This is a Klance backstory for Sweetest Prize (a Shklance WIP from Shiro's perspective with heavy Klance undertones). I wanted to share my idea of how Keith and Lance came to know each other and fell in love in this verse. You can read this fic separately or as a follow up.
It is set five years before the events described in Sweetest Prize, which makes Lance and Keith 12-13 years old. Also, bondage is viewed as a cultural element, but you won't find anything explicit here, just a little angst, young boys falling in love, and the resulting drama.
Lance was sitting on a low stool by the front door, checking the hands of Grandpa's wicker basket. He tugged at them to make sure they wouldn't come loose when he carried a heavy load back, then inspected the linen covering on the inside for holes. Everything had to be in best condition because the flowers and seeds that Grandpa would pick to bring to their little apothecary deserved a proper transportation.
It was one of the baskets Lance had woven himself too, so he felt extra-responsible. True, his weaving techniques weren't as good as his mother's yet, but he had worked particularly hard on this one because it was a present. When Grandpa saw it he smiled brightly and said it was perfect, even despite its odd proportions and an awkward indent at the bottom. He also added that when the Great Spring Festival came he would take no other basket to the Temple of Lions. He kept his word, and right now Lance was helping him to get ready.
"Lance, my love, you're always so thoughtful, bless your kind soul," his mother said, setting her own basket next to his and leaning down to tie her sandals. Seeing the intricate flower patterns woven into the evenly rounded sides reminded Lance once again that he still needed a lot of practice before he made something nearly as beautiful.
"It's nothing, Mama," he said softly, feeling his cheeks grow hot at the praise and sincere adoration he could sense in her usually subdued beta scent.
"Oh don't be so shy, you're such a good son," she brushed short wisps of brown hair off his forehead and planted a kiss there, tucking the curling locks underneath the dark blue scarf he wore even at home. "Tell me, what would you like me to bring you back from the Temple?"
Even though the festival was a yearly occasion it was always met with the same amount of vigour and excitement from the citizens of Oriont. It celebrated the beginning of a new cycle of life and was one of the key religious events that happened in the country. For Lance's family, however, it held a particular significance because of their line of work.
Being a skilled apothecary who received the blessing of the Highest Priestess herself, during the festival Lance's grandfather got the rare opportunity to acquire special herbs and flowers that were grown only at the Temple of Lions and bloomed once a year, enhanced by the omegas' magic. Normally he went alone all the way up the hill where the Temple stood, but as years passed Grandpa wasn't getting any younger. Last spring he gave them an awful scare when he returned home only by the middle of the night, so this time it was decided that Lance's mother would accompany him. In fact she would rather make the lengthy trip herself and her father stay safely home, but he wouldn't even hear of it.
Grandpa was exceptionally knowledgeable when it came to the rarest herbs and minerals, which he compounded to make efficient medicine for the common folk. Of course, the most difficult cases were passed to the Temple's apprentices who used their magic along with the intricate remedies to relieve severe pain. Still, people like Lance's grandfather were also highly respected and the little shop they held on the ground floor of their two storey limestone house was always full of visitors who came for all sorts of herbal mixtures or for quick medical advice. Sometimes people even brought in their children who had stomachaches or hurting teeth, and Grandpa treated them then and there while Mama helped. One day, Lance knew, she would inherit the shop and continue practising medicine, and he hoped that when that happened he would be right beside her to help in his turn.
Not that he hadn't tried already, was quite successful at it in fact, but in the end it brought him no good.
One time, maybe half a year ago, a young beta mother brought in her little son who wouldn't stop crying and kept clutching his head with the most pitiful expression on his little scrunched up face. Lance was left alone with them for some ten minutes as Grandpa mixed the necessary ingredients and Mama went out into their garden to bring him some fresh herbs. Lance didn't know what made him do that but he asked to hold the baby and cradled him close to his chest, rubbing at the side of his head. By the time the medicine was ready the boy wasn't crying any more and lay in Lance's lap, peacefully smiling up at him and cooing for his mother.
