#having routes in any au is confusing so wait for masterpost

[emptygoldstudio]

2nd route for my RepairShopBillAU. Instead of getting on parole, Kryptos gets sent to therapy where he meets - *rereads the script* - self inserted, real world accurate Me! What im doing in Theraprism? No clue 8). But adventures of two silly nerds in a psych ward? Sound like Fun!!!

Oh, and Kryptos is aroace in my canon because self projection<3

I need mooore content with Kryptos, so i'll create it myself byahahaha

Masterpost for RepairShopBillAU (coming soon!)

[lifeofkaze]

When Stars Ignite - Chapter 8

HPHM Rockstar AU

A/N: Welcome back to Part 2 of the HPHM Rockstar AU! New location, new songs, new drama. Buckle up, we're going for a ride!

General Warning: This whole fic has a general warning of being NSFW / 18+. We will give specific warnings for every chapter in itself, but several adult themes will be more or less present in every chapter, may it be explicitly or in mention. These include sexual topics, drug abuse, (ab)use of alcohol, smoking and a whole lot of cursing.

Specific Warning: Language

~~~

Find the masterpost here, the previous chapter here and the next one here. The songs featured before every chapter can be found on this pretty badass playlist here.

~~~

This work is a collaboration with @the-al-chemist

Taglist: @slytherindisaster @night-rhea @carewyncromwell

You keep on saying you'll be mine for a while

You're looking fancy, and I like your style

You drive us wild, we'll drive you crazy

You keep on shouting, you keep on shouting

I wanna rock and roll all night and party every day

~ Kiss - Rock And Roll All Nite ~

Despite it being her third tour with Equinox now, Lizzie would probably never stop being amazed at the incredible machinery that stood behind every single one of their shows.

Now, two weeks after they had started out in London, their route had seen them through Bristol and on to Birmingham. All the familiar routines had established themselves again as if they hadn’t spent a whole month apart at all. Like cogs in a well tuned machine, everyone was working together in well established patterns to make each show unforgettable for those who came to see them play.

It didn’t matter whether one was part of the tech crew, the management, security or the band themselves; they were all like a big, chaotic but loveable family. Of course, Lizzie couldn’t deny that this time around there was considerably more tension to be felt backstage than she was used to, but fights were something happening even in the best of families; at least, that’s what she was telling herself.

Their soundcheck being over, Lizzie had just left the stage with Skye, waiting for the others to catch up. Even though the roof of the arena they were playing in tonight was still closed, Lizzie could feel a bead of sweat running down her spine.

It had been uncharacteristically hot for weeks now, very unusual for a British summer. Not that she was complaining, Lizzie typically loved everything about the hot weather; but the dampness that it brought with it made it almost unbearable to move, setting everyone’s nerves on edge. Hopefully it would just rain soon and be done with it; there was nothing better to clear the air than a good summer storm.

At least for them, however, the heat of the sun would soon be replaced by the spotlights burning down on them. Even after so many years of playing on stages of every size and format, Lizzie had trouble fighting the nervous feeling spreading from her stomach through her body. She was always the first one to enter the stage, the beat of her drums building up the mood until one after the other of her friends would enter and add their own instruments to the sound. As soon as she started playing she was in her element, every flare of nerves forgotten; but until then, she was stuck feeling like in free fall.

Lizzie reached into the pocket of her shorts, her fingers finding the familiar shape of the red plectrum she was always carrying with her. It had belonged to Orion before it had found its way into her possession; it was one of the plectrums he had used on the first tour they had ever played. Without thinking about it, she drew it out and let it wander through her fingers, a fun little trick Orion had taught her to help channel her focus when her stage fright was setting in.

“What’s that you got there, little rockstar?”

Charlie had finished his work on Merula’s keyboard and joined them at the stage entrance. Lizzie hadn’t noticed him approaching and jumped when he spoke, dropping the plectrum to the ground. Before she could pick it up again, Skye had gotten hold of it, turning it around between her fingers with a confused look.

“That looks familiar,” she mused, examining the colourful piece of plastic. “Is that one of our old plectrums?”

Lizzie tried snatching it from her hands but Skye quickly moved it out of her reach.

“No, it’s not, it’s just a lucky charm.”

She could tell Skye didn’t buy her explanation. “Why would you have one of these?”

Lizzie scowled at her friend as she tried in vain to reach Skye’s hand. “None of your business, Parkin. Give it back.”

Skye made an indignant sound as Charlie jumped to Lizzie’s aid; playing out his advantage in height, he unceremoniously plucked the plectrum from Skye’s fingers and handed it back to Lizzie with a wink. Giving him a grateful look, she let it disappear in the depths of her pockets.

“You’re a real spoilsport, Weasley,” Skye snorted.

“And you’re a nuisance,” Lizzie said in Charlie’s stead.

