Adjusting the strings of his lute, the bard resumed his song from the exact note he had paused at. Although the tavern was crammed full of travelers, forcing some to lean against the wall due a lack of open seats, several customers nodded their heads in appreciation in his direction. Background music was a pleasing noise to the ears of the worn out travelers gathered in the taproom to quench their thirst.
"Lance!" An angry voice hissed in his pointed ear. Without halting his performance, the bard casually looked over his shoulder to his best friend. Hunk was supposed to be working, but had chosen instead to huddle behind the counter Lance sat upon. It was almost an amusing sight – Hunk stood above the shoulders of most of the men in there, and yet he was trembling like a newborn kitten.
"Are you crazy? Do you want to be killed?" Hunk murmured from his hiding spot.
"And who would be killing me?" Lance lifted an eyebrow.
"Uhhh, them?" Hunk lifted a finger above the counter, pointing at some shady customers huddled in a table near the corner of the room. Ah, yes, Lance hadn't failed to notice them and the crests on their armour, betraying their status as royal guards. Ever since the scowling men entered the taproom, Hunk hadn't moved from his hiding spot underneath the counter.
Lance shrugged and fiddled with his lute. "They don't frighten me."
"Don't frighten you?" Hunk sputtered. "And what if they found out you're only twelve, huh? You're a year younger than me, you shouldn't even be in here!"
Lance rolled his eyes. Hunk was every bit of a year and a month older than him, and his friend used every chance he could to remind him of it. The half Dwarf was a natural worry wart, and although Lance had adjusted it in their long years of friendship, it still proved a bit irksome at times.
"Then I'll play them a little song and enchant them to forgive me." Lance plucked a few notes in tune with his words before poking Hunk on the nose. "And you, my good friend, should turn your worries to attending to your costumers before they stab you in the gut."
Hunk whirled around and gulped at the numerous angry faces seated at the counter, their mugs drained empty. Grumbling under his breath, Hunk reluctantly rose to fetch them refills.
"Enchant them, oh yes, Lance, that'll work. Stupid magic, it doesn't even work half of the time..."
Lance chuckled and was soon left to his music and thoughts once again. From his perch on the counter, he could observe every corner of the taproom. All the voices speaking meshed together, save for the table closest to Lance, swarmed with adventurers. He could hear their voices above the chatter of the room, bragging about the last victory of their quest.
That was what Lance craved – adventure. More than anything else, he wished one of the adventurers would take notice of him and invite him to join them on their next outing. He had grown dreadfully bored of the meek village and tavern he and Hunk had occupied for the last year or so.
Lance wanted to explore, to see what the Altea kingdom offered outside of the safe villages. He'd overheard plenty of rumors, of enchanted forests and ancient ruins and massive port cities swapped over drinks.
Exploration was the reason he abandoned his own family a year ago with Hunk. He had absolutely no desire to inherit his status as a noble Elf, doomed to marry someone for the profit of his parents and be chained to one place for the rest of his long life cycle. That wasn't the life Lance intended to lead. Not if he could help it.
Suddenly, the front doors to the taproom flung open, inviting a stream of cool air inside and snuffing several candles. Numerous prying drinkers turned their heads. Lance cranked his neck to see who had entered, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him. He yelped as Hunk yanked him over the counter, out of sight. Once the music cut off with an abrupt halt, everyone else in the tavern jerked their gaze up from their drinks and card games.
"Hunk! What the hell?" Lance snapped, but a broad hand clapped over his mouth to hush him. The silencing movement was just in time for the pair to hear a booming voice slice through the air. Hunk peered over the counter.
"Gentlemen, we have received reports of Galra activity in these parts," someone said, not quite yelling but raising his voice to command silence. Immediately, worried murmurs swept over the taproom.
Knocking Hunk's hand off his mouth, Lance hauled himself up beside his friend. A broad, red faced soldier stood in the doorway, his hands still positioned on the doors he'd knocked aside. He raked his gaze across the room until his eyes settled on the suspicious group of royal guards in the corner.
"You lot, let's go." He snapped his fingers in their direction. The group of royal guards downed the last few drops in their mugs before rising in unison. Everyone in the tavern whispered among themselves as the guards cleared out, leaving only the red faced man.
"This is now an area under investigation. I'd advise everyone remain in this building until further notice." He slammed the door behind him with a loud thunk to emphasize his point.
Once the stunned silence slowly melted away, everyone in the tavern returned to their card games and drinks. The adventurers Lance had eavesdropped on earlier changed their discussion to the Galra kingdom, the worst enemy and threat to the Altea kingdom, their tones solemn but tinged with fear.
"Not sure what everyone's freaking out about," Lance mumbled to himself. Galra invasions were so common to the point of warranting their own law to deal with them. If the Galra reported were spotted, they'd be dealt with swiftly and efficiently.
"Ohhhh no, oh no, oh this is so bad." Hunk slid down the counter and brought his hands to his hair. His fingers trembled as they gripped his raven black curls.
"There's Galra here, in our village, they could be anywhere-"
"Hunk, my buddy, my guy, relax." Lance clapped his hands onto Hunk's shoulders. Knowing his friend's anxieties could only be comforted with reassurance, he said, "You're over thinking it, bud. This isn't the first time Galra have slipped past our borders. And what happens every time they do?"
Hunk paused for a moment, most likely to consider if the question was rhetorical or not. When Lance continued to stare, he sighed and pouted. "They're captured and taken care of."
"Exactly," Lance said, patting his friend's shoulder and crawling back over the counter to retrieve his lute. Another worker at the tavern had gone around and relit all the candles, bathing the room in a warm orange glow.
"What if the Galra are in here, though?" Hunk nibbled on his fingernails, casting uneasy glances around the room.
"We would've heard them by now. You know those things never travel alone," Lance pointed out. Hunk let out an uneasy sigh, but his anxiety seemed to be pacified enough.
Lance tested his fingers against the strings of his lute, but then stopped when he caught the sight of the front doors again. Slowly, he moved his gaze to the hallway, the one that lead to the backdoor of the tavern, where rubbish and uneaten leftovers were dumped outside for the rats to feast on.
"...But if it would make you feel better..." Lance trailed off. Immediately, Hunk snapped his gaze back over the counter.
"Lance, I do not like that tone."
He couldn't help but let his trademark grin, confident and smug, seep back onto his face. He hooked the strap of his lute over his shoulder and gracefully slid off the counter.
"I can go check to make sure they caught those Galra for you."
Lance's slim figure allowed him to easily slip by the crowd of customers loitering around for refills. Hunk was stunned for a few heartbeats, before he sprung to life. He rushed to keep with his friend on the opposite side of the counter.
"What are you doing? If they spot you sneaking around, the guards will arrest you!" Hunk waved his arms frantically. Lance, not slowing his pace, smirked and nonchalantly shrugged.
"What can I say? My middle name is danger."