The young woman claimed it was a miracle and every time she ran into Lance's mother in the street she asked her to thank him again because her son's headaches never returned. Lance was really happy he could help the adorable little alpha, but it wasn't as miraculous as the woman believed. It was also the reason he was made to constantly cover his head with a scarf and was barely let out of the house from that day on.
Not that it made that big a difference, Mama never let him out of her sight for too long ever since he was a babe, to say nothing of taking him past their little street that lay almost on the outskirts of the big bustling capital. She had her reasons, sure, but it still made Lance a bit bitter every time she asked him if he wanted something from some place he never saw and probably would never see. He didn't want to upset her though, so he answered after a moment's hesitation.
"Mm, you're going to pick some new flower seeds, right?" he started uncertainly, squishing the burning desire to ask her if he could go and pick them himself.
"Yes, do you have something in mind?" she was looking so eager to grant his wish, Lance almost told her but luckily caught himself in time. He wasn't five any more, he wouldn't start this whole thing again. He was done being stubborn and throwing tantrums because he knew that at the end of the day it would only hurt them both. That was the last thing Lance wanted, so he learned to bottle up his feelings and hide them away along with his silly childish desires.
"Um, could you get me some blue ones? I'd love to plant them on my windowsill," he finally got out, looking at the basket he was still clutching in his hands.
"Of course! I'll get you several so you can plant them one after another. With your love and care they'll quickly be in bloom."
'And wilt away just as fast,' Lance thought sadly but didn't say anything.
At that moment Grandpa emerged from the storage room in the back and made his way towards them.
"Are you quite ready, Gabriella?" he asked and then his eyes fell on Lance. "Ah! Isn't that the brand new basket woven by my most diligent and talented apprentice," he exclaimed and Lance hurried to stand up or else Grandpa would bend down towards him, always preferring to be eye-level when he spoke with someone.
"I hope it'll be good enough, Grandpa," Lance grinned, enjoying his grandfather's calming presence and basking in his faint but still very pleasant, homely beta scent.
"How can it not, I knew it was the sturdiest thing the moment I first picked it up," he took the basket from Lance and sent him a little wink before turning back to his daughter. "The sun is high, the procession must've started already, we need to hurry."
She nodded even as her posture became a little tense. She clearly didn't want to leave him alone but realised there was no other way. They didn't have any more relatives she could fully confide in and Lance suspected that even if they did, they wouldn't have approved of their situation. Even Grandpa had his doubts, and sometimes late at night when they thought Lance was fast asleep he heard them whispering in the other room, arguing what would happen in a couple of years when he would come of age.
"Lance, come here, love," Mama beckoned to him to approach and he did, instantly feeling her arms wrap tightly around his shoulders. "Don't open to anybody, you hear me, even if they are someone you know. Don't let anyone in. We shall be back as soon as possible," she whispered quickly, leaning close, and by the warmth that seeped through the thin fabric of his scarf Lance could tell she was sniffing at the covered side of his neck to check his scent, as if she hadn't rubbed the ointment over his glands this very morning.
"I'll be alright," he promised quietly and glanced over at his grandfather, who was pointedly not looking in their direction. He liked it less and less with each passing month, and Lance understood. He was turning thirteen this summer and after that it couldn't be much longer before his body gave him away - a single strand of silvery white hair at the back of his head was a constant reminder of that.
"Alright, yes, you'll be fine," Lance wished he could dispel her anxiety but it was impossible. She let him go with reluctance but only after briefly cupping his face and giving his cheeks a gentle rub, making sure the clay-based solution she had covered his marks with wouldn't smudge.
"I'm heading off now, or there will be nothing left by the time we finally arrive," Grandpa said it way too loudly for the little crammed space where they currently stood, he even jerked open the door for greater effect. And that worked because Mama snapped out of her worry over Lance's well-being and turned her full attention to her father.
