Chapter Text
“Whatever that thing is, it’s not human. Rosa, let him go!” Lance’s father raged, stood facing his mother defensively. Lance, a scared five-year-old, stood clutching his mother’s arm, eyes wide in fear. His mother turned to him and knelt down. She placed gentle hands on his shaking shoulders.
“Alejandro, look at me. Can you tell us what you are?” She said softly.
“Si, mama.” He said. “I’m a fairy.” He whispered. Lance’s father laughed incredulously. “I’m a changeling. Look.” Lance closed his eyes, his nose scrunched up as he focused. When he opened them, they glowed an unnatural blue. His ears were pointed, his skin glowing and a pair of delicate blue wings rested on his back.
His mother stood up and turned to stare into the woods that they were stood at the edge of. She looked back to her husband. She gave him a pleading glance, and he softened.
“We’ve been raising a fairy. For how long?” He whispered.
“Since I was a baby.” Lance counted on his fingers. “Four years!”
“Where’s our real son, though?” The man said. “Lance, can you bring him back to us? I’m sure you can… stay with us.”
Lance hesitated. He looked between his parents, and his small face took on a determined look.
“He’s with the fairies. I will bring him back. I’ll be back soon.” The child said and marched off, deeper into the woods. Rosa watched him go with a fond look on her face. She looked at her husband.
“Lance is staying with us. I know he doesn’t really… fit in,” It was true; Lance was a pretty child, but his face was too sharp, his features mischievous, and his blue eyes and freckles were a world apart from the McClain brown eyes and clear skin. He acted odd, skittish and impossible to control when he was angry, unlike his sister or his cousins. “But he’s a part of the family, and he has been for a long time now.” She said. Her husband nodded. “Mateo, he’s just a child, and none of this is his fault. We’ll say they’re twins.”
“My son is a fucking changeling.” Mateo sighed, slumping against a tree. “I blame my father.” Rosa settled next to him, resting her head on his shoulder.
Neither party realised they had fallen asleep, until they heard shouting from the woods. Rosa cried out at the sight of two children stumbling through the woods, arms wrapped around each other. Mateo ran to gather them in his arms, and the four of them moved back into the small cottage where the Cuban family lived.
“Alejandro, are you okay?” Rosa said, fussing over the two boys as they curled up on the couch. She sighed. “I can’t have two Lances, can I. Mijo,” She turned to her human son, realising with a jolt that she was looking at a stranger, albeit a stranger who looked more like her than the boy she had raised for four years, “You are Marco, okay.”
The tired-looking boy, who was wearing an odd-looking blue garment, nodded and stared at her blearily. Lance, equally as exhausted, put his chin on Marco’s shoulder.
“You’re my brother now. I’m sorry you got stolen by fairies but now I’m here to protect you.” The boy said. He grabbed his brother’s hand. “We’re going to be best friends, I can tell.”
“Lance, what happened out there?” Rosa asked carefully, draping a blanket over her sons.
“I promised the fairies I would visit them, so they let me stay with you. They said me and Marco should visit together. Isn’t that… cool, mama?” The boy mumbled, slipping off to sleep.
“Are you my mama, too?” Marco asked, big brown eyes watching Rosa with awe. She laughed a little and nodded, choked up.
“Forever, mijo.” She said. Marco drifted off, and Rosa kissed them both on the forehead. Veronica slept upstairs, blissfully unaware that she now had two little brothers, and, Rosa thought with a smile, a third on the way.
***
If Lance’s mother had been here, she would have punted him into another century without hesitation. Lance couldn’t find it in him to be bothered about facing the wrath of an angry Cuban woman, though, because he was more worried about the ominous-looking wormhole the blue robot lion he was trapped in was barrelling towards. He hoped that wherever they were, Marco and Puck were having a better time than him.
***
The hot space princess was a surprise, but Lance wasn’t complaining. Besides, her ears were eerily similar to those of his second family, and that brought him closer to home and the family he missed so horribly.
***
Defenders of the universe, huh. It had a nice ring to it.