"Lance, I have known you for nearly ten years now and your middle name is not danger!" Hunk retorted. While Lance easily sneaked past the crowd, Hunk discovered himself being caged in by the swarm of customers. He accidentally bumped into a few people as he tried to find a clear path, but he was helpless to do anything but watch his smirking friend wave goodbye and disappear down the hallway.
"Lance! If you manage to get yourself killed, I'll murder you with my bare hands-"
Eventually Hunk's voice was drowned out by the hum of the busy taproom. Lance left the noisy commotion behind as he exited out the side door, closing it behind him to not start any suspicion. He brushed the dust off his blue tunic and regarded the sight in front of him.
Out beyond the circle of light provided by the lantern overhead, the forest that surrounded the tavern was shrouded in darkness. The woods were too dark for any human eyes to navigate, but Lance's sharp Elf eyes surveyed the area clear as day.
"No signs of Galra out here," he spoke to himself, waiting a moment to see if anything would stir at the sound of his voice. Other than the occasional hoot of an owl or the rustling of leaves under the night breeze, nothing moved. So he jumped off the door frame and confidently marched into the forest with the intent of finding the Galra supposedly lurking about.
He'd heard many a tale of the Galra, either through rumors in the tavern or through stories told to children to discourage them from wandering off into the woods at night. He was dying to see at least one, just to see if they lived up to the horrid legends. On top of that, he would also get to witness a quarrel between human guards and Galra soldiers – he could already feel the inspiration for a new song.
"Now, if I was a Galra, where would I be hiding...?" He tapped his own chin. A moment later, his pointed ears twitched at distant shouts. He dropped to the forest floor, crouching out of sight. Torches glowed in the remote murkiness of the forest; they must belong to the guards. Keeping his stance low, Lance cut through the forest, mindful of twigs that might snap and give away his position.
Thankfully, his Elven heritage kept all of his movements noiseless and graceful. As he neared those glowing lights, the livid shouts of human voices became clearer. There was clashing of steel blades, injured cries, and vengeful swears – the Galra must be putting up one hell of a fight.
Lance blinked. Perhaps the group of Galra were even more dangerous than first anticipated.
Once he ventured close enough, Lance dropped to his stomach and propped his face up on his hands to properly enjoy the show. Drunken bar fights were usually worth a good laugh or two, but they couldn't compare to the professionally trained guards.
In the clearing in front of him, there were three of the royal guards from earlier, gesturing to the darkness of the woods. A fourth soldier emerged heartbeats later, chasing what Lance assumed to be a Galra. In the torch light, he could only catch glimpses of the purple cat like ears.
The Galra beast was hissing and snarling loud enough to shake the forest. It halted upon realizing it was surrounded by four royal guards. They must have lured it here to corner it, but...
Lance craned his neck again. Where were the other Galra? They always traveled in packs, according to what the adventurers in the tavern claimed. But this one appeared to be unaccompanied.
The Galra reached for his side, and Lance stifled a hearty chuckle. What could the small dagger the Galra clutched in his hand possibly do against the four swords pointed at him? The beast's tail lashed back and forth as he whirled around, trying to keep an eye on all guards at once. All it would take was one slip up for a guard to seize the opportunity to plunge his sword into the Galra's gut.
Without warning, the Galra lunged at a random guard, and the loud crash of metal against metal caused another guard to accidentally drop his torch. He stomped it out with his heavy boot and joined the others in rushing the Galra.
Lance's laughter slowly died out as the fight progressed, much longer than he thought it would last. He had to admire the Galra's skill. He thrust his dagger here, dodged a blow there, parried another blow. Somehow he was everywhere at once, fending off every attempt at his life.
The four guards' expression slowly changed to enraged confusion. After knocking the sword out of one man's hand, the Galra twirled around and chomped his fangs onto another guard's arm. Gods above – he actually triedbiting the man. The guard's solid armor was the only shield that kept the Galra from wrenching the man's arm free from his socket.
Yelling more out of shock than pain, the man finally managed to pry the Galra's jaws off of his arm. Lance almost cheered in admiration as the Galra swept the guard clean off his feet with a powerful swipe of his cat like tail. Then he mentally scolded himself; no matter how skilled the Galra appeared, he was still an enemy to Altea.
Lance fiddled with the idea of taking out his lute to play an epic battle tune, perhaps to raise the spirits of the guards. They were growing aggravated and flustered, and it showed in the sloppy jabs of their swords. No matter how many times they charged, the Galra easily knocked them aside.
Only when one guard took a desperate swing with his torch did Lance get a clear picture of the Galra looked like. Not that he'd seen a Galra in the flesh before, but he swore that face was no more than a year or two older than him. The purple face was framed with long black hair and two intensely yellow eyes.
Although the wild swing of the torch missed by a hair's length, the Galra's defenses were exposed for one split second, and the guard retaliated with a broad slash to the Galra's shoulder. The force was not nearly enough to chop the limb off, but Lance winced at the howl of pain from the Galra. Liquid black blood spattered against the forest floor.
Lance half expected the fight to be over then and there, but the Galra responded rapidly with a slash at the man's face. By the stars, the young Galra even had animalistic claws, sharper than a snake's fangs. Three scratches oozed with blood as the guard stumbled back out of range of those deadly claws.
But the Galra stumbled over his own paws too, and Lance knew soon the adrenaline from the battle would fade, with pain to soon take its place. To the Galra's credit, he still wielded his dagger and fought viciously, parrying as many thrusts as he could. One guard aimed a well placed jab at the Galra's ear while his back was turned, and purple fur and inky black blood were flung into the air.
Lance winced again as another guard jabbed his durable boot into the leg of the Galra, catching him off guard and sending him tumbling down. Lance had learned many sparring tips from the alcoholics in the bar, one being that once one was knocked off their feet in a fight, it was all over. Before the Galra could even bleakly hope to gather his bearings, the guards pounced on him, pressing their weight to hold him down.
In the dying torchlight, one of the guards produced a thick wade of rope. Lance had been under the impression a Galra was killed instantly upon capture, but perhaps they were also taken to prison. Perhaps even tortured, he realized with a deep shudder.
The guards quickly set to tying the Galra up, a task proven difficult by the wild thrashing of the beast. Their irate voices meshed together, with Lance only catching glimpses of their tight conversation.
"Quick, quick, tie it down-"
"Stupid piece of absolute shit, it scratched me right on the cheek-"
"Watch yourself, it's a fighter-"
For some unfathomable reason, Lance's stomach curdled as the guards leaned back, the Galra tightly secured. The Galra snarled loudly, earning a brutal punch to the face. The guard with the bleeding cheek hauled the Galra up by his injured ear, and the hisses of fury quickly changed to hisses of pain.