Charlie shook his head. “Hearing you two talk, I might just believe the rumours about your relationship.”

“I do have standards, you know,” Lizzie rolled her eyes, chuckling at Skye’s sound of protest.

Lizzie’s attention was drawn away from their bickering when she saw Orion and Everett were still standing on stage, engaged in a heated discussion. She stifled a sigh; Everett was still at odds with Orion’s decision to perform the new songs himself. There wasn’t one day he would spare them his complaints. Although Everett had always been a person with a temper, Lizzie couldn’t remember him ever being angry at one of them for so long.

Orion, however, wasn’t responding to Everett’s aggressive demeanour. Ever the calm and collected person, it took a lot more for him to lose his centre; Lizzie wasn’t sure she’d ever seen him anything but level-headed at all. And sure enough, even when Everett left him standing with a dismissive gesture, he only looked after him with a tired expression.

In contrast, Everett’s face was clearly showing his annoyance. He tried to hide it behind his usual sneer when he saw them looking, but the way his shoulders were tensed was speaking volumes. His posture only changed when he walked past where Artemis was still working on her explosives. She was bent deeply over the igniter she was wiring, so concentrated on her task she didn’t even notice Everett coming up behind her.

“A little lower, sweetheart. If you have to mess with our pyros, you might as well give us a proper show.”

Artemis straightened up with a face like thunder. “Go fuck yourself.”

Everett shrugged. “I don’t need to, I have plenty of people willing to do that for me. I can bump you up the queue if you like?”

Rolling her eyes, Artemis gathered up her things and moved to the other side of the stage, as far away from all of them as possible.

“Why can’t he just shut up for a second,” Charlie growled as they watched Everett strut off with a self-satisfied smirk. “I’m making no progress with her whatsoever. I’m still trying to convince her that we’re not all dickheads. Ev’s attitude is definitely not helping.

“Is it still so bad with her?” Lizzie wanted to know.

“Yeah,” Charlie admitted, “I don’t know how to get through to her. She’s a tough nut, that one.”

“Tell me about it,” Lizzie said. “I’ve never met anyone so determined to not be nice to anyone.”

“Surprised there’s people out there not wanting to be your friend?” Merula scoffed as she joined them.

“Actually, I am,” Lizzie said. “I even managed to convince you to be my friend, after all.”

“If you want to call us friends,” Merula snorted, but Lizzie knew she was teasing her.

She chuckled and turned to Charlie. “Do you have any idea why she’s so frosty?”

Charlie shrugged, looking as clueless as they came. “If only I knew. She’s giving me no chance to find out either, as soon as the work’s done, she’s off.”

“Sounds like she needs to get a few drinks in to loosen up,” Skye said. “Probably much easier to handle her then.”

Charlie looked at her incredulously. “You do realise how creepy that sounds, right?”

“Don’t be stupid, you know what I mean,” Skye rolled her eyes, “but seriously, who says no to a free drink and some good company?”

Charlie watched Artemis work her way through the remaining igniters. He didn’t seem convinced by Skye’s suggestion but shrugged anyway. “Might as well give it a shot at this point, but if she bites me, I’ll hold you accountable.”

***

Just like the weather forecast had promised, the temperatures hadn’t dropped one bit until it was time to enter the stage. And even if a cooling breeze would be blowing outside, it would stand no chance of reaching the fired up masses filling up the arena.

Lizzie wasn’t sure where it was warmer, down between the thousands of people singing along to their music, or up with them on stage where the heat of the spotlights made her wish for a cold shower.

They were already halfway through the setlist and as always, time seemed to be racing by.

Their fans were fantastic tonight as well; the arena was sold out up to the last seat and the crowd was incredibly enthusiastic. They were reacting to every prompt they were given, whether it was a challenge to cheer louder, sing along or clap to the beat. It was shows like these that reminded Lizzie time and time again that she had the best job in the world.

Everett was giving a stellar performance tonight; he had the whole stadium wrapped around his little finger like only he could, and the fans were cheering him on as he stepped back from the microphone to join the sound of his guitar with the rest of them.

Lizzie turned her head to Orion, who was already waiting for her to give him his cue. She counted down the remaining beats in her head before she gave him a nod. When he turned his attention from her and began playing his solo part, Lizzie couldn’t help but grin. The people were screaming themselves into a frenzy as Orion worked his magic on his guitar.

He never planned what he was going to do beforehand, not one solo the same as the day before. His brow was furrowed in concentration and his lips ever so slightly parted as his fingers flew up and down the neck of the guitar. In moments like these, everything else faded into the background for him; there was nothing left but him and his music.

As Lizzie watched his fingers dance with dizzying speed, her flushed skin burned at the memory of what other magic they were able to do. The thought almost made her miss a beat.

Almost.