"No, Papa! You're not going anywhere without me- Lance, take care, my sunshine, we'll be back in a few hours," she barely had time to say goodbye as she hurried after the stubbornly retreating figure. Lance watched them go with a little fond smile, then shut the door and ran upstairs to his mother's room because its windows were overlooking the street and a sliver of the main road where the street made a turn. The ceremonial procession could be passing there right this instant and if he was lucky enough he'd be able to catch a glimpse.
The latch opened with a soft click and Lance pushed the window panes open, leaning out as far as his height would let him. He spotted his mother and grandfather walking up the street and had an impulse to call out and wave, but held back, remembering that he shouldn't be drawing attention to himself. Even though right now the street looked completely deserted.
'Everybody must've joined the procession already,' he thought, folding his arms on the windowsill and laying his head down on them sideways. The world was tilted now and the street seemed to be heading up into the sky, so when the two lonely figures, one gently supporting the other, disappeared at the turn, it almost looked like they walked right into the endless stark blue abyss.
Lance sighed. All he could see of the main road was an indistinct moving mass of bodies and carts, it was nothing like what Grandpa described. From his words, the procession should have been a glorious sight, overflowing with colours and wonderful scents, a true celebration of the new beginning of life.
It started in the fields outside the city, where virgin omegas who had reached their first heat cycle went to bless the upturned soil and sow the first seeds. Then they gathered the lush field grass and early wild flowers in their ceremonial baskets, woven personally by each of the participating omegas and decorated with silk ribbons (Lance could only imagine how lovely they were). After that they started on their way to Temple grounds where the altar stood prepared for the sacrifice of three young calves.
The omegas, commonly called the life givers, walked through the city at the head of the procession, clad in light flowing fabrics that were semi-transparent and showed off the white harnesses adorning their young bodies. As they passed each street people could add to their baskets one or two seeds or little clay figures of lion cubs which would be taken to the Temple and added to the sacrificial fire - that was considered to be a way to ask the Gods for good luck and plentiful harvests.
The virgin omegas walked with grace and poise, not at all afraid of anyone overstepping their boundaries because they were flanked by their loyal protectors - the warriors of the High Guard, the best trained alphas who shared a sacred bond with the Temple's priests and were entrusted with these yet unmated apprentices. Soon after the festival they too would choose worthy mates and lose their harnesses. But until then they were untouchable and kept apart from the worshipping crowd.
All of that Lance learned from Grandpa's tales, which were their little secret because every time his true nature was brought up Mama became very nervous and quickly changed the subject. Explaining even the basic matters to him, like his different scent and physiology, never came easy to her. But Grandpa believed Lance had to know about who he really was and what it entailed in their world. And while Lance was really curious about omegas and liked learning more about himself, he couldn't get rid of the feeling that him and the beautiful wonderful creatures Grandpa described had as little in common as an inconspicuous humble forget-me-not and a stunning noble hydrangea. He would be lying though if he said he didn't want to see how they lived and what they did at the Temple.
Lance would never admit it out loud, but he frequently lost himself to the fantasy of what his life would be like if he didn't have to hide. His musings never lasted long, however, because the moment he thought of revealing himself the image of his mother, distraught and in tears, came to his mind.
The fate was unfairly cruel to her, taking away her loved ones one after another. Her first-born alpha son Luis, the most talented apprentice at the biggest forge in the city, perished with his young wife, the blacksmith's daughter, and their two infants in a tragic fire that destroyed a whole district where they resided. Not too long after that her second beta son Marco, a poet at heart with too free a spirit to seek a quiet steady life, got into gambling and was killed in a brawl in a dirty pub. That awful end was haunting Gabriella terribly and for a long while she didn't want to let Veronica, her alpha daughter, join the troops, but Veronica was too stubborn and, supported by her father, had her way in the end. She left their home never to return.
Lance didn't get the chance to meet any of them, as he was born a month after the news of Veronica's death on the battlefield had reached the household. Lance's father was consumed by guilt and blamed himself for not having been able to protect any of his three children. He desperately looked for some kind of solace that he couldn't find in his wife's bleak, silently accusing eyes. He found it in liquor. Two days before Lance came into this world he had consumed so much he didn't see the carriage barrelling straight at him on the main road and died instantly from the impact.