Lance grinded his fingers into the dirt beneath him. Although it was wrong, absolutely wrong as an inhabitant of Altea, he couldn't help but feel a shred of pity for the Galra. Although the Galra was growling and spitting in ferocity, his flat ears and widened eyes verified his fear. Every creature in both kingdoms knew the penalty of sneaking past borders; death.
Lance cast his look away from the torch fire, and his excellent vision kicked back in. All around the clearing was the pitch black forest, but he still couldn't detect any signs of more Galra lurking in the darkness. Perhaps this Galra really was a loner.
But he couldn't help but also take note of just how deeply the forest was entrenched in the cover of the night. If he could provide distraction for just long enough...
Hunk's earlier complaints about magic were inherently wrong, especially not in regards to Lance. Having abandoned his family's nobility at a young age, he never properly learned how to channel his magic. And since even seeing another of his species made him ill, he'd never found a mentor to fill in the gap. No, his magic was as wild and untameable as a beast, but his determination was unmatched.
Lance elevated himself to his hands and knees, still crouched out of sight. He had only minutes, if that, before the guards either slaughtered the Galra where he lay, or shipped him off to some hellhole prison.
With vigilant grace, he slipped the lute off of his shoulder. He crawled at a snail's pace over to a position further from the clearing. Enough to be out of sight, but close enough to continue to observe. His heart thumped briefly as he glanced towards the clearing, but the Galra continued to wiggle under his restraints.
Focus. That was one of the few lessons his mother had given to him before Lance fled his home. Magic required focus. If he was going to successfully pull his crazy scheme off, it would require all of his attentive focus. But first, he needed to grasp their attention. Once the guard keeping watch turned his back, Lance picked up a rock and chucked it deep into the forest.
The guard snapped his head up at the deep thump of something banging against a tree in the forest. Their first assumption, Lance knew, would probably be a beast stalking in the woods, but one couldn't be too sure. Galra, after all, typically traveled in pairs. The guard turned his head to bark an order to hurry up and finish the deed, until the music began to play.
It was if a musician had appeared out of nowhere to perform a song for them. The distinct notes of a stringed instrument played clearly, but there was nobody in the clearing aside from the royal guards and captured Galra. They spun around, but no yellow eyes gleamed at them from the murky blackness. None that they could see, anyways.
"What the devil is that?" One guard swore as the music rose in volume.
"A gang of bards, I reckon. No doubt here to loot," another guard said, before pausing. "You think it could be some Galra bards?"
"No, you idiot. These mindless beasts can barely speak the common tongue, much less play an instrument," the scratched guard kicked the captured Galra with a sneer laced with malice.
Despite his current situation, the Galra pricked an ear at the distant melody. There was such a curious look in his yellow eyes that Lance suspected the Galra wasn't fooled by the sound.
Unbeknownst to the group of guards, the culprit of the sound was concealed in the grass hardly a yard away from their feet. Lance's fingers plucked the strings of his lute, but the sound didn't come from the instrument itself. His magic carried the music further into the woods, as though he was playing on the other side of the forest.
It was a cheap little illusion trick he had picked up observing a traveling band of bards. He always used it to play tiny pranks in the village, but he never thought it would actually prove useful, until now.
"Probably some bards using the Galra alert as a cover to steal," the scratched guard spat, the sinister tone in his voice not masked at all. Lance suppressed a shiver.
"Two of you, stay here and watch it. I don't want anything else killing it," he ordered, wiping some of the blood clotting the scratches on his cheek. Two of the guards were swallowed up by the darkness of the forest, oblivious to Lance biting his lip to prevent himself from laughing.
He hadn't expected his plan to work so smoothly. Now, it was only the last two guards remaining to deal with. Lance shouldered his lute again and fumbled around in the dirt for another rock.
Meanwhile, the two remaining guards struggled to deal with getting the short end of the stick. They were keenly aware of the Galra's yellow eyes watching their every movement, waiting for a key moment to strike.
"Better to just get rid of it, now," one guard groused. The other unsheathed his sword, just to toy with the idea further, but halted when a shudder ran down his spine. He turned his head, and the last thing he witnessed before seeing stars was a rock rushing towards his forehead.
Both Galra and guard were speechless as the man collapsed like a dead weight to the forest floor. Immediately Lance hopped back from the unconscious man, wincing as he shook the hand clutching the rock.
"Man, that hurt," he groaned, massaging his wrist. Then he remembered the second guard, who hurried to free his weapon from its scabbard. Lance bit down on a panicked screech as the guard charged at him.
Before the guard could stab the sword into Lance's gut, something glimmered in the Galra's eyes. He lashed out at the running guard with his tail, tripping him up. As the guard slammed into the dirt on his hands and knees, his sword clattered inches away from his fingers.
Lance only allowed himself a second to gawk at the Galra who had just assisted him.Focus, he reprimanded himself, his eyes honing in on the sword now lying unclaimed in the clearing.
Inhaling a deep breath, Lance risked a lunge forward to grab the weapon before the guard could recover. His fingers clamped around the handle. He quickly tucked and rolled away from the guard, hardly feeling the impact of the guard's attempts to seize him by the collar.
The guard would have dived forward to strangle Lance, had the Galra not rolled himself onto his back. That surprisingly strong tail wrapped itself around the guard's waist, yanking him back from ripping Lance to shreds.
Lance didn't even know how to properly yield a sword, but he had no intentions of using the blade. The guard cursed the Galra loudly and wretched the tail off of him, only to be met with the pommel of his sword to the side of his head. He fell just as his companion had moments ago.
Only when he was positive the guard was unconscious did Lance allow his muscles to relax. He lowered the sword in his hands and panted, the adrenaline still coursing through his veins. In spite of everything, in spite of him just assaulting two royal guards, he threw his head back and laughed.
"I cannot believe that actually worked," he gasped with delight, sitting back on his legs. Of course, the credit couldn't be contributed solely to him, but... his plan had been a success. If the story wouldn't give Hunk a heart attack induced by stress, Lance was tempted to brag about it later.
"I didn't think it would work out so smoothly! I mean, still had to deal with those two, but technicalities, right?" Lance gestured to both guards, not sure if he was speaking to the Galra or himself. The Galra slinked his tail away from the fallen guard and sized up the newcomer, or as well as he could from his prone position.
Lance reveled in his victory for only a few more seconds before regarding the depth of the forest. The tussle with the guards would've provided enough distraction that the music would have ended by now, meaning the other guards would be returning soon.
"Alright, we don't have much time," he said, forcing himself back to reality. Stepping over the unconscious guard, Lance approached the captured Galra.
He could hardly believe his eyes. The Galra in his childhood stories were described as massive hulking beasts, with repulsive snouts and massive fangs. But this Galra – for one, he was tiny, shorter than Lance. And he certainly wasn't ugly, but Lance could see hints of sharp teeth under the Galra's snarl.
