunk to his stomach, the palms of his hands raw red from beating onto the glass as he heard a clang and looked up to the sound. Some sort of smoke drifted in from one of the tubes coating Yorak’s skin with a glittery sheen. What was this? The glitter was absorbed into his skin almost immediately. The plumes of smoke appeared again and again until his body felt heavy. Beads of sweat moistened his skin. Yorak suddenly felt very lightheaded. What had they just given him?

He turned to the other tube in the room. Lucinda looked so frightened. He wanted desperately to help the young girl. But Yorak was getting so sleepy. He held his hand to the glass, watching as the young girl did the same. She had dropped down to the ground, unable to take the glittering medication.

“Don’t worry,” Yorak thought weakly to her. He hoped that Lucinda could hear him, but he didn’t get a reply. His own eyes were half lidded and he could barely see. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

His eyes closed and all he could see was darkness.

 

 

The incessant sound of a distant beeping roused Yorak from his less than peaceful slumber. There was a slight strain on his neck from the cylindrical thick glass that was his prison. Yorak sighed, groggily opening his eyes and soon wishing that he hadn’t.

What…the…?

The entire room was blinding white, making Yorak squint at the brightness. The walls were metallic white and close to his prison. He sat up; wanting to stretch out, but there was only so much that he could stretch, only so far that he could go.

Where am I?

The container was different than the one before. It wasn’t complete glass; the bottom was bordered with white metal with holes for pipes and wires. Before him was a large window where more guards and scientist sat peering at their computers and other gadgetry. They had moved him.

“What is going on?” Yorak pounded his fists against the glass, hoping to gain their attention. They didn’t look Galran, their skin was a pale stony brown in colour, eyes beaded and yellow, similar to his own. They were all bulky, with large arms and thick trunk like legs. Yorak had remembered seeing pictures of their kind from the libraries in Daibazaal; they were Balmerans!

Stupid Balmerans it seemed. They wouldn’t have put Yorak in a glass container if they knew just what he was capable of.

But the Balmerans paid no heed to him; instead, they stood up to greet an old man who walked into the room from the back. Yorak pressed his hands on the glass not able to hear them clearly. It was as if he was underwater, the voices were there, just…not clear. That glittery powder must have done something to him. The man seemed to be yelling at them, something Yorak couldn’t fully fathom, all he was getting was snippets, but the man was pointing in his direction. Yorak sighed, sitting back down, wishing he could stretch his legs.

How long had he been out for? He didn’t know.

The wall slid open and a large and hulking Balmeran wearing a glass mask walked over to him.

“Where am I?” Yorak asked him. The bulky and stone coloured man gazed up at him, hearing his question and walked over to the tube. Yorak’s mind was suddenly filled with his thoughts. Of animalistic creation, a giant whale like creature that was humongous in size, larger than the planet he had called his home. A monster that swam through space without the need of a ship, and how it travelled through the expanse of thee universe, destroying everything with its gaping maw like they had destroyed Daibazaal.

Yorak sucked in a breath when his thoughts returned to him. The Balmeran had let him see what the future would hold. His final thought thrummed into Yorak’s mind. “Please…help us.”

The Balmeran pressed his gloved finger against the glass and Yorak could see a small screen pop up on it. There was a picture of him followed by inverted writing and numbers, there was a red pulsing figure spinning in a circle next to the writing. Were these his statistics? The Balmeran nodded to him, but his eyes peered back to the people standing, watching. He needed Yorak to play along; they didn’t know his powers and his potentials.

“Galran, you are a prisoner here.” He continued to project his thoughts to Yorak’s mind. “There’s something about you we don’t understand,”

Yorak’s eyes widened. They were going to experiment on him?

“Have you always been this warm?” The Balmeran asked, flicking his fingers on the glass and turning the screen around to show Yorak the internal temperature.

“Is that bad?”

The Balmeran relocated the screen back. “With the outbreak and annihilation of Daibazaal Prime, we cannot risk the epidemic getting out,” I will do all I can to make sure you are safe, dear prince.

Yorak's heart stopped, as did everything else around him. No, this couldn't be true. This...this couldn't be true! “An-annihilation? Daibazaal…has been annihilated?”

The Balmeran nodded. “I’m afraid so.”

“What about Lucinda?” Yorak asked, his thoughts returning to the little girl. His brain felt fuzzy, how long had he been cooped up in this place for?

The Balmeran looked away. “You’ve been asleep for two thousand years.”  He didn’t say anything else, leaving Yorak alone with a shiver of disdain. Two thousand years? It had been two thousand years?

Was Lucinda alright? Was she infected? Were his parents okay? Had they escaped? Had Daibazaal really been...annihilated? Was there really no place Yorak could call his home anymore? Was he even a prince any more?

Lost in his thoughts, he didn't notice the door to the room sliding open and two white suited Balmeran guards walked through the doorway. They stood in front of the Balmeran and he was forced to return to his post.

“What the hell is going on?” Yorak yelled, grief stricken. Yet his current priority was to get out of this prison.

The old willowy off-world alien stood before him. He wasn’t Balmeran, but Yorak couldn’t place where he had seen this man from. He was obviously the captain of the vessel with the way he was yelling at the scientists before. His face covered by a mask with a glass visor. Yorak was usually good at reading people’s body expressions. But this man was abnormally still, not…right. The visor covered the top half of his face, but his mouth, there were large black slits from the edges of his lips that ran to the centre of his cheeks.

“We cannot risk our ship or our planet with your kind, Galran,” His voice was somewhat distorted, but the way he said that made Yorak feel even worse than he already was.

“What have you done with Lucinda?” Yorak asked. If this man was the head honcho of the space ship, he’d know where she was. At least Yorak could save her! She may be the last Galran left.

The man let out a ‘tut’, shaking his head. “She was infected, so we sent her back.”

“What?” Yorak was astounded. Sure it had been two thousand years since he last saw the girl. But, that couldn’t be possible. Lucinda hadn’t even felt warm, she was just a scared girl who had lost her parents...and who was sent back alone to a dying planet to be killed by the destructive weather. She was so young. She couldn’t possibly look after herself while she was ill.

Yorak thudded his fists at the glass tube in anger. “She was a child! How could you send her back to that?”

“It happened such a long time ago, she’s most likely dead,” The man narrowed his gaze at Yorak. “You should be more worried of yourself,”

Yorak paused at that. “Am I…infected?”

The man motioned for the two guards. “You, my prince, are different. Something I can’t have frolicking about in New Haven.” He leaned closer to Yorak, reaching his gloved hand to the glass and a sadistic smirk rose to his face. “Dispose of him,”

He rapped his knuckles against the glass and turned, swiftly making his way out of the he room. The others followed quickly behind. White smoke came in plumes from the wires around the tube coating around Yorak and making him feel sleepy once again. His eyes barely open, he felt the ground below him started to shake violently. The white floor split in six sections from underneath him, showing the inky darkness of deep space.

His tired gaze lifted up to the man, who was waving goodbye to him from behind the thick glass. Yorak held his breath as he was sucked out into space.

Chapter Text

How dare they?

Yorak’s eyes turned heated as he watched as the man he loved was being taken away from him. He kicked and bit and screamed at the men holding him back as he watched his love, his very heart, being forced into the large glass coffin by two large cloaked men. He squirmed and wriggled his way out, struggling to get free, but one of the men’s fists landed on his chest, knocking the wind right out of him.

“No!” He cried, watching with agony as the transparent doors closed over his beautiful lovers’ body as he struggled against the men, tears streaming down his eyes as he tried to reach for him. “Please, no!” Yorak tried with all of his might to get away from the men holding him, snarling and scratching through flesh and bone, blood splattering and dripping all over his body as he tried to escape. He had to get to him! Three more men jumped onto his back, dragging him down as he tried, tried, and tried to get closer.

He had to get to his love. He had to protect him!

But the men’s grips only tightened, their nails digging into his skin, creating welts of blood that streamed down his body.

“Lance!” he roared, growling through his sharp fangs. He watched as his lover thudded his pale fists against the glass, but it didn’t crack or break. Lance’s eyes were brimming with tears, tracking down his pale skin. With a roar, he broke through the five that held him back and cut his way through to the coffin, but before he could get there, more men emerged, piling over him.

He tried as hard as he could to reach for the coffin, placing his hands against the glass wall. But that wall became a barrier, an obstruction that had been made impossible to overcome.

“Keith!” Lance mouthed to him, but his voice was muffled. He looked so scared, Yorak wanted this to end, wanted the glass to disappear, he wanted to hide in Lance’s arms, those arms that had protected him, made him feel safe and secure. Made him feel loved.

Devastation gripped him as reality sunk deep in his heart. He was going to lose him, after everything they had done, everything they had been through. He was going to lose his love. In anger, he clenched his fists and began to beat against that glass wall, that obstruction. He had to save Lance. His love was in terrible danger. Yorak couldn’t lose him, he wouldn’t…Lance was best friend, his love…his mate…Lance was the very air he breathed…

He felt bodies and arms pull him back, away from Lance. Elbowing at them, he broke free from there grasps and rushed back to his love, watching as the black smoke escaped the vents in the coffin and Lance’s eyes closing. Beating against that glass lid, his futile attempt, his desire to protect his mate grew like never before. His desire blocked all the pain foreseen, his desire blinded him from the dangers around him, his desire numbed his breaking heart…

I can’t lose you…

“Lance!” He screamed. “Lance! No! Please, no- Lance!

Pulled back by an unseen force, he was slammed into the wall next to his beloved, a cloaked figure stood above him, holding a sword in his hand. He sliced into Yorak’s chest, laying open a gaping wound. Yorak growled, moaning in pain as the man reached into his chest, pressing his fingers through the blood and flesh and placing a small silver ball into the open cavity.  The pain should have destroyed him, but Yorak didn’t feel anything…not anymore.

His mate was there, just a few feet away, charmed into a deep sleep by the same gas that had brought him here. He looked so peaceful, surrounded with beautiful flowers, juniberry blossoms – Lance’s favourite – and dark red roses. Yorak could hear his heartbeat, the thud, thud, thud was soothing. It lulled him to his death.

He had failed…

 

 

Lance’s dark blue eyes flew open, a light sheen of sweat taking over his caramel skin as he untangled himself from his sheets. He had to get up, he had to get away. He kicked the sheets from his bare legs and stood up suddenly. Looking around, he growled, holding his hands up in fists, ready to fight the men that were around him.

“You’re not getting Keith!”

Wait…

There was nothing there.

Wait...who was Keith?

Oh god, it was that dream again. But this time…it had felt so real. Knowing that he wouldn’t be getting back to sleep, Lance shrugged the sleep from his body and made his way out of his room and into the darkness of his house. His gaze roved over the empty balcony hallway, the top floor was completely empty. But that wasn’t a surprise to him, it was so early in the morning, everyone was asleep right now. A quick look at the clock in the far corner told him that it was almost sunrise.

Something inside him told him to go outside. His bare feet thudded against the wooden floor as he walked over to the large staircase, his long fingers wrapped lightly around the banister as he made his way to the bottom floor. Go. He needed to go.

Letting out a breath, he dashed to the back door and pulled it open. Stepping out onto the lanai, he smiled at the ocean a few feet away from him. The sand was cool under his bare feet; the salty sweetness of the morning breeze was refreshing. It was such a wondrous sight to watch the sun rise from its sleepy horizon. The darkness clawing at the luminescence, fading as it was taken over by the sun in a wondrous display of soft reds and oranges illuminated the once black skies.

Cooling warmth radiated his skin as he stepped out to the wetter sand by the shore. The nightly breeze had lifted, fluttering his shirt and pyjamas. Only the warmth of the sun remained. Such blessed relief from the protesting night, tearing its way to its sleep. Lance gazed at the cloudless skies, watching the stars winking out and disappearing behind the immense radiance of the sun.

Wait…

He spied something in the skies, something that looked like a shooting star barrelling across the stretch of the morning, coming straight for him. This shouldn’t be possible. The star fell into the sea with a devastating splash, making wave upon wave ripple out at the disturbance. Something deep inside Lance told him he needed to get out there. He needed to find that star. So he took in a deep breath, taking in the sunlight and made his way into the cold, freezing water. He had been swimming in this ocean his whole life; the cold water didn’t bother him anymore. He dunked his head into the water and back out.

The familiar tingling sensation stung like pin pricks against his skin as he swam out and out and out. The waves crashing against his body, pushing him back. He barely registered his thoughts as he got closer and closer to the star. It looked metallic, and it shone in the rising sunlight.

Almost there.

Lungs straining, arms aching, and body tiring, he finally made his way to the star, and saw it wasn’t a star at all. But for some reason, he recognised it. It was cylindrical in shape, with a fogged out and cracked glass taking over the very top half, and white metal scratched and scuffed, there was a massive dent near the bottom, and Lance knew that whatever was inside was definitely damaged along with it.

His heart thudded madly as he floated in the water. He had to get this thing out of there. He knew it was going to be near impossible to try and open the star in the torrential ocean. But he could drag the entire star back to shore, it looked buoyed and light. He tried to find purchase against the metal.

Taking a hold of a piece protruding out of the damaged part of the star, Lance kicked his feet against the harsh waters, making his way back to the shore. He didn’t know just what was happening, but he just had to get this star to safety. With one last harsh kick, he finally reached the shore, tugging and dragging the heavy metal star onto the sand. When it was safely away from the sea lapping at the sand, he fell back onto the heated sand, chest heaving and breath heavy.

Ay dios mio,” He gasped, trying to regulate his breathing. He got up and looked at the metallic star, smirking when he saw just what he had found. “You better be worth it,”

He got onto his knees, and took a look at the star. It was longer than he was tall, and it was deeper than he was wide. In a perfect cylindrical shape. The glass, he had noticed, wasn’t fogged up, but scratched and dented beyond belief. He spotted a few larger scratched against the smaller ones, and they looked to be like nail marks clawed against the glass. Lance tried to open it, pressing his hand to the cold glass, trying to find something, anything, but the cracks and scratches only nicked at his skin. The damaged part at the bottom seemed to have a bit more success. He tugged at the panel, and found that it budged a little. Sitting back on his ass, he took hold of the part that was protruding out, placed his feet on either side of it, and tugged it. Shaking it from side to side, he smirked as it gave way.

Yes!

The metal panel came away in his hands, and he smirked. Dropping the metal onto the sand, he got back on his knees and took a look at what was inside. The hole he had created wasn’t too large, but he could easily see a few wires and what looked like a grid like motherboard settled inside. It looked destroyed.

Hmm…he had to think about this.

Looking back to his house, he saw that the lights were still off and it was still very silent. Everyone was still asleep, and for a scant moment Lance was scared. What if whatever was inside was frightening, or scary. He had to find out. His heart thudded in his chest as he reached into the hole he had created. Though he was frightened beyond belief, his heart ached at finding out what was inside. He had to get it out; he had to get him out!

He paused. Wait…him?

He didn’t understand why, but he knew there was definitely someone in there. Someone he seemed to…know?

“What the hell, Lance,” he sighed, placing his palms against the metal. It was heated from the sun, warm to the touch. “You’re losing your mind,”

He pushed at the metal, moving things this way and that, and grinned when it gave way. He didn’t know what he was doing, but it was like he knew. Like he had done this before. Whatever it was, he was glad for it, because there was a thick and wet thudding sound that came from inside and suddenly the glass partitioning at the top of the cylindrical tube hissed as it latched open.

Crawling up to the top of the star, he placed his fingers on the opened part of the glass, shuddering when his fingers almost froze over at the cold air billowing from inside. Curiosity getting the better of him, he yanked at the glass and, with a heave, he forced it to open. After a few moments of tugging, it seemed to give way and slid up almost easily.

In the suddenness, Lance lost his balance and found himself falling face first into whatever was inside. He landed on something firm and cold, the scent was heady against his nose, almost flowery in a weird way. He didn’t know what the scent was, just that it was…good. He sighed in bliss, and lifted his head up to see just where the scent was coming from. He gasped when he saw the purple and blue, purple skin, and blue clothes.

There was a body in here.

An alien!

Chapter Text

An alien?

Ay dios mio.

There was an actual, real life alien sitting inside that weird pod like star thing Lance had found, and Lance was over the moon about it. If he were to be honest, he had never really thought extra-terrestrial life forms were an actual thing. And he had never thought they’d look the way this alien looked. Though he had hoped and dreamed that he would meet someone from another planet, hell another galaxy if he were lucky enough to get that far, to learn about their ways, their culture, and see just how his own species were different, and how they were the same. It was why he was an upstanding student at the Galaxy Garrison, with the dream and the vision to become an aeronautical pilot.

But to actually have an alien in his own back yard? Yeah, this was what dreams were made of.

He got up on his knees, hands out in front of him to steady himself from his fall. He could still smell the godly yet, oddly iridescent scent of flowers and something so…other…in his nose from when he pretty much did a nose dive into the aliens’ chest, and he could still feel the very cold feel of that firm skin, of that clothed body, against his fingertips.

Looking down, Lance had initially expected the alien to look…well…alien. But it, he, looked almost immediately humanoid. And really pretty. Though there was definitely a massive alarm bell around him that just screamed ‘not of this world’ in massive letters. For one, he had purple skin, the kind of purple that Lance would see on sweet and juicy plums, or eggplants – yeah, let’s not go into the eggplant category just yet Lance, focus on his skin first – he looked smooth as well, like shiny in a way. Though his skin was cool, almost freezing to the touch, probably from being stuck in here for however long he had been.

The alien’s mouth was slightly open, lips like a sinfully red pout – and yeah, so the eggplant skin was getting into Lance’s head and turning his thoughts into really bad, sinful and just awful to think about in public intrusions and daydreams. It took Lance a moment to step away from thinking he was one of those sci-fi steamy romance novel protagonists.

What, his sister Allura hoarded them, and having once teased her about it, he had taken her favourite book – the one with the most creases in it – and had the urge to read through it. Turns out he was a lot more interested in the story than he had first thought he would be. The sexy and steamy scenes had gotten more and more intriguing as the stories – yeah, he “borrowed” more novels from his sister – continued, and…maybe Lance now had a bit of a kink in that area. Not that he had ever thought something like that would happen.

Well…not anymore.

Lance spotted two small rings at the corners of his mouth, like little pinkish red dots on either side of his mouth, looking like some odd kind of piercing or something. But it didn’t seem to be any kind of piercing that Lance had ever seen – then again, alien.

Shrugging his shoulders, Lance continued his investigation of the pretty alien.

The alien’s nose was thin and small, almost normal looking in a way.  In fact, everything about this alien was surprisingly more human than Lance had initially thought it would be. Though his face was a little more angular, chin sharp in a way, he resembled closely to Lance in his features.

His ears however, were…well, they were a cross from a bat and a cat, and they were fluffy and furry and large at the top corners of his head, flopping back in his rest, his eyes were large, though closed, so he couldn’t really tell just what colour they were, but he expected them to be just as alien as the rest of him. He was large too, strong and wide, yet his waist was small and lithe, Lance was sure if he ever had the chance, he could span his entire hand around the majority of that waist. And wasn’t that a pleasant, yet unneeded, thought interrupting his brain right now.