The shock from his death was what sent Gabriella in early labour, and her delivery was so difficult it was a miracle both her and Lance made it out alive. In fact, by the time Lance was finally born his grandfather was the only one who hadn't lost hope and remained in the room. And that was exactly what made it possible to keep Lance's omega nature a secret - the moment Grandpa laid his eyes on the little pale blue marks on his cheeks he knew what he was, but nobody else did.
Usually when an omega child was born, which was a very rare occasion, it was a cause for celebration and brought great joy to the family. Also, it was immediately reported by the midwife to the nearest temple, and the newborn was taken by one of the priests the very same day. Now Lance understood that what Grandpa wanted was for his daughter to be able to meet her son once she recovered, and therefore made the unlawful decision to wait with the announcement until he nursed her back to health. But it happened so that when Gabriella saw Lance and held him in her arms, she knew she wouldn't bear it to part with him and would rather choose death than have him taken away. And her father couldn't do what was right only to lose both of them. He promised to never tell a living soul about Lance's nature and helped to raise him, shielding him from unwanted eyes and coming up with special concoctions to mask his scent and marks.
Lance couldn't tell if his actions were really that bad but sometimes he could feel heavy guilt wafting off of him as he sat at the table late in the night, not drinking the tea Lance brought him but rather staring into the cup with unseeing haunted eyes. It made Lance anxious and almost physically ill, like when he caught his mother in her room silently sobbing as she clutched her late children's clothes with trembling hands. She pressed the fabric close to her face and desperately tried to catch the scents that were so dear to her but had long turned unrecognisable and stale.
This ability to sense other people more acutely and feel their emotions as if they were his own was something Lance considered a curse rather than a blessing: knowing someone was hurting and being unable to do anything to take that pain away was excruciating for him. It always made him think he was failing them somehow, even though he realised that helping everyone was impossible. But when it came to his own little family, he knew that adding to their sorrow would be the last thing he'd ever do.
Which meant he would never leave his home of his own accord, no matter how much he wished to see the Temple. Then again, something was telling Lance that even if one day he actually did find himself there, neither beta, nor omega enough, he would stand out like a sore thumb.
His unhappy line of thought was suddenly interrupted by a loud clatter from downstairs.
Lance jerked up in surprise, standing still and listening for anything unusual, but a whole minute passed in silence and he decided that it must've been a figment of his imagination. Then the clatter of what sounded like the pots and pans from the kitchen cupboard came again. Mama's earlier words echoed in Lance's mind and his blood ran cold.
'Don't let anyone in,' she said, and he didn't, but it didn't mean unwanted guests needed an invitation, especially if they thought the house would be empty on a special day like this.
He hesitated a moment, thinking what to do, and none of the options seemed good enough. If he stayed hidden upstairs the intruders would just take whatever they wanted and leave unscathed, or come up and take his and his mother's possessions. They lived very humbly, didn't have much savings and the only jewellery they owned had more sentimental than actual value, but Lance would still hate to have it taken so unceremoniously. He could try climbing out of the window in his room that looked into the backyard and from there run across the garden to their neighbours for help. Only they would most probably be absent, like the rest of the people who lived on the street.
That left Lance with the only other option: he would confront whoever broke in, and if they refused to leave try to lure them out of the house and then run as fast as he could until he reached the main road. There he'd look for Mama and Grandpa and they would protect him. He could do it. He just needed to build up a little courage.
The sound of glass shattering on the stone floor that came from below sent Lance into action. He took a deep breath to calm himself down and silently crept out of the room, careful not to step on the floorboards he knew creaked the loudest. By the time he descended the staircase the sounds moved from the kitchen to the storage room where Grandpa kept his precious minerals and herbs, and that wasn't good. Lance had to hurry.
He also needed something that would make him appear more threatening than he was. Well, at least as threatening as a twelve-year-old omega disguised as a beta could possibly get. So he picked up a broom from the closet by the front door. For the record, it was the sturdiest thing in the house that he could lay his hands on right now because its handle was carved out of a solid piece of oak.