He knelt down by the Galra, intensely aware of the yellow eyes studying him. The Galra's expression gave away nothing, no hints of anger or kindness. But there was no backing out now; Lance was already in massive trouble by attacking two guards. What was rescuing a captured Galra?
Lance lifted the sword again, earning a deep growl from the Galra. When Lance instead used the blade to hack at the restraints, the Galra fell silent again. The ropes binding the Galra easily yielded to the guard's sword.
Lance's mind raced to keep his plan afloat. Hopefully, this Galra could understand enough of the common tongue to comprehend Lance's words. "Okay, we'll have to hurry. Those other guards will be back any minute."
The last rope snapped, freeing the Galra. Lance brushed the shredded cords of rope aside, biting his lip as the Galra rolled his shoulders back. The beast remained silent, allowing Lance to start breathing again.
Fast as a bird, the Galra lashed out one claw and griped Lance's arm, an action that caused him to flinch. He yelped in fright as the Galra threw his weight onto him, pinning him to the grass beneath them. The Galra pressed his knees into Lance's legs, trapping him underneath. Lance thought to scream but the yellow eyes glaring at him quickly shut his mouth.
"And what do you thinkyou're doing?" The Galra snarled, in near perfect usage of the common language. Lance couldn't help but blink. He'd expected the Galra to have a deep, scratchy voice that resembled more of a wolf's howl than anything else, but this Galra... his voice was normal, young sounding, not unlike Lance's.
As if sensing Lance's wandering thoughts, the Galra dug his claws further into Lance's shoulders. He feebly attempted to struggle, but realized with a cold sweat the beast physically outmatched him. He remained in place, trapped under the sneering Galra.
"W-well, what do you think you're doing? I'm trying to save you!" Lance retorted. Here he was, risking his neck to help save another, and he was being thanked with claws pressed against his throat. The Galra made a noise somewhere between a snort and a scoff.
"As if I'd ever believe that. As if an Altean would ever help a Galra for nothing in return," the Galra hissed and unsheathed his claws. Lance thought he might actually have to beg for his life, but shouts echoed through the forest and caught both of their attentions. The guards must have finally realized they had been deceived.
"Hey!" Lance recoiled as the Galra pounced. But instead of slitting Lance's throat, the Galra leapt off of him and broke into a run. The Galra took only a few pained steps before his injured leg caved in. He roared in pain as he tripped into the grass.
Lance pulled himself up, ignoring the throbbing ache in his shoulders, and rushed to the Galra's side. He offered a helping hand, but earned only a sneer in return.
"Hey, hey, take it easy," Lance said. Of course, the Galra ignored his advice and sat up, shaking himself like a dog to rid himself of leaves and dirt. Lance's eyes lingered on the wounds on the Galra's shoulder and ear, still dribbling black blood.
"Let's just calm down, alright? We gotta get out-"
"Get down!" The Galra pounced again and shoved him into the filth of the ground. Lance briefly considered slapping the Galra's claws away, but stopped when he heard noise. The Galra's actions had been just in time, for the guards emerged from the forest and entered the clearing. They roared in complete disbelief at their unconscious companions and remains of ropes. Lance couldn't help but linger his gaze on their sharp blades.
"We have to get back to the tavern," he said, his heart beginning to race again. "They won't suspect you're in there."
The Galra narrowed his eyes. "What sort of fool do you take me for? Entering a place infested with humans is a death trap."
Why did he have to be so irritable and stubborn? If the soldiers weren't feet in front of them, Lance might have screamed in utter frustration. He ran a hand through his hair and then gripped the Galra's uninjured shoulder.
"Look, if we're going to get out of this alive, you're gonna have to trust me, alright?"
The Galra's sneer didn't bulge. Lance heard a guard bark orders to search the area, and he gritted his teeth.
"We don't have time to argue, okay? Come on!" Lance dragged the protesting Galra by the arm behind him. He didn't pause for even a split second to check if the guards spotted the two retreating figures. All he could do was run, run as fast as his feet could carry him.
Despite being dragged by his forearm, the Galra never faltered a single step. Both Elf and Galra left the guard's enraged cries behind and vanished under the cover of the night.
Lance tore the closet door open. He couldn't waste any time; he didn't know how long the Galra's patience would last, or if a customer's drunken curiosity would prompt them to explore the back tavern. Or, the stars above forbid, the Galra succumbed to his wounds.
Luckily, thanks to Hunk's paranoia and the violent tendencies of some customers after too many drinks, some medical supplies were kept in the back closet of the kitchen. Lance cursed his younger self for not paying attention to the brief teachings of magic he received from his mother. If he had, he could've snapped his fingers and clean the Galra's wounds instantly. He resorted to grabbing as much as he could hold and kicked the closet behind him.
He quickly fetched a bowl of warm water and cut through the crowd of customers to get back to the hallway in the tavern. Some merciful god must be watching over him, since Hunk was too swamped with customers to take notice of him, and nobody gave a second thought to him sneaking through the crowd. He vanished out of the taproom with ease.
In the hallway, the drunken singing and shouting was hardly audible. Lance tapped his foot against the closet door, just so the Galra sitting inside wouldn't be tempted to attack him as soon as he entered. He used his hip to push the door open.
"Just me," he said, before the Galra curled up in the corner could hiss. The closet darkened once he shut the door, but both of them possessed eyes designed to see well in the dark. The Galra pressed himself into the corner, his tail and fur bristling.
Lance just took a deep breath and knelt down. He'd watched enough tavern workers clean the wounds caused by drunken brawls; surely, he could do this. All he had to do was ensure the Galra wouldn't bleed out.
As his hands moved to prepare the cloth he'd brought, Lance was acutely aware of yellow eyes studying his every move. If he was in pain, the Galra didn't express it. Lance only wished he would stop pressing himself into the corner, like a caged animal.
"Okay. That should do," Lance grunted, wringing the cloth over the lukewarm water. The Galra had been shoved and kicked around in the filth, and Lance doubted the swords of the guards were clean, so his wounds needed tending to. He inched closer to the Galra, who curled his lips back to reveal sharp yellow fangs.
"Easy, easy. Hold out your arm," Lance said, in as soothing and low a voice he could muster. The Galra growled and shrank away from his touch, forcing his injured shoulder against the wall. Lance placed his hands on his hips with a heavy sigh.
"I'm not gonna hurt you, I promise. You can trust me." Lance held up one hand to show he was unarmed. The Galra quickly scanned his waist or a knife or blade attached to his belt, narrowing his eyes when there was none. After a silent moment, he growled and finally held out his arm.
Lance couldn't help but smile. They were gettingsomewhere, at least. Still keeping a healthy amount of caution, Lance opened the tear in the Galra's raggedy shirt, revealing the jagged wound. By now, the black blood clotted around the massive cut, expanding across his shoulder. Painful – but not life threatening.
"Alright, this might sting a little," he warned, trying not to think about how close he was to those deadly fangs and claws. How easy it would be for the Galra to sink his teeth into Lance's exposed neck.
