Lance hated Allura's fancy balls. He hated the disapproving looks from her snobby courtiers-who wouldn't even be alive to give those looks without the team—he hated the princes fawning over her that weren't worthy to even look at her. He hated his tight, overly starched dress uniform that had no place for weapons, and the collar that perpetually choked him. Most of all, he hated the disapproving looks he and Keith always got for daring to openly display their relationship. But he loved Allura, they all did. And these balls meant the world to her; they were a link to her past, a chance for her to forget the war, forget Lotor's obsession, and just be a girl for a night. So, he fastened the tight collar, took shallow breaths as he buttoned his tunic, and belted on the absolutely useless dress sword. With a last longing look at his pistols abandoned on the bed, he headed out to collect Allura. Keith was, of course, already in the ballroom, as were Pidge and Hunk, putting the final touches on security for the night.
To his irritation, but not surprise, Allura wasn't ready when he arrived at her rooms, forcing him to cool his heels in the hall for an additional fifteen minutes. Next time I'll tell her to be ready 30 minutes before she needs to be, he grumbled to himself, leaning on the wall. Keith had gotten in a good whack to his bad knee in practice that afternoon, and his mood had taken a corresponding hit. Don't know what in seven hells takes so long to put a dress on, anyway. He glanced up as the door slid open, ready to make a sarcastic crack about the delay. . .and the words died on his lips as Allura walked out. The blonde curls, poofy pink dress, and little girlishness were all gone; instead, he was greeted by a vision of sophistication that would have been at home anywhere, blonde hair piled high on her head, wearing an emerald dress that hugged her curves and was slit to her hip. Before Lance knew what he was doing, a low wolf whistle escaped him. Allura giggled, turning in place. "Does that mean you approve, Commander McClain?"
Lance chuckled, offering her his arm. "Sweetheart, if I wasn't happily married to Keith, I'd SHOW you just how much I approve." He leaned over and kissed her cheek as she tucked her hand into his elbow. "You look gorgeous, Princess. A real grownup woman. Guys are going to be fighting over you tonight."
"Thank you," Allura blushed as they walked. "I'm sorry I was late; it took me forever to convince Nanny this was all right to wear. Told her I needed to be seen as a strong woman, not a helpless little girl."
"Very sensible," Lance agreed, then shot her a sly smile. "Or could it be that your mystery man is going to be there tonight, and you want him to see a different side of you?" He laughed when she squeaked and swatted his shoulder. "Thought so. Do we need to worry about your virtue, Princess?"
"Lance Charles McClain, that is NONE of your business!" she squealed, every bit as red as his lion."I don't know if he's going to be there; he wasn't sure if he could get away. But you WILL NOT embarrass me if he does!"
Lance stopped dead in the hallway, turning to face her and putting his hands on her shoulders. "Allura. . . you're serious about this guy, aren't you?" She nodded up at him, and he sighed. "Princess, we'll have to talk to him. See who he is, what his intentions are with you. But-" he held up a hand to forestall her protest. "I promise, we'll be quiet and polite about it. You know we won't do anything to hurt you, but we DO have to protect you." He kissed her forehead. "Now; let's go have some fun, huh? It's your party; let's get it started!"
The ball went smoothly for the first couple of hours. Allura danced once with each of the Force members and Sven, who had come from Pollux with a pregnant Romelle, before getting down to the serious business of dancing with princes and seeing who was marriage material. The boys commandeered a table in the corner and settled in to watch, Romelle providing pointed commentary on each prince as they took their turn. "It just doesn't seem fair," Pidge commented softly, eyes on Allura and the latest would-be suitor. "She meets a guy once, maybe twice, and she's gotta marry him?" He glanced at Romelle. "Why can't she marry whoever she wants, like you did?"
The room temperature abruptly plunged 20 degrees as Romelle eyed Pidge. "Allura. . .is not damaged goods," she finally answered, voice and blue eyes frozen. "Her council still sees value in her, and want to sell her to the highest bidder." She startled as a pair of thin arms circled her waist, followed by the familiar strength of her husband's arms around her shoulders.
"You aren't damaged goods!" Pidge insisted fiercely; the others nodded, adding their own words of support until Lance directed their attention to the front of the room.
"Looks like Allura's really taken with this guy," he said quietly, nodding to the beaming princess greeting a tall prince with long red hair. Is this your mystery love, Allura? Can he make you happy?
"Huh, it sure does," Keith watched for a minute. "And she's awful comfortable with him, too. Like this isn't the first time they've met."
Unaware of the team's scrutiny, Allura swept out onto the dance floor with the mysterious stranger. Other couples stopped dancing to watch their princess, smiling to see her so clearly in love, and with a handsome prince who clearly adored her. When the music finally ended, Allura came to the Force's table on the prince's arm. "Everyone, I'd like you to meet Prince Caerdrys, from planet Macera. We've been corresponding, and I've agreed to be courted by him! Caerdrys, this is Princess Romelle of Pollux, her consort Sven, and the Voltron Force, Keith, Lance, Hunk, and Pidge."
"A pleasure to meet you all," Caerdrys inclined his head graciously, his voice smooth and surprisingly deep. "Allura has told me so much about you in our correspondence; I feel as though I know each of you well already."
"Welcome to Arus, Your Highness," Keith answered for the group. "We look forward to getting to know you better in the coming days." The prince nodded vaguely, then let himself be dragged to another group by Allura.
"I don't like that guy," Lance growled once they were out of earshot. "Something about him doesn't feel right; I just can't put my finger on it."
"Then let me help you," Romelle said, voice cool and soft. "Macera is a democracy, has been for centuries. They HAVE no royal family. And Allura should know that."
As one the men of the Voltron Force stared out at their princess and her suddenly ominous new suitor. "Then who is Caerdrys?" Pidge questioned. "Does Allura KNOW he's fake?"