Chapter Text
Altea was a small but proud country, an isolated island a few hundred miles east of Uruguay in the Atlantic Ocean. Though small, it had vast resources of cotton, silk, sugar and gold and was a valuable trade partner to those the inhabitants deemed trustworthy. Run by a beloved monarchy, Altea thrived in relative secrecy, thanks to its obscure location and reserve regarding global affairs. Well, that’s what it said in the travel brochures.
…
“Queen Allura, the Galra have taken the stronghold in Balmera. If they take Arus, I’m not sure how much longer we can hold out!”
The Queen grimaced at the news as she stalked down the palace hallways, her aide scurrying along behind her. The palace was abuzz with activity, despite the early hour as people prepared for the day to come. She dodged a servant carrying a teetering pile of plates with a wan smile, then turned her head to Coran as she continued her way through the hallway.
“What of our troops in Balmera?”
“No word, ma’am. We just received a transmission from our spy in the Galras’ ranks that the fortress had fallen. But… I’m not hopeful.”
“Then it is time.” Allura closed her eyes and allowed herself a moment of pain before she shut it out again, throwing open the doors to her brother’s bed chambers a moment later. “Lance!”
The figure curled up on the gigantic bed in the middle of the room started, then sat up, rubbing at its eyes as it did so.
The boy frowned as Allura neared, stifling a yawn as he took in her frantic expression and the sombre face of the palace staff filing in behind her.
“Allura? What’s going on?”
There was a slight pause as the siblings looked at each other, the dark expression on Allura’s face warning Lance that perhaps he didn’t want to know the answer.
“Balmera has fallen, Lance.” The Queen said gravely, and Lance’s mouth fell open in shock.
“What?”
“The Galra have overrun the city.”
“What about the fortress? The- the troops-”
“I don’t know. All we have been told is that Balmera is no longer under our control, and that the Galra are one step closer to over throwing us. They are advancing on Arus as we speak. It’s time, Lance.”
Lance frowned for a moment, then jolted as realisation hit.
“No, I-” Lance jumped out of bed, waving away a servant who darted forwards to offer him a robe. The young prince stood, shivering slightly, in his thin silk pajamas, staring at his sister with pleading eyes. “Allura, I know I said I would go, but I- you need me here. I can’t leave you.”
“You have to, Lance.” Allura stepped forwards to lay a hand on Lance’s shoulder, sadness etched upon every premature line on her face. The servants in the room averted their eyes. “We need you to stay safe. I need you to stay safe.”
“But what if something happens?” Lance whispered, his hands reaching up to take the hand on his shoulder and press it between his own, silently begging. “I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you- or anyone else- and I wasn’t here to stop it. I can’t leave- please don’t make me leave.”
Allura closed her eyes and tugged Lance into an embrace, pressing a hand softly into the back of his head as they held each other. Lance shook slightly, and Allura heard him stifle a sniff. She tried to hold back her own tears.
“You have to. You have to stay safe. Altea needs a leader.” Lance jumped back, fire in his eyes as Allura’s words processed. The Queen dismissed the present servants with a wave of her hand and they hurried from the room. Coran stayed quietly in a corner, watching the Queen. She regarded Lance with tiredness but was resolute in her decision.
“You’re Altea’s leader! You! Not me, not Coran- not Zarkon! That’s what this bloody war is all about. You have the right to the throne and if the Galra think differently they can all go to hell. If anyone should leave and stay safe, it’s you- you’re the Queen. We need you, you have to rule! I’m staying.”
“Lance, please,” Allura walked towards him, her hands out pleadingly, but he avoided her gaze. “Everything’s arranged. We’ve packed for you, you have somewhere to stay, we’ve made sure you’ll be safe. I promise you can come back as soon as it’s safe again here, but for now you have to go.”
“No!” Lance cried, tears filling his eyes. He ran towards his sister and pulled her into him, burying his face in her shoulder as he gripped her tightly. “I can’t leave you. You can’t make me.”