Lance pressed the cloth against the Galra's shoulder wound with little force. Other than a thrash of his tail, the Galra didn't react. So Lance wiped the wound clean, inspected it closely, and nodded in satisfaction.
It wasn't until he pressed that cloth against the Galra's shredded ear did the Galra have an actual reaction. He snarled, and Lance immediately retreated back a few paces.
"That hurt." The Galra scowled. He made no move to hurt Lance, however, and perhaps that was why Lance felt his confidence return.
"Well, do you want it to get infected?" He crossed his arms. Again, the Galra softly snarled, but extended his ear out again. Lance resumed cleaning, frowning when hardly anything of the Galra's cat like ear remained.
Still, the yellow eyes followed his hands. The only really concerning wound was the Galra's shredded ear. There was the gash on his shoulder, and the injury on his leg, but aside from a few minute cuts and bruises, the Galra was in relatively good shape.
Later, when Lance was bandaging the same shoulder wound, the Galra surprised him by speaking. "Why did you rescue me back there?"
The question caught Lance off guard. It took him a moment to formulate a proper answer.
"Well... you seemed like you were close to my age, and I felt bad, seeing the guards gain up on you."
The Galra studied him for a moment, not bothering to mask the scorn on his face. "How old are you?"
"Twelve."
"I'm thirteen."
"Close enough." Lance rolled his eyes, growing more irritated by the minute. He finished wrapping the Galra's shoulder wound up, and the Galra carefully sniffed the bandage now concealing the cut.
"Why would you pity an enemy? You're Fae, are you not?"
"No, I'm not. I'm an Elf," Lance answered, tersely. Elves and Fae were commonly confused for one another, both possessing curious often blue eyes, and long pointy ears. What separated them were the facial markings unique to the Fae.
"That was foolish of you. My species is a threat to your kingdom," the Galra said, his monotone irking Lance. He rolled his eyes again, but couldn't find it in him to regret saving the Galra. The Galra was young, after all, and didn't deserve to be brutally murdered for being something he couldn't control.
"But... it was still brave, and selfless of you, to risk your life to save mine, Elf," the Galra admitted reluctantly a moment later. Suddenly, his eyes shyly studied the floor. "You have my gratitude."
Lance beamed. Perhaps the Galra weren't so bad, after all. "You got a name, Galra?"
For a moment he didn't answer, studying Lace for any dark or ulterior movies. He couldn't find any. "Keith. I was called Keith in the army."
"Great name, Keith. I'm Lance." He held out an outstretched hand. Keith wrinkled his nose in confusion, simply staring at his palm.
"Oh. It's uh, to shake hands. It's how we Elves greet one another."
"Interesting," Keith said, tilting his head. He awkwardly grasped Lance's outstretched hand. An electrifying shock passed up Lance's spine. Keith's hand was vaguely human shaped up close, perhaps a little larger than Lance's.
He was holding the hand of a Galra. Few Alteans lived to tell accurate tales of the Galra, and Lance was here holding the hand of one.
Keith continued to look intently at him, waiting for further instructions. With a jolt, Lance realized he had zoned out staring at their hands.
"Right, yeah. Nice to meet you," Lance coughed and pulled his hand back to his side. Keith copied him and lowered his own hand. Lance massaged the back of his neck, hoping his face wasn't blushing in embarrassing.
"So, uh, Keith. You hungry?"
Moments later, Lance was slipping into the kitchen undetected. By that point of the night, the late hours had driven half of the crowd out, the other remaining crowds engaged in drinking games. Most of the food supplies for the night were used up, save for a few burnt loaves of bread shoved into the back of the kitchen.
Lance grabbed whatever remained and retrieved a candlestick from one of the tables, to provide some light in the dingy closet. He then shimmied his way through the collection of tables in the taproom and started back down the hallway, until the hair on the back of his neck rose.
He wasn't alone. He spun around to be greeted with large, strong arms squeezing him tightly.
"Lance! Oh my gosh, I thought the royal guards arrested you, or even worse, and I was so swamped with customers I couldn't-"
"Whoa, whoa, slow down, bud." Lance interrupted his friend's ramblings, as Hunk was prone to doing. He finally dropped Lance back onto his feet and opened his mouth to say more, but cut himself off.
"Uh. Why do you have all that bread?"
Oh. Right. Lance had momentarily forgotten who he'd hidden in the closet. He was counting on Hunk not discovering him until tomorrow, saving Lance the hassle of an explanation.
"Okay, Hunk, you have to promise not to be mad."
"Why would I be mad?" Hunk raised an eyebrow. Unable to meet his gaze, Lance turned on his heels and resumed walking down the hallway. Hunk quickly caught up to him.
"'Cause you always get mad at me when I try to do anything."
"Lance. Why would I be mad?" Suspicion crept up in Hunk's voice. Lance reached the closet door and halted his hand on the wooden frame. Already, he could tell his situation was going to turn very ugly once Hunk learned what he had done.
"Well, you see, I sorta-"
Lance didn't get to finish his sentence. The closet door creaked open a crack, and a pair of yellow eyes peeked out. Keith must've heard them speaking.
"That's... that's a Galra," Hunk blurted. Lance cringed at the slack jaw shock on Hunk's face.
Hissing with fury, Keith pitched the door open and lunged, unsheathing his claws. Hunk screeched in a high pitched voice, prompting Lance to also rush forward. He flung himself in between the two, dropping his bread loaves onto the floor, and winced in anticipation at the Galra claws about to sink into his flesh.
"No, no, no, easy, easy! He's my friend!" Lance held up both hands. Somehow, Keith managed to halt himself in his tracks to avoid tearing Lance apart. Still shrieking in fear, Hunk cowered behind Lance for protection.
Keith sniffed the air and then grimaced, wrinkling his nose in disgust. He looked at Hunk ducking behind Lance and sneered. "What is a filthy Dwarfdoing here?"
The insult was just cutting enough to make Hunk snap his gaze back up. Placing a hand upon his hip, he retorted, "Oh, as opposed to a Galra, who isn't even allowed to be here?"
Keith answered with a snarl, and Hunk yelped again. Faster than Lance could blink, Keith unsheathed that deadly dagger and held it out. "Then would you like to see who is the superior, Dwarf?"
"No, no, stop! Nobody is gutting anybody!" Lance slapped the claw wielding the dagger away from Hunk. Keith gnashed his teeth in response.
"What is a Galra doing in here? How did it get in?" Hunk hissed into his ear. Lance shot him a look, as if to say he'd explain later. Preferably when said Galra was not pointing a blade in their faces.
"Hunk won't hurt you, I promise." Lance returned his gaze to Keith. After a moment's careful assessment, Keith growled something under his breath and turned away with a flick of his tail. The closet door shut behind him with a hushed thud.