He had a mullet…yeah, there was no denying that. It looked like it had been in a tail or a braid or something, but it was definitely frazzled and resembled a mullet right now. But it looked soft and silky, and Lance had the need to touch it, to touch his ears, hell to touch all of him.

What if he was dead?

He had armour plates on his chest, with a weird pinkish purple insignia, and a blackish red cape wrapped over his body, swirling around his legs. Though his clothes were a deep blue hue, almost black, with ringlets and small patches of colour on his thick and broad chest – which probably meant something – everything was definitely scratched and dented beyond belief. It led Lance to think that this alien had been through a lot before he even got into the pod.

And wasn’t that a sad thought. No one this pretty should have to go through hell.

Lance peered down to see the rest of him, and his gaze rested on the aliens legs hidden behind the thick metal that took over the bottom of the star pod. Oh shit. There was definitely something going on there. The dent that Lance had initially been trying to pry open, the one that had helped him open this alien to the world.

Oh crap. Oxygen! What if by opening this star it had caused the alien to suffocate or something? Maybe the cold air had been his source of air, and Lance had just up and…and…killed him? In shock, Lance leaned down and pressed his ear to the alien’s chest plate, hoping and wishing he could hear through the cold metal.

He waited, holding his own breath, but he was certain his face rose a little alongside the chest. Just a scant bit and it was slow and steady, not rapid like his own breathing. But it was something, and something was better than nothing.

With a sigh, he leaned back onto his knees. At least the alien was safe.

But that dented part of the star. That was really starting to worry Lance. He peered in again, pressing his head back against the alien’s chest. He was sure this alien wasn’t about to get up any time soon. Well, okay so he was hoping. But then again, if this alien had been in such cold conditions, it must take him a while to wake up and get used to Cuban heat. Right?

Okay, yeah. Right. Sure that was what he was going to go with.

Then again, what the hell was he to know about alien biology? That was more of a Hunk thing.

This made him pause. He could tell Hunk; maybe even Pidge could help him. But he wasn’t sure if he could tell anyone else. What if they took the alien and started experimenting on him? What if they cut him open and did autopsies or biopsies or whatever else to him. And it’d all be Lance fault.

No…for now at least, or at least until Lance saw that this alien was not a threat – and even if he was, Lance wasn’t sure if he could just…tame the beast…or whatever other romance novel or movie told him he could do if he just stayed the course and persevered (he blamed his siblings, especially Allura, for forcing him into watching all these stupid romance movies all the time, so much so that they invaded his actual thoughts).

This was real life after all, not some movie or book.

Yeah, okay. So maybe he was just going to have a peek under the star, yeah. That was it. Nothing else, just a quick in and out, and hopefully the pretty alien didn’t just rise up from the dead and slice his chest open with those maldito fangs and claws!

Looking into the darkness lit up by the sun shine streaming in, he saw the dent was indeed much more damaging on the inside than it looked on the outside, and there was definitely a thick piece of something metal digging into the alien’s left leg. Hell, it looked like it had gone straight through.

Oh shit.

This was not good. Now Lance wouldn’t be able to get the alien out of the star as easily as he had wanted to. He’d have to think about this logically. He had to think about this carefully. After all, though the alien was unconscious now, Lance wasn’t sure he wanted to see him when he was up and screaming in pain because of an injured – or worse severed – leg.

“Stay right here,” Lance spoke to the alien, though he knew he wouldn’t reply. “I’m just going to…get some help,”

Shit…he was going to have to call on Allura.

Chapter Text

He had to find something.

He had to find something sharp, and precise, and small but long enough to get into that small crevice he had jimmied open so he could cut the piece of metal that was digging into the aliens leg. Oh god, his stomach was starting to clench with excitement. There was an alien outside!

Wait…he snuffled at the air around him, noticing the usual sandy and salty moist scent that he was used to. There was a definite flowery scent that was taking over his nose alongside it. Like some kind of weird…flowery scent…okay, so he definitely wasn’t thinking properly. His thoughts were taken over by the fact that there is an alien outside, Lance!

An alien he needed to get out, hopefully unharmed.

Oh god, he needed to get Allura in on this as well, didn’t he? She’d know how to look after him, especially if everything went wrong. She was a doctor after all. Well, okay, so maybe she won’t know how to take care of an alien, but he looked so humanoid, even with the whole purple skin.

Oh god, what the hell was he even saying? The alien must have done something to his brain, that had to be the answer, after all, Lance wasn’t usually so scatter brained. Sure, he wasn’t concise, but it wasn’t ever this bad. Maybe it was that pretty scent that was still on his nose even though he was away from the alien. Maybe it was like pheromones or some kind of air solvent, poison? Something?

You've been watching too many movies, Lance. But then again, there was an alien outside!

He stepped into the house and bee lined for the kitchen. He needed to get a knife or something. His papi didn’t have a saw, but he did have a chainsaw, but that was just too big, and too loud to be helpful, and Lance wasn’t really good at using it anyway. He might cut clean through the metal and the aliens limbs.

Yeah, so that was the chainsaw out.

He could somehow use the knife, or maybe he’d find something else to help him. He knew he was going to have to get Allura’s help. He couldn’t ask Veronica and his other siblings were too young to understand. Veronica was too much of a goodie goodie, she’d probably see the alien and force him to take it to the officials or the police or something. And Lance really didn’t want to do that.

Allura was the only person who seemed like the best bet. After all, she was the one who had all those books about alien's and romance and all that stuff that was not one of Lance’s kinks, thank you very much. She might know something about aliens, maybe?

Knife in hand, he made his way up the stairs and to the bedroom floor. He had to be quiet, having memorised all of the spots where the floor creaked, he stood in front of his eldest sisters’ room. He knocked on the door twice, before knocking one last time. Pressing his face to the wood he heard Allura shuffling around inside, followed by a tired ‘come in’.

With a swift move that surprised even himself, Lance pushed the door open and stepped into the dark room. He saw Allura sitting up on her bed, her hair in a messy bun around her face, and her eyes barely open. They were red, he noticed, and dark in the corners.

Had she…had she been crying?

He made his way to Allura’s side, sitting on the bed next to her. “Everything okay?”

Allura gave him a pointed look. “You woke me up at –” she peered at the clock on her desk. “—four forty three to ask me if everything is okay? Why are you wet? You know mama told you not to go into the water so early in the morning, the shark patrol hasn’t gone through here yet,”

Lance shrugged. He took a second to peer out of her window, knowing the alien was out there. But he needed to be here for his sister right now. Maybe telling her about the alien would move her focus from whatever had happened to her? But he had to find out what happened to her first.

He placed a hand on her own, looking into her eyes and gave her a small smile. “Tell me, and I’ll tell you,”

Allura sighed, tugging the covers over her body. She ran her fingers through her hair, fixing them into a neater bun. “Lotor broke up with me,” she muttered, her gaze darting to her phone sitting on the side table. “Over a text,”

“That asshole,” Lance gasped, reaching for her phone. There were no secrets between him and his sister, Allura was the only one in his entire family who really understood him better than he had ever thought a person could. She was like his twin in a sense, and he loved her so much because of it. He loved all of his family with all of his heart, but Allura had a little bit of a softer spot with him.

He swiped through her phone until he saw the texts she had been talking about. He never really liked Lotor, but Allura seemed to have seen something in him, and hell, he had been happy because she had been happy. But who the fuck breaks up with someone over a text?

“Good riddance,” He stated, placing the phone back onto the table and turning back to her. He reached for her, cradling her face in his hands. He swiped his thumbs under her red rimmed eyes and smiled. “You deserve someone better, someone who loves you for everything you are, someone who treats you like the princess you are. You can do so much better,”

Allura smiled, her lips stretching wide. “Thanks Lance,” she leaned away from his hold and wiped away at the fresh tears that tracked down her cheeks. “So tell me, what brings you up here at four in the morning with a –Lance is that mama’s chef knife?”

Lance looked sheepish as he hid the knife to his back; he instead took hold of Allura’s hand and got up, dragging her out of the bed. She followed, stumbling onto her feet, tangled in her sheets. She growled and gasped at Lance’s name, telling him to stop. But Lance was just so excited to show her what he had seen.

“There’s an alien in the lanai!”

Allura halted at they got to her doorway. “What the hell Lance, this better not be one of your pranks,”

“I promise it’s not,” he took hold of her arm, tugging her out of her room and down the stairs. He took one look at the rest of his house, seeing that everyone was still sleeping, thankfully. He didn’t let his sister put on her shoes as he dragged her down the stairs, through the kitchen and out of the house. They both dropped down onto the warm sand and that was when Allura saw the metal star.

“Lance.” She stopped, pointing at the star. “Who is that?”

Interest piqued, he turned to the metal star and saw the alien sitting up in the chamber, his hands grasping at either side of the glass partitioning and pushing backwards, blood seeping down in thin rivers from the clawed fingers and onto the warm sand. He was grunting and growling and yelling in a language Lance had never heard before, but it sounded almost familiar in a way, like the way all languages sounded like something he may have heard before. The alien’s ears were pinned back, purple skin glistening with sweat from the heat most likely, hair damp and reddened, and his body taut and tight.

He opened his mouth as he pushed back with his hands, sharp fangs glinting menacingly in the sunlight, his other hand reaching down and grasping at something underneath the metal part of the star. There were thick almost black tears streaming down the alien’s cheeks as he spoke in that weird language – that oddly sounded almost Korean in a way, or at least a mixture of it and some kind of guttural Russian or something – he was hissing and yowling like a cat as he grasped at his leg.

And that was when Lance heard the high pitched screeching, followed by the sight of those claws slicked with a thick purplish red. The scent was wicked, but heavy with the flowers, and Lance wanted to go closer to him. It made his heart clench. That sound of his screaming made Lance’s stomach knot achingly tight.

Surely the alien wasn’t going to – before he could think it, the alien raised his sharp claws up into the air and sliced right down into the metal partitioning where his legs were. He cried out in a howl of pain; a sound that made Lance’s stomach turn, but he sucked in a deep breath and raised his claws high up into the air again, slicing it down against the spot again.

“No! Don’t do it!” Lance yelled. He took quick strides towards the alien, dropping down onto his knees. The alien looked up at him, blood tracking down in his tears, mouth warbling words that Lance didn’t understand. The alien held a bloodied claw up to Lance, in a bout to protect himself.

Lance had wished he had gotten there earlier – oh god, he shouldn’t have left! – But it was too late.

There was so much blood, it made Lance’s stomach turn. He didn’t know what he could do, but he knew he had to help the alien, more so now than before. He called to Allura, having noticed her stop in front of the house, hands held to her mouth in a move to still her whimpers at the sight she had just seen. He needed her to get some towels, some gauze, painkillers, something to help him. He spoke softly and calmly to her, knowing that if he yelled, he was probably going to wake up the house, and scare the alien all the more than he already was.

But he needed to get the alien out of here. He needed to get him back into the house. He needed to see just what had happened. He needed to…--his stomach turned when his gaze drifted down to the metal slickened with blood and flesh that splattered almost maniacally in the small partitioning, the leg just laying there. Fuck, he needed to do something!

Because the alien had just hacked away at his leg!

Chapter Text

It was hot, wherever he was.

Swelteringly so.

And Yorak just knew this was all wrong. He wasn’t supposed to be awake, right? The last thing he remembered was that ugly smile stretching on that quiznaker’s face as he pressed the button that dropped Yorak into the spiralling abyss that was deep space.

Was this hell?

There was a heat inside him, a burning inferno that he knew would only be doused once he saw that quiznaker dead. He was going to do everything he could to avenge his planet and the little girl that yorva had so cruelly sent back.

But…where was he now?

His eyes felt heavy, like they were weighted by lead. He tried forcing them to open, but paused. It was bright on the other side of his eyes. He didn’t want to open them just in case he blinded himself. It looked to be some kind of natural light. Squeezing his eyes closed tighter, just because he could, he tried instead to take in what was around him.

It was hot, so much hotter than he was used to back home – or whatever he could now call home. He could feel the sweat beading on his skin, matting at his fur and making him itchy and uncomfortable – especially after being in such closed conditions for so long. There was a swooshing and crashing sound, like white noise or static all around him. It was rather soothing, listening to the sound, but it was interrupted by a distant screech like cawing, which was loud and grating on his ears. He could also hear a low drone coming from somewhere even further away than the cawing, just a few long and continuous drones before it stopped completely.

So lost in the faraway sounds, he almost jumped when he heard something thud onto the ground, slow rhythmic pounding leading away, the sound was following by a creaking and a crack on something thudding against something.

It was much closer than the other sounds, as if it were right next to him. He had to open his eyes; he had to find out what was happening.

It took him a few seconds to move, but he was slowly getting feeing back into his limbs. It was a slow process, slower than he would have liked. And it didn’t help that the heat was making him feel groggy.

Wait, it wasn’t just the heat that was making him feel like this. There was something that was fuzzy in his mind, like a foggy feeling where he was finding it difficult to think. It had started in the back of his head, but as he slowly came awake, he noticed it making itself known, until it was the only thing he could think of.

He should have stayed asleep.

The pain was a harsh, heavy, throbbing ache. He felt as if a pack of gleeha’s had slammed into his chest and a rabid gnatta was thumping its massive paws on his head.  It was quick to make him cry with the very pain of it. His voice was dry from misuse for however long he had been in this chamber, but he gasped in a wry breath.

He had to get up and investigate. The first thing he had to do was open his eyes, it was better to do it now than to waylay it for later. It took him a few seconds to steel himself, but he opened his eyes. Almost closing them immediately when he was bombarded with bright blue and red, he took in the brightness, his eyes watering with the strain of it. But he didn’t let them close. He needed to get out of here, and he needed to see to do that.

His body felt sluggish, and he wasn’t sure if that was because of the pain or the sleep. The ache was nowhere near manageable now; it pounded into his head and his body like a sickeningly harsh throb, pulsing like a heart beating. He could almost pinpoint exactly where it was coming from as he came to full consciousness.

Something was wrong with his leg.

His left leg to be exact. He needed to get up and see why it was hurting so much. Instinctively he knew what had happened. He knew there was only one real reason for this kind of intense pain.

Forcing his body to move, he knew he had to be quick. Certain that he could hear footsteps coming from somewhere in front of him; he knew that meant he only had a short amount of time to get up. Someone or something was coming, who knew what was here, whether they were friend or foe. He wasn’t sure.

But nothing good ever happened to him. Even when he was back home in the palace, he had to be given a bodyguard just to roam safely in his home. Though Shiro was much more than just a bodyguard, he was like a brother.

Yorak didn’t even know if Shiro was alive, had he even made it out of the planet? Or had he been annihilated alongside it. He should have been in the vessel Yorak had been in, but some quiznaking ass of a dignitary had paid his way into the vessel, leaving Yorak all alone.

If anything, that fuelled Yorak to get out of here. Whoever had found him hadn’t taken him to the authorities or the ruler. Maybe this planet was so advanced that a purple skinned prince of a destroyed planet was better left on this sandy, heated and dirt dune.

Yorak was intrigued; however, he had always wanted to learn about other cultures. To be here, in a culture and civilisation so different than his own, it was exciting.

The pain in his leg brought him crashing back to the present. He hissed, wanting to grab at his leg and shake it away. He didn’t even notice his claws had dug into his injured leg, the pain too excruciating to add onto. His back bowed in pain as he got up. Head woozy and swimming with vertigo, he grabbed tighter onto his leg, and the side of the chamber, not caring that his fingers were soaked with his own blood and groaned.

He didn’t want to look down.

Oh god, his eyes widened, glad he had somewhat gotten used to the bright light surrounding him. Once his eyes cleared from the blaring sun to show him why he was in so much pain, he sucked in the salty and humid air and growled low. It was oddly a sweet scent.

His leg. Oh, praise the angels…his leg. It just lay there. Not moving, even when he tried. Clenching his toes didn’t do anything and stretching his limb only caused him more pain. He forced himself to look again. There was a thin and long piece of the chamber buried straight into the calf of his leg. It was flat and long enough that Yorak could no longer feel his entire leg anymore. It was frozen cold to the touch, and pinching or poking a claw into it did nothing. He didn’t even bleed.

“The debris must have severed my leg straight through,” he murmured to himself, needing to speak it out loud in order to know that it was true. He could see it, the way it stabbed through his leg, going through nerves, flesh and bone.

It was a small miracle that he had been in cryo-sleep when it had happened.

Tears forming in the corners of his eyes, he forced himself to breathe. Think logically. Patience yields focus.

Breathing through the pain, he knew he wouldn’t be able to get anywhere with a non-responsive leg (he wasn’t ready to say dead, but what else could it be?) he knew what he had to do. He had to get rid of it. He didn’t want to get infected with whatever foreign entity that might be running rampant around him. He was grateful he had his oxygen enhancers. After his father had started focusing on aeronautical and space travel before the virus and the devouring monster had come and destroyed them all. His father had fitted all of the royals and soldiers with oxygen enhancers. Two little ringed balls on either side of their mouths that would pick up all the safe molecules in the air and transfer it to him as breathable air, so he could live without having those clunky breathers.

He was glad for it now, the air here was rich and fresh, and salty, but the enhancers were working, never to die. It was good, because he was hyperventilating.

Okay, he needed to fix this somehow. He reached for his back, knowing his mother knife was always there, but his back tinged with an excruciating pain that levelled him. Yorva! He tried his other arm, but it felt like a pack of gormels had say on his chest.

Quiznak, what was he going to do? He couldn’t see any other weapon around him. There was a shard of broken debris of the chamber on the weird coloured dirt next to him, but he couldn’t reach it.

His father had always told him, if something didn’t work, cut off its head. And right now, nothing was working. Taking that advice, he knew what he had to do. Extracting his claws, making them sharper, he growled at his leg.

“I do not want to do this,” he said to his limb, his voice hysterical in his pain. “Shiro is going to be so mad at me. But I can’t see any other way,” Low whimpers escaping his lips, he ground himself for what he was about to do. “Think about how disappointed father would have been if you died here because you were too much of a veelta to do something like this. Galran up, Yorak. Mother will be proud.”

With a screech, he raised his claw high over his head and swiped them down on to the flesh of his leg. It sunk in so easily, almost like a soft butter. The pain was white hot, the intensity making him delirious with the ache. He almost didn’t want to do it again, but he knew he had to.

“Cut off its head,” he yelled.

He didn’t hear the odd looking alien coming towards him, yelling something in a language he did not understand. But he took in the salty and refreshing scent of the alien as he dropped down in front of him, just as Yorak cut straight through his leg.

The pain was hard to take, but his fear of being caught took over. How dare they come to him when he was at his most vulnerable? He wasn’t going to give them the time of day. He held his bloodied claws out to the alien, hoping he looked threatening and not as haggard as he felt.

It seemed too work, because the oddly coloured alien looked scared, his cheeks turning a little green. If Yorak hadn’t been so distraught and in pain, he’d have found this weirdly shaped alien to be pretty. He had oddly shaped ears however, and there wasn’t any fur on him, just on his head and a small scruff on his chin and cheeks. How odd.

“Where am I?” he asked, lowering his tired arms, just a little, but not enough to show his exhaustion. He was pushing back the pain of having severed his leg, thanking that adrenaline was shocking him enough for him to manage the pain. But the draining of his blood on the chamber floor was making him sluggish.