***
Lance paused a moment, doubling over and heaving in deep breaths. From across the room, Keith watched him, an eyebrow raised, arms folded. Lance winked at him, and pulled himself upright, raising his fists again.
Lance and Keith had been sparring for ten minutes, and Keith had been thoroughly beating his ass. In order to keep what he was a secret, Lance had been actively avoiding using his magic in any way, shape or form around the team. Right now, however, he was more focused on wiping the smug look off Keith’s face. Lance took a second to centre himself, feeling a sudden queasiness as he reached for nature magic that wasn’t there; everything about the castle was cold and artificial with nothing to draw power from, unlike the forests at home that he had first learnt to spar in.
Instead, he allowed himself to shift, just slightly, into fae form, praying Keith would be too focused on beating him up to see the glow in his eyes, the slight point to his ears and the silver sheen to his skin. Keith rushed at him, and Lance, far swifter than humanly possible, moved out of the way. Keith threw a punch, and Lance yelped, reaching up instinctively. It was at Keith’s surprised grunt that he noticed he had caught the stronger man’s fist in his hand. Lance grinned in spite of himself as Keith dropped his hand and fell back into a defensive stance.
He continued to dodge and evade with inhuman grace, until Lance noticed the door to the training room open. As Shiro walked in, Lance let his form drop, feeling a fresh wave of fatigue without his magic to energise him. Keith knocked him over with ease and hovered above him with concern-filled eyes when he saw Lance struggle to stand up.
“Are you okay, Lance? You suddenly look exhausted.” He said, helping the other boy to his feet. Lance flashed him a smile that didn’t quite reached his eyes. He ran his hand through his hair, disappointed that he had lost so badly.
“I’m good. I’m going to get a shower, then find Hunk.” He said. He missed the look Keith and Shiro shared as he brushed past Shiro on his way out of the door.
After his shower, Lance didn’t go to find Hunk. He went straight to his room, locking the door behind him. Lance didn’t know how long he’s been in space at that point; it became difficult to keep track of days, and Lance could no longer track the cycle of the moon, as he had done religiously on earth. He was sure, though, that it had been months.
“You know, Marco, I thought I’d be home by now. We were going to visit the Seelie courts in Scotland in the summer, remember? I wonder if you and Puck went anyway. I hope you two aren’t causing mama much grief, and I know that if Ronnie wakes up with fairy locks one more time she’s actually going to shave her hair off. I really miss you. I miss Puck too. And Ronnie and Luis. Mama. Papa…” Lance trailed off, staring blankly at the ceiling. “Keith is Galra. He’s not human. He told the team, and everyone took it well. Eventually, anyway. Should I tell them about me? If Puck were here, I think he’d want me to. I’m tired of hiding.” Lance talked until he fell asleep, imagining his brother could hear him. He woke up with a start at a loud hammering on the door.
“Lance! Breakfast!” Pidge yelled.
“Coming, pixie.” Lance grumbled, opening the door. She stuck her tongue out at him in mock offense but walked with him to the dining room anyway.
Shiro and Allura were already there, talking between them in hushed, urgent whispers. That wasn’t particularly unusual, though, so Lance took his place at the table unbothered. Hunk walked in a moment later and passed out bowls of food to everybody.
“Hey, where’s Keith?” he wondered aloud.
The door slid open and a murderous-looking Keith stalked in. Aside from his scowling face, his most notable feature was the knotted hair on his head. It looked too deliberate to be bed head – strands perfectly twisted in unnatural ways – but it was a matted mess and looked painful.
Lance knew what it was. Fairy locks, a side effect of being in close proximity to an agitated or particularly mischievous fae. Obviously, Lance’s mood last night had been worse than he had thought, and Keith was suffering the side effects. The rest of the team, including Keith, did not know this.
“What the fuck.” Pidge said, dropping her spoon. Shiro gave her a look, but she ignored him in favour of staring at Keith’s hair. “How did you manage that?”