"Why is there a Galra in the closet?" Hunk shrieked. Lance slammed a hand onto his mouth and checked the area around them. None of the customers or staff had wandered into the hallway.
"Shhh, do you want us to get caught?"
"Answer the question!" Hunk forced the hand off his mouth.
"Okay, okay. That Galra activity they told us about earlier turned out to be only one Galra, so I... sorta helped him escape," Lance explained, in the simplest way he could muster. But Hunk was still standing there, sputtering for words.
"Why would you do that? The Galra aren't even allowed to enter Altea! If they find that Galra in here, they'll cut your head off!" Hunk exclaimed, pointing at the closet.
"Well, they're not going to find Keith in here," Lance stubbornly said, crossing his arms across his chest. Hunk groaned loudly and slapped his forehead in despair.
"Oh great, you named it? This is horrible, we're going to get arrested..." Hunk moaned. Lance scrunched his face in confusion.
"What? No, of course I didn't name him. And we're not going to be arrested," Lance added, bending over to pick up the discarded loaves of bread. Hunk removed the hand from his forehead.
"Wait... you didn't? You're telling me the Galra actually have names?"
"Look, Hunk, you can stay out of this if you want. Just go back to work and make sure nobody comes down here." Lance ushered him down the hallway. He could at least rely on Hunk to do that. No matter how fanatical Lance's plans were, Hunk had never failed him before.
"You must be serious about this. You actually care about that Galra?" Hunk asked, dubious. Lance just nodded, considering if he would have to pout to convince Hunk to lend his hand.
But Hunk only regarded him with genuine concern. "Lance, please promise me you'll be careful. How do you know that Galra won't stab you in the back the moment the opportunity presents itself?"
"He won't. Trust me," Lance reassured him, although his reasoning sounded just as illogical to him as it must sound to Hunk, who eventually sighed and caved in.
So Hunk returned to the taproom, albeit with a deep grumble under his breath. Lance waited until he was out of view before rushing back into the closet.
"I'm sorry," he apologized after earning a seething glare. Keith curled himself on the floor again, looking indignant.
"But don't worry, Hunk's my friend. He won't tell anyone about you, I promise."
"You're an Elf, and yet you're friends with a disgusting Dwarf?" Keith raised an eyebrow.
"Yes, I am. And don't call Hunk that," Lance sharply added. Prejudices against Hunk's species were something his friend struggled to deal with, and Lance wouldn't stand for anyone slandering Hunk.
Keith just looked away and said nothing more. What Lance once heard about the Galra was true – they were creatures of few words. He plopped down onto the floor of the closet and ripped a loaf of bread in half, offering one to Keith.
Keith curled his lip back at the bread. Lance blinked. "What, do you still not trust me?"
Keith swung his yellow gaze directly up at him, but remained silent. With an exaggerated sigh, Lance tore a chunk off of the loaf and popped it into his mouth.
"See? Not poisoned," he said after swallowing. He held the bread out. Keith gingerly accepted it, staring at the loaf of bread as though he'd never seen food before in his life. After a moment's inspection and a wary sniff, he reluctantly bit into it before proceeding to spit it right back out on the floor.
"Aww, dude, gross!" Lance scurried away from the spit. Keith chucked the bread at the wall and frantically wiped at his tongue, hissing at the taste.
"That was the foulest thing I've ever tasted," Keith growled at the loaf of bread. "What is it?"
"Uh, bread?" Lance moved the tossed loaf of bread into the corner with his foot. Keith stared blankly at him.
"Don't tell me you've never eaten bread before."
"I've only ever eaten meat before," Keith said.
Lance raised both of his eyebrows. "No kidding?"
"We hunt our own prey. When there is prey to be chased," Keith answered. Lance assumed he was referring to the desolate wastelands of the Galra kingdom, a land never blessed with the rays of the run and cloaked in an eternal gloom. Nothing green ever grew there, which probably explained the lack of animals.
"Well, I don't think there's any meat left in the kitchen, but I can get you some tomorrow," Lance said. For a split second, Keith allowed himself to express his astonishment.
"I'm staying here?"
"Yeah, Hunk's closing up soon. You can stay here tonight and leave tomorrow, if you want," Lance said, retrieving the fallen candlestick at his side. He placed it upright and pointed a finger. Smoke emitted from his fingertip, and the candle wick caught fired.
Keith watched closely with intrigue. "Magic. You used that to rescue me, did you not?"
"Yeah, I did. Just a little trick I picked up." Lance blew the smoke from his fingertip. He immediately thought of a bad joke, and the temptation was too strong.
"I guess you could say... I'm on fire?" Lance snapped and pointed his fingers at Keith, who blinked and ran his gaze down the length of Lance's body.
"There are no flames on you."
"No, it's, uh... never mind." Lance gave up with a wave of his hand.
Awkward silence descended upon the pair. Lance's cheeks became stained with color, most likely from a lack of knowing what to say. He was sitting in a closet with a Galra, by the stars above. Without warning, Keith edged closer to him, causing the room to grow a little bit warmer.
"I owe you a great deal for saving my life," Keith said. Did the Galra have no sense of personal space? Keith was practically on top of him, and the serious glimmer in his eyes made Lance squirm.
"Seriously, it was no big deal."
"Do you think your Dwarven friend would have done the same, had he been in your position?" Keith pointedly asked.
"Maybe. Hunk's not a bad guy." Lance stood up for his friend, but had to concede Keith was right. Hunk was terrified of the Galra, as were most Alteans. Rightfully so, but Lance doubted any of them would so much as lift a finger to help a Galra.
"You could have easily left me to the guards – most Alteans would. And yet you rescued me, for no gain of your own." Keith's eyes seemed to pierce right through him. Why was the praise so easily flustering Lance?
"I'm telling you, it was nothing," Lance said, rubbing his forearm. He wished Keith would back up an inch or two.
"In any case, I am in debt to you, and I shall repay it in any way I can," Keith firmly replied. Admittedly, Lance never thought a Galra would have such a strong sense of justice. Maybe that was why Keith traveled alone - maybe he was an outsider to his species, too.
Maybe, Lance mused as Keith frowned and pawed at the piece of bread, they weren't so different after all.
Sneaking Keith into the upper floor of the tavern was not a difficult task once the customers stumbled and staggered out. Lance waited, using his excellent Elven hearing to listen for retreating footsteps, until the staff closed the establishment for the night. Once Lance was sure most of the workers left the tavern after cleaning up, he motioned for Keith to follow.
As he suspected, the tavern was closed, and all the customers returned to their homes. Hunk was more than likely reaffirming the other staff left as well, to make sure nobody saw the illegal Galra lurking around.
Not difficult at all - aside from Keith snarling at every little sound and creak in the tavern. Not that Lance could entirely blame him for practicing caution, but after the fifth time of dragging Keith away from pursuing some obscure noise, he was starting to grow weary of it.