The alien spoke in a calm voice, in that odd language, and it only fuelled Yorak’s notion of this planet being advanced enough that they didn’t think other of an alien in their midst. He wished he could speak to, or understand what this man was saying. He didn’t notice the similar coloured alien standing behind him, going into the tall homely looking building.

He was on high alert now, who was this man, and where had the female gone? Were they going to get the authorities? Were they going to lock him up now? Were they going to kill him?

The man moved then, causing Yorak to grunt at him. But the alien instead stripped off his shirt, folding the soft looking material in his hands. Yorak’s eyes widened. Was the alien propositioning him? Did he want to mate? Was this sandy dune with the oddly coloured water some kind of brothel?

The alien was slow and calming when he spoke, taking the scrunched and folded up shirt and pressing it gently onto Yorak’s severed leg. Yorak grimaced, but didn’t let the alien see his vulnerability.

Was…was this alien only trying to care for him? He looked at the alien’s moving mouth; his words were almost wilting in a way, a little sweet in the air as he spoke. Yorak wasn’t sure if he was enjoying the alien’s language or his deep voice.

The woman appeared again, holding a bundle of cloth in her arms. She made her way to them and hesitated before she dropped down onto her knees next to the male alien. Much like the male alien had done, she had folded up the thicker looking material and handed it to the man. He nodded to her, saying something, and then returned to the shirt he had pressed to Yorak’s leg. Yorak grimaced when he saw just how bloodied the once white material had turned. The alien was much gentler as he took the softer and thicker looking material and wrapped it around his leg. He was speaking to the woman as he did so.

The pain was still so harsh; Yorak hadn’t noticed he was gripping onto the chamber walls until his claws dug into the metal, the nail beds aching in his white knuckled grip. The alien’s hand was hot and heavy, a welcoming touch as he placed it soothingly on Yorak’s hand.

He was speaking again, repeating the same phrase again and again. The pain was too much, the heat was too much. He couldn’t do this anymore.

He fell back into a dead faint.

“My name is Lance,”

Chapter Text

Okay, Lance could do this.

He wrapped the alien’s stump for a leg with the towels Allura had given him. He really didn’t want to touch it, not that he was squeamish or disgusted by it – well, okay, maybe he was a little, but it wasn’t because it was an amputated leg. Well, okay so maybe it was because his leg was amputated.

But he was feeling odd because he had never seen a freshly amputated leg before, especially with all the blood and the amputated leg right there. It was surprisingly not as bloody as the movies showed – though Lance was more used to watching gaudy b-rated movies, where everything was always over the top and blood gushed out like an obscene fountain. There was definitely a steadily growing pool of blood under the severed leg, and many splatters all over the star, and the alien himself. He had fallen back when he fainted, but Lance had been quick to catch him in his arms. He knew he couldn’t just drag the alien across the sand and up into the house, the salty sand alone would hurt him all the more.

“Help me get him inside,” he said to his sister. He was surprise Allura was acting so shocked. Okay, so sure there was a pretty alien in what looked to be a single man spaceship, who had woken up, hacked his leg right off and then fell back unconscious, but she needed to keep up.

Maybe the adrenaline coursing through his own body was making him feel like this. Maybe it was the flowery scent that was so much stronger now that he was right next to the alien. Allura jolted when he called her name again, and she got right to work. She took a look at the towels and tightened them more professionally around the alien’s leg. She had brought a belt with her as well, and she tied that around the aliens’ thigh, it was a quick makeshift tourniquet.

“We need to keep it elevated,” Allura stated. She helped take the alien out of the metal “star” as Lance continued calling it. She took hold of the alien’s thigh, carefully draping it, and his other leg, over Lance’s outstretched arms. She sighed when she saw the way her brother was looking at the alien, his head tilted to gaze at the alien’s face that was resting on his chest.

They were quick to move back into the house, taking quick and silent steps up the lanai and into the kitchen. It was empty, but they could distinctly hear the sound of footsteps coming from upstairs. Someone was up. Lance froze in the hallway, hearing as the footsteps descended the stairs.

Allura was quick to move and pushed Lance into the storing cupboard along with the alien. It seemed they both agreed that harbouring a purple skinned, bleeding alien was not going to be the best for his mother.

“Papito, what are you doing up?” Lance heard his mother say before the door closed over his face, hiding him away.

He owed Allura a lot right now.

It was hard to stay quiet when he was stuck in such a small and enclosed space with a pretty alien who was bleeding out. Even in the darkness Lance could see his skin was pale – well, it looked paler than before – and he was shivering and shuddering like a leaf, his breaths were short and quick and scant and his skin had a thin sheen of sweat on it.

He was whimpering, weird words and phrases that Lance couldn’t make out, then again, he didn’t really know the language. He just wished he could help, or understand. There had to be something he could do. Maybe Pidge could help. She was usually quite good at things like this.

The alien clung onto him, claws digging into his skin, biting and grazing in a way that wouldn’t leave any real marks. It felt like when a cat pawed at you with their claws out. He left little white lines from where his claws had broken through the skin. It made him bite back a moan – and he wasn’t sure if the moan was one hundred percent only from the pain.

He stood there in silence, listening in as his sister spoke to their mother. He could feel his arms getting wet, seeping with the slick warm and heavy blood. That was surprising, the alien was so light however, almost surprisingly light. He was almost weightless. Lance felt like he was holding onto a small sack of sugar. Huh, that was something, considering this alien looked like he could beat him up pretty easily. And Lance was pretty buff himself.

He smiled at the sweet scent of flowers invading his nose and let out a low sigh, letting the scent overtake him and calm him down from the rush of the morning. This was…well, the scent was very soothing.

The alien in his arms jostled with pain, whimpering out loud, and sharp claws digging into Lance’s skin. Lance bit his lip to hold back the yell ready to escape him and moved the alien so he was quieter, his whimpers were muffled into the curve of Lance’s skin, and he wasn’t sure that was the brightest thing he had ever done.

Then again…alien mouth and digging his sharp teeth and fangs into Lance’s neck, breathe hot and heavy, moistening his skin, or his mother finding him hiding a boy from her. He’d take death by being bitten, thanks.

The gnawing was a little achy at first, but it was slowly getting quite pleasant. So much so that Lance leaned back into the coats, raising the alien’s leg higher on his arms and letting the morning just go. He didn’t know how long he had been standing there for, but it must have been a while before Allura opened the closet door and motioned for him to come out. He stepped out of the small space, and for some reason he was feeling very sleepy, it was strange.

“What is…oh my god,” Allura held a hand to her mouth, her other hand taking Lance’s arm and dragging him through the house and up the stairs. She pushed him into the bedroom and closed the door quietly behind them. She was careful to place Lance, who looked to be in a trance or something. He sat on his bed, the covers a mess from when he had thrown them over him after his nightmare. He spied the mirror opposite him and understood just what Allura looked so worried.

There was so….much….blood.

Thick blackish blood was splattered all on his skin, most likely from when he had tried to stop the alien from severing his leg. It was all over his arms and clothes from having dragged the alien body out of the star, and his entire left side was soaking from holding the bleeding out alien in the closer. He looked like he had been dunked into a pool of blackish red.

How did the alien have so much blood, and how was he still alive after all of that loss?

“You need to take a shower,” Allura said quietly, still in shock at the massacre that had taken place on her brother. “We don’t know what that blood could do to you,”

Lance chucked, sounding almost hysterical, but he paused when he felt the fangs dig in a little deeper in his skin. How odd was it that he had forgotten about that potential threat. Maybe there was something pheromone related with this man. Then again, why wasn’t Allura affected by it?

“He’s not a xenomorph,” he whispered harshly instead. But he understood his sisters worry. He turned around and carefully dislodged the alien’s mouth from his neck, grimacing at the pain and loss of heat and laid the bruised and bloodied man onto his bed.

“We need to give him medicine or something,” Lance murmured, grabbing his sheets and dragging them over the aliens’ body. “And the star, we need to put it somewhere. And we got to figure out what to feed the alien, what is his name, oh god, mama can’t find out, what if the others came in and see him?”

Allura geld onto his shoulders, stopping him from his tirade. “I will look after him. Go take a shower before mama sees you like this,”

“Yeah, okay.” She was right, mama would freak out if she saw him like this. He trusted Allura with the alien. So he nodded, grabbed a few things and headed for the bathroom.

He took one look at the alien lying so sweetly on his bed, his skin was still very pale and his body was still shivering. Allura was the best person for this, she had dealt with things like this before in her line of work. So he was sure she would do her best to make sure he was okay.

Though, he was an alien…

No, she had met and helped Shiro who had lost his entire arm – and most of his memory, as he hadn’t known anything. Allura had told him all sorts of stories about the handsome man she had been taking care of for a few years. Lance had been surprised she hadn’t started dating him, Shiro was so much better than that asshole Lotor, who just came in waxing lyrical at his sister. He had lost hope that Allura would find someone worthy of her with Lotor in the scene, but now that she was finally rid of that douche bag, maybe she would see what was right in front of her.

So no, Lance was not worried. Allura knew exactly what she needed to do, and he needed to take a shower first.

Stepping into the surprisingly empty bathroom, he stripped off his clothes, bundling them up in his hands. He thought better than to put them in the wash with the other clothes like he usually would. Instead, he placed them next to his towel, ready to be picked up and taken away from prying eyes as soon as he was out. Turning on the shower, he grimaced when he saw his reflection. He really did look like a horror film extra, except that this blood was all real. His stomach turned and now he suddenly itched to get the blood off him.

The mirror steamed up and he made for the shower. He shouldn’t waste water anyway. The blood mingled with the water and sluiced down his body, turning an oddly sparkling red as it drained. He was kind of surprised that the alien’s blood was so similar in colour to his own. It held much bigger an impact on him that it would have if it were neon green or neon pink or something.

It made everything a lot more real and frightening too. It made Lance question just what was going on, where did the alien come from, what did he want from earth? Why had he crash landed in a single man pod, were there others like him? Was the planet going to be invaded? Did they have to prepare for an intergalactic war?

Okay, so his shower thoughts were starting freak him out. Change the topic. But to what? The only thing he could think about was the alien. How his soft skin was the same shade as lavenders, how his ears were perched up like a cats, but flat and large like a bats. His shoulders were broad, but his waist was tiny, his legs…well leg, was long and slim, but he seemed proportionate to a human. His eyes, ay Dios mio, when Lance had seen those eyes look at him, he hadn’t been able to look away.

They were a brilliant yellow, and nothing else. But Lance had seen the fear in his eyes, and the pain. And it had made him ache.

The blood took a while to come out but soon his skin was back to its usual caramel brown, and there was an incessant knocking on the bathroom door, followed by a cry of little kids yelling his name. He smirked, getting out and wrapping his towel around his body. He took his clothes and made his way out of the bathroom. He opened the door quickly and growled at his little siblings, chuckling when they screamed and giggled, running away.

Dread suddenly filled him when he saw just how full the house had gotten in the span of a few minutes. Someone would definitely see the alien in his bed.

What was he going to do?

Chapter Text

Yorak wasn’t sure where he was or how he had gotten here.

He remembered the crash, being in a new, weird world, and his leg. Oh, the angels. He scrabbled with his hands, patting down as he felt for his left leg. His body was aching, but not as much as before. And he was sure this was not because of shock. He felt woozy, he felt like someone had drugged him.

Wait…maybe someone had drugged him? He couldn’t really feel the pain of the leg he had severed; it was just a dull and throbbing ache. And he definitely felt heavy and lead like. There was something light and soft over him, however, and it smelled like sweat and something sweet. Soft too…well, it wasn’t as soft as he was used to back at home; he usually slept in nest with an abundance of pillows and comforters. The scent of everything here was nice, almost angelic in a way.

Weird.

Yes, he was definitely drugged.

Opening his eyes, he was met with a kaleidoscope of dark blues and reds that were swirling in front of him, before they cleared out and he was settled into a dimly lit room. He took a moment to look around. The ceiling was speckled in an off white; there was a single light with a clue cover on it. Looking to his left, wincing as he turned his neck, he saw a wide, curtained window, letting in a muted stream of light. Turning his head slowly, he saw the wall directly before him; it held a shelf filled with books and off looking trinkets. There was a desk directly below it with even odder looking things. His ears picked up an odd ticking sound, and his gaze darted to the small cube sitting on a small table to his right. A clock.

However it was a lot slower than he was used to, and the lettering's and that small metal piece moving around was weirding him out. Time moved slower here. Scary weird.

He wanted to explore more, everything here looked so interesting and so other worldly – he had to remind himself that it was this way because he was in another world. But the ache in his leg bought him crashing back to the present.

He had lost his leg.

He knew why, he remembered the pain of it. But he wasn’t prepared for the loss of it. Yorak still felt like it was there, though dead and cold and motionless. The ache and the feeling were still there. But it wasn’t.

What was this phantom like pain?

He had seen, and met in passing, many Galran’s who had lost a limb, but he had never had the chance to talk to them, to listen to what they had to say. Had he been a bit too gung-ho about this? Should he have tried to reconsider his options before severing his own leg?

Should he have tried to save it?

No, something that didn’t work had to be cut out. He had tried to move it, tried to feel some sensation, any sensation, but even when he had hacked away at his leg, he hadn’t felt anything below his knee. It had been completely dead.

It was better he had gotten rid of it straight away, before anything worse happened to him because of it. Right?

Think about this medically, Yorak. There could be viruses and diseases and all sorts of bad things in the very air that he breathed. It was not right to be having an open injury; festering and congealing with blood, left open to the potential illnesses and anything else, this kind of thing could have even resulted in actual death.

It was something that had to be done. He had done the right thing.

Yes.

Right.

Right?

Yes. There was no going back now. He had crippled himself to save himself.

The door creaked open and Yorak was suddenly on high alert. He may not be able to stand and fight, but he wasn’t going to go down without a fight. He was met with a familiar head of dark and spiky hair, and striking blue eyes – the same colour as the massive pool of water he had woken up next to. Daibazaal didn’t have anything like that, not a pool of water so vast that it went passed the horizon. All of their water was found underground. To think, this planet had all of this water available to them.

The alien was talking, words that meant absolutely nothing to him. But the way he was speaking, the tone of his voice, the deepness in his eyes and the way he stood. Yorak felt nothing but kindness and worry from him. A little bit of fear was definitely present in his shuddering, but this alien was worried for him, and he was trying to be kind. Yorak watched as he closed the bedroom door behind him, locking it, and stood in the middle of the floor.

“You okay?”

Yorak tilted his head to one side. “I don’t understand what you are saying,”

“You look better,” Lance continued, knowing the alien understood him just as much as he understood the alien. “How’s your leg?”

 Yorak looked at him, then to the hand he had extended to him, and then down to his leg – or the space where his leg should have been. Yorak hadn’t looked himself, feeling too cowardly to take in his reality. Why did the alien want to see it? Did he want to see how crippled he was? Was he going to kill him?

His father would.

No, this man had been nothing but kind to him, he, and the woman, had looked after him, helped care for him. So with a deep breath, he tugged the blankets from his leg and gazed at the massacre he had done to himself.

His pants were ripped up to his thighs on his left leg, and there wasn’t any leg from just above his knee. The stump was covered by a thick and coarse material. It was tight enough to put a pleasantly needed pressure on his infliction. But it was off seeing something that wasn’t there anymore. He couldn’t keep his eyes off it.

“Wow,” Yorak looked up when he heard that weird sound. The dark skinned alien made his way closer and sat down in the spot opposite him, so close as he reached for the stump. “Can I touch it – to, uh…to check it’s okay?”

Yorak didn’t understand, but he saw the way the man’s hands were extended out, fidgeting and flexing a little, and nodded. What would those oddly smooth and foreign fingers feel on his own skin?

He watched as the aliens’ hands came closer, god he had no claws, or were they retractable? His hands looked thin and flat, long tapered fingers and dull claws. How did this alien hunt or fight, or do anything? How did he eat? He was all so confusing, but it made him even more interested in this civilisation.

Those fingers came in touch with his for a second time since he came onto this planet, but this touch felt more significant. It was hot to the touch, heavy and almost moist in a way. And Yorak felt something rush through him, a feeling he didn’t think he’d ever feel again.

He felt safe.

“Does it hurt?” The alien was speaking again, and for some reason, Yorak understood what he was trying to say. Not so much in the words themselves, but in the way he was saying it. His tone and touch was so easy to decipher.

He nodded, reaching down to press at the material. It was itching him.

“No, no.” The alien replied quietly, reaching for his hands. “Don’t take that off,”

Yorak didn’t have to understand him to know he was trying to stop him. He narrowed his haze at the alien, growling at being stopped. He just wanted to look at the damage. But once again, the alien stopped him. He held on tighter to Yorak’s hands and pulled them away.

Those hands, again Yorak was lost in how strange they were. They felt soft, yet firm, furless and smooth. He felt like a cub, all soft and sweet smelling. He was an oddly coloured cub that was for sure. Yorak took hold of his hand and held it up and out in front of him.

“Okay, so yeah. That’s my hand.” Lance said, grinning as he watched the alien be enraptured by something as simple as his hand. Though his own hand was different too, much longer and thicker than his own, firm and purple all over, except for the brighter purple pads he had on his fingers. They were like little cat paws. They were surprisingly cute, though the sharp claws coming from the tips of his fingers, the ones he had witnessed go through flesh and bone like it was nothing. They still had blood on them, though he and Allura had taken to cleaning him up as best and as quickly as they could. He suddenly had the urge to clean them.

Looking up, their gazes met and Lance saw those yellow eyes were more gold than anything else. Mesmerising, they seemed to shimmer in their own light.

“Wow,” he couldn’t help but say. The alien looked at him oddly, reaching a free hand up and pressing the pads of his thumbs just under Lance’s eyes.

“You have so many colours in your eyes,” he murmured, knowing this man did not understand him. “Do all of you Terran’s have eyes like this?”

“I don’t know what you’re saying,” Lance replied quietly, leaning into those hands. “But I’m liking your voice,”

With the way the alien was looking at him, Lance knew this was going to be difficult. But he was ready to take on the task.

Chapter Text

Yorak wasn’t sure what the thing on the round plate was.

It looked long, and stringy, and it had a weird petraka like scent to it, it was an odd colour as well, like the colour of the earth on Daibazaal. It was slimy too, wet as it slipped down the four pronged fork, and splattered onto the red and yellow splodged pool of sauce.

“What the hell is this?” Yorak asked, yellow eyes darting up to look at the weird terran who was watching him with rapt interest. He too had a bowl of the strange stuff in his hands, and he was happily slurping and chewing at the stringy substance with a look of euphoria.

“Don’t be shy. Eat up. Mama’s pasta is amazing,” The terran replied, pointing the fork at Yorak’s plate, and then at his own. He placed his fork into his bowl, twining the four pronged fork into the mixture and spun it in his fingers. He lifted the fork and some of the odd food into his fork and placed it in his mouth.

Yorak raised an eyebrow, looking offended. “Are you seriously telling me, Prince Yorak of Daibazaal, Crown Prince and Saviour of Light to the throne of the Galran Kingdom, how to eat?”