She caught herself at the last moment before anyone could notice. She was glad everyone else was too busy to see the blush spreading on her face. But even if they had, they would never have suspected that it didn’t come from the incredibly high temperatures, but something else entirely.

The song ended with a bang, Lizzie hitting two cymbals and the bass drum at the same as KC let all the spotlights flare up. Almost blinded by the brightness flooding the stage, Lizzie closed her eyes and dipped her head back, breathing heavily. For a fraction of a second, the fading sound of the music was still hanging in the air, everyone holding their breaths, before it gave way to the cheers erupting from the crowd.

Lizzie smiled to herself, waiting for her racing heart to slow, before setting her mind onto the rhythm of the next song. The crowd was still cheering and she waited a moment longer until everyone was ready and Orion had stepped behind his own microphone. The next song was one of the unpublished ones and even two weeks after striking their deal with the label, Orion hadn’t let Everett sing one single verse of them.

Lizzie took a deep breath and set the rhythm by hitting her drumsticks against each other a few times. Luckily, it was one of the slower songs so they all had the chance to calm down a little. Orion’s melodic voice carried into the vast space of the stadium over the hushed crowd and Lizzie felt a shiver run down her spine; she had loved this song from the first time Orion had let her hear it.

The crowd seemed to share her opinion; many had taken out their phones and lit the screens, waving them through the darkness in what was looking like a sea of stars. It wasn’t quite the same sight as it had been when lighters had still been allowed in the auditoriums, but Lizzie was loving the sight nonetheless.

All of the new songs they had played so far had been very well received. They made sure to switch them every night so no one got too overexposed, but whatever ones Orion chose, they were always met with great enthusiasm.

The only unrecorded song they were playing night after night was, much to everyone’s surprise, not one of Orion’s creations. Even after Orion had given his consent, Everett hadn’t stopped pestering Ethan until he had agreed to give a few of Everett’s songs a shot. Most of them weren’t nearly as well liked as the ones Orion hadn’t even finished yet, but there was one song that had instantly become so popular with their fans that Ethan had decided to make it a permanent addition to the set list for the rest of the tour.

Everett had revelled in his triumph over Orion; at least that’s how he saw it. And Lizzie had to admit that it really was a catchy melody. But much to Everett’s dismay, whenever Orion picked up his guitar and did what he did best, all eyes were on him, and him alone. He was pouring his heart and soul into the music he played, and people could tell. Like the Pied Piper, he commanded everyone’s attention without even trying to.

That was probably what angered Everett most; the fact that Orion wasn’t even trying.

Even now, Everett was scowling darkly at Orion as he was singing the song in Everett’s stead. Lizzie tried to concentrate on keeping a steady beat, but her eyes were drawn back to their frontman’s menacing expression.

She couldn’t help the feeling that a storm was coming.

[writing-the-end]

LoL Chapter 50- To the East

Masterpost

A Wizard Hermits tale (AU, designs, ideas belongs to @theguardiansofredland)

A dragon spirit, guardians and attendants to the gods, is in peril. When a few hermits and the wanderers go to face the trouble, they’re not the only ones fighting against dark magic.

_______________________________________________

Not all of the hermits could afford to leave Doc behind, nor could they all make the trip in time. Avon’s insistent they leave now. She was about ready to transform into her dragon form and carry the wanderers to the eastern fjords. It was Ren that was able to calm her down just enough to think. In the end, they decided less is more. Avon doesn’t know what has her on edge, but she knows it’s not good. 

“My mentor, Flaryn, I… I have a really bad feeling.” Avon paces the floor. 

“Your mentor, like the dragon?” Mumbo squeaks, already feeling faint as he remembers facing Avon in the duel. What could possibly be causing a massive dragon trouble? 

As soon as Cub opens a portal, the wanderers are the first through. Following them is Iskall, already brandishing a spear of iskallium. Ren volunteers as well, offering up his dynamic, versatile magic. Three hermits, plus the three wanderers, set off through the portal, from the dark wooden bookstore to the verdant evergreen forests around the eastern fjords. Arriving beneath the pine canopy, someone was already waiting for them. 

“I got your message,” The long, ebony black haired sorceress reaches out, taking hold of Red’s hands and holding him close. Prolonged, pointy ears rise from the black curls like rocks from the sea, and deep purple eyes gaze upon the small group. “What’s going on?” 

“I don’t know, Selene.” Avon growls, brushing past everyone present. Her eyes wander across the tall mountains, covered in snow as they slope to the waters below. “Things just feel...disturbed. Out of balance, like a rockfall about to collapse.” 

“You called your master Flaryn, correct?” Cub questions, boots crunching heavy in the snow. Ren realizes he’s wearing sandals, and uses his imagination magic to conjure up a pair of boots. “You don’t mean to tell us that the dragon you learned your magic from is a dragon spirit? Flaryn, dragon of the east, guardian of balance, master of flame?” 