Lance finally managed to reach the upper floor, hauling Keith by the collar to keep him under control. Keith's fur eventually lay flat when they were out of viewing sight. Upstairs was where Lance's and Hunk's rooms were located, where no intrigued customers could reach them.
Although perhaps calling them proper rooms was a touch too generous. They were hardly bigger than closets, having been storage rooms before two starving poor boys showed up at the tavern owner's doorstep. The tavern owner, upon realizing he could get cheaper labor out of Hunk in exchange for a place to stay, quickly cleaned the two storage rooms and stuck beds in them.
"Make sure you're quiet in here," Lance warned upon opening the door. Keith peered inside, with a curious twinkle in his eyes, prompting Lance to wonder what the living conditions were like in the Galra kingdom. Did they even have the luxury of private bedrooms?
He assumed his answer was confirmed when Keith warily approached the bed. He set one paw upon the mattress, jumping back with a hiss as the bed creaked with age. So Lance stepped forward and patted the bed, reassuring him it was safe.
"Don't worry, it's just old. It's safe," Lance said. After another careful sniff, Keith hopped onto the bed with the grace of a cat. Lance was almost tempted to laugh at the absurdity of the sight – a Galra, crouched awkwardly on his own bed. Keith looked uncomfortable.
"You never slept on one of these before, huh?" Lance guessed with a faint chuckle.
Keith noticed the pillow resting on the head of the bed. He stared at it intently while Lance leaned back out of the doorframe. The halls remained isolated and empty.
"Well, you can sleep in my bed for tonight. I'll bet it's much cozier than-"
Lance's mouth slammed shut upon a loud tearing sound. He whirled around to see Keith and the pillow positioned on his lap. Keith finished dragging one claw along the length of the pillow, ripping it other shreds, before reaching in and freeing the soft material within. he gave it an inspecting sniff.
"What're you doing?" Lance shrieked despite the need to remain quiet. He burst forward and yanked the pillow away from Keith.
"Man, that was my only one..." Lance stared, crestfallen, at what little remains of his pillow. But Keith remained oblivious to the damage his had caused, and was already hopping off the bed to explore. Lance's heart thumped as the Galra jumped onto the tiny dresser in the corner, which contained what little clothes Lance owned.
"Do not rip those!" Lance ordered, dropping the shredded pillow. Keith's paw slipped on a knob of one dresser slot, sending it crashing to the floor and spilling clothes everywhere. While Lance fell to his knees and hastily gathered them up, Keith opened another drawer and chirped in curiosity.
"Stay out of there!" Lance tugged on the back of Keith's shirt. Keith ignored him, once again, and shoved his face into the open drawer. When he lifted his head again, one of Lance's shirts was somehow caught on his face.
Keith snarled and pawed at the clothing smothering his face. Lance rolled his eyes and pulled the shirt free. He opened his mouth to scold him to stay still, but Keith was already climbing over the dresser and crawling across the floor back to the bed, making a whole collection of noise while doing so.
Lance hissed at him to quiet down. Besides the old bed was a pitifully tiny excuse for a nightstand. Keith curiously eyed the writing materials resting atop it, taking a special interest in the bottle of ink. He lifted the little bottle with the tips of his claws and stuck his tongue out, as if to lick it.
"No, no, no, do not eat that." Lance tripped over himself in his hurry to rush over. He snatched the bottle away, receiving a hiss of annoyance from Keith. Whatever patience he'd mustered for the past few minutes snapped like a twig.
"And do not hiss at me while I'm trying to help you," Lance ordered, pointing a stern finger. Keith's snarl increased in volume, and with the crouched position on fours he held, he appeared more animalistic than ever before.
"If you're going to stay here for the night, you are going to be quiet. And you're going to listen to me if you want to stay alive." Lance knew threatening him might not be the wisest idea, especially since Keith was armed with teeth and claws while Lance was empty handed.
A moment passed with nothing but furious tension between the two. Lance briefly wondered if Keith would pounce on him, ripping him apart with those terribly sharp claws and fangs.
To his utter shock, Keith quieted his growling and flattened his ears, looking less hostile. With an exhausted sigh, Lance rubbed his face with a hand.
"Just... just sit on the bed while I clean."
He goggled as Keith silently obeyed, crawling back onto the bed. Although he huffed and made a big show of sitting down, Keith actually listened for once. Lance was tempted to roll his eyes at the dramatic action, but decided against it.
Again, the room was quiet while Lance tidied up. He stuffed his pathetically small collection of clothes back into his dresser. Not that the owner of the tavern ever checked up on the boys living upstairs to see if they were well, but it would just be Lance's luck for the owner to stumble upon the mess of his room and pitch a fit.
He finished lighting a candle when tiny voice sounded from the other side of the room. "What did you say this was?"
He turned, to see Keith staring at the bed he sat upon. Lance blinked. "You don't know what abed is?"
Keith shrugged indifferently, but Lance was intrigued. He slammed the dresser shut and asked, "What, you guys don't have these in your kingdom?"
Keith shrugged again. "Not for us soldiers, but perhaps our royal family. They live in the castles in our homeland."
"So where do you guys live?" Lance knitted his brows in confusion.
"Usually we sleep on the ground. Perhaps in a cave or in a tree if we're lucky to find one."
By the stars. Lance couldn't even imagine it; he and Hunk had wandered onto the tavern not long after abandoning their homes. He couldn't even recall the last time he hadn't slept in his own bed.
"Damn, that – that sounds rough," he blurted out. Keith swept his gaze across the room.
"I didn't know that Alteans all had their own rooms and their own beds." Keith blinked at the dresser, and then added, "I apologize for creating a mess."
"No, no, it's no big deal." Only the royal family owning property, forcing all their subjects to the harshness of the outside – Lance appalled at the thought. No wonder Keith had torn the room apart in his awe and curiosity.
"Hunk will be glad I finally straightened the room up, anyways," Lance joked, pushing the dresser back to its resting spot against the wall.
"I think the room looks lovely," Keith said, innocent in his politeness. Lance snorted.
"If you think this room is fancy, you oughta see my bedroom back in the Elven kingdom." He wistfully thought back to the large manor his family occupied, the large sweeping pillars and balcony that overlooked the rest of the Elven cottages. Even if he could never find it in his heart to return, Lance still found himself longing for that manor, if only to see his mother and sisters again.
"You're a great distance away from the Elven kingdom," Keith remarked. Lance restrained himself from tightening his grip on the knobs of his dresser.
"Let's just say it was less than inviting back there," Lance said in a tight voice. Luckily, Keith dropped the subject as Lance crossed the room and sat beside the bed.
"What about you, huh?" Lance plucked one of his boots off and gave it a shake to rid it of dirt. "Just doing the usual Galra pillaging shtick?"
"In theory, yes. I was separated from my group," Keith answered. That explained why a Galra was wandering around the forest by himself.