“You know, I think we got to start learning each other’s names,” The terran spoke again, and it was starting to annoy Yorak that he just could not understand the man. He watched intently as the terran placed the bowl down onto the soft blanketed nest and pointed both hands to himself. “My name is Lance, Lance,”

“What the hell are you doing?” Yorak looked down to the terran’s hands, seeing as he pointed it to his chest, fingers prodding his skin, repeating the same thing again and again. He then pointed at Yorak, those long, thin fingers just hovering near Yorak’s own chest.

What in the—oh! Was the terran telling him the name of his kind? Or was that just his name? Was that what they called themselves here on this planet? Were they all Lance's? That sound he made, that Lance sound. Was that was the terran’s name? He grinned, at least they could imitate the same sounds to one another, and hopefully Yorak would be able to at least start to understand what the alien was saying to him.

He saw the brown hand in front of him shake a little, as the Lance pointed to him. He found it a little rude; no one should truly point at royalty. But then again, Yorak didn’t have a…planet…so he wasn’t…royalty…any more…

…he didn’t have a family anymore…

…he didn’t have a home anymore.

No. He was still Crown Prince, with or without the planet; the Galran’s were a people, not a planet. Wherever the crown prince stood, that was his land. He was Galran, he was on his planet. He was home. That was what his father had told him that was what his mother had told him. Wherever he tread, that was his past, wherever he looked, that was his future. Where he stood, that was his journey, that was what he was now.

For now and forever, he was Crown Prince Yorak.

“I am Crown Prince Yorak,” he said proudly, chest puffed out in pride, long clawed fingers mimicking the Lance and pointing to himself. “Saviour of the Light to the throne of the Galran Kingdom,”

“Oh…so like…all of that was your name,” the Lance spoke words again, and Yorak grinned. The alien must understand his importance. “Gotta say, it's gonna take me a while to learn all that, but I think I heard a ‘Keith’ in there. So…like, can I just call you Keith until I learn it all?”

Keith? What the hell was a Keith? He was not a Keith. Or was that just what these Lance’s called other worlders? Huh, by the angel’s, this planet was strange. He knew he was in for a long task after seeing such a lovely looking terran before him, this land dweller who lived next to the vast pool of water.

The Lance grinned, lifting the bowl in his hands again and twining his fork into the strands of dirt coloured food. He pointed the edge of the fork to Yorak, saying the word; “Keith,” once again, and then pointed it to himself. “Lance.”

“You’re a dumbass,” Yorak shook his head, but he let the terran have his way. At least this way, Yorak knew what to call him, and he’d know what word to look out for. Lance and Keith. Two alien words to him. But he kind of liked it.

“Go on, eat,” the Lance said again, and with the way he was moving his bowl and looking at Yorak’s own plate, Yorak started to understand that the words he was saying probably meant for him to eat the food.

He looked down at it again and grimaced inwardly. But he had been brought up better than this, he was a Crown Prince after all, he was going to do his utmost best to be dignified and full of all of the etiquette his lineage had put upon his shoulders. So he gracefully dipped his fork into the stringy substance, sucking in a breath as he lifted it up from his plate. The stringy food seemed to slip off his fork and fell splat back onto the red pool of sauce on the plate.

He felt insulted by it. How dare it not stay on the fork!

Warm hands wrapped around his own, and Yorak jolted at the touch. The Lance’s skin was so smooth and warm against his own, it was a frightening difference to what Yorak was used to, something sparked and Yorak felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise a little. What was this Lance doing? Was he trying to start a fight?

“Lance,” he growled, showing his sharp fangs. But the terran wasn’t paying attention to him, he motioned for Yorak to copy his hands, enveloping his slightly smaller hands around Yorak’s own and manipulating his fingers to move. He was speaking as he moved Yorak’s fingers, saying strange sounds like ‘this’ and ‘spin’ and ‘fork’, and Yorak watched as he twirled the fork in his palm and the stringy substance stuck to the fork, entwined similarly to the way their fingers were, brushing against one another in a warm heat.

Lance’s were warmer than Galran’s…

The Lance held the fork up from the plate, and somehow the food stuck to the fork, twined with the prongs in a weird mishmash of figure eights and circles. The Lance urged the fork to Yorak’s mouth, urging him to eat. Wanting to appease the terran, purely to see those water pool blue eyes light up as they had before, Yorak leaned his head forward, opening his mouth and letting the terran feed him.

The oddly stringy substance was chewy, and tasted pleasant. The spices and the texture was odd to Yorak, for being someone who was used to hard foods and meats, this food was soft, like something one fed an infant cub coming into their fangs.

The flavour burst on his tongue, it was a bit blander than Yorak would like it, but it was definitely not something he would ever consider not good. It tasted delicious, in an odd way. And he was glad he had tried it at least. His stomach took that time then to remind Yorak just how hungry he really was, it yowled in protest and Yorak soon found the odd tasting food to be the only thing he needed right at that moment. He followed what the Lance had showed him and twined his fork and ate the food as quickly – yet as dignified as possible, because he wasn’t a quiznaking gelermore.

The Lance looked happy, he had a smile on his face, showing his blunt teeth, and his water pool blue eyes were bright, shimmering like the stars in the skies. Yorak was having a bit of a problem with his heart, it was beating a little faster than usual he noticed. And he wasn’t really sure why.

There was a knock on the door, and the happy look on the Lance’s face suddenly fell. He took hold of the half empty plates and placed them onto the table. Pushing Yorak back onto the bed, he was quick to cover him with the soft blanket, covering him from head to tail.

“What are you—” Yorak started, but the Lance just leaned into him, holding a hand to his lips in the sign for him to be silent. He pointed a thumb at the door, and covered Yorak up a little more gracefully this time.

“If my mum sees you here, she’s going to have a heart attack,” he stated. “Please Keith, just for a little while.”

There was that word again. He was calling him Keith. He was calling the crown prince Keith.

“Dumbass,” Yorak shook his head but hid himself under the blankets and pillows, knowing this was by far the dumbest thing he had ever done. He was a large and body shaped Galran hiding underneath a flimsy blanket that was a little scratchy in places.

But it smelled nice, and in the soft darkness, Yorak was finding this a little pleasant. He was still very shocked, about losing his planet, about being thrown into space, crash landing on an unknown planet and losing his leg. But he was somehow being soothed by this warm, weirdly sweet smelling scent around him.

He heard the door open, and he knew this was where everything was going to go all the way down to the bottom of a plesiam dung heap.

Chapter Text

How do you hide a large purple alien with one leg, bat like cat ears, sharp claws and fangs and with a voice that was lilting and growly, who didn’t understand a lick of your own language?

Apparently throwing the covers over his body and hoping no one noticed the lumpy misshapen – but definitely body shaped – bulge on the bed worked.

Well, kind of.

Television made this kind of thing easy, but then again all of the aliens in those sci-fi shows he watched were small and cute and could literally pass off as something earth like. Sure the alien looked almost human, and maybe some people could look passed the fangs and the eyes, and the ears and the height – cosplay was a big thing nowadays, there were all sorts of people dressed up as all sorts of things here and there – but the purple skin and the otherworld language, not understanding anything…?

That was going to be difficult.

He could pass the alien’s language off as some sort of trans-Atlantic meets Middle Eastern and Asian mishmash of words. But then again, who would believe him? Who would see the purple skin, the way the alien held himself, and think ‘human’?

Oh god, this was way too hard.

Thankfully, Allura had been the one to come through the door, calling back to her mother and telling her that she was going to wake up Lance that morning. Lance once again had to thank her for her helping him out.

Though, he was really worried, because dios it had been easy to get some left over breakfast of last nights’ dinner when everyone was asleep, but how was he going to explain having to eat in his own room this entire time? How long even was this time?

He was going to have to figure this out somehow.

But right now, he needed to figure out what to do about the alien in his bed. Allura was quick to move Lance out of the way, and that was when Lance noticed she had a few things in her hands – medical looking things, and he really should focus his attention on this kind of thing. Who knew what could happen at any moment?

Then again, alien. Who knew what worked on him.

Allura cooed softly when she pulled the covers from the alien. Lance noticed Keith had his eyes closed, body taut and hands held up in fists to his chest. It was as if he were a small child trying to hide in the most obvious place ever, just by hiding his eyes from his captives.

God damn it, that shit was adorable.

Keith opened his golden yellow eyes, and Lance could instinctively tell he had sought out for him, before he noticed Allura. When he did, he bared his fangs at her and quickly sat up on the bed. He looked sluggish, and a little paler than he had before. Lance had thought maybe the food would have helped, but it didn’t seem to have done the job probably.

“He needs meat, probably.” Allura muttered out loud. She got to work checking Keith’s bandages, tsking and slapping away the alien’s hands when he reached for it.

“Lance! What the quiznack do you think you are doing, woman. You are not to take the bandages off,” Keith glowered, pushing her hands from his bandages, and Lance grinned. He had told Keith not to touch them; it was good to know that Keith was at least able to interpret what was happening around him and remember it enough to use it again.

“Allura,” she said, not paying him any attention. It was weird seeing her like this, she looked way too calm with the way she was working on him. She had a weird squeezie bottle in her hands, like those science experiment distiller bottles with the thin and long nozzles. It had a weird swirly liquid inside it, looking like silver paint mixing with something a little musky and dusty looking. Starlight: that was what it looked like.

Where the hell did you get this?” The alien noticed to, he reached for the bottle and took it out of Allura’s hand, she handed him the bottle, letting him inspect it, and watched as he took a sniff at the bottle and then handed it back to her. “You’re hiding something from me, terran Allura, and I will find out what,”

Allura looked at him, gazing directly into his steely gold eyes, her face as stoic and solemn as his own was, as if she too were promising him that she would find out everything she could about him. Seconds passed, in which Lance watched on, confused and perturbed, before Allura’s face broke out into a sunny smile.

She took the bottle in her hands and returned back to the bandages around Keith’s amputated leg. The alien watched on, still a little pale in his skin and pallor, as she slowly unravelled the bandages, taking her time to not exacerbate his injuries both external and mentally internal. He really was intrigued to see just what the damage was to his leg, and she wanted him to see, she wanted him to know that though he was like this, they were going to do what they could to fix him, that they were going to make sure he was not an invalid or a liability.

She had worked with a lot of people who felt like that when they lost their limbs, so in a way she knew what to expect. However this alien, this prince with the way he was dressed, he was definitely something royal or high up in his own home planet, was something else entirely. He looked strong, fast and had rough calloused hands and feet. He looked like he actually fought and bit and drew blood to get what he wanted – which was a lot different to the important dignitaries and people here, who had everything handed to them.

“What is that? What are you doing?” She was brought back to the present by Lance who had taken to sitting opposite her, reaching to place a hand on Keith’s uninjured leg. It was almost sweet, yet worrying, just how receptive Lance was being to the alien. She could see there was some kind of connection there, whether it was simple a duckling imprint or something more, she wasn’t sure.

“Don’t worry, it’s just for congealment,” Allura stated, tugging lightly at the brace bandage she had wrapped around the alien’s knee, rolling the dampened cloth off completely until there was nothing but the amputated leg. She needed to clean this and rewrap it with clean bandages. “It’ll act as an antiseptic that’ll clean away any of those nasty infections and close his wound,”

Lance’s grip tightened on the alien’s thigh, and he leaned in close, watching intently – similarly, he noticed, as what the alien was doing. It was a small miracle that the alien was still in somewhat of a shock to feel too much of the pain. Either that or the pain really wasn’t getting to him. And wasn’t that a scary thought.

He wouldn’t even wince at an amputated leg, just what the hell had he been through?

“Where did you get that?” Lance asked instead, focusing on Allura spraying the silver star light looking liquid onto the sickening sight of the amputated leg. He had to hold his stomach at the sight, but he was glad it didn’t look as bad as it had when he had lifted the alien from the star and into his arms.

“I had someone help me out,” Allura replied offhandedly.

Lance narrowed his gaze, but nodded. They’d get to that later. He watched as Allura cleaned the wound, smiling as it seemed to slowly knit back before their very eyes – albeit slowly. He took over and helped when Allura had asked him to rewrap the bandages around the leg while she disposed of the waste. It wouldn’t be well for their mother to see his bin filled with blackened blood soaked bandages. Though it did look like he spilled wine or grape soda, and he wasn’t sure how he was going to explain drinking in his room.

“I hope this isn’t too tight,” Lance murmured, holding the leg to his lap, wrapping it slowly and methodically, while he waited for Allura to return. Once he was done, he looked at his handy work and smiled. Gazing up, he smiled at the alien, but his breath caught in his throat when he saw tears forming in the corners of the alien’s golden eyes.

Tears that looked like star light.

Chapter Text

Cut off the head.

He knew it had been the right idea, get rid of the infliction before it infected him. It was soldier logic, it made sense. But he hadn’t expected the outright loss he felt when he was finally able to sit down and think about what he had just done.

One leg. He was going to have to live in this frightening and alien world for however long with only one leg and nothing else to show for it. He didn’t know the language, he didn’t know the culture, and he damn well didn’t know anything about the people. These terrans were something else, so different to the foreigners and aliens he had known on his own planet.

Oh by the angels, his own planet. There wasn’t a planet anymore was there? No sunny sand dunes where he’d spent hours laying on, watching the beautiful twin suns rise into the purpling skies. No longer would he be able to see the dusty fairies that flittered in the air, settling on his nose and making him sniffle and sneeze as they played. He’s no longer taste the sweet berries and the heated trelemore meat, or feel the succulent red of the earth under his feet.

He’d no longer hear his mother sweet songs as she hummed him to sleep on those cold lifeless nights, or hear his fathers’ harsh cries as they trained and fought in the spar rooms at the castle. He’d no longer be able to wake up early in the morning and run to the kitchens, meeting Anabella who’d always, always, have a sweet moro for him to snack on before his duties.

He’d never hear anyone else speak the same language as him.

He was the last of his kind. The last of his people. There was no one else who was Galran like he was, and if there were, they were most likely long gone by now, or in a completely different planet eons away from where he was. He was stuck here for angels only knew how long, all by himself.

Tears were a new thing for him, his father had always told him tears from a prince were to be kept inside, and his mother had always told him to only cry in front of his other half. But right now, he had neither mother or father, so he let himself cry.

He cried loud, gasping breathy cries, letting the loss of his home, the loss of his family, the loss of his limbs, overtake him. He cried until he couldn’t breathe, until the ache in his chest far outweighed the pain in his leg. He cried as he felt warm arms wrap around him, as the scent of salty ocean filled his nose, as soft hands stroked through his hair the same way his mothers’ claws would. Laying his head on the firm and warm chest, listening to the abnormal heart beating in his long ears, he cried until there was nothing else left in him to cry about.

The Lance was speaking, soothing soft words and coos that soothed his soul somewhat. He wasn’t sure what the terran was saying, but he was glad the terran was there.

“It’s alright, just let it all out, I’m right here,” the terran spoke, words that seemed to make sense to Yorak, though he wasn’t sure just what they were. “I’m right here.”

He felt the slick and sweet sound of the terran singing, a soft lullaby escaping those lips and moving into him in a way that made him want to lean more onto the terran, want to peek his ears up and hear more of the sound.

His gasping turned to hiccups and he let out a few tiny breaths, trying to catch what wasn’t there. He tried to think, he tried to feel, but all he could feel was the dull ache of it all. It felt like a haze had fallen over him.

The song was soothing.

The terran moved then, holding onto Yorak with strong arms. “You feeling better now, Keith?”

Keith…there he was, calling Yorak Keith again.

The terran really was a dumbass, how could he make that sound his name, when his name was Yorak, when he was the crown prince. Hell, he was royalty, this terran should bow down to his feet and worship him for the very armour he had on right now.

Then again, was he still a prince?

Yes, he was still a prince. He wasn’t going to let go of every little thing that made him who and what he was. He was Galran, he was the crown prince, he was the last piece of his mother and father. He was proud to be what he was.

But maybe…maybe while he was here, while he was still trying to figure everything out. Maybe he could try to don this ‘Keith’ persona. Maybe it would help him in the long run. Yorak wasn’t going to let go of his past, he wasn’t going to let go of his hopes, and dreams and everything that made him just who he was. But here, in this terran’s planet. Here he was Keith.

Maybe just for this Lance, he was Keith.

I am hungry, Lance.” He said, feeling the pangs in his stomach. The slimy food had been good before it had been taken away by the terran. He pointed to the bowl on the table and wiped away at his tears.

The terran jumped back, nodding and reached for the bowl. He handed it to Keith and watched as Keith started eating. Keith sniffled, his chest aching, and forced himself to eat, forced himself to live. He was going to get through this. He was going to stay strong.

The weird food tasted different when it was cool, but it was by no means bad. In fact it had a weirder, duller taste than it had before. Keith still wanted some kind of meat, but this would do for now.

The Allura terran came through the door once again, she held something in her hands, a leaf of metal and plastic with small circular objects that looks suspiciously like the drugs Galran soldiers gave to the invaders of their lands. She held them up to Keith and he glared at her.

“I will not be interrogated like some kind of rayabash,” He growled, baring his fangs at the terran.

“I don’t think he understands what that is,” Lance spoke, looking back at Allura and then to Keith. He instead took the pills from Allura and held them in his hands. “These are pain killers, Keith. They are good,”

He said those words with a smile and it made Keith glower, eyes narrow as he looked at the pills. They did not have the same swirling black patterns that the drugs back home did. The ones the witches and druids would infuse with their tainted black magic in order to made the invaders choke, or be controlled.

They looked…harmless.

“Look, I’ll take one and you’ll see it’s okay,” The Lance spoke again, popping the pills from the leaf and placing it in his mouth. He showed Keith that it was laying on his tongue, and reached for the bottle of water on the nightstand. He drank the water, swallowing the pill alongside it, and smiled, opening his mouth to show Keith that he had eaten it.

Keith waited, taking a moment to look at Lance. He saw the terran looked exactly the same, he smelled the same too. He didn’t look drugged or whatever else. These pills looked harmless. Though would they have the same effect on him as they did on the terran.

Not wanting to show any more weakness to the terran – he had cried on him after all – he took the leaf, feeling the malleable plastic in his fingers, and sniffed at it. It smelled clinical, and strong of a weird metallic scent. Popping the pills out the same was Lance had done, he took one out and held it in between his forefinger and thumb.

Hmmm…it was all white, a little odd looking. He licked at it and grimaced at the taste. But if the terran could swallow this, than so could he. Falling into the peer pressure, he put the pill into his mouth and grabbed the bottle of clear liquid from the terran. Drinking the tasteless liquid he swallowed the pills.

And waited.

Nothing happened, not at first anyway. But he was slow to notice the dull humming feeling thrum through him. It overtook his body, spreading out like a warm bellowing heat, starting at his throat and forcing itself into his fingers and toes, reaching his severed leg.

He grimaced.

But then, the ache was gone.

“Magic,” He said out loud, reaching for the plastic leaf and popping another of the while drugs out. He was about to pop it into his mouth, but the Lance took it from him.

“One dose is enough for now,” he said with a bright smile, giving Allura the leaf of pills. “You’ll feel better now,”

He placed a hand on Keith’s severed leg, just at the thigh, patting it. It soothed Keith a little to see that this terran was not sickened by his lack of leg. But the loss of his leg, he was going to have to get used to this kind of thing now.

Could he even walk?

That was going to be a heavy and hard task to do. But he felt, with this terran, he could do better.

Chapter Text

Where am I?