“I don’t know!” Keith said, agitatedly. “I woke up and it was like this!” The poor boy looked as if he was going to either cry or stab something, fists clenching and unclenching. Probably the stabbing, Lance thought, subtly moving his chair away from the red paladin, and away from the table.
“This looks deliberate.” Allura said, puzzled. “Did someone on the castle do this? Lance?”
Everyone turned to look at Lance. He raised his hands, exasperated.
“Yeah, because Mr. I Sleep With A Knife wouldn’t have noticed me sneak into his room and sit on his bed knotting his hair? Why would I even do that!” He cried, and their faces changed as they accepted his explanation. Everyone turned back to Keith. “I could help you untangle it, though.” Lance said, softer. Keith lifted his head in surprise. “I have a big sister, and her hair used to touch the floor. Luis always kept his hair long, too. I like playing with hair.” Lance explained.
To his surprise, Keith strode over and sat himself in front of Lance’s chair. Lance froze in surprise.
“Don’t make it weird, just… fix it.” Keith muttered, and Lance got to work. He allowed a little of his magic to travel through his hands, weaving it into Keith’s hair. The knots fell away easily, and Lance barely noticed how the rest of the team watched as his fingers nimbly braided and unbraided Keith’s hair. When he was done, Keith’s hair was webbed with delicate plaits, in a way entirely too graceful for the callous man.
Allura in particular stared at Keith’s hair. She cleared her throat. “Lance, that was rather amazing. Might you braid my hair at some point?” She asked timidly. Lance flashed her an easy smile.
“Of course, princess.” He said. Keith sat down and began to eat his breakfast, unconsciously reaching behind him to touch his hair in quiet awe.
A few Vargas later, Lance found himself alone on the training deck. It as a rare occurrence, as usually either Keith or Shiro could be relied upon to be battling bots, but Lance saw it as a blessing. He locked the training deck doors, praying no one would bother to train for the rest of the day.
When he was at home, he didn’t train in armour, he trained in leggings and a tunic, so that was what he was wearing. The leggings he had found in the wardrobe of his room. The tunic was old, one of Pucks that he had glamoured into a baseball tee, and had been wearing when they were blast into space, but Lance was thankful for the familiar fabric now he had let the glamour drop. It made him feel stronger.
Lance clenched his fist, letting his glamour drop and his magic flow, and a staff appeared in his hand. He twirled it a few times experimentally, re-familiarising himself with his weapon of choice. The staff was wooden but reinforced with magic; it could take a mountain troll’s head clean off without snapping. Ivy vines wrapped around the length, the magic oozing off of the plants invigorating Lance and filling him with renewed strength.
Lance’s wings flapped a couple of times, and he hovered a few inches off of the ground, before settling his bare feet on the floor again.
“Start training level 5” Lance called, starting where he had left off in group training. Lance took a deep breath and lifted off the ground. Two bots dropped fro the ceiling and rushed at him. He danced out of their way with practiced ease; Lance was used to fighting fae, and they could be faster than anything the training bots could offer. He landed behind the bots, quickly spinning into a sharp kick that sent one of the bots flying. He followed up with a swift swing of his staff, which hit the other bot in the midriff. The bot crashed into a wall, broken in half. Both bots fell through the floor, and Lance fell back into a relaxed but defensive stance as the next level started, two more bots falling from the ceiling.
Two hours and seven training levels later, Lance was only two levels behind Shiro and on the same level as Keith. He was exhausted but satisfied. Lance let go of his staff, and it disappeared before it hit the floor. Reluctantly, he reapplied his glamour, sad to abandon his wings; it felt like loosing a limb.
Lance, red-faced and uncomfortably sweaty, made his way down the hallways towards his room, when he – literally – ran into Keith and Shiro. They were wearing their armour, and it wasn’t difficult to guess where they were headed. Lance was only vaguely aware how weird he must look as Shiro caught his shoulder.
“What have you been doing?” He asked, frowning.
