#holy fuck this was an undertaking. i think i'm proud of the results???

[deathbyvalentine]

Lance&Astrid Prompts

(Inspiration Here)

1. “Shh, it’s just me.”

Lance awoke from a dream of dark water. They weren’t even nightmares anymore, their frequency lending them a familiarity that could be mistaken for comfort. His breathing was as steady as the ocean waves he had just emerged from. The cabin was dark, lit only by the floor lights, casting everything in odd shadows. Astrid was asleep beside him. Both of them were still in their uniforms, having fallen asleep talking, inches apart. Funny how little things changed - he remembered sugar crashes and sleep overs from their youth. He took the opportunity to study her without the distraction of eye contact. With gentle fingers, he straightened the lapel of her shirt. She stirred, opening her eyes, still clouded by sleep. He curled his arms around her, not wanting to wake her truly. Their breathing synced up, slow and steady, both of them falling back into dreams.

2. “Well you can’t have me.”

He wasn’t sure if she was angrier at him or angrier at the statement. One thing he had learnt about Astrid was that she was entirely capable of holding several reasons for rage within her at any one time. And basically nothing made her as angry as being conflicted. He reacted as he so often did, with a shit eating grin, a look that told her he knew better. It was perfectly calculated to wind her up further. When she was angry at him, he felt like he was the only person in the sector who mattered. It was almost addictive, the rush of attention. A bit of victory was tainted with her parting blow however and the click of the door shutting behind her.

3. “I don’t need you.”

Technically true. They didn’t need each other. They would exist perfectly well if they never knew the other. They had talked about this at length. And frankly, Lance looked down on people who relied on others in any capacity. The only person you should need should be yourself. But he knew that only with Astrid he was at his most brilliant. He was cleverer around her, sharper, better. They through each other into sharp relief, made all their extremes more extreme. Probably not great for everyone around them. But fun for them.

4. “Flight, head west.”

They were still figuring out their working relationship he guessed. It was easier on the Chaser compared to in the field, the normal navy trappings not the absolute pressure cooker of an Inquisition mission. The surroundings helped, the distinct job each of them had. The crackle of the vox was comforting as he went about his business, Recce occasionally calling him in from the deck to meetings with the other officers. They didn’t cross over much, but the competition was still there. He knew that no matter how much he loved the Chaser, if Astrid decided to move ship, he would too.

5. “...”

I want you to pick me. I want you with me. Don’t love anybody else. Don’t leave me. Don’t be normal. Don’t be one of them. Please. 

6. “Do you think navigators know all the stars on all the planets?”

The stars on Lerwick were pretty, even the planet-hating Lance had to admit. It was cold enough his breath misted in front of him and the grass beneath his hands felt crunchy. He was wrapped up in several layers, a scarf pulled up over his nose and mouth. Astrid only had on a light jacket, used to how frigid her planet was. It was a stupid statement to make - planets didn’t need navs and besides, they used warp bullshit. What he meant was something along the lines of is there anyone that knows all the constellations in the sector but that sounded too cheesy, too wistful. The last thing teenage Lance ever wanted to do was appear sincere. Astrid threw him a scornful look but answered his question all the same.

7. “Right, look up in about... three and a quarter seconds.”

Rare shore leave that wasn’t on some hive world. Rare leave where he wasn’t scrubbing some floors or spending time in some fellow officer’s bed. So he was using this to his full advantage. He coaxed his Lightning lower, very almost skimming the waves. He could almost appreciate the beauty of the planet like this. The blues and greys and whites rushed by and he almost wished he could skim his hand in the sea. Devout purred, pleased to be stretching herself for the first time in months. Lance pressed a button at the side of his console, patching him through to Astrid. Hey, Dunkeld. You at home? I’m here for a visit. He glanced at the readings, the city speeding towards him. When? Well...

8. “What if she’s dead?”

He was convinced this holiday was because his father couldn’t stand to look at him. He saw his grief reflected back at him. Together, they were so obviously unwhole. They missed the sun around which they both revolved. Without her, they span out. Lance was unusually subdued around all the usual welcome formalities.He behaved himself, shook hands, said thank yous. It was when they were alone that he popped a dose of opia on his tongue, curled up on her bed and told Astrid his mother was officially recorded missing, after so much time of silence. That wasn’t unusual. His mother was ‘important’ after all. But now the communications had been sent and it was real. They thought she wasn’t coming back. He couldn’t admit it to himself. He wouldn’t. He’d find her one day, or she’d find him. She had to.