Shiro let out an inward groan. His body felt so heavy, and so cold. Darkness was slowly creeping away from his mind as consciousness started to claw its way in. It made his head ache, pounding along with the blood that was slowly starting to circulate once again.

His sight was slowly returning but the sudden bright white behind his closed eyes almost blinded him. He wanted to lift his hand to cover the light from his face, but he found he couldn’t move.

Panic and fear surfaced. He wasn’t tied down, but it felt as if every cell in his body was heavy, slowly waking up from a long slumber. After a defiant amount of strength wasted on trying to move, he learned he could flex the muscles of his toes, and his fingers…wait.

He could flex the fingers of his left hand, but not of his right. Peculiar and odd. But at least he knew his thoughts were not compromised. But he was finding it difficult to open his eyes; however he blamed that on the god awful bright light shining on him.

Where was he?

His mind fully alert, he tried to make sense of what was going on around him. He could hear the silent humming of machinery around him, it sounded like a ships engine, with its incessant beeping. But he wasn’t moving.

As his ears grew accustomed to the sound, he heard voices from all around, and all over him. He tried to decipher and differentiate the sounds, but it was almost impossible to do so. But he still focused.

His king had given him the ability to understand all sorts of languages, even those from light years away. He was a little rusty, his mind still dwelling in whatever darkness it had been in for Angel’s only knew how long, it took a little focus for him to fully accept the sound of the overzealous people around him.

“What do you think he is?” he heard a male voice say, he sounded very close. “You said he fell from the sky?”

Fell from the sky?

He didn’t think he would be able to speak, let along do anything else; he was still finding it difficult to move after all. He didn’t know how long he had been asleep for.

But patience yields focus. So he would play the waiting game.

He just prayed his Prince got out in time and was safe, wherever he was.

Barely a few moments passed and he heard a door slide open at the far end of the room, followed by a clacking of shoes against tiled floors. The sound was coming closer to the bed. He was suddenly engulfed with the familiar scent of juniberries and something uniquely sweet. It reminded him of home, and that made his heart ache.

He had seen what had happened to Daibazaal Prime. He knew it was no longer there. But he was going to do his best to find his prince. He had promised the Queen he would take care of him, and he wasn’t going to stop until he found him.

He just hoped his prince was in a planet somewhere close. Because he knew he was no longer anywhere near the local planets the Galran’s had fled to. The language these aliens spoke was definitely Earthian. And earth was more than a good million light years away from his home planet.

How had he gotten so far away from home?

“Has he woken?” her voice was sensuous, with a slight twang he hadn’t heard before. It was different to the way the man spoke.

“I’m getting a weird feeling from this guy,” The first man spoke, voice hesitant. “Look at the charts, they are showing some strange readings,”

He heard the sounds of paper being moved around. Shiro moaned in frustration. Why couldn’t he move? Where was he? What had happened to him? Was he infected by the virus that had taken captive of the planet? Is that why they were holding him here, holding him captive?

Did they want to experiment on him?

He remembered the stories his mother told him when he had been young, the ancient, tragic love story between mated pairs, Chiikoi. How they had been forced apart by aliens that came from the skies, aliens that had said they had wanted to learn more about them by holding them prisoner. Chiikoi’s were the most powerful. Their powers were trifold, their woken and dormant skills at their highest and shared between both partners.

The stories were horrible. After the first failure, aliens came down again and again, capturing lovers and taking them hostage, experimenting on their minds, cutting them open just for science.

But the aliens were never able to get anything from them. They were stupid. They had separated the two lovers while they experimented on them. But it was fruitless.

Together Chiikoi’s were a force not to be reckoned with, divided they close themselves off to everything else except one another. They would hunger for one another with each passing moment, wanting to touch, to see, to taste. They would kill to get to their mate, or die trying.

That was one of the reasons his kind didn’t go off-world. If others found out about them, about their powers, it would cause so many problems. Being able to cultivate or dissect their powers could cause so many wars.

Shiro was glad he hadn’t mated with anyone while back on the planet, not for lack of trying. No one suited his tastes. But if he had, he would have surely died of the need and thirst alone in that chamber for however long he had been out.

As soon as everything died down, he would get out of this place and go back home. Except right now he couldn’t really move. His stomach ached at the thought of food. With his body and mind back to its usual, though still somewhat drowsy, state, he found himself so very hungry.

“This can’t be right, can it?” The female’s voice was exquisite to listen to, Shiro noted. Even though she reminded him of his planet, Shiro wanted to listen to her talk.

But there was still the niggling thought. They really were holding him captive here, weren’t they? They really did want to experiment him. What if they wanted to dissect him?

He heard the metal utensil clatter against the table when the male leaned back. “Holy crap, he moved!”

Shiro didn’t have time to wonder, he needed to focus. If they really were here to kill him, then he needed to get out of here as quick as possible. But first, he needed information. He could feel the woman move closer to him, to the edge of the bed, the scent of juniberries was so strong, so captivating.

He felt a soft hand on his forehead.

He was confused. Why was this alien being so nice to him? Was she not holding him prisoner here? Did she not know that he could just as easily kill her with his bare hands? If she was to try and get information out of him, then she would receive nothing.

Sure, he knew Earth was a primitive planet; they had no idea about the many words that were out there. So they must now know about Daibazaal and the Galran’s. Right?

Unless, they didn’t know Shiro was an alien. He had been given the tech to camouflage his Galran traits. His king had made it so it was easy for him to blend into other planets if and when that time came. That had to be it. That was why they weren’t holding him in a much more isolated captivity, why there were so many people around him.

They didn’t know.

This woman, however, an interesting alien. No physical power, no mental power either. Compared to Shiro, she was a weak alien. Yet she was merited as important to those with her. He had felt the shift in the room when she had entered. She was the head here, the captain. There were so many people here, so many different types of species that was most definitely more powerful, more intellectual than her. This alien must have something in her to warrant others to follow, to submit to her command.

“Are you going to kill me?” She asked.

It caused Shiro to pause. He knew she was talking to him, and that meant she knew he was awake enough to hear him.

His voice was strained when he answered, his eyes opening a little to see blurry images of the white room around him. “If I don’t have to kill you, I will not harm you,”

“My name is Dr. Allura McClain,” She introduced, from her voice alone, Shiro could see she had no ill will towards him. She was one of the good guys. “You crash landed in the mountains, and I brought you here,”

Shiro wanted desperately to move, to show his own intentions to this woman. He breathed in deeply, hoping it would quell his head ache. “I will not harm you, or your crew.”

He felt the relief erupt in the room, but he could tell a few were still on edge.

And it came to light for him. No matter how trusting this doctor Allura was, or of how much she reminded him of his planet. He would have to be careful. He was on their turf now. So he would follow their rules, only until he knew he was safe enough to leave.

Patience yields focus after all.

Chapter Text

Lance let out a loud sigh and leaned back on his chair, aggravated that his focus was not solely on his summer homework. It had been mere hours since he had hauled Keith in from the sea, and taken care of him.

But now, Keith was sleeping so soundly, so softly, in his bed. The medicine having reacted a little differently with the alien than a human, as soon as Keith had taken the pain relief pills, he had gotten an almost high look on his face, and had smiled, showing his fangs. He had looked woozy, and after a few minutes, the plate in his hands started to waver – enough for Lance having to take over to feed him - and soon he had fallen back onto the soft pillows and had fallen straight to sleep. Looking back now, the corner of his mouth tilted in a smile when he saw the adorable sight. The covers were over Keith’s body, tucked in at the corners to keep him warm and safe.

Lance could hear him breathing, a little grumble of a snore, like a cat purring, every once in a while. It was cute. But it was also really distracting.

He was curious.

He forced his mind onto his homework; sure he had a few weeks until classes started again. But if he didn’t do this now –when he had the time, because he was sure his full attention was going to go onto the alien in his bed – he sought it the best distraction for him to pass the time. No such thing.

So, yes...curiosity was eating at him.

By now, everyone in the house had gone about their day. Lance had come down and done his usual daily thing, ate with his family, played with his brothers and sisters, and then, when everyone was none the wiser, he had slipped back upstairs with the stupid notion of “need to do my homework, mami, I’ll be down in a few hours,”

He couldn’t keep saying something like that forever. He was going to run out of excuses very soon. Lance was a family oriented person. People were going to start finding it weird if he preferred staying alone in his room. He had to figure out what to do about the alien.

Lance let out a long breath of frustration when he heard the sound of the television downstairs, followed by his family talking and laughing and having a relatively normal family time day. The sound trickled through into his room and made his heart clench. He was lying to all of them right now, and the guilt was eating at him. But he didn't know what else to do. Any one of them could just as easily tell him to take the alien to the Garrison, convince him that Keith was dangerous, different, and that Lance was a bad child for putting the family in such danger.

From what he could decipher, they were starting to find his need to stay in his room for hours was weird. He was going to get caught, he knew it. Maybe he should go downstairs and just show them his face? That way they wouldn’t think anything different of him. The alien was sleeping anyway, and who knew for how long the medicine would take effect on him and keep him like this.

But…for some reason, he felt like he couldn’t leave yet.

There was a knock on his door, and his heart suddenly jumped a thousand beats. Shit, he knew he should have gone downstairs earlier. He rushed over to the door and leaned against the frame, pulling it open before the person on the other side did. He let out a breath when he saw it was just Allura. She had a bowl of some kind of paste in her hands and she handed it to him.  

“His bandages need changing,” she said in a hushed voice, pushing Lance into his room and following him inside. She gasped when she saw Keith sleeping. “Dios, he really does look human doesn't he, but those fangs are no joke,”

Lance nodded, leaning back against his closed door and looking over to the alien. “It’s almost creepy, but I feel like he’s crawling around inside my head,”

“I felt the same way,” Allura replied, settling the bowl down on his side table and slowly moving the covers from Keith’s amputated leg. She worked methodically, unraveling his bandages and applying the cream to his healing wound. “I felt like he was trying to talk to me,”

So she felt it too. He didn't really want to tell her that he had been having all sorts of thoughts the longer he stayed with her. Thoughts that hurtled from the dream he had had that morning, all the way to not so innocent thoughts about the alien and the bed he slept in. Lance instead watched her work, taking everything in so he could do it himself if he ever needed to. Allura was a saint, and she was also trying to keep the rest of the McClain’s out of his room while the alien healed. She was so wonderful to him right now.

“’lura, I don’t know what to do,” he sighed, slumping back onto the door. He paused, taking in a brave breath and made his way over to her. His fingers clenched at the back of his seat nervously. God, just ask her.

Allura seemed to have noticed his inner battle and turned to him with a smile. “Did you want something else?”

Taking in another brave breath, he turned to his sister. “Have you – I mean, are you…?” He let out a sigh, wondering why it was so difficult to ask her one simple thing. Will he be okay without a leg?

She worked with amputees, hell Shiro had been there for the past two years, and he was doing so well. Even with the loss of memories and all that stuff. She had looked after him from the beginning, and had taken care of him. Damn it. Why couldn’t he just ask? Why was he so worried about the outcome? What was it about this alien that made him want to swaddle him in his blankets and soothe him with words about how everything was going to be alright. He was acting crazy over it.

He let out a breath, his confidence deflating. “It’s nothing…”

Allura looked up at him. She knew just what he was like, especially his curious nature with new and exciting things. And she knew he had a big heart. She had felt this same strength, this same pull when she had first found Shiro in the mountains all those years ago. It had been electric, magnetic, as if everything around her was telling her to go to him, to take care of him, to be beside him. She felt a similar kind of pull with this alien, and it had caused her pause.

She had recognised his words – well not to the extent of knowing what he was saying – but she had distinctively heard that same dialect come from Shiro all the time when he thought she wasn’t looking. In the beginning he had constantly woken up in the middle of her night shift, calling out to someone in the darkness, the words sounding like ‘Yorak’ and something similar to how Keith spoke.

Seeing Keith in the star, seeing him speaking the same dialect…she hadn’t been sure what to do. But she knew that Lance was feeling the same pull for Keith as she felt for Shiro. But what that meant, Shiro hadn’t told her – and he probably never would.

Was Shiro also an alien?

Lance was looking at her, acting like a nervous school boy. He was trying to be nonchalant, aloof. It was silly, but she didn’t dare laugh. Instead, she smiled, getting straight to the point. “I have dealt with people like him before, it’s going to take some work, but he’s going to be okay.”

“You think so?” He asked quickly. His eyes widened as he leaned onto the back of his chair, trying to act cool again.

She tapped her finger on the now empty bowl and nodded. “I know he will be, because he has you to take care of him,”

Allura could feel the excitement and curiosity leap out from Lance, he had looked, so relieved. And for that, she was happy. This was still a very strange and very dangerous outcome, but at least this way she knew Lance would do his best to look after the alien.

Keith really needed all the help he could get.

Chapter Text

Lance returned back from his room after dinner with his family. He knew they were finding it odd that he chose to spend the day in his room rather than with them, like he normally would. But he had asked his mami if it was possible to keep his room clear of any of his family members, saying that he was working on something for class and that it was for something important to his future.

Well, he wasn’t wrong. Keith was something important to his future. He just didn’t know how important.

He was going to find out.

He closed his door behind him with a quiet thud. The air around him swirled, changing into something thicker, hotter, as he made his way to the middle of the room. He could hear his family talking downstairs, going about their evening as normal. None of them paid him any heed. So he sought to go deeper.

It was weird. He had been in his room with the alien inside so many times now, but for some reason, while the moon shone through the window in the distance, it was different. He could smell a heavy scent of flowers and something so other, heat filled the air, fluttering and swirling around him. It was an oddly pleasant feeling, as if something was calling out to him.

He pushed through the haze, gazing at the beautiful purple skinned alien lying on his bed. He was curled in the soft covers, the moonlight shimmering on him, making him glisten and glow. Mesmerising, the marks under his eyes, the little lighter purple marks that he hadn’t noticed before; they slit across his cheeks, down to his chin, and were glowing.

Lance had the urge to lick them. Where did that particular thought come from?

He sucked in a gasp as he let himself look. Keith looked like some long ago fallen angel, from his strong leg, thin waist, strong chest and broad shoulders. His face was pretty, there was no other way Lance could describe it. Long purple black hair spilling onto his pillow like an inky halo.

Delighted, and extremely curious, Lance moved to the edge of the bed, wanting to get a closer look. He had technically been this close to the alien before, when he had taken him out of the star and held him close in the dark closet. The heat was just as heady now as it had been then.

But it was a little sweeter, a lot calmer, and just a touch more intense.

“Beautiful,” he murmured to himself, his voice surprisingly breathless. He was finding himself utterly besotted with the alien. He had abhorred the look on those pretty lips and that sorrowful look in his gold eyes when he had cried in his arms. He wanted to see Keith smile; he bet it was as radiant as he looked.

Lance groaned inwardly. He was becoming some poetically lovesick sap. But the sight of this man, this alien, with his eyes closed, lips parted slightly. It took a large amount of willpower for him to not simply cage the man to the bed, to hold him close and keep him away from any more pain.

What was happening to him?

Running his fingers through his hair, if only to keep them from touching the alien, he came to terms with just what he was about to do. One kiss wouldn’t hurt, would it? One little peck of his lips against that lavender skin. It was just something to stop Lance from going crazy with want.

Harmless…right?

In his mind, he knew this was wrong, he knew he was playing with fire. God, was he really going to do this? Was he really going to take advantage of a sleeping man? No, he shouldn’t. He wouldn’t. But why wasn’t his body listening to his mind? What was it about this alien that drew him in, what was it about the way Keith was that made him want to…to…

Heat, their lips met in a breathless whisper, not touching but just breathing off one another. He didn’t let himself get further. He would be safe with kissing the air just by those sinful lips.

“It’s you…”

He jumped back at the sound of someone’s voice. He scrambled in the sheets, hoping to gain purchase, but his arm lost its purchase, grip faltering and he stumbled back onto the bed, his hands on either side of Keith’s body in an attempt to not fall. He saw Keith’s claws clench at his sides, and his darkened yellow gold eyes fluttered open. Keith was waking up. Yup, he was going to die.

Lance scrambled back up, vaulting up and away. He watched as Keith’s eyes opened, deep, intense that swirled a vividly shimmering gold among the yellow, as he sat up on the bed. The sheets fell to his lap; his face was mere inches away from Lance.

“Lance.” He murmured.

Lance shuddered at the way Keith said his name. Barely aware of his own rapturous expression, Lance stilled, his breath quickening, chest rising and falling rapidly. He saw those golden eyes darken, turning molten. A dark smirk replaced the sleepy look on the alien’s mouth.

Completely powerless to that gaze, Lance’s eyes slid shut as; almost imperceptibly he leaned in, his cool lips brushing against Keith’s right temple. He heard the quiet sigh escape Keith’s mouth.

What are you doing, Lance? You’ve got to stop!

He silently berated himself, but he found all he wanted to do was to stay, to touch, and to kiss. Falling into temptation, he dragged his lips lightly, ever so slowly, across Keith’s smooth brow down to the left side of his face. Keith was motionless, leaning in to his lips, tilting his head a little as Lance’s mouth met the skin of his neck. A storm raged inside Lance as he rained slow kisses along that pretty purple throat.

Keith tasted sweet, perfect. His neck arched so wonderfully, exposing his throat, little kitten soft mewls escaping his lips. His voice turning into a musical sigh as Lance’s attention became a burning fever; he lay open mouthed kisses along Keith’s collarbone and in the hollow of his throat, feeling the steady and fast paced pulse pounding underneath.

Claws dragged through his hair, pressing his face into the curve of that pretty neck. Lance held back a growl, happy that Keith was letting him do this. He had the sudden urge to bite into that skin. Teeth grazing, he was gentle when he bit into the flesh, almost inadvertently in his urgency.

He grinned when he heard a low and growling gasp. Still lost in his haze, he pulled away, resting his forehead against those broad shoulders. A part of him was relieved; these sensations were so desperately new to him, though not entirely unwelcome. Never had he felt so conflicted.

Here Lance was, closer to anyone that he had ever been, and he was an alien! Yet, while his mind resisted, his heart, his very soul, was in complete and utter surrender to this man’s inquisitive touch. His traitorous body was not helping his confusion either. His mouth ached, yearning to feel Keith’s lips on his own.

No. He had to stop. He couldn’t seriously want to kiss Keith.

Yet…

Keith arched his neck, offering his skin, and Lance complied. Seeing the previous bite, a darkening bruise, he was eager to make more, to make it permanent. This man, this embodiment of extra-terrestrial perfect, whatever he was; he was looking at Lance with such reverence that all conscious thought banish from his mind.

Keith raised his gaze almost inquisitively, witnessing Lance’s flushed face. Their eyes met and Keith gently brushed his clawed thumb along Lance’s lower lip, tilting their faces together. He bowed his head down, claiming Lance’s mouth in a soft kiss.

Keith kissed him mildly, chastely, as if he was taking pleasure from the simple act of skin touching skin. He gently parted Lance’s lips with his own, as though testing Lance, curiously. Lance fell apart then, melting into that mouth, into that touch. He slipped his tongue in languorously, meeting Keith’s own and kissing him soundly.