“What dos it look like, boss? Beating the shit out of the training bots.” Lance said with a shrug. “Now, if you wouldn’t mind, I’d really like a shower, so…”
“Lance, if you had really tried to fight those bots without your armour on, they would’ve killed you.” Keith said. Lance, mature adult he was, stuck his tongue out at the other boy. Keith scowled. “What are you wearing? You look like an elf.”
“That’s because I am, mullet.” Lance grinned.
“Take this seriously, Lance. Goofing off like this could cost you or your teammates their lives.” Shiro said with a sigh. “Keith, come on.”
Lance watched them walk off with a frown.
When Keith and Shiro reached the training deck, Shiro felt uneasy. He felt almost guilty for being short with Lance, although he couldn’t put his finger on why.
Near the door, there was a small panel which Shiro approached. Out of what he convinced himself was curiosity, Shiro typed Lance’s name into the screen.
It flashed up with the training level the man in question had reached – 12 – and an option to watch the footage of his session.
Shiro could do nothing but stare at the Altean number on the screen. Allura had taught him numbers; he knew with a sinking certainty that Lance had, in fact, reached level 12. Keith joined him in staring at the pad.
“What are we looking at?” He asked casually, sword slung over his shoulder. Shiro turned to him with wide eyes.
“Lance’s data.” He said. “Training level 12.”
“That would mean he’s on the same level as me. That’s impossible, it’s Lance! He was only on level 5 last week, he’s useless!” Keith said. His hands went to grasp his hair in frustration, and he felt the braids underneath his fingers. He dropped his hands guiltily. Shiro gave him a sympathetic glance and clicked on the button to watch the footage. All they saw was a few seconds of Lance, dressed in the odd tunic and leggings, stood in the centre of the training room. Then the footage cut off, and the screen flashed with an error message that neither man understood.
“But… but it’s Lance! He’d use any opportunity he had to brag if he was really that good, why hasn’t he? Does this mean he’s been holding back in training?” Keith said, his confusion clear on his face.
“I think.” Shiro said slowly, trying to process, “I think Lance is hiding something from us, and we’ve all severely underestimated him.”
They trained for a while, but neither of them could find the proper motivation, and within the varga they gave up, and went to find the rest of the team.
Lance and Hunk were chatting eagerly, Lance lying in Hunk’s lap, when Shiro entered the lounge. Lance noticed Shiro’s stare linger on him a moment too long, but he thought nothing of it. Shiro settled down and joined the conversation, about whether or not lions existed on Altea, or whether it was a freaky coincidence; Shiro was fully on team Altean Lions, which triggered another debate about whether coloured lions were normal on Altea, which Lance argued with conviction. Before the conversation got any further, Pidge burst in. She was waving a small device eagerly above her head, and squealing.
“Which one of you did this!” She yelled. “Hunk, you genius!” She dived on to him, shoving Lance out of the way. Hunk stared at her with a gentle confusion.
“What is it that I’ve apparently done?” He asked. She sat up.
“You finished my device! It’ll track human heat signatures now! I can find my brother and dad!” Pidge said. Hunk frowned.
“Pidge, I didn’t fix it.” He said. She sagged.
“Well, who did then? Coran and Allura said they didn’t know who it was.” She said. She perked up and looked at Shiro, but he shook his head.
“Yeah, it was me.” Lance said. Pidge gave him an indecipherable look, as if she was picking him apart. Her face flicked through several emotions, before settling on a glare.
“Sure, you did, Lance. Need I remind you that you break everything you touch?!”
“Only when people are around.” He murmured. “Anyway, you were thinking about it from the wrong perspective.”
“And why should I take you seriously?” Pidge said. Lance slumped.
“I was just trying to help, pixie. It’s easier to help when no one is around.” Lance said. He pushed himself off the couch and wandered off. No one followed him.
Lance rubbed his arm self-consciously. He knew he wasn’t always the brightest, and yeah, it was mostly his fae instincts that had led him to be able to put together the device of Pidge’s, but he expected the team to have a little more faith in him. First Keith and Shiro with the training, then Pidge with her tech – Lance was feeling more than a little hurt. Unfortunately, he knew this could spell disaster for the team if he couldn’t get his emotions under control.