“Why does a dragon need that many surnames?” Iskall huffs. Cub’s eyes only widen when Avon gives a curt nod. Cub has gotten used to his fellow hermits being from incredible or strange backgrounds, but to master a magic from the very spirits that aid the gods? 

“Well, go big or go home, I guess.” Cub chuckles. “So...if something really is wrong, why don’t we go to Flaryn’s roost and check for ourselves?” 

“Because Flaryn lives at the top of that mountain,” Selene, now carrying Red through the snow as tall as the kipling, interjects. “And that isn’t just a mountain. That’s a fucking active volcano.” 

As if to prove her point, a low growl escapes the peak of the mountain, and smoke roils free like the maws of a dragon. And within the smoke, a massive shadow, wings outstretched, appears. Bigger than Avon’s dragon form, so big that even this far away the hermits can tell it’s great size. This was a dragon above dragons, a beast that could bend nature to it’s whim. 

And it was under attack. The dragon banks hard within the smoke, dancing with embers and tendrils of flames as lava erupts from the mountain peak. From the bottom of the mountain, the hermits can’t tell who is attacking, though they can make an educated guess on who would possibly have that much hubris to take on a messenger of the gods. 

If it wasn’t Dolios, then surely it was one of his council members. A roar shakes the ground at their feet, sending snow tumbling from trees. Selene uses her magic to create a shield, brushing aside the snow like it was little more than a gnat. Shield magic must be her power. Avon takes point, guiding the team up the mountain to the peak. Where she learned to control her magic.  A battle continues at the caldera, fire blazing from the mouth of Flaryn and strikes of magic shooting from the ground. 

A wayward breath of fire misses the combatant, orange flame burning down the mountain. Barreling for the team. Avon opens her wings to block the flame, but is little more than raising a hand to stop an avalanche. Iskall squeezes his eyes closed and waits to be burnt to a crisp by the superhot flame. 

It never comes. He waits a second longer, still braced and prepared for death. Still nothing. Iskall dares to open his eye, about to ask where his untimely death has gone. He finds it, instead, under the control of Selene. She’s ensnared the fire, dancing with the stream like it was little more than a ribbon of silk. When she’s gained full control of the flame, she turns it back up the mountain, aimed directly at the distance figure they’re approaching. 

Iskall blinks, stunned and confused. “I thought you were a shield wizard. Are you a multi-mage as well?” 

Avon doesn’t stop, leaving the others to follow. “I’m not a multi-mage, but I can do multiple forms of magic.” 

“How so?” That’s impossible. Most wizards only have one form of magic, as unique as their personalities. Multi-mages were an exception, as if the gods themselves couldn’t decide what magic the wizard would excel with. 

“Ever heard of a learned mage?” Red questions, falling into the snow and clambering through. It’s as high as his chest. When all three hermits shake their heads, he continues. “Learned wizards are born without magic, but with enough time and dedicated study are able to gain the understanding of powers and use it themselves.” 

“I had no innate magic. But I didn’t let that stop me. I’ve since learned more than twenty varieties of magic, and can perform them as well as wizards born with it.” Selene looks over her shoulder, a coy grin appearing on her face when she sees the stunned expression on the hermits’.  

Ren opens his mouth to ask a question, but the words that rise from his throat are lost to the wind, the thunder of the dragon above. It wasn’t an angered roar, not like those before, when Flaryn fought the intruder. Rather, it was more of a cry, higher pitched, sharper. Grating against their ears. Alarmed, Avon takes off, leaving the rest behind to join her mentor in the sky. Her trident is already in hand, flame erupting in a blossom of purple.

The distant figure turns, curly brown hair falling across his blue capelet, a scowl creasing the charismatic expression. “And i thought you’d be too busy handling your criminal friend to get in my way.” Dolios sneers. He attempts to blast Avon out of the sky, but the draconic mage dodges in the nick of time. “You flying lizards have always been such a pain, but imagine the honor of being the person to slay a dragon spirit.” 

“You’ll have to go through us first.” Avon hisses, then attacks. Dolios casts his wisping magic circle, corrupted by his dark magic. Just as unstable as the man that controls it. A heavy wind picks up, snapping the tops off trees and tossing Avon aside like she was little more than a leaf. With her out of the way, Dolios turns back to Flaryn. Another circle, this time summoning a swarm of wasps. The mottled monstrosities swarm the dragon, stinging and paralyzing the spirit. Forcing Flayrn to land as wings become overwhelmingly heavy. 

Iskall lets out a war cry, and plows through the deep snow, to the peak of the mountain. He shoves his shoulder, all his weight into Dolios. The two both go sprawling against the ground. Iskall can feel the heat of the erupting volcano, burning at his cheeks in waves of intense heat. 