Keith growled, deepening their kiss with devastating thoroughness. Lance moaned powerlessly, and responded in kind. Their hands found purchase on sheets, clothes, skin, like steel as they crushed together. Lance’s fingers buried in Keith’s so soft hair, angling his head back to gain better purchase.

After what seemed like a beautiful eternity, their lips gentled until they were once again barely touching. Keith growled in displeasure, murmuring something in that language Lance really needed to start understanding. They parted was, breathing heavily. Keith let out an adorably disappointed mewl, which brought Lance to terms with what they had just done. He wanted to part away, to apologise. He had just taken advantage of the alien. He was a horrible person!

Keith’s gaze cleared from the desirous and primal to clear control, still that shimmering golden swirl. He stared straight into Lance, those eyes unwavering, and muttered a word that floored Lance.

Chiikoi.”

What?

Lance tried to pull back, but found he was unable to do so. Keith had him trapped with that one word, he felt paralysed. Keith’s hands soon found purchase on his chest, fingers spread wide. The familiar feeling of heat overwhelmed him, like he was being submerged into water. The world around them stopped, nothing moved, no sound, nothing.

It was just the two of them.

…it was heaven.

Dios, he was going to die. Why had he been so stupid? Of course Keith was going to wake up; of course Keith was going to kill him.

Keith’s long tongue flicked out to slide against Lance’s lips, and Lance’s thoughts dissolved once again. Oh, what a gentle pleasure that touch was, it felt like a spark of electricity shuddering through his entire body, igniting a fire deep inside. He needed to kiss Keith again, and he needed to kiss him now.

Ay, he was a sinner. He couldn’t believe this was actually happening. Keith pressed his mouth to his own again, tenderly. But as he did so, Lance felt this was a lot different than before. Keith forced his mouth open again, and Lance felt a sharp sting against his lip. The taste of his blood filled their mouths, and he stiffened. But Keith’s hold on him only tightened.

He was frozen once again.

When Keith finally pulled away, Lance was shocked to see the dazed look in those beautiful golden eyes, his mouth dripping with his blood.

Chiikoi,” he murmured that word tenderly as he moved, with a liquid like grace and pushed Lance down onto the bed.

Oh god, Keith was going to kill him, and there was nothing could do to stop him.

Chapter Text

The sound of thousands of voices whispered into the eeriness of the room, like silkened waves, murmurs and sighes rose with each sway, dying down as the swell of the current ebbed lower.

Fire red light illuminated eerily into a giant throne, completely covering with angular stone and light reflecting metal. The light came from the giant fiery planet seen through the giant wall of windows on the other side of the throne.

Sitting on the throne was a large Galran, his striking lavender face contorted by the brightness, his clawed hand poised up, long fingers swirling once, making a large purple blue screen fill the void before him, blocking out the burning star.

“Lord Zarkon,” Another Galran appeared on the screen, holding a hand to his chest and nodding his head down in a bow. “I have news,”

Lord Zarkon’s expressionless eyes glared at the screen, a bright gleam in his eyes. A smirk rose to his set lips, yellow eyes roving over to the blurred screen, smirking as it came to full focus. He saw the still image of a frozen capsule rocketing into a planet.

A very familiar planet.

He had finally found the prince.

He snapped his fingers, calling a young woman to him. She made her way towards her king, her long robe hiding her smaller body, her face hidden under a hood, only her whitened gold eyes showing.

“We are very fortunate,” she spoke, her voice sultry and slow.

With a smirk, Lord Zarkon moved his hand in a curl and the screen disappeared before the space, showing the burning star once again.

“Now the real fun begins.”

 

Lance couldn’t help but moan.

His head was thrumming, his heart beat thudding, his nose filled with Keith’s enchanting scent, skin sensitive to Keith’s hot touch. Lance was unable to take the sound of Keith’s sweet voice as he murmured that word again, "chiikoi". His breath hot and moist against Lance’s cheeks. Clawed fingers caught on Lance’s hair, his skin, tugging at the neck of his shirt.

His legs were straddled over Lance’s hips, one bent and the other amputated one, flat on the other side, bare and pressed against Lance’s waist. Holy crap! Lance was finding it hard to breathe, trapped against Keith’s warm weight. He was getting very addictive to Keith’s scent. But reality reared its ugly head, his gaze darted to the closed door and back to the alien above him.

He sucked in a breath. Oh god, Keith looked so…wow. His mouth was slightly open, breathing harsh and hard, fangs sharp and eyes hazy. There was something so captivating about him, striking in a way that made Lance respond to him automatically.

He reprimanded himself at the instant reaction of Keith sitting on top of him, body pressing against hard and hot heat. Oh, fuck. He had never had anyone lay with him like this before.

“Lance…”

Oh god, his voice was a breathy, messy moan, and it really wasn’t helping Lance at all. It did things to his mind; things that should have made him pause. But all he could think about was running his fingers through Keith’s long hair.

Damn it, he wanted to kiss Keith again.

“Lance, I don’t know what’s happening, but I…” He sounded more insistent now, murmuring words and phrases Lance didn't understand, leaning the full weight of his body on him. “Are you my…chiikoi?”

Keith sounded so confused, saying that word again. He stretched his legs down and tangled them tighter around Lance’s, holding him in place. The ends of his hair tickled Lance’s skin, sending goose bumps along his flesh.

A sensational gasp tore through Lance’s throat, and he pressed back into the mattress, staring in frozen disbelief at the man above him. “What are you doing?”

Keith blinked in surprise at his outburst before a smile spread across his lips. Everything turned blurry, like a heated haze coming up off like a wildfire. All he had were his senses, and they were all demanding him to touch, smell, taste.

He leaned in closer, unsure of what to think, of what to do. He reached down and stroked his claws down Lance’s cheek, marvelling at the sand coloured skin. “You must be…I don’t know how else to explain this, Shiro never told me,”

He knew his words were outlandish, he didn’t really know what to do. He had heard stories about chiikoi; soulmates, lovers that spanned the universe, never to be broken apart, thirsting for one another, stronger together than anything. To think this terran could be his chiikoi.

If this really was a dream, then he never wanted to wake.

He had to make sure, however. But he hadn't been taught what to do. He was running purely on instinct. “You must not move,”

Keith’s alluring voice echoed in Lance’s mind, his strong blossom like scent invaded his senses and made the entire thoughts scatter in his mind. He watched as Keith held his hand to his mouth, nicking Lance’s finger with his fangs. Lance winced at the pain, but broke out into a moan when Keith’s thin tongue ran along his finger, sucking on the blood.

Lance lay frozen, mind fuzzy. What was Keith doing to him?

Keith groaned, his head throbbing, he wanted to taste more of Lance. His claws coasted along Lance’s neck, thumb pressed lightly at his throat. At the sight of his skin reddening, Keith’s stomach groaned, reminding him of a hunger, of a thirst that he didn’t understand.

Push me off,” He purred.

Lance shuddered at the sound. He couldn’t help but run a hand down Keith's silken sides, the armour like a second skin on his body. He should have pushed Keith back, but his hand stayed. Keith arched his back, shivers running down his spine.

He leaned into Lance again, gasping when he felt something hard against his thigh. Keith grinned, hazy and lost in the heat, his fangs grazed against Lance’s jaw, tongue licking sweetly. “You’re getting turned on, chiikoi,”

Lance’s eyes snapped open. Thoughts came to a screeching halt, motor skills lost. Unconsciously he craned his neck to one side, feeling those sharp fangs drag down the column of his throat. Oh god, everything was so sensitive, so hazy. His body was heated, burning like a fire. This was all so frightening, yet so marvellous. So exciting.

He knew he should push the alien away, he could hear a commotion coming from downstairs. Hear the front door open and close, followed by the thudding of footsteps coming up the stairs. They were all out there, unaware that he was here getting turned on by a beautiful alien.

Keith’s growl caused a chill to rush down his spine. And that was when he felt the sharp press of fangs breaking into his skin. Lance gasped, his body shuddering. He had expected pain, but not…not this. It was surprisingly euphoric.

There was so much lust, so much power, so much emotion. Perfect. Every suck of those lips against his neck felt like bolts of lightning rushing down his spine. Keith sucked at his neck so savagely, moaning in the pleasure of his taste. Lance tightened his grip on Keith’s shoulders, body heating up, too shocked to move.

Keith snarled viciously, stilling him all the more. He took Lance’s arms and threw them up over his head, his scent permeating the air around them, hair shielding them from the world. Lance’s mind was reeling, something twisted in his stomach, heart doing a strange tumble. He let out a quiet moan, unable to take it anymore.

Chiikoi,” There was that word again, Lance sucked in a breath, Keith’s nose pressing into the bloodied mess of his neck. Thin tongue lucking at the bruise. He leaned back then, moving away and pausing in his ministrations.

Lance looked up at him, despite the situation, despite the absolute freakiness of what they had just done; he couldn’t help but stare at the man before him. See those elongated fangs pressing against blood soaked lips. He couldn’t help but think Keith looked…

“Beautiful,”

Keith stilled at his words, not so much in what he said, but just how he said it. There was no need for them to understand one another's language. They knew what this was, and it was what they both wanted. Keith smiled and hid his face back at Lance’s throat, driving his sharp fangs into the skin once again.

Yorak! Stop!”

Lance growled, feeling fangs being ripped out of his throat, feeling the warmth of Keith’s mouth leaving his skin. The euphoric feeling vanished, leaving him empty, cold and alone. He held back a grunt of pain at the sudden sensation. His head suddenly pounding at the loss, aching in a way that levelled him.

Opening his eyes, Lance saw Shiro holding onto the, now feral alien. Keith's claws and fangs biting into his silver blue prosthetic arm, which was wrapped around his chest, holding him still. He suddenly had the urge to go up to the large man, and push him away. Throw punches and kicks and save his chiikoi.

Wait...his...what?

Lance barely took notice of his sister taking care of the bite would on his neck. Too lost in his thoughts. His hands were shaking, his mouth dry, and his head swimming. He couldn’t tear his gaze from Keith, seeing those golden eyes widened in fear. Not fear from himself…but fear for him. Keith was scared for Lance.

Shiro! Let me go! I need him!” Keith cried, his vision turned blurry and red. He needed Lance, he needed to be closer, he had to be closer. But Shiro was stopping him, why was Shiro stopping him? Wait...his head snapped back to the man holding him, eyes widened. “Shiro! You’re here!

Lance pushed Allura away, grinning drunkenly when he saw Keith’s bright smile. He looked so happy at seeing Shiro and it made a small part inside him glow with warmth. Though his mind was still hazy, he understood the relationship they shared. He didn't know how he knew, but he understood it. It was a brotherhood. It was a sibling love.

But, just how did Keith know Shiro?

Lance stood then, reaching out for Keith, needing to be near him. But as soon as he took a step closer, he felt his world tilt. Dropping to his knees, Lance clutched his aching head in his hands, screaming as the pain increased, the pounding ache reverberating through his head. His eyes dilated, pupils barely there anymore, his skin felt like it was on fire.

“Lance!” Keith yanked himself out of Shiro’s grip, dropping to the ground. He held himself up by is arms, dragging his body and making his way to the fallen man. “Shiro, please, you have to let me help him,”

Allura rushed to Lance’s side, holding an arm around him and checking him. She didn’t know what was happening but she knew it must have been something Keith had done. She moved in front of Lance in an attempt to keep the alien away from her brother.

Shiro’s eyes widened, noticing Keith’s injuries. “Your leg,”

I can save him,” Keith screeched, his gaze hardening as he reached for Lance. He forced himself up on his one leg, feeling himself faltering. He clenched his hands to his side, claws out. He was ready to fight anyone and anything holding him back.

Prince Yorak…you haven’t.” Shiro narrowed his gaze at the alien, making his way over to his brother.

I don’t know,” Keith looked up at him, eyes widened and wet with his emotions. “All I know is that he is mine.”

Shiro seemed hesitant, but he stepped to the side, letting go of his prince. Keith’s gaze softened when he saw Lance on the ground, his eyes closed tightly and his knuckles white from pressing into his head, as if he were trying to squeeze out the pain.

“Lance,” he murmured, dropping down in front of him. He heard Shiro speak to Allura in the same language the terran’s spoke, but moments passed, in which Allura looked at them both, but she stood up then, leaving Keith to his Lance. Keith nodded, and sunk his fangs into his wrist, drawing out welts of dark blood, and held it out in front of the terran. He didn’t know what he was doing, running on instincts alone.

Lance gazed up through heavy and drowsy eyes, seeing the blurred vision of the man who had inflicted this pain on him. His head was pounding madly, he wanted desperately for something or someone to quell the pain. Anything.

He felt something press against his drying lips, whatever the warm liquid was made the pain dissipate, albeit slowly. In a mad and hungry rush, he took a hold of the appendage that was granting him blessed relief and drank as much as he could. His grip tightened on the appendage and he pulled it closer to his mouth. His body felt heavy with every sip, full and completed sated. His head lolled to the side and onto something soft and incredibly warm. He continued to suck on the appendage like a baby.

Wow. Allura should deliver this to everyone in pain. It was such a fast acting reliever. He felt the world around him swirl, as if it was tilting in a circle before stopping in complete stillness. A perfect landing.

Allura and Shiro watched with avid fascination as Lance drank the aliens’ blood like a starved man. Allura stepped forward, hoping to help them in any way. But Shiro held his arm up to him, making her stop. “I know it seems weird, but you need to let him finish.”

Don’t worry, Allura.” Attention turned to the alien calling her name. His voice was low and breathy when he spoke. “I won’t let anything happen to him,”

“What have you done to him?” Allura asked, holding her hands to her hips.

Shiro raised a slanted eyebrow. “You remember the thing I told you about chiikoi’s,”

“Soulmates, you had said,” Allura replied, remembering the conversation they had had many months ago. It had caused many thoughts to rush through her mind, making her shudder at the sweet thought. “Is this what is happening?”

Shiro let a small smile reach the corner of his thin mouth. “it's something like that.”

When Lance’s head dropped onto Keith's shoulder, Keith pulled his arm away from his mouth and let out a long breath. Running soothing claws down Lance's short hair. “My chiikoi,

Lance let out a low groan and blinked open his dark eyes. When had he closed them? He didn’t know. All he knew was that he was exhausted but completely sated and everyone was looking at him in awe. “What happened?”

Keith pushed him from his body, needing to get away from Lance before he did anything they both might regret and staggered to a stand, watching as the others rushed to put him back on the bed. He stood directly in front of Shiro and held his arms out to him.

I am you prince; you are my brother and knight,” Keith said slowly, his voice still hoarse and his breathing heavy, holding his wrists up in a sign of submission. “I demand you to hold me as prisoner,”

Chapter Text

She had heard the transmission before she had seen what it had meant. It zoomed through the starry skies, trialling through the universe, ignored by others. But not by her. She took a moment to analyse the data, seeing what it obtained within its message. It looked like one of the dead languages, Galra.

The prince lives.

The prince, her prince? She had thought Daibazaal was dead, until now. But if this transmission was hurtling through space, that meant her prince was not safe. With a sudden explosion, she rippled through the black space surrounding her and made her way through the galaxy in mere seconds, heading for the universe the transmission had been sent from.

But she was not alone. She had picked up a companion, a small long haul craft that took to following her tail. She just hoped it was because the other craft was curious to who she was, but she received no hail, nothing at all. She knew whoever it was, was not friendly. But she didn’t take the time to wait for its reaction. She locked on her target and took aim. It slipped out of the way, avoiding the plasma blast, zooming passed and dodging her shots.

They arrived near a red planets outer atmosphere. She scanned the planet and found that the other had no real reason to land here. The planet was barren. She expanded her view and saw that indeed there were no life forms on the planet, but there were smaller, robotic individuals that inhabited the land. She aimed another plasma blast at the ship, and this time it didn’t miss. Striking the other head on, she saw it crash land onto the planet. Getting closer to make sure it stayed down, she dodged rocks and debris showering the upper atmosphere. She needed to make sure her prince was safe, and the best way to do that was to make sure the man was down.

But she was too late.

The transmission had been taken and forwarded, coordinates sent somewhere in the distant galaxy. But they had made one fatal mistake, they hadn’t scrambled the message. 

“To all Galra within functioning capacity, Earth is your destination. The last living Galran Prince is alive.”

Reaching for her own communicator, she created her own transmission, location set up and ready, encrypted to only those within the resistance, the only ones that were left, and unleashed it to the universe.

"This is Krolia of the Blade, the prince is alive, be ready,"

 

Keith woke up with a start, sweat dripped down his face and neck. His head shook from side to side, but a stab of pain forced him to stop. He groaned, wanting desperately to stretch his legs, but his mind met resistance. He didn’t dare move.

He sat there on the Lance’s bed, with his legs crossed in a meditative position. It was abhorrently hot, as he had expected it to be. His fur was going to have to get used to the atmosphere here. Thankfully there was a luminescence coming from the large window, orange and red hues turning to blue and black as the single sun set.

He squinted, trying to make shapes through closed eyes. He could sense his Lance in the house, he must be relatively close. Keith groaned, he could still taste Lance’s delicious blood on his tongue, feel his hot, muscular body underneath his own, smell that familiar scent of juniberries and salty air that was so uniquely Lance.

Oh the feel of that mouth.

Keith ached all over for him.

But he forced himself to stay focused. He had to be strong now. One slip of his mind, one slight thought out of the normal and his entire world, everything he had worked so hard for since his last slip up, his last sip, would all be destroyed. How could he have drunk from Lance?

All in all, this was not the best solution he could have asked for. But there was no use worrying about it now. What was done was done. There was no sound in the room, except for the whooshing sound of the sea as Lance had called it. Taking in a deep breath, he smelled that intoxicating scent of Lance once again.

Stop it. Goose bumps rose on his heated skin.

Was Lance thinking of him the same way he thought about Lance? The feel of his warm lips, his hard body beneath his own, his heat spreading over Keith’s thighs, his quick gasps and moans caving his stomach and raising his broad chest and shoulders, the delightful shivers that made Keith want him so much, that sinewy strength of him pressed closer to his own pounding heartbeat, so strong, so loud. A shiver ran through his body.

Stop thinking about him.

He took deep breaths, calming his erratic heart.

Keith felt Shiro enter the room before he heard his footsteps. Shiro stood directly in front of him, at the edge of the bed.

“It’s good to see you meditating,” His voice was filled with relief. And Keith understood why, so many years had passed since they had last seen one another. They had both thought the other dead. It was so good to hear someone else speaking Galran.

Keith had always felt like he was being tested whenever his father came to him. However it never felt like that with Shiro. There was something very family like about him. He had always found it easy to read a person, looking into someone’s eyes, watching the movement of their face, their body and hands, listening to the words they said, and those they didn’t. He could understand everything he needed to know about them.

And these terrans were no different. Lance was different, however.

Keith closed his eyes, taking deep measured breaths. Shiro had amazing timing, maybe he could focus on talking to his guard, rather than thinking about Lance.

“You taught me well,” he replied.

Shiro smirked, “You’re showing signs of hesitancy, although I really don’t know why,”

This was good, if Shiro argued with him, that’d definitely make Keith stop thinking about Lance.

