An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/3
Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron), Allura/Shiro (Voltron), Hunk/Pidge | Katie Holt
Characters: Keith (Voltron), Allura (Voltron), Shiro (Voltron), Coran (Voltron), Pidge | Katie Holt, Hunk (Voltron), Lance (Voltron)
Additional Tags: Once Upon a Time fusion fic, or at least my attempt at it, Klance is Captain Swan and Shallura make the Charmings, Voltron Secret Santa 2017
Summary:
In order to secure an alliance with the newly-independent country of Roverholt, Prince Keith of Altea is arranged to be married to Princess Katherine Holt. However, when a rogue pirate ship accidentally attacks the S.S. Alfor, circumstances change far more dramatically then anyone could have expected, especially when it comes to that strange delightful thing called true love.
@ansoliq Merry Belated Christmas and Happy New Year! I am so glad to at least get part of your @voltron-ss gift to you tonight!
Summary: A beach date gone wrong turns into a beach date done right as Keith and Lance are forced to alter their plans when faced with a cloudy day. Keith cannot quite understand Lance's obsession with sharks, but loves his boyfriend anyway. Written for the VLD Summer Exchange and as a gift for @paladinspride on Tumblr!
Author’s Note: I was extremely inspired to write this story by my giftee’s fantastic art, in particular this piece here!
“Lance, you can stop pouting now.”
The aforementioned Lance was currently shivering, sitting with his knees to his chest, leaning on the surfboard he had brought, glaring at the cloudy sky and near-waveless ocean, and of course, pouting.
Granted, neither Keith nor Lance quite anticipated a foggy day in the middle of July, which Lance promptly pointed out as he whined, “It's a Sunday in the middle of July, and we were supposed to have a fantastic date at the beach because the Saturday crowds are gone, why the fuck is it cold?!”
“Because the weather hates you specifically, Lance,” Keith deadpanned. He noted Lance’s offended gasp at the very notion of anything hating him and smirked to himself; his boyfriend really was so easy to rile up.
Does Lance take it upon himself to teach Hunk all there is to know about how high society functions? Is he a good instructor on such a topic?
Oh yes he does! Lance, upon realizing that Hunk is in love with a high society lady aka Pidge, pretty much makes it his life’s goal for a while to transform Hunk into a high society gentleman. He gets to use his tailoring skills for once (pretty much everyone in high society but Coran and Allura has told Lance that tailoring is too much busywork for a gentleman to deal with) and designs a fashionable outfit for Hunk to wear to London, he teaches him all the rules for high society (though he’s not the best teacher considering his own reputation in high society)….
For the Sense and Sensibility AU, how would Pidge and Allura talk about Keith? Does Allura know Pidge isn't really in love with Keith?
Well Lucius Zarkonson, when blackmailing the Holt family to accept this engagement, told them that the news of this engagement was to reach Allura Alforchild’s ears in particular, and if nobody else were to be fooled by the “ruse” of Keith and Pidge being in love, Allura MUST be. So Pidge has to pretend super hard to be in love with Keith around Allura, and poor Allura is really the only one fooled into thinking Pidge and Keith are in love with each other.
Additionally, Allura tries to be as kind as possible to Pidge, considering in her mind Keith loves Miss Holt, but her heart despises their engagement so much. And when Lance tries to tell her that Pidge and Hunk are more in love with each other than Pidge and Keith could ever be....
Author’s Note: So this is the scene that inspired me to write the Sense and Sensibility AU in the first place, and I’m so glad I finally wrote it down! As for what Lance is singing, the link is right here! Granted, Lance isn’t singing the song in this particular key, but the idea is there! Oh, by the way, I own neither Voltron nor Sense and Sensibility. LOL.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MhI3lWxArCU
Also, if you want to hear any more about this AU, my inbox is open and I’d love to answer any questions you might have with either headcanons or fics like this! Without further adieu, let us begin!
EDIT: AT LAST, this story has an AO3 link, as placed here!
Settling into Leonidus had proven far easier than anticipated for Allura and Lance Alforchild, not the least because of the delightful company they had found in Coran Wimbledon-Smythe, their father’s closest friend and the keeper of the house, and Henare “Hunk” Garrett, the jovial chef and servant who lived with them. Lance in particular had found Hunk’s company quite the comfort in his time of grief, and had created in the span of a single week a close enough friendship to be allowed to tease the chef with regards to letters Hunk had been writing to a certain “Pidge”.
“How’s your lovely pigeon doing today?” Lance said, sitting next to Hunk at the luncheon table (Coran, Lance and Allura had insisted that Hunk sit down to eat with them).
