We finally get into some of the magic of the Fae.

When Keith slept in his own bed in the barracks, he never slept well.

Maybe he was becoming spoiled, expecting feather beds and his Prince's arms every night. Maybe it was Shiro's snores, amplified by the scar on his nose and the magic in his breath, or Pidge's mumbles as they read maps of the kingdom and compared future routes to their own.

Or maybe when he was alone in his bunk, there was no one to distract him from thoughts of his homeland. How he was an orphan in the wrong kingdom, how his chest hurt when he binded it every morning, and how he could hear the stars scraping across the sky.

He turned over, burying his face in the woven blanket and inhaled the familiar smell of earth. It was enough to make him forget of his anxiety, the thoughts slowing to a trickle. The thin gold bracelet pressed into his wrist.

Lotor had not left the castle's lands yet, his women sleeping in the barracks only a few units away. Keith had told Hunk of his confrontation with Prince Lotor, but not of the missing chunk of hair hidden under his neck.

Prince Lotor may have been bluffing, and had no need for a hair of Prince Hunakai. But Keith was not going to take any more chances. He slept with his own men as an equal, and not a lover of the his Prince, until Lotor traveled onward.

Hunk did not protest, just clasped Keith's hands and gently placed a kiss to the thumbs. "It is for the best, love. We will not perish a few nights without bed warmers." He had teased, and Keith had smiled then, but now he craved the warmth of his prince.

He sat up on his bedroll, bare feet gently touching the frost bitten ground, and escaping into the yard of the castle.

Sword fighting, even against a straw filled dummy the seamstresses had stuffed with scraps and spoiled hay, was always a good way to calm down.

When the crisp wind hit his face, washing away the spoiled smell of the barracks, he looked to the stars, raising his left hand. Varga was barely rising, and the Big Dipper was barely at sixty degrees. Hunk had taught him to tell time using only the stars and his hands, memorizing constellations and the stories from Ancient Olkarion of them.

It was going to be a long night.

Shiro had magic in his voice that influenced newcomers to train harder but for Keith it was barely a suggestion. A year with his friend had made him immune to his magic words and he enjoyed laughing at the pranks Shiro pulled on the newcomers.

Making new recruits and knights in training peck on the ground like a chicken was always humorous to the older Knights, but for this reason Shiro could never speak to the Queens who he served.

He could answer questions, but could not ask them. He could tell them of news in the kingdom, but not his options. He did it for himself, to not influence the Queen's to his will like a shadow.

Keith thought it was rather noble. Shiro thought it was expected.

The Queens had asked him to expose them to his magic so they could grow immune to it, but Shiro decided, for it took months to ignore the magic in his words and years to become immune to it.

His magic was useful in battle. Shout an order against the incoming enemy and watch them drop to their knees for a moment before shaking it off and charging once more.

Small magic. Shiro could influence persons to give information but could not stop an army.

He claimed it wasn't worth the blackened arm.

A dagger was not fit for a Knight, but neither was a foreigner peasant to become the level of skill Keith was.

Keith could wield a sword skillfully, but a true warrior should never be limited to one weapon. Just as Lance was talented with both bow and sword, Keith was skilled with both sword and dagger.

His dagger was expertly made without a trace of magic infused into the metal, and made of iron to expertly harm Fae who have done wrong.

But yet the hilt of the blade was wrapped, for it had a mark of the Galra Kingdom. Not fit for a Knight of the prince of Nefara.

Keith had small magic, much like Shirogane and his magic breath. But instead of influencing folk, Keith had pure and physical magic.

He gripped the dagger in his left hand, bringing it to his lips and letting his breath run over the metal.

The dagger shot from his hands, catching a glimpse of moonlight, and shot between the sewn dummy's eyes, eerily identical to the scar on Shirogane's face.

Small magic.

He pressed the hand to his side, grimacing as the small bruises begun to blossom along his palm.

Today's chapter is a bit small, but I hope it gives insights to the magic of the Fae. Stolen words will become a plot point later in the story.

Keith's gift was not given to him by the Fae, but he was born with it. He is from the Galra kingdom where it is common to have a small gift such as iron manipulation (Keith) but to a small extent, and with a huge price (bruising).

Prince Lotor has the gift of raising from the dead, but his price is the people around him disliking him. King Zarkon has a similar ability to Shirogane's, to influence people and the price is the shorting of his life. Zarkon was brought back to life by his wife Haggar, whose ability is the same as Lotor's. As a result, Zarkon cannot be killed until someone kills him with an certain iron dagger that Zarkon has been looking for.

I'm neck deep in this AU.