Allura’s eyes met Coran’s, and he began to slowly walk forwards, reaching silently into his pocket. Lance didn’t notice, still crying silently and hugging Allura. Her hands came to rest tenderly on his back for a moment, pressing her face into the top of his head and gripping her to him for a fleeting moment. She closed her eyes and prayed, prayed to everything that they’d see each other again soon. She opened her eyes again and saw that Coran was in position behind Lance, his eyes full of regret, but steady. Allura swallowed and steeled her resolve, pushing at Lance’s shoulders so that he pulled away from her slightly and looked up.
“Lance, I love you.”
“I love you too,” Lance breathed, hope in his face, hope that she’d let him stay and they wouldn’t be parted. But then he saw the look on her face and he tensed, sensing the presence of Coran behind him. He tried to pull away, but Allura had his shoulders in an iron grip, and then Coran was holding something in front of his face. There was a sickly-sweet smell clouding his head and weighing down his limbs. He cried out and struggled, but Coran pressed the rag tighter over his nose and mouth and the world was getting darker. Tears filled Allura’s eyes as he looked at her with betrayal even as his eyes pulled closed.
Lance’s knees buckled and Allura reached out to hold him as his entire body relaxed, blue eyes firmly shut and entirely dead to the world. Coran held the cloth over his face for a moment longer, just to make sure, then removed it and let Allura hug her brother’s limp form. She sank to her knees, cradling him in her lap and staring at his face, with tears streaming down her own.
“You did the right thing, your majesty.” He told her quietly, putting the cloth back in his pocket. Allura sniffed and reached out to sweep some of Lance’s hair out of his eyes. She rocked slightly, swaying their bodies as if to comfort- but she wasn’t sure exactly who she was comforting.
“I know. I know- he’ll be safer away from here. I’m going to miss him, though.”
“We all will, your majesty. But I’m afraid we have to move quickly if he is going to be out of the country but nightfall.”
Allura nodded, and Coran took that as a sign to let the other servants back in. They hurried around the room, packing the last few details Lance would have noticed if they’d taken beforehand. Allura held onto her brother until the last possible moment, until someone gently prised him from her fingers and carried him away to the car that would lead him to the airport. When he was gone, Allura swallowed a couple of times, staring at the floor, not noticing the servants pretending not to see her crying. She gave herself a moment longer to grieve, then wiped her eyes and stood up, squaring her shoulders.
“Let’s go.”
…
Lance came to slowly, a resolute buzzing in his head as the world swam into focus. Everything ached and even lifting his eyelids was a monumental effort. He swallowed thickly, his tongue dry as sandpaper, then started upright as his surroundings came into view.
He was lying on a leather sofa, in the centre of an airy living room. The air was hot and dry and dust motes swirled in the beam of bright sunlight streaming in through the nearby window, the curtains half-closed. The ceiling above him was structured with wooden beams, the floor below him covered in a shaggy rug. There were bookcases either side of him, and a large TV in the corner.
Not exactly scary surroundings, but terrifying in that he didn’t recognise them at all.
His breathing sped up as he threw off the thin blanket that had been strewn over him, and pushed himself off the sofa. His body screamed at him but he ignored it as he tried to remember what had happened to him. Lance remembered Allura, remembered her coming into his bedroom that morning (or yesterday? How long had he been out?) and telling him the Galra had taken over Balmera. Then she’d said he had to leave and he’d refused. Then… nothing.
Lance swallowed again, making his way on shaky legs towards the door on the opposite side of the room. He leaned heavily on the wall as he walked over, not trusting his own legs to support him. He reached out a tentative hand for the doorknob, just as a hand gripped it from the other side and pushed the door open.
Lance gave a yelp as the door swung towards his face, wobbly knees giving out in shock and he fell gracelessly backwards onto the hardwood floor. A figure stood in the doorway, gazing down at him with an inscrutable expression.
“Oh. You’re awake.” The figure said, and Lance frowned. He didn’t recognise the person or their voice. It was a male, and he sounded young, maybe Lance’s age. Lance didn’t say anything, but lay propped up on his elbows, staring up at the boy, totally at a loss. Hard eyes looked warily into his own and the other boy shifted slightly, as if Lance’s staring made him uncomfortable. There was silence for another moment as the boys regarded each other. “Um, are you gonna lay on the floor all day or can you get up? You’re kinda in the way.”