“I think it’s time for you to meet your doom, you mega bastard.” Iskall growls, wrestling the magistrate. Dolios isn’t very strong, it turns out, all his attention focused on keeping Iskall from throwing him into the lake of lava. 

“Do you know any other adjectives except ��mega’ and ‘doom’, or are you just too dense to learn a thesaurus?” Dolios hums. His words spark an angry fire in Iskall, frenzying him. 

Exactly how Dolios wanted it. With a swift repertoire of hand movements, Dolios casts his dark magic, and grabs hold of Iskall’s arm. Fingernails puncture under Iskall’s pale, exposed skin. Like venom from a wyrmbite, poison seeps under his skin, sending Iskall writhing backwards in pain. 

Red catches Iskall before he falls all the way down the volcano, while Selene casts not one, or two, but three different spells at once. Despite the uncertain predicament Dolios finds himself in, he’s more interested in the magic that’s trapped him rather than the fight. Through all of this, his nonchalant, charismatic smile never leaves, and never fails to infuriate the hermits. “It seems we have something in common here. Though one of us definitely chose the harder route.” 

“We are nothing alike, you asshole.” Selene hisses, reeling back and casting her magic. In the split second between the spell being summoned and taking effect, Dolios uses his own spell.. A concussive blast, just like he used in the chess match so long ago, sending the hermits and wanderers tumbling down through the snow. The mountain rumbles, snow shifting and threatening to collapse into an avalanche. To sweet away the rescue team.

“Well, at least now I have an audience to witness the beginning of a new sport.” Dolios rights himself, brushing the snow from his robes and turning back to the wasp covered, incapacitated dragon. “Dragons are so dangerous, only the strongest, bravest mages would dare slay a dragon. Think of the honor to be in such an exclusive group.” 

“Fucker!” Avon shouts, launching herself free from the snow, unleashing every once of her magic, as well as her trident, against Dolios. But he bats it away, and grabs the draconic mage from midair, hands wrapped around a wing and tipping her towards the explosive volcano below. 

“Well, if none of you are going to be a gracious audience, why not become willing participants as well? I may not have gotten the joy of seeing that criminal burn before my eyes. But I will relish in wiping you all from existence, right alongside this monster.” Dolios’s gaze turns wild, frenzied as he raises an arm. The sleeve of his robes falls back, wine red fabric and trimmed gold seams fleeing from the swirling black mist. The power of his dark magic grows stronger, more violent. Even from this far away, the hermits can feel the deadly, life draining energy that he harnesses. 

Dolios lines up the shot, so that every last hermit, every single wanderer, and eastern fire dragon is in the line of fire. A maniacal smile grows on his face, thirst for death and the feeling of pure control and power overwhelming him. The angled fingers turn, ready to snap together and release enough dark magic to destroy every living being in the line of fire. His thumb rests on his middle finger, pressing down. 

Then his eyes roll backwards, hand and body falling limp into the melting snow. None of the hermits, the wanderers, even Flaryn breathe for a second, realizing that Dolios is passed out. Not dead, unfortunately. But how? Did he overexert his dark magic? 

Another person is on the crest of the volcano. Long blue hair, straight and flat as if it had been slept on. Mostly because it was. Tired, bored eyes sparked with a hint of determination, and finned ears flick aside the pyroclastic ash from the eruption. His chest rises and falls, body exhausted from overusing his magic. 

“You don’t have much time.” Apatia breathes, body slumped. About to pass out as well. “I did as much as I could to keep him knocked out as long as possible, but his mgic took the brunt of my own. You leave, I’ll make sure the dragon spirit is okay.” 

The councilmember steps forward, offering a hand to the hermits. Ecto recoils, preferring to sink deeper into the snow she hates than be anywhere near Apatia. “Why should we trust you? You’re a part of his crony gang. You’ve been letting him, helping him do horrible things!” 

Apatia’s shoulders slump, and he looks as exhausted mentally as he is physically. “I don’t have time to explain everything. He’s going to wake up soon, and he won't fall for that trick again. Let’s just say I… I’m tired of just letting bad things happen to good people.” 

Red’s the first up, the two kiplings looking at one another. Apatia offers a soft nod, some unspoken conversation between the two. Avon does her best to ease the pain and help her mentor from the wasp attack, while Cub opens a portal. 

“Can’t we just drop him into the volcano?” Ren questions. “This could finally all be over.” 

“It won’t stop his work, not with Eurynomos in the forest. Waiting.” The hermits glance at one another. Eurynomos. Is that the name of the beast they found? “Just...send him back to Milliara. We can’t have people wondering what’s happened to their beloved magistrate as well.”

“Just one stab?” Avon questions, still furious he called her a monster. “He deserves more than what we’re letting him off with.”