9. “They love you.”

Noble families fucked you up. Didn’t matter if you were sector or planetary or vassal. They fucked you up. Lance had lucked out with his parents. The rest of his family were exactly as dreadful as one would expect, but his parents were different. Lance wasn’t so sure about Astrid’s. There was a steel core at the heart of them and Lance wondered if it was as cold as the planet they hailed from. He saw the pressure heaped on Astrid and personally wondered if being the family fuck up didn’t come with some serious benefits. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. Even if it was a lie, it was what she needed to hear.

10. “I want to marry her.”

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. It was him and her against the world. Against everybody else. He genuinely had no idea what she was seeing that he was not. He had no idea what she was thinking and after so many years of knowing her by heart, this was terrifying. The only thing he could think to comfort himself was the knowledge it wouldn’t last. Esme would show herself to be just another citizen, not exciting, not sharp. Unless that’s exactly what Astrid wanted? The one thing he could never give her, now more than ever was normality. Throne. He felt more than upset. He felt wounded. And he refused to hide the ugliness of that wound, the pain and betrayal. Let her see what she had done.

11. “We’re gonna get married, and travel the sector, and I’ll inherit - “

They stumbled into his room, still laughing. Lance placed the bottle on his nightstand and began the struggle to get his boots off. He fumbled over the laces, finally giving up and just flopping back onto the duvet and wiggling to free himself from his formal jacket. He had been in top form all evening, charming and cheeky, stealing drinks from senior nobles and flirting with all the grandmothers. He had only tripped up one rival and the stitches would be out in a week so no harm done really. Astrid listened to him ramble, a smile playing on her face as she leaned against the door-frame, nowhere near as drunk as he was. Each time he got drunk it was another grand fantasy. He’d become the head of house. She’d make planetary governor. He’d own an Emperor class warship. He’d become an admiral. He’d say fuck it all and liquidate all his assets and go on a decade long binge on Monacus. They’d marry someone rich, murder them then marry each other. He made each one sound like a certainty. She supposed he needed something to keep him going in the mess that was his life.

12. “Oh ‘Trid. What are you doing to me?”

It was rare she fell asleep first. Lance had always been the more manic so the more easily worn out, on his worst days not even bothering to change from his clothes. So when he thought she was asleep, he was careful. Quiet. He draped a blanket over her, switching the light on her desk off, making sure not to disturb her paperwork. Leaning down he placed a glass of water beside her, mag-locked. And looked at her for just a moment before he left her to it. His voice was made of a thousand aches and a thousand fondnesses. 

13. “Kill me now. Seriously. It would be the emperor’s mercy.”

Astrid’s cook rolled his eyes, more than used to the Durovera heir’s hyperbole. Lance rested his head on the table. Astrid arrived a moment later, cheefully slamming a mug on the table to make him jump and hold his pounding head, cursing. She grinned, looking bright as a daisy as a plate of food was placed in front of her that made Lance turn an interesting shade of pale. He lit a lho stick, breathing it in as if he was drowning. Good night, they both agreed, when they finally spoke.

14.  “Really Lance?”

His eyes widened with hurt, a breath away from her laughing lips. The next changes happened so quickly it was almost imperceptible. He closed his mouth, pressing his lips into a tight line. His eyes shuttered off, the vulnerability there a moment earlier suddenly nowhere to be found. His shoulders straightened out as though his tutor was there, smacking his hand with a ruler and telling him to fix his posture. It was impossible to tell that a moment ago he had kissed her, softly. Even as a kid, he was a hell of an actor. Without another word he stood and stalked from the room. Down the hallway, a door slammed with the finality of a tomb.

15. “....”

Dunkeld, Hope you don’t mind me sending this postcard the old fashioned way. Didn’t particularly want one of your mothers ending up with my sordid tales and I can’t remember which astropath likes me. Luckily, Simmons is visiting family on your planet and offered to pass it on. It was also a chance to practice my calligraphy - I can see my old tutors shuddering in horror now. Already got my damn sleeve soaked in ink and I’m not even drunk yet. Find enclosed; some picts of my recent travels, some tattoo designs I’m considering and the blueprint of the fighter I might be getting assigned. It’s rather small, made mostly for atmo fighting. We’ll see how we get on, I haven’t enjoyed the Thunderbolt at all. Wonder if I have somehow been deemed unfit for void combat - wouldn’t surprise me, this CO has it out for me ever since he caught me with my pants down - literally - in his office. Oh well. I gurantee he’ll be gone within the year. He’s going to have a heart attack from all this outrage. Anyway, I must be off. The mess amasec calls. Miss you, Lance P.S. Simmons is quite pretty, no? Consider her a gift. Don’t ever say I don’t get you anything.