Hunk raised an eyebrow, his face betraying the slightest blush, and said, “She’s doing well, Lance, though I think she’d rather be out of her cage, which seems to be getting smaller for her by the day–”
Slav Gunderson, a very close, very eccentric friend of Coran’s that he simply had to introduce to his honorary niece and nephew, chimed in with a “Oh, you simply must tell me about your bird, though I do hope you’re taking full responsibility for her as well as pleasure with her!”
With that, Hunk’s face turned redder than the pomegranates Slav had managed to find and bring to Leonidus’s dining room table, and Lance simply stared at this strange man, shocked and perhaps slightly jealous that there existed a man more effortlessly opposed to propriety than himself.
“Oh, from what I hear, our chef’s not the only one with a secret paramour!” Coran said, prompting both Lance and Hunk to groan, and then continued, having not seen the sheer look of panic in Allura’s eyes, “Allura here has had quite the list of suitors trying to get her attention already, and she’s ignored all of them! She must have left her heart in Altea Park, perhaps we can get a name for the lucky suitor?”
Allura glared at Lance to keep him quiet, but when Coran and Slav persisted, she conceded, “I shall allow you each a guess as to the first letter of his surname. Lance is not allowed to help any of you, as he already knows the name of my alleged paramour.”
“Alleged my a–” Lance said before having his mouth promptly covered by a now-flustered Allura.
“Who would like to make the first guess?” Allura asked, a fake smile plastered on her face.
“X?”
Lance once again stared at Slav and wondered what must be going on in his bizarre little mind. He then sighed and said, “Slav, do you know anyone whose last name starts with X?”
“No, of course not, well, not in this universe, but in a universe merely two universes away from this one Miss Alforchild is madly in love with someone who has a surname starting with X, so I thought I’d take my chances!” Slav proclaimed loudly, but as Coran and Hunk huddled together to discuss other possible letters, Allura and Lance swore they could hear Slav mutter, “Miss Alforchild obviously doesn’t want us to know of this suitor so why not throw my shot?” With that, the Alforchilds thought to themselves that perhaps this Slav figure wouldn’t be such unpleasant company after all.
Coran sighed next and said, “This might be a long shot, but I know of a splendid man who lives around here with a last name starting with S?”
“No,” Allura said, her face relaxing into near-relief. “How about you, Hunk?”
With a smile on his face, Hunk guessed, “K!”
The bright red that graced Allura’s cheeks revealed the rightness of his guess, but before Coran and Slav could go any further as to guessing the identity of Allura’s love interest, Lance blurted out, “Want me to play for you?!”
After an exceedingly awkward silence, Slav answered, “Mr. Alforchild, I have heard from your father, before he passed of course, that is quite the tragedy, that you have quite the skill with the pianoforte, so yes, you simply must perform for us! Something cheerful to commemorate your arrival at this good house!”
Lance gulped; he hadn’t anticipated a yes in reply. “You mean you, Allura, Hunk, Coran and the beagles?”
Coran then proceeded to zealously second the idea, saying, “Absolutely, my boy, my beagles absolutely adore good music!”
“I don’t know about that,” Lance said, grimacing at the realization that he hadn’t cared to play anything but mournful tunes since his father’s passing.
“Oh Lance,” Allura said, now genuinely relieved, “It would be a great comfort to hear you play, Father always loved it.”
“You know I can never say no to you, Allura,” Lance muttered as he walked toward the pianoforte and rifled through the stack of music placed to its right. He then saw the hasty transposition he had written not so long before his father’s death and the words written on top, “Weep You No More Sad Fountains,” and knew he had found his piece.
“I think I’ll play one of my favorites. I heard Allura sing it a while back and transposed it to a key I could manage,” Lance said, whipping out the sheet music and placing it in front of him. After making sure everyone was seated and quiet, he began to play. “Weep you no more, sad fountains, what need you flow so fast?”
Lance continued, and Coran had to gently stop Slav from clapping between phrases. The beagles were for once silent, and Allura stealthily took out the handkerchief Keith had given her and made to wipe the tears flowing down her face with all the decorum she could muster. Hunk had no such discretion and openly enjoyed the performance, prompting a smile to grace Lance’s face as he played on.
As Lance sang, “Softly, softly, now softly, softly lies sleeping,” an absolutely gorgeous man with a delicately-crafted steel and brass arm at his right side and a scar across his face could be seen walking through the door. Wow, Coran sure was right about Allura already having the suitors lining up to see her, he thought pleasantly, and he figured he might as well give his potential future brother-in-law a good show.
Lance played an improvised interlude, giving the new visitor just enough time to reach the threshold of the parlour, and then continued, “Sleep is a reconciling, a rest that peace begets...”