To Cub’s chagrin, he knows that Apatia is right. As much as he’d love to finish Dolios off now, to get this over with, nothing is ever that easy. Once Dolios is gone, there team of rescuers step through their own portal. The wanderers first, and the hermits following after. 

Iskall steps through last, but turns while he’s in between places. Looking at the councilmember. Apatia looks back, exhausted. “Know that you hermits aren’t alone. This is your fight, but you have others on your side now too.”

[calligraphist-artemisia]

I’ll Take Her Place (Chapter 4)

Summary:  AU. When Allura breaks the news that she is to wed Prince Lotor in order to continue the peaceful relationship between Altea and Daibazaal, Pidge knows that she has to do something to change that. And so, with a little help, she comes up with a new plan. A better plan

Pairings: Keith/Pidge (main) ; Shiro/Allura (minor), Hunk/Lance (minor) ; Lotor/Allura (one-sided)

Chapter 1 - Next - Masterpost

Also posted on AO3 and fanfiction.net

I just want to take a moment to thank everyone for all of the wonderful comments and feedback you've left so far! It really is the highlight of my day when I pop online to find new notifications waiting for me and it's what keeps me pushing to update more regularly. 

So here's chapter 4, a little longer than the others so far. I hope you all enjoy it!

Chapter 4

Pidge slowly woke to something with a pointed edge nudging her in the ribs. There was the sound of whirring machinery and she could hear Hunk make a questioning sound before yelping in alarm.

“What did you build last night?” Lance asked, sounding as though he was trying not to laugh.

Hunk shrieked. “Bad robot! Down!”

Pidge sat up in time to witness Hunk running to the other side of one of the Green Lion's massive paws, where he ducked down to try and hide from the flying sentry drone which was giving chase. She watched for a moment, rational thought clawing its way back through a sleepy haze. “Huh. Might be a few more bugs to work out than I thought... C'mere, Rover!”

The drone made a questioning beep before soaring back to Pidge's side. It went still when she pressed a switch hidden on one side.

“Rover, huh? Making yourself a guard dog so Hunk stops touching your stuff?” Lance asked.

“He's going to keep you from taking my stuff too, so I wouldn't start laughing yet,” Pidge informed him.

Lance sulked for a few seconds as Hunk cautiously approached them, clearly watching out for any more drones that may spring out and attack him.

“You're an evil genius, Pidge,” Hunk informed her.

She grinned in response. “I know. So what brings you two down to my lair this morning?”

Hunk and Lance exchanged a glance, each trying to wordlessly convince the other to talk to her.

Lance lost. “First of all, it's after lunch and no one has seen you since yesterday. Shiro was worried.”

“We were all worried,” Hunk interjected.

“Yeah, yeah, we're all worried. Also, your fiance sent a request that you have dinner with him tonight. So there's that too,” Lance said with a bit of a malcontent grumble.

Pidge scowled and dropped her gaze.

Hunk noticed. Of course he did. He was far too tuned in to the feelings of his friends sometimes. “You have to get to know him at some point,” he said logically. “Wouldn't it be better to start now?”

“It's only been a day! Barely a day!” Pidge leaned back against the wall and closed her eyes, already beginning to feel overwhelmed. Was it too much to ask that she have a single interaction with other people without anyone mentioning her impending nuptials? “I need at least a deca-phoeb before I'm ready.”

“Empress Honerva talked them up to six months from two, so at least you have a while,” Lance said, trying to be helpful.

Hunk nodded. “It was incredible! I thought Emperor Zarkon would have to step in and order the council members to increase the time for her, but she handled it all on her own! And it wasn't in that kind of scary way like Allura does, she just won them over with facts and clear reasoning.”

“Some highlights: proper courtship before any marriage is a minimum of three months, no matter the circumstances,” Lance said, holding up his fingers to tick them off, one-by-one. “We're not at war with each other, so demanding the two of you to be married immediately is ridiculous; planning a royal wedding will take a minimum of five months, and that's rushing it; oh, and who could forget my favorite, the dress!”

“Please tell me I at least have a say in what I'll be wearing,” Pidge pleaded.

Lance nodded. “Oh, you do. And that's why the planning portion takes so long. It's tradition for the bride to design her own gown.”

Pidge looked a little pale.

“Luckily, you have Lance to help you,” Hunk said, sounding amused. “Three married sisters and two sisters-in-law means he's a pro at weddings, especially dresses.”

“Babe, you forgot my cousins. And my Aunt who has married five times since I was four,” Lance reminded him.

“Oh, yeah... How could I ever forget Aunt Constantine? She was always my favorite... Do you think she's on husband number six yet?”

“I hope not. I really liked Reggie. He was nice.”

