KLANCE ROYAL AU WITH PRINCE KEITH AND CIVILIAN LANCE
Keith panted as he blocked the lunge aimed at him, immediately flicking his saber at his opponent. He hit hard and he hit fast, the weight of his weapon of choice unhelpful at breaking down his opponent’s defense, only serving to tire his arm.
His opponent with laughing blue eyes and a smug grin parried his thrust easily. His epee countering his head on attacks, deflecting them with ease. Those eyes narrowed in calculation, never losing that smirk as he beat against his saber, goading him to attack.
Oh, he won’t fall for that trick. Lance believes he could just hit his sword with his to piss him off enough to attack without thinking. Keith’s learned from their previous matches, he wouldn’t fall for it so easily this time.
He slashed away the weapon before stepping back and recovering, barely noticing the risen brows of his opponent, before leaping forward with a flunge, his leg straining with how far his knee bent in his attempt to get past those defenses.
Lance tried to slash his blade fast enough to deflect but his saber grazed his jacket, counting the point and ending the match.
Keith panted, sweat dripping down his brow as he returned to stance. Lance sighed as he recovered, breathlessly laughing as he ran his fingers through damp hair. “Y’know, one of these days we should probably wear helmets.”
Keith huffed out his own laugh stripping his protective jacket off as he walked to the bench with the rest of his stuff. “Probably, you still don’t have one though, do you?”
“Naaaahh,” Lance drawled, he grinned at him. “I trust you not to aim at my head.” He stripped off his own jacket, his undershirt lifting a bit with the fabric showing off a lean stomach and golden brown skin. “You’re a good teacher, maybe one of these days you’d let me teach yousomething.” He punctuated that statement with a wink.
Keith cleared his throat and took a long swig from his water bottle. “Maybe.”
Lance started to pick up his stuff, waving goodbye while he walked backwards toward the door, grin still in place. “I gotta babysit the niblings, but same time, same place next week?”
Voice lost somewhere Keith nodded, his smile hopefully not too strained. It better not be or all that practice with Coran would be for nothing.
“Great! See you, Prince-y!” With that final stab to the heart, the nickname no longer leaving his blood cold but with a completely different effect now, he left.
Cheeks burning Keith stuffed his gear into his duffle bag and left out the back way where Shiro was waiting for him dinking around on his phone.
Not looking up from his puzzle game Shiro asked, “So did you tell him yet?”
Keith buried his face in his hands and groaned.
They first met when Keith was dodging some boring meeting. The royal family might just be a figurehead at this point but for some reason, he was still required to discuss politics with pompous government officials.
He escaped to the nearest community center. The fencing class just so happened to be in session. He didn’t think twice before donning an extra suit before standing in line with the other fencers.
They were almost done with basic warm-ups, Keith barely breaking a sweat, when the doors burst open and someone stumbled in.
Long story short: it was Lance.
Due to years already under his belt and Lance obviously starting out he humiliated him when sparring.
He could still remember him, cheeks flushed, chest heaving, and sweat trickling from his temple to the collar of his fencing jacket, demanding rematch after rematch.
Somehow between insults and jabs, it evolved into Keith more or less being his private tutor after class. It’s been about three months since then and Lance still didn’t know that Keith was a prince.
“You know that he’s going to find out sooner or later, right?” Shiro asked escorting Keith to his “Mr. Manners” meeting with Coran. “It’ll be better if you told him yourself instead of seeing you on TV.”
Keith fiddled with the perfectly tailored cuffs on his suit. “I know, I know. I’m working up to it.”
Shiro held the door open for him all calm and nonchalant. Inside, Coran was already exuberantly describing the next public event to his mother, a charity event for homeless youth. Keith’s idea from the last meeting. “I’m not denying that you’re ‘working up to it’ I’m suggesting that you work up to it faster. It’s already a miracle he hasn’t recognized you yet.”
He slouched against the wall, waiting for Coran to finish speaking with his mother. He slid Shiro a look.“With the falling out between Allura and Lotor, I don’t think that the paparazzi would be concerned about the King’s stepson.”
His babysitter bodyguard shrugged a shoulder. “You’re still the son of the king. No one expected King Kollin’s first wife to already have a son. You might be new to this prince thing but they’re going to be interested sooner or later.”
Keith sighed and thunked the back of his head against the wall.
Keith slowly stripped his personal fencing jacket off, eyes darting to where Lance was taking in large gulps of water. His skin had a healthy glow, sweat beading at his hairline dampening his bangs. He wiped his brow with the back of his sleeve as he threw his water bottle at his pile of stuff.
Keith licked his lips as he took off his lamé, allowing him to breathe easier without the electric vest. “Hey…”
“Yeah, buddy?” Lance asked, working his own gear off his arms, the process easier because he foregone the point-scoring lamé.
“You know how you call me ‘prince-y’?”
Lance scoffed, working the white pants off his jeans hopping on one leg. “You were so uptight when we first met. You’re honestly the stereotypical prince in every movie ever.” He finally kicked off the pants and looked at him, brows furrowed over blue eyes. “Do you not like it? I could call you something else. How about ‘mullet’?”
Blue eyes twinkled at him, Lance’s mouth quirked up in a smirk as Keith self-consciously tugged at his hair. He glared as his mouth firmed into a straight line. “…No. I just wanted to tell you that… I’m kind of a prince.”
Instead of doing what Keith thought he would do like splutter, leave or even not believe him Lance laughed. Not even a disbelieving laugh or a laugh when he thinks Keith’s joking. It was a breathy, agreeable laugh like they were in on some inside joke.
“I know you are!” Lance walked over to stuff his gear into his duffle. “You are honestly every brooding prince in any kind of media. All noble and honest and stuff. Like…” He paused before snapping his fingers. “The prince from the Chronicles of Narnia!”
“No, Lance,” Keith stressed standing up, hand reaching out to his friend as if it would help him believe what he was saying. “I am a prince. I’m King Kollin Vander Marmora’s stepson.”
Lance looked at him for a long time, blue eyes scanning him head to toe as if to determine his prince-y-ness. He didn’t give anything away as he determined Keith’s worth. The moment felt suspended, dragged out, until Keith was very conscious of how his sweat was drying on his body and how his heart thrummed in his ribcage.
Swallowing hard, enough for Keith to see his Adam’s apple bob, Lance licked his lips before nodding. “Well, I can’t think of anyone else better for the job.”