As he came closer to the kitchen he could make out the scent of the intruder - and there was only one, thankfully. But it was an alpha. And Lance could tell by the sharp spike to it that the alpha was a young male. The newly acquired knowledge took away from Lance's already waning confidence, but he didn't stop.
The kitchen was a poor sight - the cupboard stood wide open, as well as the pantry, the crockery and tableware lay strewn across the floor among the shards of the smashed carafe. Luckily, nothing else seemed to be broken but that was the least of Lance's concerns right now. He manoeuvred between the scattered pans and sharp pieces of glass and found himself in front of the door to the storage room.
Lance was barely breathing and gripped the handle of the broom with both hands so that he had a proper hold on his makeshift weapon. He hoped he wouldn't have to actually use it but mentally prepared for the worst case scenario.
Staring at the half-closed door Lance briefly thought of shutting it completely, which would effectively trap the alpha inside as there were no windows, nor any other way out. He dismissed the idea, however: in his attempts to escape the alpha could knock over the shelves and trash the brittle vials and boxes with Grandpa's medical ingredients, which were the most precious things in the house and their main source of income. Lance simply couldn't let that happen. He'd wait for the man to come out and then-
The door opened so unexpectedly Lance almost dropped his broom, but quickly righted himself and took a firm stand, trying to look strong and confident. The figure that emerged from the storage room stopped in its tracks upon seeing him and froze in the doorway. The lighting was very poor there but Lance still managed to make out the features of the intruder, and once he did his eyes widened in surprise.
It was a boy with messy black hair, not much older than himself judging by his height. His clothes were dirty and torn up in places and looked like they had originally belonged to someone of a much larger build. In one hand he was clutching a small loaf of bread stuffed with goat cheese that was supposed to be Lance's dinner, and half of it was already gone; with the other he was gripping the door handle so hard his knuckles turned white. But what startled Lance the most was the young alpha's face: it was ashen pale and so thin that a pair of dark eyes beneath thick furrowed eyebrows stood out like two black holes. He was tense and guarded but still had a strong, stubborn presence about him that was almost palpable. Lance guessed that was what kept him going despite his obviously famished state.
The longer Lance looked at the boy, noticing bread crumbs that stuck to the front of his shirt and the side of his scowling mouth, the less he wanted to scare him away. He slowly lowered the broom he had been holding out like a sword and took a little step closer. The alpha flinched a bit but held his ground and all of a sudden Lance realised that the scent that was coming off of him reeked of bitter shame.
"You-," he started awkwardly, then paused. He didn't know what to say so he went for the obvious. "I won't hurt you," he said softly, staring into the alpha's stormy eyes and trying to communicate his good intentions the best he could.
"If you're hungry, you can have some pickled fruit we keep in the basement as well, it's- You don't have to be afraid," he continued but instead of any signs of relaxing the alpha became even more agitated and a fresh wave of shame with a foul undertone of self-loathing hit Lance so hard he had to lean on his broom.
"What-," he began but then something sticking out of the alpha's bag caught his eye. He couldn't place the peculiar shape of the object for a couple of moments until it hit him: those were his father's brass scales.
The old relic travelled with Lance's father all the way from his distant provincial town that he had left in search of a better future as a merchant of herbs and spices. When he came to Oriont, looking for a way to earn his living, he met Lance's mother and started working for her father, a practised apothecary who could use his knowledge of exotic herbs. The scales stayed in the house longer than he did in the end, and Grandpa used them daily while measuring the ingredients. Even Mama who rarely talked about her husband sometimes looked at them with a soft look on her face.
Lance really wanted to help the poor little boy, but he couldn't let him take the scales. The alpha must've sensed the change in his mood because he finally let go of the storage room door and shifted a little, gripping the strap of the bag that dug uncomfortably into his shoulder.