Angering a Seelie triggered a nuisance that would be inescapable until the wrongdoer apologised to the fairy.
Angering an unseelie… Lance quashed that train of thought. It didn’t matter.
He needed to improve his mood before his team suffered the backlash. Lance made his way through the castle, searching for the one person he knew could help him, and soon enough he found the ginger-moustached man mopping the ballroom floor. When he saw Lance, Coran grinned and beckoned him over. Lance studied the floor.
“What’s bothering you, number 3?” He asked, his tone jovial. Lance swallowed.
“Say I was… different, to what everyone thought of me, and because of that, I could put them in danger?” He asked. Coran’s smile faded into a more sympathetic look, and he placed a hand gently on Lance’s shoulder.
“Lance, you can trust me with anything.” He said. Lance nodded.
“I’m going to trust you with this.” He said “You can’t tell the team, though. Or Allura. I’m not ready yet.” He said.
“Of course, my boy. It’s clearly not my secret to spill.” He smiled.
Lance shut his eyes and let his glamour drop.
He heard a sharp intake of breath from the Altean man and hesitated a moment before opening his eyes to see Coran’s reaction.
“Lance, you’re a fairy.” Coran said. Lance heard the smile in his voice and opened his eyes to see Coran beaming at him. Lance visibly relaxed, wings fluttering.
“Yeah. I am.” He said. “There were fae on Altea?”
“Well, more like folklore and legends. But I expect that’s the same on Earth, yes?” Coran said. Lance nodded.
“We’re pretty good at keeping ourselves hidden. When we’re not trapped on an alien spaceship, that is.” Lance sighed as he remembered his predicament. “Actually, that’s why I’m here. Coran, I need you to cheer me up.” Coran raised an eyebrow and Lance elaborated. “I’m not in the best mood right now. The thing is, when I get angry or sad, my magic tends to… leak. Keith’s hair this morning? On earth, we call that fairy locks. It happened because I was sad. If my mood gets worse, people could get hurt, or thigs could get ruined, and I’m not my màthair, I can’t fix these things like she can, I could cause some serious damage. It’s so much easier at home, because people understand, and Marco and Puck would help, and everyone at home knows the folklore-“
“So tell me.”
“What?”
“Tell me the folklore, so I can help you.” Coran supplied. Lance sniffled but nodded.
“Usually, the best thing to do is apologise. Even something that doesn’t seem worthy of an apology can offend a fae and normally an apology will be enough. If there’s no apology, then… well, fairies are thieves by nature, and to be honest I’m not an exception. If offerings are left; something I, uh, a fae, would find fascinating, or something of worth to the owner, it’s a pretty good way of making a fairy calm down. I’ve always made an effort to return the things freely given to me as quickly as I can.” Lance sighed. “There was once, at home, when I dated, well, she was a freshwater mermaid. Yeah, it was a weird situation. Anyway, we broke up, and it took two days for me to stop destroying everything I touched. My…” Lance’s voice cracked. “I had a familiar. Pyewacket. She was a Siamese cat, and she and my brother were the only things that could calm me down. Pye couldn’t survive at this distance away from me. She’s probably still at the Garrison. Or maybe she found her way back to my brother before she died. Either way, she’s gone now.” Lance wiped his eyes and felt tears. His vision blurred, and he buried his face in Coran’s shoulder.
“My boy, I’m so sorry about your familiar. If she’s anything like you, however, she’s far too stubborn to give up on you so easily. Now, let’s focus on getting your teammates to apologise. Do you know exactly what you want them to apologise for?”
Lance took a moment to compose himself before replying. “I don’t, not really. It’s not their fault that I’m useless sometimes.” Coran’s face hardened, and he looked at Lance with a grim determination.
“I’ll talk to them, Lance.” He smiled again. “First though, I must confess I’m curious about what your powers entail.”
Lance grinned and his eyes flashed. “Let me show you.”