Chapter Text
“It’s a waste of time,” Pidge had said. “We’re only staying in this town for the night. If you’re not back by morning again, then I’m leaving your ass.”
“Yeah,” Hunk had chimed in. “I’m all about rescuing people, but if the rumors are true then this ruined tower is just outside the village. The town guard will take care of it.”
“Relax, guys,” Lance had replied. “I’m just gonna zip in, beat up some bandits, rescue a princess, and zip out. I’ll be back before breakfast!”
“Not if you get distracted by this princess,” Pidge had grumbled.
Now, in the present, Lance was the one grumbling. His friends’ words rang through his head as he stared up at the crumbling tower. Distracted? Him? He had laser focus! Nothing could break it, not even pretty maidens that were grateful that a charming, mysterious stranger had come to their rescue. Besides, he was doing the right thing! Yes, maybe Hunk had a point and the town guard would’ve come along to rescue her anyways. But if he was in captivity he’d certainly want to get out of there as soon as possible! And bonus points if his rescuer was a dashing rogue who saved him before slipping off into the night…
Lance shook himself. Laser focus. He had laser focus and right now all that focus was centered on saving a princess from a tower, just like in his childhood story books. He considered the stairs but shrugged them off. He’d already scouted around to make sure there was no one standing guard outside the tower. That meant that the bandits must all be inside, probably writing ransom letters to the poor girl’s family right now. His tail swished as he stared at the ivy-covered walls. A grin spread across his face. He’d scaled walls much higher than this back in the day. This would be a piece of cake.
Lance grasped onto the thick stems of ivy, his claws sinking into crumbling stone. He hauled himself up, movements quick and silent, a practiced ease about them. It wasn’t long until he was just beneath the window looking into the top of the tower. He paused, ears flicking as he listened for voices, footsteps, anything. There wasn’t a sound, and Lance’s brow furrowed at the eerie quietness of the place. Cautiously, he peeked up over the window sill. Relief flooded him as he spotted the princess.
She was sitting with her back to him, tied down to a chair and facing the stairway. He couldn’t see her face, but he noticed she had black hair spilling past her shoulders, contrasting beautifully with her pale skin and the dark wine-red of her dress. A quick sweep of the room revealed no guards. The lack of her captors sent a trill of unease through Lance, but he wasn’t one to question such good luck when it was presented to him.
He slipped into the room, silently tiptoeing over to the dark-haired beauty. “Hey there, your majesty,” Lance whispered as he began to circle around to stand in front of her. The princess jumped, head whipping around. Lance only had the briefest moment to notice the strange lack of a gag before he met her eyes. They were a shimmering violet, a color he had never seen in any person’s eyes before. For a moment he forgot how to speak, his own eyes trailing from the black locks framing her face to her shining eyes to the curve of her jaw and the way her lips parted slightly in surprise. He shook himself, clearing his throat before dropping his voice back to the smooth, quiet murmur of before. “The name’s Lance,” he practically purred, “but you can call me your savior.”
Something flashed in the princess's eyes for a moment, something sharp, but it was gone in a heartbeat. “Lance?” The princess asked. Her voice was a lot deeper than he expected. For a moment, Lance was surprised but he shrugged it off. Who was he to judge? Besides, he’d be lying if he said that voice didn’t have a very pleasant rumble to it.
“I thought your name was Pike?” the princess continued. Lance was taken aback, his eyebrows reaching his hairline. She knew him? The princess’s own eyes widened at his reaction, and Lance almost got lost in the stormy violet once again. “I, uh, I recognized you!” the princess continued. “From the wanted posters. It said your name was Pike.”
Lance flinched at the mention of those posters. “They never get my nose right,” he grumbled quietly to himself before addressing the princess again. “Pike is an alias from my old life. Don’t worry, your majesty, the most I do now is save lovely ladies like yourself.” He put on his best charming grin, throwing in a wink at the end for some flair.
The sharpness was back in her eyes, if only for a moment. Lance’s brow furrowed. Was she angry at him? Whatever that emotion was, it was gone so fast that he couldn’t get a proper read on it.
“Well, I’m very grateful,” the princess continued. “Now, if you wouldn’t mind-?” She wiggled her arms a little, drawing attention to the ropes binding them to the chair.
“Of course!” Lance replied, bending over to slice the ropes in half with his claws. As he straightened back up his eyes caught on the tiara he had failed to notice before,
what with being so preoccupied with the princess’s face. He squinted at it. Something wasn’t quite right with the gem in the middle. It was red like a ruby, but the luster was off, the jewel more transparent than it ought to be. He had seen quite a few gems in his day and this didn’t look like any of them. His eyes widened.