Lance frowned, then pushed himself into a standing position. The other boy didn’t seem hostile or dangerous, only slightly stand-offish. He straightened up, and noticed to his slight satisfaction that he was slightly taller than the stranger.
“Where am I?” He questioned, his voice crackly and quiet. “Where is Allura? Who are you?”
The other boy looked at him in silence for a beat, then moved past him further into the room. Lance watched him warily, heart thudding in his chest. The boy walked over to the sofa where Lance had woken up and picked up the blanket from where Lance had tossed it onto the floor a moment ago. The prince frowned again, trying not to freak out. The boy’s unhelpfulness was starting to get on his nerves.
“Didn’t you hear me? Where am I? I want to talk to Queen Allura!”
The stranger turned to him and leaned back against a table, folding his arms around the blanket and looking Lance up and down. Lance shivered slightly, then noticed to his annoyance that he was still in his pajamas. He wanted to walk closer to the other boy, maybe intimidate him into talking, but something told him it wouldn’t work. Plus, the other boy looked like he was thinking, hard. Lance crossed his arms over himself, narrowed his eyes, and waited.
“You’re in Texas.” The stranger said after a moment, apparently having looked at Lance enough. He dragged his eyes up to meet Lance’s as the Altean boy staggered slightly in shock. Lance opened his mouth, but the other boy cut in before he could speak. “As in, Texas, USA.
Queen Allura is still back in your country.”
Lance’s heart sunk, and he leaned back against the wall behind him in defeat. Allura was resourceful, he’d give her that. He brought a hand up and scrubbed it over his face, trying not to let the other boy see his emotions. He pressed a finger and thumb into his eyes, willing himself not to cry. His head was still buzzing. He breathed shallowly for a moment, then pulled it away, looking back at the other boy who was regarding him silently with an unreadable face.
“And? Who are you?” His voice cracked with emotion slightly, but they both pretended not to notice. His heart felt like it was speeding up, the day’s events pressing heavily on his chest.
The boy was silent for another moment, then he opened his mouth to speak.
“My name is Keith Kogane.” The buzzing in Lance’s head was getting louder, his heartbeat thumping in his ears. His breath came shallowly and he shivered again in his thin clothes.
The boy, Keith, looked at him in concern. Lance couldn’t read his expression and turned away, running a hand through his hair as he tried to think.
He wasn’t in Altea. He was in America. Allura had sent him away because the Galra were… what were the Galra? Were they winning? As prince, Allura had kept him relatively informed of the affairs of the war, but he’d never been privy to the finer details. Allura hadn’t thought it necessary, and he hadn’t minded too much at the time, but now he was regretting it. Balmera was a stronghold, a key strategic piece in the monarchy’s defences and its loss was devastating- but was losing Balmera enough of a win for the Galra that the monarchy would fall? Lance didn’t know.
He didn’t know how long he’d been gone either. He gulped as he stared out of the window, the sight of a large, sun-kissed expanse of fields turning blurry as his head swam. Were the Galra at Arus? Had they reached the castle? Was everyone okay- was Allura even still alive?
A sob fell out of the prince’s mouth before he could stop it, and he brought up a hand to massage his chest, trying to get more air into his lungs. Lance knew he was breathing too fast, knew his head was turning dizzy but there was nothing he could do about it. There was nothing he could do about anything. Here he was, thousands of miles away from his home, the war, his friends, his sister- the only family he had left- and he couldn’t do anything about a damn thing.
His breaths were coming in gasps now, and the stranger behind him seemed to notice.
“Uh, hey, are you okay?” His voice sounded nervous, and Lance wanted to laugh. This kid was supposed to be helping him, right? Protecting him? Great. Couldn’t even handle a panic attack.
He made a choked noise, and heard tentative footsteps approaching, almost inaudible over the noise in his head. Lance’s knees shook, his chest screaming at him to breathe.
“Where’s the- the door?” He gasped, turning to face Keith, who was looking at him in thorough confusion.