16. “You should see the other guy.”

She wasn’t a sympathetic medic. She poured on the disinfectant dispassionately. Lance, for his part, barely winced. His entire body was tense, like a coiled spring. He hadn’t said a word since they had gotten back. His eyes (were they darker than usual - ) were fixed on a spot in front of him. He flexed and unflexed his bruised hands, open closed open closed. She leaned in close to look at the dark gash on his shoulder, gained from tumbling to the floor straight onto broken glass. He didn’t seem to even notice it. It was when she pressed the gauze on that he snapped out of his reverie, expression uncharacteristically serious. I wanted to kill him. I know. No, I mean, really kill him. Hurting him felt - Good? Yeah. How did you know? Because you always enjoy the things that are worst for you Durovera. Is that fucked up? Yeah. But it’s okay. You’re okay. He breathed out, shakily. His violent tendencies had been getting worse. Everything had. His drinking, his drugs, his restlessness. But if she wasn’t running, how bad could it be?

17.“You were dead for eight minutes.” 17.“I’m surprised your father hasn’t disowned you.” 17. You won’t get the benefit.” 17. “I’m joining the Navy.” 17. “I’ll probably marry some fucking Di Firro - “ 17. “Let’s play with poisons.”

I’ve lost count of how many times we’ve hurt each other.

18. “I could kill you right now.”

His body was almost flush against hers, his arm placed firmly and squarely on her throat. The sparring had gotten out of hand, each round getting more and more vicious until the blows were no longer pulled. Lance ached all over and Astrid could not have been faring much better. Sometime around round six, Lance had stopped playing. He had become sharper somehow, laughing both when he landed something painful and when he was hit. He had finally managed to gain an upper hand and slam her against the wall. His head was tilted to the side, his eyes (were they darker - ) distant somehow. Like he was examining her. He didn’t move. Neither did she. He couldn’t tell how long they had been standing there when he finally dropped his arm. Again?

19. “Go on. Tell me the story again.”

Seriously? You don’t know it by heart by now? Pass me the bottle and - Okay, okay. So they have this skin right? That if you steal it, they have to stay in one form. And they always want the sea. No matter how much they love someone. No matter what life they have. It calls to them. It’s like... Well. Like the void to you. How would you feel if somebody told you you could never fly again? Exactly. It’s like that. Now, you tell me one of your horrible little ghost stories you’ve picked up. What was the one from Olethra?

20. “My mother would have liked you.”

It was almost a murmur, said as he finished pulling up the zip of her dress. Looking in the mirror, they looked spectacular. Another day, another ball that Lance would detest compared to his hive outings or officer parties and that Astrid would be more occupied with gathering intelligence and connections. It occurs to Astrid later that she sincerely doesn’t know if Lance meant it as a compliment or not.

21. “Happy Birthday ‘Trid. Did you think I’d forget? This is the right dateish? I’ve completely lost track of my subjective-objective times -”

The view of her world from above was admittedly spectacular. Definitely worth using up some of his precious hours. It was a flying visit, literally, but he was still pleased at the result. The ship he was on had stopped on Lerwick to pick up a few supplies and he had been unable to resist giving her a trip up in his Lightning, followed by drinking on the observation deck of the cruiser. Tomorrow, he’d be off to some battlefront. Maybe Persephon. He was remarkably blase about the entire affair, but perhaps that was the opia he was so clearly riding on. Opia could take you to your grave with a smile. 

22. “Did you just hit on an astartes?”

Even Lance was somewhat stunned as they got back on the Chaser. Too stunned to even take the piss out of Astrid immediately. Both from the amount of information he had just had presented to him in such a short space of time and also from the presence of something so much spiritually and physically bigger than him. Astrid broke the silence and he blinked. Another moment and he burst into peals of laughter, the tension breaking. Through watering eyes he nodded, wiping a hand across his face in disbelief at his own gall.

23. There are too many things I want to say.