It was then that Lance noticed a large leather sheath strapped to the boy's side. Like the rest of his possessions it looked too big for his frame but Lance didn't want to assume he wasn't able to put whatever weapon he was carrying there to good use. Suddenly he felt a little weak in the knees.
"P-please, don't take those scales," it sounded too much like a whimper even to his own ears, but Lance couldn't help it, he was more nervous than he had been when he was coming down the stairs, preparing for the unknown. Now he knew what exactly was at stake.
The boy continued to stare at him silently, then took a quick glance downwards to see what Lance was talking about, and it occurred to Lance that perhaps he didn't even know what he had taken. And that meant that, perhaps, Lance could convince him to leave the scales if he offered him something else. But what? It wasn't like they were swimming in precious metals. If only, maybe-
"If you need something valuable, take this," Lance let go of the broom and it loudly joined the mess on the floor as he rolled up the long sleeve of his tunic. Then, without the slightest hesitation, he pulled the bronze gilded bracelet with a piece of one of Grandpa's finest blue minerals off his wrist and held it out.
The bracelet was indeed the most expensive thing Lance owned. Mama and Grandpa gifted it to him for his tenth birthday, and Grandpa told him later, when Mama was out of earshot, that it was customary for adolescent omegas to wear bracelets round their wrists and ankles. It indicated their status and also marked the places where the leather cuffs of their bondages would be when the time came, helping to bind them during their heats. They couldn't afford to buy a whole set of identical bracelets at once, but eventually, Grandpa promised, Lance would have all four of them. Well, he wouldn't mind waiting for that a bit longer if it meant keeping his father's only legacy.
"It is worth more than those old scales, so please don't take them," he explained because the boy before him didn't move an inch to take his offering, just stared at it as if it were a snake ready to bite. Lance couldn't take it any longer so he ended up whispering the truth, "They were my father's and to me they are priceless."
Despite how quietly he spoke those words, as soon as they left his mouth the alpha jerked his head up and met his pleading gaze with such an intense expression in his eyes Lance thought for a second that he was going to lash out at him. But nothing happened.
The tense silence stretched for what felt like a century to Lance when there came a loud knock at the front door, immediately followed by the jovial voice of an old lady who lived across the street and paid regular visits to their apothecary.
"Lance, dear, is that you?" Lance gasped, threw the bracelet on the counter and hurried to the door.
"Granny Louise, yes, I'm here! I stayed to watch after this one salve Grandpa left behind, it needs constant stirring as it simmers, you see," he was speaking and at the same time couldn't believe what he was saying. He had never lied before, especially not to this sweet old lady who treated him like her own grandson. Hot pink flooded his face and tingled at the tips of his ears but he ignored it for the time being.
"Oh, poor boy, you'll miss the whole ceremony, the procession has long passed already," Granny Louise seemed to be really upset on his behalf but Lance could tell from her wandering intonation that she was worried she'd miss everything herself because she had started out so late. Against all logic, Lance didn't want to delay her any longer.
"You can tell me all about it when you return, have a safe trip!" he shouted, already turning to go back to the kitchen, and didn't wait for her reply.
When he got back, however, the young alpha was already gone. And on the counter he found two things: his father's scales and his bracelet.
The boy hadn't taken either.
By the time Mama and Grandpa returned late in the evening Lance had tidied up the kitchen and the storage room, eaten two pickled pears instead of his bread and cheese and stood for about half an hour in the backyard, debating with himself whether he should follow the lingering alpha scent through the garden and over the wooden fence.
In the end, he stayed home and greeted his family as usual. Mama brought him four different kinds of seeds and Grandpa needed his help unloading the heavy basket full of new rare ingredients. He said that it had turned out to be even more capacious than it looked and that everything had fit inside wonderfully.
Lance listened to them and smiled, nodding along, but his thoughts were far away, with the hungry, dirty little boy who had a noble heart and the deepest, most soulful eyes he had ever seen. He wondered where he had gone and if he was safe as the night fell on the city. He wished he had asked his name, and wished he had told him his. But most of all Lance hoped that some day they would meet again.