“What?”
“The door. To- the outside.”
Keith frowned, reaching out a hand to lay it on his shoulder, but Lance batted it away.
“Why do you want to know?”
Lance groaned, a strangled, frustrated, desperate noise, and darted past the other boy towards the living room door. He threw it open and found himself in a wood-panelled hallway, a couple of doors on either side. Gasping, he ran down it, pulling them open until doing so found him the exit. Bright sunlight streamed through the front door, and Lance shuddered with relief. He could hear Keith calling after him as he ran out onto the front porch, then leapt on shaking legs onto the grass at the front of the house.
“Hey, you- you should stay inside,” Keith called from behind him, footsteps thudding on the porch as he ran after him. Lance didn’t listen, his legs pounding on the hard ground as he ran, ran from the unfamiliar boy in the unfamiliar house and the unfamiliar feeling of pain and loss and uselessness in his chest.
He only got a few hundred metres before his legs gave out and he fell onto all fours, chest heaving. His body screamed at him for air, his muscles still stiff and tired from whatever Coran had knocked him out with. The world was getting dark again, his vision swimming. Running footsteps caught up with him as he sobbed, and he dimly saw feet at the edge of his vision.
“Hey, hey, come on, it’s okay,” the stranger’s voice was barely audible over all the noise in his head. He saw Keith kneel down, and then there were hands on his shoulders. Lance was pulled upright so he was kneeling up, his hands on his chest as if doing so would make him able to breathe again. He gazed pleadingly at Keith, who looked slightly terrified. “You’re okay, yeah? Um, why don’t you breathe with me, okay? In, out.” He made exaggerated breathing motions, the movements slow. Lance nodded slightly, forcing his lungs to work and his brain to focus on the boy in front of him. It took a couple of minutes, but eventually his heart slowed down and he blinked the blurriness out of his eyes.
“In…. out…. In…. out….”
The world was clearing, his head quietening. Oxygen rushed into the boy’s lungs as the panic left him, and he released his hands from his chest to fall onto his knees. Keith didn’t stop with the breathing, and didn’t seem to have noticed that his hands were still on Lance’s shoulders.
“In…. out…. In-”
“Okay, we’re good now,” Lance interrupted, his voice quiet. Keith seemed to jump slightly, then pulled his hands back off Lance suddenly, as if burned.
“Oh, right. Okay.”
There was a pause as neither boy seemed to know what to say. Lance took the opportunity to look around, taking in the sunny fields and vast expanse of ranch land. There were mountains in the far distance, and some sort of cattle grazing in the foothills. It was pretty.
“So, uh, you okay?” Lance’s attention was pulled back to the boy in front of him. Keith fidgeted slightly, not meeting Lance’s gaze as the prince really looked at him for the first time. His eyes were dark, slightly purple in the sunlight and they were framed by long, dark lashes. His skin was pale, despite the beaming sun, and his long, black hair fell down across his face. He was pretty, too.
Lance clenched and unclenched his fists where they rested on his knees.
“Yeah. I’m okay.”
Keith looked relieved, as if the act of talking him out of a panic attack had been physically exhausting.
“Good.”
There was another pause.
“Um, thanks.” Lance offered after a moment, watching as Keith jumped again.
“Er, no problem.”
God, this had to be the most awkward, stilted conversation ever. Lance was almost praying for death.
“Do you wanna go back inside?” The shorter boy asked, standing up and dusting his hands off on his trousers before offering one to Lance.
He took it, and was relieved that his knees didn’t wobble when he stood. Lance shoved his hands into the pockets of his now-dirty pajamas and nodded.
He followed Keith back into the big ranch house without another word, but inside he was busy plotting and planning. He’d go along with this for the first couple of days- pretend he was planning on staying. He’d find out who Keith was and what his connections with Altea were, whilst planning his escape in the meantime. Then he’d find a way to get back to Allura and Altea, whether Keith helped him or not. Lance had to get back, he couldn’t stand not being able to help. Yes, he’d get back, no doubt about it.
There was no way he was staying here for long.