Pidge shoved her worries aside, burying them deep down in favor of focusing on her friends. It was so easy to lose herself in Lance's stories as he began to weave colorful tales of his eccentric and large family and his many experiences helping his relatives plan their weddings. With the two of them by her side, she pulled herself up off the floor and walked to the kitchen to get some food before going to face Shiro.

“How are you doing?”

Pidge looked up at Shiro as she began her pre-training stretches, easing her body into physical activity after a night of sitting on the cold, hard floor. She shrugged before bending down, folding herself in half at the waist to touch her toes. “I'm okay.”

Shiro crossed his arms over his chest. “Pidge, you spent twenty hours hiding in Green's hangar. That's not-!”

“Sounds normal to me,” Pidge interrupted. “Working on stuff helps me cope. Seriously, I'm fine. I got some work done and it gave me time to think. I'm okay.”

Shiro frowned at her, struggling to find the right words to say for the unusual situation they were in. Normally, the best route with Pidge was blunt honesty – no careful prodding into her feelings, no treating her as though she was made of glass – but something about her body language was screaming at him that wasn't time to talk at all.

She wasn't ready.

He backed off, at least for the moment. “We're just running simple drills today. Allura and I have a meeting with the Coalition Leaders in three vargas, so there's no time for more than that. And you have a dinner to prepare for.”

The only sign that Pidge had heard him was in her slight loss of balance as she continued her warm-up. She quickly righted herself as she lifted her left leg off the ground, stretching it out behind her.

“Queen Alanna has offered her assistance if you have any questions,” Shiro said. He hesitated a few seconds before adding: “We're all here for you, Pidge.”

Shiro could tell the exact moment she closed herself off, thoroughly done with their conversation. He'd stepped over that invisible line in the sand, knowing how she would likely react, but it was something he felt needed to be said or else he'd spend days regretting it.

He stepped away to give her some space and joined Hunk and Lance on their jog around the perimeter of the training deck.

“Okay, I haven't seen Pidge look that annoyed since that time you accidentally bumped her into a bowl of Trufalian meringue and started a whole chain reaction of everything on the banquet table crashing to the ground,” Lance said. “Which, granted, wasn't really your fault, but that isn't the case this time. So what did you say?”

“Just that we're all here for her,” Shiro explained. “It was poor timing on my part.”

Hunk looked stricken. “It wasn't something we did, is it? She was laughing with us earlier, so I thought everything was okay. But what if it was something we said? Maybe she was laughing just so we wouldn't worry. What if-?”

“I don't think it was anything you did or said,” Shiro cut in gently, stopping the Yellow Paladin before he could get himself worked up into a panic.”If we think this is hard for us to accept, think of how it is for Pidge. She's the one this is all happening to. Sometimes it will be easy and sometimes she won't want to talk about it at all. Right now is the latter.”

“Man, this is so messed up,” Lance grumbled.

Yeah, Shiro privately agreed. That was one way of putting it.

Pidge was a wreck of tangled emotions.

Training had helped work out some of her frustration, but it wasn't enough. Perhaps if it had been one of their monthly marathon sessions, which always left her swimming in sweat and so exhausted that she could barely lift her arms, it would have helped. At least then it would have been acceptable for her to shower and then crawl into bed and sleep for twelve hours. Instead, she had to shower and get ready for dinner with Prince Keithir.

What were the rules for something like that? What was she supposed to wear? How was she supposed to act? She wasn't even sure how a normal date back on Earth was supposed to go (having never been on one). She knew she could ask Hunk or even Lance, but at the same time she wasn't sure how any of their advice would help.

Logically, her favorite sweatpants were out. And her sweatshirts. Really, any form of casual and comfortable wasn't appropriate for dinner with her fiance.

Pidge groaned and flopped face-first onto her bed, letting herself wallow in confused misery for a few long minutes. She knew they were on a tight schedule, but was it necessary for them to immediately begin the 'getting to know you' portion of their courtship? She'd much rather spend the next few days (weeks) tinkering with Rover and writing new programs to try and locate her family. She just needed time for it to fully sink in.

“You chose this,” she bitterly reminded herself. She sat up and rubbed her eyes, refusing to let a single tear fall. “I chose this. Allura would be preparing to marry Lotor right now if I hadn't, and that's infinitely worse. I can do this.”

She didn't often resort to talking to herself, but it was surprisingly helpful. Pidge was not okay (sorry, Shiro), but she could handle it. She got out of bed and walked over to her closet, which housed what little clothing she'd picked over three years. Her original sweatshirt and shorts were still there, though it had been over a year since she last wore them. Despite what Lance said, she had grown a few inches since leaving Earth and her clothes no longer fit as well as before. There was the Altean dress Allura had gifted her on her seventeenth birthday and the robes given to her by Ryner after her brief stay on Olkarion, learning everything she could about their incredible technology. She had two pairs of sweatpants and jeans, as well as several plain shirts and sweatshirts, but those were just for everyday use.