“You know what happened,” Keith replied, and silently berated himself for calling himself Keith. When had he started doing that? “He is the reason why I have to meditate,”

Keith felt the shift in the air as Shiro narrowed his gaze. He was watching Keith closely the entire time he spoke. “You can’t repress your natural instincts to be mated with Lance,”

“Natural instincts,” his eyes snapped open and his fingers turned taught, into claws. “I’ve inflicted a curse on an innocent terran, all because I was too hungry to think otherwise,”

“I don’t think that’s the case,” Shiro stood closer to the bed, not breaking his stance, or his knightly persona. “You didn’t attack Allura, or anyone else in this home…you didn’t run, you didn’t kill. You went after Lance,”

He paused to let that fact sink in. Keith thought about that for a second. Quiznak, Shiro was right. Keith had had ample enough time to run, to fight, to kill, and yet as soon as Lance had stepped foot into the room, Keith’s thirst had focused on him.

Only him.

The very scent of him was intoxicating.

“So, what are you going to do?”

“Fix my leg, and get out of here,” Keith rolled his eyes from behind closed eyes. Angels, he really had done it this time. He let out a small smirk at his self-inflicted demise. Mating rituals. What he had inflicted on Lance had allowed him to pine, and want for Lance. But Lance would feel nothing for him.

Shiro’s footsteps on the ground were silent, but Keith heard the quiet thuds cross the room, closer to his other side, his injured side.

“You’re going to kill yourself,” He stated calmly, though Keith knew he was nowhere near as calm as he was trying to be.

“What else can I do?” Keith clenched his eyes tight at the thought of what he was doing. It was for the best after all. He would not inflict pain on the people around him, especially not to Lance. Not to his chiikoi. “Lance will forget about me, he is not Galran, he will not suffer the same fate,”

“Some fate, huh,” Shiro let out a musical tone, he raise an eyebrow when he saw Keith look at him oddly. “Remember Yorak, patience yields focus, you need to focus on what’s right in front of you,

Keith growled, but sought instead to change the subject. He needed to focus, to think about anything other than his slowly breaking resistance to his own thoughts. Thoughts that made him were to break away from this bed and hunt for the pretty terran. The others’ be damned.

He opened his eyes and looked up to his knight, his brother. Change the subject. “What happened to Daibazaal?”

“Yorak…you can’t—”

He cut him off before Shiro could continue. “No. Please. I want to hear it from you.”

“Why?” He raised a thin eyebrow at his prince.

Keith let out a long breath, looking directly into his brothers eyes. “Because you have fallen to the same fate as me, you have also lost your planet.”

Shiro settled down on the bed next to Keith, reaching out to place a hand on his thigh. That was when Keith noticed the prosthetic limb; sleek and white in colour, the metal was cool, but smooth, fingers tight and moving. Solid lines with a firm grip. He didn't flinch, not now that he too was crippled, amputated. “What do you remember?”

“The sky was dark, black rain fell all the time, people were dying.” Keith wrinkled his nose, his head starting to ache as he recalled his memories; the darkness, the tangy scent of acid and tar in the air, the smell and sight of dead bodies piling up in the streets. “I can’t…really remember all that well.”

Shiro tightened his grip on Keith’s thigh, seeming distant as he spoke, stoic. “The virus took over, the lightning and clouds made it impossible to get out. But once everyone was sick, the clouds dispersed.”

Keith let out a choking breath. Everyone...was...dead?

“The virus only affected Galran’s and nothing else. The wildlife lived on.” Shiro continued. Keith understood his stiffness, his stilted silence. He held back his emotions at the memory. He had to tell his prince the truth, there was no sugar coating something like this.

Keith looked up at him, hopefully. “Daibazaal is still out there?”

“After so many years, everything would have perished.” Shiro stated, cutting off any hope they may have had. It may have been a harsh reality for them both, but they both needed to know there was no logical reason for them to go back to their planet, especially if it would only help in killing them both.

They were the last of their kind, endangered. “We can’t go back,

Keith crumbled to the bed.

Shiro turned to the door, seeing Allura standing there, peering through the door. But he stayed by his prince’s side. He knew how fruitless it would be to say empty words. He knew the emotions running through his prince, how much it hurt. But he also understood the need for them to stay strong. They were the last of their kind. This was the reason why he was desperate for his prince to stay with his chiikoi. Yorak deserved his happiness, however fruitless it could be.

He jumped when he heard his prince’s’ anguished screams, followed by every glass object in the room smashing into pieces. Fearing for the thundering footsteps rushing up the stairs, he stood before his prince, not letting anyone in until he knew his prince had settled.

No matter how long that would take.

Chapter Text

“Lance…my chiikoi,”

Lance’s eyes snapped open wide, his breathing was ragged, his skin drenched with sweat. He gazed around to see he was in the living room, on the sofa, tangled in a blanket he knew his mami had placed on him.

What was that dream about?

He couldn’t really remember much, but he could definitely remember that man. That alien. That voice. That low, hauntingly, indescribably beautiful and ethereal voice. It thrummed through him with a delectable intensity, lighting up a secret thrill in his veins.

God, it was so familiar a voice. Insubstantially.

He had called Lance his ‘chiikoi’, whatever that meant. And he had only ever heard that word once before. He still didn’t know what it meant, but he wasn’t sure if it was a good or bad sign.

It was probably his mind playing tricks with him, he was exhausted after all. He had been up early that morning, had the whole alien invasion thing happened, met a gorgeous purple skinned alien, saved him, watched him sever his leg – yeah that particular thought was not going to come out of his mind any time soon.

But he had been bitten by the alien, ay dios, he could have some kind of unknown disease running through him, what if there were some alien pathogens in the alien that had been passed down onto him? What about his blood, Lance’s skin had been splattered by it.

He really didn’t remember much after the splitting headache, but apparently he had drunk the alien’s blood. Or something like that. It all sounded so fantastical, that he wasn’t sure. But he did remember the taste of something sweet and salty, and then all the pain he had felt had gone away.

What if, by drinking Keith’s blood he had had some adverse effects that were making him dream about the alien?

Maybe he should consult with Allura?

He shook his head, lying back down on the sofa. He wasn’t about to tell anyone in his family that he was having vivid dreams about the alien. Especially ones that made him feel so…good.

He just hoped these dreams were the only side effect of that bite.

 

Oh, how very wrong he was.

It hadn’t been a few hours since he had been bitten, but Lance felt more alive and awake that he had in a long time. As soon as he had woken up, he was bright and happy, as if everything in the world was right.

He was satisfied with the kids rushing and running around him that afternoon, he had helped his mother cook – though this was just a motive to keep her and the others in the house in the kitchen, and nowhere near his room, – where he knew the pretty alien was still sleeping.

He knew he should have been freaked out of his mind, but for some reason he felt like he was able to do everything without hesitation.

But with that, he was so very distracted. Every few moments he felt as if something was with him, someone was watching him, something in the corner of his mind was standing next to him, smiling brightly, pressed up against his back. His entire body itched for something, but he didn’t know what it was.

That was how his mami found him. She was peering out from the kitchen doors, watching her son staring out into the space between the television and the picture frames hanging on the wall.

“Mijo!” she cried, calling out to her absentminded son.

Lance jolted at his name. He looked up and saw his mami give him a look. What had happened, what had she said? Something about…she was holding a wooden spoon to her hip, giving him a stern look.

“Ah, lo siento mami,” He stood up and made his way over to her.

“Are you alright, Lance?” she asked, moving out of the way as her son entered the kitchen, ready to help her once again. She held a hand to his shoulder. “You look…”

“I’m alright,” Lance replied, cursing at his absentmindedness. “I just got distracted.”

“Is it about the boy in your room?”

“What?” Lance replied quickly, how the hell had she found out? Sure it was true that the alien was on his mind, and he really didn’t know why. It was as if he was there, in the background, not really bothering him. Keith was just…there, pleasantly.

How had his mami found out? Did she know he was an alien? Did she know how he had gotten here? Was she going to make them turn him in? Or worse…

“You can’t hide something like this from your mami,” She replied, returning to the pot that was simmering a sauce that smelled amazing. “I don’t care if you have a girlfriend or a boyfriend; I just want you to be safe,”

Though that was definitely not what was happening, he was glad to know his mother was okay with him being bisexual. He hadn’t really had the chance to come out to her. But hell, this was one way.

Lance dropped his head down, sucking in a harrowed breath. “I’m sorry mami, but I—”

“Help me with the sauce, mijo,” She interrupted him, holding the wooden spoon out to him. “We can talk more later, but I want to meet this boy that had you so infatuated,”

Infatuated was one way to say it.

He knew his mother was only thinking the best about him, but he couldn’t help himself. He was the one who had kissed Keith. He still didn’t understand why he had done that, why his heart had demanded he kiss the pretty alien, demanding that without Keith he wouldn’t be able to live.

And that bite…

He ran his fingers over the mark in his neck, a small crescent shaped crevice that wasn’t really all that noticeable. He was still shocked that an alien biting him on the jugular could feel so…good. Especially the way Keith pressed up against him, body so hot and strong, the soft mewling noises he made when he drank from Lance. It was…

He was doing it again. He needed to focus. Keith was messing with his mind. And he still had to make sure his mami never saw him. It was going to be damn near impossible to explain the purple skin and the whole alien thing.

He really needed to get his thoughts and feeling in check. What was wrong with him? Holding a hand to his hear he groaned inwardly. The itch was back, the feeling of someone watching him. Ad he couldn’t let it go. It couldn’t be because of Keith, could it? But, what else could it be?

He stopped himself. No, he wasn’t going to think about this, he wasn’t going to go see the pretty alien.

Even though he was completely against it, he found himself thinking about the alien, remembering the way he had just been laying there, sleeping so peacefully, so contently, looking so…well, wow.

He just had to see Keith again.

But his thoughts were interrupted when he heard an almighty scream echo through the house, followed by the glasses shuddering, some cracking and others tumbling to the ground.

He knew that sound, he had remembered the same screeching sound when he had seen Keith hack away at his leg.

Keith!

Chapter Text

So…that could have gone a whole lot better.

Keith was so thankful for Shiro in that moment. With the sound of the footsteps thumping outside of the safe haven they had called their prison, Shiro had reached for the unseen piercing behind his ear and held onto the small, silver ball in his thumb and forefinger.

Keith’s eyes widened. He knew what that was.

It was a form changer, one that would help Keith change his body into whatever species surrounded them. Shiro had one inside him already; it was what made him look like the terrans around them. He had looked like this ever since Keith’s father had wanted to take his kingdom into different world.

This was the last creation his father had perfected.

As the footsteps grew louder, Shiro had been ready in a split second. Holding the silver ball tighter in his grip, he rubbed it clean on his shirt, and made his way over to Keith. His thick boots thundered on the ground to hide the sound of the feet rushing up the stairs.

Shiro gave Keith a look, one that showed he was sorry for what he was about to do.

Its okay, Shiro. I understand,” And Keith did understand. Though he hated the very thought of it, this was for the betterment of their stay here. If they had any luck to stay here and recuperate, then they needed time. And this little ball would help them.

Keith wasn’t sure of what to expect when that ball finally got inside him. But he was going to be ready for whatever it was Shiro was going to do. This pain can’t be as bad as the absolute white hot pain of slicing his leg off.

Quickly, my prince,” Shiro said. Keith leaned forward, exposing his throat to his guard. It felt so good to hear someone speak his own language after fearing its desolation.

Shiro’s claws pressed into his throat, snicking a small line just over the jugular. The pain was barely a scratch to the surface of the pain he had felt before. The blood seeped out, blackened and shimmering, and a silver ball took its place.

Keith grit his teeth, holding back a screech as the silver ball worked through him, dissolving in his blood and seeping like a frozen shiver all through his body. It wasn’t as bad as the severing, but at least that was localised to one place. Right now, the prince felt like he had been dunked into a bath of ice.

Quiznak! It was so much!

Almost immediately, the purple of Keith’s skin turned to a brilliant pale white, fur receding into him, only the long black hair on his head was left. His ears shifted, spilling down and into a dull curve, his teeth surprisingly stayed sharp, though duller than usual, his skin shuddering a feral pink and smoothing out, soft to the touch and similar to the colour of the silver of the planet just outside the terran Earth’s orbit.

Keith hated it. It made him look…weaker, like a baby who just came into their fangs. He guessed that was what he was now, without a leg, without a planet. He was no longer Galran anymore, was he?

“Prince Yorak, going undercover,” Shiro murmured, his hand pressed to Keith’s throat to the closing wound he had inflicted.

Yes…he was undercover.

The doors behind them opened, and in filtered a lovely looking older woman, dressed in warm colours, hair dark and tied in a tail at the nape of her neck, her robust round face held a strong smile, her eyes wide and the same blue as Lance’s.

This was Lance’s mother.

 

 

Elena McClain was excited as she made her way through her home and to her eldest sons’ room. She was eager to see the person her son was so infatuated with, but she had to make sure this boy was not a threat to his family.

She was concerned, especially after knowing what happened to her mijo with that awful girl he had dated before. But she jumped at the chance to see this boy right away.

Her Lance had never looked like that before, like he was in love.

She had seen all sorts of things about these new kinds of loves, of boys liking boys, and girls liking girls. And here they were, right here in her very home. Her son liked a boy.

She hoped that she was able to make a good enough impression with this boy. After overhearing, okay she’ll admit she had been spying a little, on the conversations Lance had with Allura, about a boy in his room, she knew there was something going on.

Lance wouldn’t lie to her, not about something like this. Not unless he was scared, not unless he wanted to gather his courage and tell her the truth.

She would wait, but she would also show him that she was ready, that she was happy with his choices.

Her excitement was short lived however, when she remembered just what had brought her up these stairs. She had heard the boy scream, something inhuman, something worrisome, something….so filled with pain.

Her instincts had told her to go, so she had. She was quick, but not as quick as Lance. He had bounded up the stairs and straight to his bedroom. Throwing open the door and rushing inside.

That was when she saw the mess. The floor was covered with broken pieces of glass, and she was glad she was wearing her shoes.

“What happened?” she asked, rushing over to the door. She pushed her son from the door and stepped inside.

That was when she saw the pretty young boy sitting on her son’s bed, curled up in the covers. She noticed the blood on the sheets, the bandaged amputated leg, the sweaty sheen on his pale skin and the abject fear in his wide, purple eyes. He was a mess, sitting there, shuddering and shivering.

Shiro was sitting in the spot next to him, holding a hand to his shoulder.

Elena didn’t let the sudden shock of the recently amputated boy on her sons bed keep her back. She was quick to his side, the small slip of a boy shaking like a leaf, and wrapped him in her arms.

“Oh mi querido,” she murmured to him, grasping him close to her chest and running her fingers through his long, shoulder length hair. “Everything is going to be okay,”

Chapter Text

Once the room had been cleaned, and the rest of the family – who had all piled into Lance’s room after hearing the commotion and the frantic footfalls of their mother rushing upstairs – had all left only Elena, Lance, Keith and Shiro in the room – not after muttering ‘oh my god, Lance has a boyfriend!’ and ‘did you see all the blood?’ – Elena took to sitting on the edge of the bed, her arms still wrapped around the shivering pale skinned boy.

She hadn’t seen this boy around the village before, but maybe he was from the city, or a tourist or something. He looked like he had only just had his leg amputated – but that couldn’t be right, could it? She should probably call the hospital just in case. The bandage wrapped around his leg was starting to turn a faint pink from the blood.

She had all sorts of questions running through her mind, but she could see the fear slowly edging its way into the pale boy’s eyes, and the way her Lance was shifting from foot to foot, fidgeting and fiddling with his fingers. And her motherly instincts just took over. She wanted to make sure this pretty little pale boy was safe. Who knew just what he had gone through?

What had he been doing to create such a mess in the first place? She knew Shiro couldn’t have done this, after all, he was a lovely young man, he knew how they all worked in this family. Shiro wouldn’t have done something like this.

So that meant it had to be the little slip of a boy lying on the bed. To think he could create such a mess, so quickly. It made her worry about him. Just what had this poor boy been through?

He was sitting at the head of the bed, curled up in a little ball, his head on his knees. He had flinched when she had come to hold him, as if he wasn’t used to others touching him – and that was a damn shame. He looked up at her, noticing her staring at him, his eyes were red as if he had been crying for hours, and his fingers were taut, like claws, raw red scratch marks on his arms. He looked dejected and exhausted.

“Ay, querido,” she let out a breath, reaching tentatively out for him. The scream had been heart wrenching, it had made her heart physically ache for the boy. She felt sympathy for him. “What happened?”

She jumped when she heard him speak, in a language she had not heard of before. It sounded like a mix of something far eastern and Russian, guttural and gruff, yet lilting and soft. It was…delightful to know there was a language like this out there.

She turned to her son, hoping he could translate. After all, they must have communicated somehow with how infatuated they looked for one another – a mother always knew things like this.

Lance wasn’t looking at her, his gaze so intense on the boy. Ay, dios, this was going to be problematic. She turned back to the boy and noticed his claw like nails were sticking to his arm, causing rivulets of blood to seep out in thin lines over his pale skin.

She wasn’t the least bit surprised when Shiro started talking to the boy in that same language. And it clicked; this was probably how her son had met this boy. He must be related to Shiro in some way. They did have a strikingly similar resemblance.

“We need to get you to the hospital,” she said quietly, slowly, as if trying to rouse the frightened boy to her.

“No, mami,” Lance murmured, his voice was surprisingly hoarse. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,”

“Mijo, he’s hurt,” Elena replied, holding a hand out to the boy. The boy shook his head, vehemently, digging his nails deeper into his skin. She grabbed his hands, in hopes to stop him; that was when she noticed that he was trembling. “Ay dios, okay. Stop doing that,”

This boy obviously didn’t want any sympathy. Elena could relate to that.

He was speaking again, in that language, words that were coming fast and strong and hopeful. His eyes were wide, filled with fear, with such worry. His head dropped back onto his knees, and his body started shuddering, trembling as he tried to force himself into a small ball, as if he were trying to make himself invisible.

It made a small part of her want to just wrap this little boy up in the softest of covers and sing him a lullaby. He was such an oddly sweet boy.

“What is he saying, Takeshi?” She turned to Shiro instead, wanting to know just what this boy was saying. He was repeating the same words and phrases again and again, words that sounded like gibberish to her. But he was saying them with such vehemence, with such fear.

He looked so afraid.

Shiro stood a little taller then, hands clenching to fists at his sides as he listened to the poor boy muttering those words again and again. “He is saying ‘I am sorry’,”

Elena’s eyes widened, she turned back to the boy, reaching for his arm and holding onto him with the softest of touches she could muster. “What are you sorry for, mi cielo?”

He was speaking again, and she could feel just how earnest he was, the words were so soft and lilting, yet so harsh and heartfelt. Tears were pricking the corners of his purple tinged eyes, threatening to fall.

“I’m sorry for landing here, I’m sorry for taking residence your home. I’m sorry for my leg, I’m sorry for…for everything!  Your son has been nothing but pleasant but I need to heal before I can leave. I mean no harm, no harm! Please, please, please don’t kill me, I will do anything, I will give you anything, please don’t kill me.”

She darted her gaze to Shiro, but saw he had instead sought to rushing over to the boy, dragging him up from the bed and crushing him to his chest. He replied back to the boy, words sweeter and softer as he spoke, as he consoled the poor boy.