Colonel Takashi Shirogane, or Shiro, as he preferred to be called, had heard that a new pair of faces had graced the house of Leonidus, and, being one of the premier figures of the town (how that happened he’d never know), he figured he might as well introduce himself and try to make them more comfortable with the prospect of living in this small, tightly-knit town. If perhaps he got an insider’s look at the reigning gossip of the day (Mr. Wimbleton-Smythe’s none-too-secret affection for Mr. Gunderson, that eccentric librarian that annoyed the daylights out of him, would never cease to make Shiro wonder at the mustachioed man’s sanity), that was his secret delight to be revealed to no one.
As Shiro approached Leonidus, he noticed that Ebony, who normally without fail set out to greet him by at latest ten paces away from the house, wasn’t even there by the time he reached the threshold. Before he could fret as to Ebony’s condition, however, he heard the twinkling of the pianoforte, far better than he had heard from Leonidus’s walls in years, and an animated tenor rang out in song to join it. Shiro found himself stopped just beyond the threshold and suddenly very aware of the clinking noise his boots must have made.
He held his breath, and, quietly as he could, crept toward the beautiful sound. He could hear the first verse ending and met the performer’s eyes (that he had never seen such a gorgeous shade of blue was the surprising first thought that came to mind); the performer sat up slightly more straightly than he had been, and he played an interlude, beckoning Shiro with a nod to come closer. It was almost as though the man performed the interlude purely to give him time to do so, and Shiro smiled, gladdened by the mere idea of it.
The man resumed his song as Shiro leaned into the doorway of the parlour, and Shiro had to keep himself from shivering; he sounded so much better up close.
“Doth not the sun rise smiling, when fair at even he sets?” The thought of a duet with this man crossed his mind, and Shiro’s face reddened at the prospect of it. Thank goodness all attention was on the man playing the pianoforte and not him, for Shiro doubted he could tolerate Slav asking him oddly-perceptive questions about illnesses that made the face turn red.
“Rest you then, rest sad eyes,” the man sang, and Shiro felt as though he were singing solely to him. His soul outright panted at the thrill of it, but his face revealed nothing of the sort; he would not allow for it. Perhaps he would allow himself to admit the man beautiful, yes, that he could think silently to himself without curious eyes looking his way.
“Melt not in weeping, while she lies sleeping.” For a moment, Shiro saw a small glimmer of tears in the beautiful man’s eyes, and he reconsidered the performance’s possible audience; perhaps the man was singing to himself. The glimmer disappeared not a second later, and Shiro sunk even more deeply into the song.
“Softly, softly,” the beautiful man sang, and softly the tears began to flow down Shiro’s face instead. He wiped them away with his right hand, hoping that both audience and performer were as entranced by the song being played as he found himself becoming and did not notice his tears.
“Now softly...” The beautiful man took a small gasping breath at the end of the phrase, and at that moment Shiro found that his heart was utterly lost, stolen entirely by this enchanting creature with an angel’s voice.
“Softly lies sleeping.” There was naught but peace on the beautiful man’s face as he played the final few notes of the song, and Shiro thought to himself that perhaps the spell would be lifted at song’s end.
It wasn’t.
Lance stood up to take his bows and wipe the errant tears that fell from his face as he played.
“Bravo! Bravo! Trust me when I say that in at least twenty universes, you are a celebrated pianist, and if you keep putting out performances like that, you could make it twenty-one!” Slav said, eagerly rushing to the pianoforte and vigorously shaking his hand.
“Now, now then, Slav, we needn’t pester the poor man,” Coran scolded, his tone firm but a gentle hand on the small of Slav’s back that did not escape either Allura’s nor Lance’s notice belying any genuine strictness he may have had otherwise.
“You were amazing! I’ve never seen the beagles this quiet the entire time I’ve lived here!” Hunk said, prompting a laugh to escape Lance’s lips.
Perhaps the most affecting reaction to his performance, however, was a quiet hug, a head on Lance’s shoulder, and a wavering “Thank you” whispered by Allura into Lance’s ear.
The moment did not last long, however, for Coran strolled right up to the gorgeous man that had so eagerly watched his performance (Lance figured that the man was obviously here to meet Allura, but he could dream) and said, “Colonel, it’s always a delight to see you, and I am utterly ecstatic that you came here right on time to hear our newest resident perform for us!”
“He performed quite admirably,” Shiro said, hoping his voice wouldn’t betray just how much of what he said was understatement.
Coran then turned to Lance and said, “Ah, Lance, might I be given the pleasure of introducing you to Colonel Takashi Shirogane?”
Lance turned to Shiro and said, hoping against all hope that he wasn’t too obviously ogling the man, “It’s a honor to meet you, Colonel.”
“Call me Shiro,” he said, taking Lance’s hand into his own and just barely resisting the temptation to kiss it. “And what may I call you?”
“Oh sorry, Shiro!” Lance said, his face flushed and his eyes betraying confusion, especially since Azula was happily barking, wagging her tail and running around the pair; he then composed himself (or at least he tried to do so), grinned and answered, “The name’s Lance Alforchild.”