Never before had Pidge found herself at odds with the lack of nice clothing she owned. Whenever there was a formal situation that required their attendance, she and the other paladins would wear their armor. There had never been a need for anything else.

She wondered if Prince Keithir would be insulted if she wore the Altean dress.

Someone knocked on her door just as she was reaching out to pull it down. Clad only in her green lion robe and matching slippers, she shuffled over and prodded the button to open the door. Lance stood there with a box in his hands, looking unusually unsure.

“I got you this,” he said, holding out the box for her to take. “I saw it at the Space Mall the last time Hunk and I made a run there for those fruits he likes. I was saving it for the next vacation Shiro and Allura let us have, but I thought you could use it more now. You might find the familiarity comforting, at least.”

Curiosity piqued, Pidge removed the lid and then froze, staring open-mouthed at the fabric waiting inside. She slowly pulled it out of the box, marveling over how soft it was.

It was like someone had taken her original sweatshirt and turned it into a stylish dress. The sleeves and down each side were the exact same shade of green, with white filling in the space between. A hint of lace peeked out from under the skirt. Her only wish was that it had the same high collar rather than a simple crew neck, but it was only a minor wish.

“It's perfect,” she whispered, finding it hard to get the words out. She knocked the box away as she threw her arms around Lance's middle. “Thank you so much!”

Lance hugged her back tightly. “That's what friends are for.”

Dinner was a quiet affair between them, which wasn't unexpected. Keither was hardly an expert at basic communication and his future wife didn't seem to be much better. Ten minutes in and he was already convinced that inviting her to have dinner with him so soon had been a Very Bad Idea. Except that it had been his mother's request and denying Empress Honerva was an Even Worse Idea, so there they were.

Sitting.

Alone.

Not speaking.

Keithir glanced up and cleared his throat, wracking his brain for anything to say. “So, uh...?”

“Yes?”

His thoughts abruptly derailed at her simple question. “Um... enjoying the food?”

Big amber eyes stared at him for a moment before lowering back to her plate. “It's good. Are you, uh, enjoying it too?”

Keithir absently wondered if it was alright to be glad she was struggling just as much as he was.  “Yeah, it's good.”

The silence resumed, stretching on and slowly consuming them. Any attempt from either of them was too weak to combat it.

It was the most awkward ordeal he had ever gone through, and that included his physician's four-hour long lecture on puberty and reproduction when he was younger.

Even worse, once the food had been cleared, their evening still wasn't over.

Keithir stood and moved around to help her out of her chair before offering her his arm. She stared up at him in confusion. “Can I walk you back to your room?”

“Oh,” she uttered softly. “Yes. Yes, of course.” She took his arm with no trouble and they began to walk through the castle together.

Normally, Keithir was content with the quiet. Most days he preferred it. Constant, never ending chatter, especially when it was small-talk, was one of his least favorite things. But he could feel the awkwardness between them, hanging thick in the air, and made worse by the fact that neither of them knew what to do or say to make it a little more bearable.

He found himself staring at her, only partly paying attention to where he was walking. His eyes were drawn to the shade of green she wore, and then to the dress itself. It was a simple thing, designed with comfort in mind rather than extravagance. It was...

“Cute.”

“Huh?” Pidge looked up, eyes wide as they met his own.

Keithir felt his face heat up. “Your dress. It's cute... Green looks good on you.”

She looked away, her cheeks reddening slightly. “Thank you.”

There was a brief moment where Keithir thought that was the end of it and that they were doomed to never break through the thick wall between them, but then Pidge sucked in a break and weakly grinned up at him. “Good thing I'm the Green Paladin, right?”

Keithir found himself smiling back. “You're right. Imagine if you were Blue instead.”

Pidge's laughter shattered what remained of the awkward atmosphere. “I'd rather not. Besides, that would mean Lance would be Green and I don't think he could pull it off. You, though...”

Keithir crinkled his nose. “Me? In Green? Not really my color.”

“Oh?” Pidge asked with a strange tone to her voice. “So then what is your color? Black?”

(Some part of him realized she was actually teasing him. It was nice.)

“Red.”

Pidge's smile dropped, taking the warmth forming between them with it, and she looked away. “Yeah. You'd look good in red...” She pulled away from him as they approached her room. “Thanks for walking me back, Your Highness.”

“Keithir. Just... just Keithir,” he told her as she punched in her code and the door slid open. She turned to bid him goodnight before going inside, leaving him to wonder how he'd managed to sever the fragile connection they'd made in a split second.

He stood there for a moment, lost and confused, and then slowly turned away as a bitterness swelled in his chest. “Goodnight, Lady Katherine,” he said to her closed door.

NEXT