“You tell him, Shiro.” She said, once she heard Shiro’s voice turn into a whispered repeat, as if he were calming the boy down. “You tell him he is welcome here, he is safe here.”

Shiro nodded, repeating the same words to the boy. She saw the boy cease in his shivering, and then those eyes darted up to her, shining with tears. But there was such a wondrous smile on his lips, lips trembling as he spoke to her.

She didn’t need to know what he was saying, she understood. This kind of feeling was universal after all. He was her sons love, her sons’ boy, he was important to their life. And she was going to make sure he felt safe here. She wouldn’t question his past. He would tell her on his own, she’d find out somehow. But for now, she was going to make sure he was healthy and happy here.

“You’re welcome,”

Chapter Text

“Fascinating,”

Keith held back a grin. This Allura was so entranced by the mere thought of him looking like them, like an alien. It obviously meant that Shiro hadn’t shown her how he really looked like.

It was funny to see these humans so fascinated by the mere thought of other worlders; Keith had barely scratched the surface of his own species to her. He could tell this woman truly did not have any ill intent towards him. She really was an explorer, a researcher in a way. She was interested in him in a scientific sort of way.

He wasn’t sure if that boded well for him. But what else could he do? He was, after all, stuck here. The other woman, Elena she had called herself, but he noticed everyone else called her ‘mami’, and that confused him. Was her name Elena or Mami? Was the second word only used by people close to her? Was she some kind of royal, and Elena was a way of calling her queen or something?

Galran’s didn’t have any other word for one another, other than their names, their ranks and their chiikoi’s. Maybe Mami was her rank? She surely knew how to control the room, maybe Mami meant major, or general?

Slowly, he had noticed the rest of the clan in this building were just as curious as the Mami. They had been at the door, looking in, just wanting to see him, to see something new and intriguing. Maybe they had figured out he was a prince, maybe Shiro had told them of his rank. He could speak their language after all.

It was so interesting for him to see, there were so many different ages, so many different kinds of species here. So many people he could have drunk from.

Shiro had been right. No one other than Lance was good enough. No one made Keith salivate at the thought of taking from him. Keith had restraint, it seemed, enough to roam the building without the need of lunging on a person when he was particularly hungry. But he wouldn’t dare do that in case he crossed paths with Lance and suck him dry.

He didn’t know how far his restraint would take him. What if he killed his chiikoi?

Never. Lance was his chiikoi, even though he didn’t know how that had happened. He was terran. It wasn’t possible for Galran’s to mate outside of their species. Right? Sure they may share the same genus with terrans. But…was it possible?

Were the strengths chiikoi’s shared with their mating possible for him and Lance to share? There hadn’t been any records of such an attempt. But Keith had to remind himself, his kind did not venture into other worlds, and many of her people died without their chiikoi.

Did that mean that there was a possible chance of having a chiikoi that came from outside of his planet? Did he even have a choice anymore?

And if it was possible to fully mate with them, where did that leave him and Lance?

He shook his head, what was he even thinking? Lance was not someone he could continue mating with. He had hurt him, bitten him, and therein mated with him. If he didn’t drink from Lance then the bond should ebb away from Lance. He’d still feel it, still feel the pull, the need to be with him. But Lance was human. He couldn’t create such a bond with him, for Keith to need to take from him. Could he?

Keith needed to find out more. He couldn’t just stay here and pine after his mate through his minds eyes, watching as Lance moved, as he ate, as he slept.

He cursed at himself. He was acting like a stalker. But he needed to know, needed to see whether Lance was being affected by their bond. Could Lance feel him as well? Could he hear Keith in his mind?

His attention returned to the terran sitting in front of him. This woman would help him. If she was so fascinated by the technology that turned him into the shapeshifter, then she would definitely want to know more about him and his kind, and if she did, then Keith could make a deal with her. A deal for more information about just what Lance was feeling.

He could tell just how she was by the way she moved, the way she thought. Keith had been taught to read outside of what a person said. He knew this terran woman thought her work was important to her, he could tell she was interested in languages and cultures. It interested him to know she was eager to learn about him, about his kind. She wasn’t a threat at all.

Keith needed this woman on his side. What else other than work did this terran have on her mind?

Turning his attention to his guard, he grinned. Oh. Of course, love. Maybe once he trusted himself enough to be out in the open with his chiikoi, he’d want to learn more about this planet. Maybe when he learned how to walk on one leg he’d venture out and see for himself.

A sharp shot of a sound came from outside the large glass window, causing everyone’s attention towards the lanai outside. Keith felt a familiar twinge shudder at the back of his spine.

He cursed that he wasn’t able to walk at that moment. With his keen sense of hearing he knew exactly what was happening around the house. Everyone had made their way through the house, trying to figure out what the sound was.

Keith was intrigued. He let out a deep breath and let his senses radiate to the house, to the dirt and sand outside, and then he saw it. He didn’t have the chance to appreciate the beauty of the planet his chiikoi was from. Because on the sand, emerging from the seas stood dozed of large mechanical being, gleaming menacingly in the starlight.

They looked so familiar to Keith, as if he had seen them a long time ago. He wracked his brain, forcing any memory he had of them forward. His eyes widened when he saw one of the mecha’s hail them. He stared in shock.

Angel’s…he was still alive.

Chapter Text

Shiro vaulted out of the kitchen door and onto the sandy lanai.

His feet sunk into the warm heat as he took slow steps towards the mecha men standing with their feet still in the cool sea waves. He growled when he recognised one of the men; saw the single circular visor on the top half of his face, covering one eye. His skin was a dark purple, but there was a black line that ran from the edge of his cheeks all the way up to his eye.

“Who are you, and what brings you to this planet?” Shiro stated, standing before the men, hands to his sides, his prosthetic arm glowing under the setting sun. When the Galran didn’t answer, he continued. “You are declaring war against your king and the kingdom of Daibazaal. Withdraw—”

“I do not declare war with the king of Daibazaal,” The Galran’s lips grew wide, the black slits opening slightly as he smiled. Shiro was taken aback that this Galran knew the languages of Earth.

Lance stood forward, pushing the door closed behind him and Allura. He didn’t dare let any of his younger siblings see this. “What do you want?”

The Galran grinned. “You have the chiikoi of the prince. I want them both.”

The three on the lanai stilled. How had this man known they had Keith here? The planet was vast, and the star-chamber was dismantled and destroyed on impact to earth. Keith was supposed to be safe in a concealed house in the middle of the city. There were no scans, or anything that could decipher just where he was.

Lance's eyes widened. "Wait, did he just say prince?"

Shiro cleared his throat, standing in front of Lance and silencing him, not wanting to give anything away. If this Galran knew they had such a treasure in their hold, he needed to tread lightly. He surprisingly did not know that he too was a Galran – then again, not many people did. Everyone thought Shiro was an other worlder, even on Daibazaal.

“Who am I speaking to?”

“I am Sendak, creator of the sentries you see before you,” he motioned to the mechanical humanoid like creatures standing in attention in a grid like barrier they had created in front of the rushing sea waves. “I want both of the chiikoi’s or I will unleash hell on you and your mud ball of a planet.”

Shiro tightened his metallic hand into a fist, seeing the sentries start to fear up, moving into a stance and holding their guns steady at the three and the house. Shiro was quick to act, having already prepared for this kind of attack he was ready with a shield surrounding the house and half of the lanai itself. The beach foliage was pushed back against the solid phase of the shield as it slipped down around them, creating a blocking barrier from them and the sentries on the sand.

He knew it wouldn’t hold for too long, he hadn’t expected mechanical sentried to attack him. He twisted in a half spin, taking hold of Allura’s arm and dragging her into his embrace, blocking her from the tirade of bullets that rained down on them, only to clang dully against the barrier and ricochet to the ground.

He ushered her and Lance back into the house, and saw Keith standing at the stairs, holding onto Elena for dear life as she helped him down the stairs.

“Shiro!” He yelled, reaching out for his guard. “I heard him…he said both.”

Shiro grimaced, “I know,”

What had Sendak meant by ‘both’? Two chiikoi’s? There was only one pure blood Galran, who was bonding with a human; one who was currently acting as a volunteer lodger in the house. There was no one else. What did—? Shiro let out a gasp when Keith took hold of his head, dragging him down to his level.

“You will listen to me!” Keith yelled, claws digging into where Shiro's ears would have been had he not been shifted into a human. His head throbbed, shocked at his prince acting so distraught.

“Yes, yes, of course,” Shiro cried, wincing when Keith’s claws retracted and his prince’s smaller body fell onto him, unbalanced from only one leg. Shiro fell back onto the back of the closest sofa, wrapping an arm around his charge, and another to his aching head. Angels, he remembered when his mother used to do that to him. It wasn’t that it hurt, he just hadn’t expected it after so long away from his home. He panted out a breath. Alert, the others in the kitchen area turned their attention to him. Allura was immediate at his side.

They were the ones that destroyed our home, aren’t they?” Keith’s alarmed voice resonated through the house.

Shiro sucked in a deep breath and held his arm out to the others, telling them that he was okay. They couldn’t understand why Keith was so distraught, no one could.

“You shouldn’t be up, my prince,” He said, straightening his prince out on the ground. Keith would need to quickly learn how to stand on his own. They would need to prepare for an attack after all. “And we cannot be sure Sendak is the one that destroyed Daibazaal,”

They said they were sentries,” Keith replied, his voice just as frantic. Shiro reached out for him, he knew what Keith was feeling, he was going through the same thing himself after all. “I had intercepted one of my captives before I was…” he paused, a slight hitch in his voice when he spoke about his past. “He told me about large mechanical robots that would roam the universe without a ship,”

Shiro had known, of course he had known. He had remembered Keith’s father showing him images of the sentries, they had still been in production back then. He remembered the blueprints, the upgrades and the progress they had made. He knew the ins and outs of these creatures.

“They have an army aimed at us!” Lance’s voice rang out through the room, alerting the others to the doors, and to the solid blue barriers that were still strongly holding them safe inside.

Shiro was just grateful for the small miracle that Sendak and his army were only attacking them. Then again, the house was the only building for a few miles. This was a good place as any, without fear of civilians getting hurt.

But how long would that last?

“I don’t want anyone to die, please.” Keith pleaded.

Shiro mulled over everything he knew about the sentries. He knew how they were built. If they could use the chiikoi bond that Keith and Lance definitely had, then made they could radiate that energy to try and work to destroying the threat.

“No one is going to die,” He said out loud, hoping to calm everyone else in the room down, as well as his prince.

Keith, however, didn’t seem to want to listen to him. “Shiro, either you kill me or let me leave from this place, so they follow me and leave the McClain’s alone,”

“Nope, that’s not going to happen,” Shiro stated authoritatively. “I promised we wouldn’t harm you.”

“Harm?” Lance asked, making his way over to them, he grasped onto Keith until the alien was leaning onto him. “No one is going to touch you, you hear me?”

“There has to be another way.” Keith muttered, he paused, trying to figure out a way that could help them. What could he do? He was just a prince of a dead planet. He hadn’t strengthened his bond with his chiikoi to garner and powers. All he had was himself, his guards and the boy he had bitten.

Quiznak…he knew what he had to do.

The Balmeran’s,” He said suddenly, grabbing onto Shiro’s shoulders and dragging him closer. “The Balmeran’s, they gave me the crystal, embedded it right in me on my birth,”

Shiro knew of his plan, he knew what having the crystal within him could do. It kept Keith safe, it kept him alive at even the worst of times. It was why he had survives in the chamber for thousands of years. But its power could also prove disastrous.

It was pure quintessence after all. Supreme power.

Keith needed to see the situation, he needed to understand why he had to keep his strengths and powers under wraps. His abilities were new to the universe, even though they were ancient beings. If anyone else found out about him, found out about the almost unlimited potential of his powers, of his strengths, found that a small, absolutely defenceless planet harboured him. There could be wars.

People would kill for just a small portion of him – and indeed they had. They had torn the chiikoi Galran’s apart just for fortune when Daibazaal Prime flourished. With only Keith left, the only royal with pure blood, they would stop at nothing to continue.

If these sentries were anything to go by, Keith’s powers should not be exploited unless they needed to be. Keith would be their last resort.

"Shiro I must do this," Keith growled, balancing up on his single leg. "I will protect my chiikoi, and my people,"

Chapter Text

Keith stood there, leaning heavily on his one leg, facing the many sentries on the beach. Their metal armour illuminated by the beauty of the setting sun. His gaze flittered to his chiikoi, who was watching him with awe as he tried to keep him steady. Keith didn’t want to give his position away; deniability was his best asset right now. He looked human; he could pass off as human; if he were careful with his speech and mannerisms – and the fangs and claws.

But what did that matter? They knew he was here. And in the thousand years he had been asleep, who knew just how advanced the Galran’s technology had gotten. He could probably scan through the impenetrable shield around the house. Keith had to hand it to them; the sentries looked magnificent, but deadly.

He had to focus. They were in danger, he had to protect the people in the house, he had to protect his chiikoi. The sentries started shooting at the house, lasers upon lasers hitting the pale blue shield, slowly breaking it down.

“The barrier won’t last for long,” Shiro said, awed at just how quickly his shield was falling against the onslaught. He grimaced as he tried to think of something that would keep it up and running for as long as he could. He needed to find a solution, and fast. He narrowed his gaze when he saw Keith staring out of the window. And he knew exactly what his prince was thinking.

“We are not giving you to them,” He growled angrily, “I have some auxiliary power in my arm, it should power up the shields some more,”

Keith felt helpless. He couldn’t do anything but stand there, watching as his chiikoi and the terrans tried their best to come up with a way to save them all. Looking into the Mama’s eyes, he saw the fear rush through her, saw the way she held onto her children, Allura and Lance wrapping their arms around them all.

He had to do something. He had to help. They already knew he was here, they already knew he was mated. He’d sacrifice himself for his love in a heartbeat.

“Guns will not penetrate them,” he said to Shiro, holding his hand out to the sentries. He could tell, even though they were made of metal, it was easy to get through their circuitry and understand their cybertronic bodies. He had remembered everything in those blueprints he had seen all those decades ago. “They have many faults in their armour. One swift hit to their positronic brain will destroy them,”

“Aim for the head, huh?” Shiro asked, awed at just how far his charge had come in such little time.

“Did you say ‘aim for the head’?” Lance asked, he turned to his brothers and grinned. "Alright, let's get armed up, Nico, get the BB's, mami, take Veronica and the baby to the back,"

Keith nodded, seeing as the others got straight to work. He was so proud of his chiikoi, but this was not their fight. It frustrated him that he could not explain just what he wanted to his chiikoi. He held a hand up to his head, wishing he could somehow meld his mind with Lance. But that was a by-product of their union, of their bond. It would help them truly understand each other. Language would no longer be a barrier for them once they joined.

They'd get to that later...provided Lance still wanted him after all of this.

He had to focus. He could see Shiro trying his best to try and reroute his own strength, his own power into the shield, keeping it up for a few seconds longer. But it was pointless for him to do so. Keith had already made up his mind.

He stood in the very centre of the room, leaning back against the back of the sofa, calling out the power of the Balmeran crystal sitting so deep within him, melted into his very essence, his very core. He grimaced at how weak he was feeling. His powers were still waking from their dormant state. Having been in cryo-sleep had really done a number on him.

He didn’t know if this would be enough to do what he wanted, but it was better than him not trying anything. The shield rose up to the front of the home, a brilliant blur of red against the star blue of the sky and moonlight. The red shield blocked the attacks, the laser bullets pinged against it and ricocheted away.

“Prince Yorak! You mustn’t!” Shiro cried, in awe at what he was witnessing. He had heard stories when he had first taken his prince as his charge, of how he was tainted, different from the other Galran’s. How he had something inside him – other than the crystal – that could cause havoc, could cause riot, could end the very planet they stood on.

But to actually see it.

The red was as thick as blood, as dense as it too. It blurred away the sentries. Shiro could feel the power coming off Keith, saw the shield holding strong. But he knew it wasn’t enough.

The onslaught continued, doubling in effort, and Keith found himself falling to his knees at the torrent of lasers and bullets hitting him. His heart thudded madly in his best as he tried desperately to keep the shield up, but it was breaking.

“We need to do something, Nico, get the BB’s,” Lance yelled, watching in shock as the blood red shield started to crack and Keith crumpled to the ground, exhausted but still holding his shield up.

“Holding your power back, chiikois?” Sendak appeared at the front of the doorway, hands pressed up against the shield, lightning crackling sharply into his skin. “Tell me, human, have you fucked him yet?”

Keith’s yellowing gaze widened. How dare that filthy Galran talk to his Lance like that?

Suddenly, there was a humming sound, like electricity popping in the air around them. There was something sharp and harsh in the air, whizzing and mixing around, making every hair on Keith’s arms stand on end and his nerves twitch like strings being plucked.

Danger! You’re in danger!

No…not him.

Keith turned to Lance and saw the crackling charge close around his Lance, like a hand grasping around the man. Keith watched, unable to do anything as Lance started dissolving in front of him, his body breaking into tiny pieces, vibrating as they disappeared into the air.

Chiikoi! No!” Keith screamed, what the hell was happening? He rushed over to the man, but before he had a chance to touch Lance, to stop whatever was happening, Lance disappeared before his very eyes.

Sendak laughed, loud and hard, a look of pure satisfaction on his purple, visor face. The black slit near his lip cracked hellishly, showing a wide smile and razor like teeth.

“One chiikoi down, just one more to go,”

Keith let out a scream of frustration, his gaze turned to the dozens of sentries before him, and his fingers clenched into claws. His gaze turned yellow, murderous. He focused his powers on the mechanical beings, watching in satisfaction as their very metal scrunched and crunched and melted into the sandy earth. Every one of their limbs were on fire, they had been seized, and frozen and twisted in utter agony.

Shiro watched, in awe as one by one the sentries fell. The only sound being the screech of metal against metal as they were literally being ripped apart before his very eyes.

“He’s killing them,” Allura said with a gasp. “Keith, you must stop, you’re going to kill yourself!”

Shiro’s gaze snapped to his prince, seeing the dark blackened red blood seeping from his nose, the corner of his eyes and the point of his lips.

“Keith, stop!” Shiro yelled, reaching out for Keith.

But Allura was to his side in an instant, holding a hand on his shoulder, hoping to calm him somewhat. “Please, Keith, you’re won’t be able to save your chiigoi if you’re dead,”

Keith growled, looking up at the woman. Allura shuddered at the pure malice in those yellow and purple eyes. “Chiikoi,”

He brushed his hands along the air and slowly the remaining metal of the sentries standing before them disintegrated like dust. Sendak was nowhere to be found, most likely having bailed as soon as he was able to. Keith fell to the ground in exhaustion. He had known it was stupid to use so much of his dormant powers, but he needed to kill what was in his way to get to his chiikoi.

His dark eyes narrowed to his guard. “We have to find him,”

Shiro nodded, taking hold of Keith’s arm to stop him from harming himself more. He let out a sigh of relief when his fingers fell loose, his claws retracting and his eyes turning back to a more human self.

Keith let out a long frustrated sigh, turning to the Mami and her soldiers. “I will do everything in my power to find Lance, this I promise you,”

Shiro translated for him, and the Mami nodded, seeing his intent, his determination. She had full trust that this man, this…whatever he was, would find her Lance.

“Make him pay,”