"Is your group gonna be able to find you again tomorrow?" Lance shoved his boots under the bed.
Keith tilted his head, considering the question. "Perhaps, but I doubt they'd take me back, anyways."
Lance jerked his head up, noting the considerable change in his tone. "Why?"
Before answering, Keith circled around on the bed, just like a housecat, before sprawling out on his stomach. Lance resisted the urge to smile at the cute sight of him curled up, coiling his tail around him.
"I've taken refuge with the worst enemy of my kind, and I'm unable to battle at this point," Keith flicked the tattered remain of his ear. "In my current state, I'm useless to my king."
"Your king sounds like a swell guy," Lance murmured, resting his chin on the cushions of the bed and stretching out his legs.
"He desires only strong soldiers for his army. Anyone else is inadequate and uses up precious resources."
Holy gods. Lance found himself growing more disgusted with the Galra kingdom. Keith narrowed his eyes and asked, "But that's not how Altea works, is it?"
"No. I mean, I hardly contribute shit around here," Lance chuckled, resting his cheek on his forearm. "Hunk does most of that – I'm too young to work here, but they still let me stay."
Keith looked astounded. "And your king doesn't deem you worthless?"
"No. At least, I don't think so. Can't say I know him personally, but he seems to be a good guy." Lance shrugged.
"Altea is a strange place," Keith remarked. Lance huffed out a laugh. The faint smell of the candle wafted around the room, the dim light making Lance grow drowsy.
"Let me check your ear," Lance reached out. Keith didn't bristle, nor did he growl, allowing Lance to gently lift a strand of his raven black hair. His heart sank at the giant notch taken out of Keith's ear, but the bleeding had ceased, and likely wouldn't grow infected.
"Yeah, I think you're fine. You Galra seem to be pretty sturdy," Lance said, smoothing back the hair he'd lifted, enticing a content growl from Keith.
His earlier comparison of the Galra to a cat had been accurate, then. Lance thought for a moment, and then scratched behind the Galra's ear with his fingertips.
Keith purred – actually purred. So Lance continued petting, slowly roaming his reach around the Galra's ear. Keith's eyes narrowed to tiny yellow slits, his tail thumping the bed in a satisfied rhythm.
"Aww, you're like a big kitten." Lance grinned, laughing in spite of himself. Oh, he just about wished he could tell someone about this. The Galra, the number one enemy of Altea, were capable of purring like cats.
Keith huffed in exasperation, but leaned into Lance's hand regardless. He began kneading the soft bed underneath him, those deadly claws now pushing against the blanket in contentment. Rubbing his fingers up Keith's ear earned him a louder purr. Lance couldn't help but laugh warmly at the sight.
When the door clicked open, Keith flung himself off of Lance's touch and reared up. Lance's heart skipped a beat. But it was just Hunk leaning into the doorframe, sparing Keith only a brief scathing glare.
"You're some lucky I offered to stay here late to clean up," Hunk grumbled.
"You know you love me." Lance clapped his hands together and battered his eyelashes at his friend. Hunk grumbled again and pushed the door aside to reveal the blanket tucked under his arm.
"I thought you could use a spare," Hunk said. He tossed the bundled up blanket to Lance.
"I knew I could count on you, buddy." Lance easily caught the blanket with both hands.
During the entire exchange, Keith silently glared at Hunk, who returned the gesture. Perhaps it was his imagination, but Lance could've sworn the Galra edged closer to him.
"You're crazy, Lance. Utterly crazy," Hunk said with a shake of his head. "Just keep that thing in here. I don't want him anywhere near my room."
"Same to you, Dwarf," Keith spat, but dipped his head when Lance glared warningly at him.
"Keith will stay in here, Hunk, don't worry," Lance reassured his friend. Shaking his head again, Hunk simply retreated from the room and closed the door behind him.
Keith listened intently, both of his ears pricked, until Hunk's footsteps were far from the room. Only then did he relax his hackles. He watched as Lance quickly constructed himself a makeshift bed using the blanket brought by Hunk.
"Alright, get some sleep. We'll need it for tomorrow," Lance said, stretching out on the floor. He sighed sleepily and snapped his fingers, snuffing out the candle and shrouding the room in darkness.
Above him, the bed creaked as Keith laid back down in a tight ball. The yellow light from Keith's eyes ceased as he tucked his tail tip over his nose.
"Good night, Keith," Lance said before turning over on his side. Sleeping on the floor wasn't nearly as comfortable as a bed, but he could endure one night.
"What?" Keith asked seconds later. Lance didn't even need to ask if he knew what the words meant.
"I said, good night."
"Oh," was all Keith said. Again he fell silent for a few seconds, before saying, "Good night."
"'Night," Lance repeated himself. He tucked his hands onto his stomach and waited, staring up at the pitch black ceiling.
It took a long while for the bed to stop creaking as Keith shot suspicious glances at the door, for the room to quiet down. But eventually, lance heard the breathes above him even out sleepily. Just to be sure, he craned his neck up, to see Keith peacefully slumbering.
Lance was growing drowsy as well, but his mind continued to wander. He still couldn't quite grasp the concept of a Galra sleeping in his bed, much less the fact that he'd willingly saved said Galra. Of all possibilities he considered upon leaving the tavern earlier, that was not one of them.
What he was doing was illegal, no doubt. Utterly illegal, and insane. Helping the mortal enemy of Altea, a member of the species that killed countless Alteans...
Maybe his father had been right. Lance winced at the memory of the many swears and insults his father hurled at him during those awful nights. Maybe Lance really was a no good, worthless Elf, no better than the Galra his homeland despised so much.
But Keith – Keith was different. Lance glanced up again at the bed. He could just barely make out the outline of him sleeping on the bed. Keith was a bit brash and a bit wild, yes, but he was certainly kind to Lance, at the very least.
It was so odd, Lance thought, that he'd been able to relate to the Galra so much. Keith was from a completely different land, but he understood Lance. And if Lance was feeling brave enough to admit it, he rather liked Keith. He liked how serious he was, how he had a curious look in his eyes upon seeing something new, how cute he was upon getting his ear scratched. Hell, he liked how stubborn Keith was, although he had a feeling it would grow to be irritable at times.
He actually liked a Galra, enough to perhaps become friends with him. He silently scoffed and shook his head at himself. Hunk had called him insane among other things – he was beginning to understand why.
Tomorrow. He'd deal with it tomorrow. He'd deal with what to do with Keith, deal with the growing conflict between Keith and Hunk, tomorrow. Maybe he'd find a way to sneak Keith back to his group – if his group accepted.
If not, well... Lance smiled as Keith let out a tired purr and rolled over. Then he folded his arms behind his head to act as a substitute pillow, and finally allowed himself to creep off into sleep.
If he wasn't accepted back into his homeland, Lance didn't think he would mind if Keith stuck around.