“That’s glass,” he breathed. The princess looked up, gaze confused before it caught on to where Lance’s eyes were looking. She went rigid in the chair. It was just then that the wrongness of the situation came crashing down on him. The lack of bandits outside the tower or guarding the princess, the fact she wasn’t gagged, the fake crown. Lance took a step back, his eyes narrowing. “Who are you?”
The words had barely left his mouth when the princess lunged. Lance yelped, trying to scramble back but before he could so much as blink she had gotten a leg behind him, tripping him. He hit the floor with a thud, wincing as the breath was crushed from his lungs. Next thing he knew there was a weight on top, his vision a blur of red and black and violet. A hand closed around one of his wrists in a bruising grip, pinning it to the floor. He felt something cold and sharp press into his throat.
Lance tried to push up only to feel the weapon dig into his neck. He froze, a small drop of blood trailing down his throat. Slowly, he crooked a brow up at the not-princess. “Where’d you pull that thing out of?”
His attacker growled, literally growled down at him. The fake crown had fallen off at some point during their fight, revealing little curved black horns that almost blended with her hair. His hair? Their hair? Now that this person was almost certainly not a princess, Lance wasn’t really sure anymore.
“Pike,” the person hissed down at him. “You are under arrest for the crimes of theft, trespassing, defrauding… Need I go on?”
Lance shrugged, shooting the person a cheeky grin. “Nah, babe, I lived all those crimes. No one knows them better than me.”
The not-princess’s eyes widened at the word “babe.” Lance could have sworn he saw the start of a blush spreading across their face before their scowl returned with a vengeance. “Get up!” They spat, practically dragging Lance to his feet.
“Ow, jeez, okay, okay, take it easy!” Lance exclaimed as he was manhandled, the weapon never leaving his neck for an instant. “Someone’s handsy.”
His attacker growled again, eyes flashing dangerously. Lance felt like he should have been afraid of that look, but all he felt was smugness. He may be the one with a knife to his throat, but he wasn’t the one getting worked up over a few one-liners. “On your knees!” The person spat.
Lance raised a brow, and he could see as that simple gesture already sent fury coursing through the other person. “At least take me to dinner first.”
With an angry snarl the not-a-princess circled behind him, Lance barley having time to register the movement before he was kicked sharply in the back of the knee, bringing him down whether he liked it or not. He gasped in pain, his head suddenly grabbed and shoved into the floor. He could feel as the rope from earlier was fastened around his hands, binding them behind his back. “Getting right to it, huh?” he mumbled as best he could with his cheek squished to the floor.
“My god, will you just shut up?!” his attacker growled.
“Maybe you should’ve splurged when you were shopping for that fake crown and bought a gag,” Lance replied. “Make things extra interesting.” He added an eyebrow wiggle at the end.
The other person didn’t dignify that with a response, only dragging him roughly to his feet, jostling him around a bit more than Lance thought was strictly necessary. His captor started shoving him towards the staircase.
“So now that you’ve got me all tied up and helpless, what’re you going to do to me?” Lance asked, trying to turn his head to look at the person only to have fingers tangle in his hair and force his head forwards.
“I’m bringing you to justice,” they growled.
“Justice?” Lance said. “Who’s she?”
His captor didn’t reply, simply shoving him along down the stairs.
“So are you like, a town guard, or-?”
“Bounty hunter,” the person snapped. “I bring in the scum they can’t catch.”
“Ouch. You know, I’m not really into degradation-”
Suddenly the sharp thing was back at his throat, pressing too close for comfort.
“I swear, if you don’t-” his captor started to say.
“Okay, okay, I can take a hint!” Lance exclaimed. He could’ve sworn he heard a relieved sigh from the person behind him. He waited for the weapon to retreat before he next spoke. “Seriously, though, I’ve got to level with you. I kind of assumed you were a girl because of the whole princess thing, but now that you’re definitely not a princess, I don’t know anymore. Like, I get gender is relative and all that. My people have three genders. I think the Myraxxians have something crazy like fifty or sixty genders or something. And Pidge’s people don’t even a word for gender in their language. So I was just wondering, if you do have some sort of gender, could you maybe-?”
“I’m a man,” his captor cut him off, voice gruff.
“Cool, cool,” Lance replied. “Me too. So now that I know you’re a dude, do I get a name to call you by or-?”
“You don’t need to know my name,” the man replied.
“Alright, that’s fine. I’ll just make one up. Ummmm, I’m thinking something dark and mysterious since you’ve got that whole edgy brooding thing going on. How about… Thunderstorm Darkness!”
“Absolutely not.”
“Whatever you say, Stormy.”
Right then they reached the bottom of the tower, stepping out into open air. The sun was setting, bathing the surrounding forest in golden light. When they didn’t immediately move forward, Lance turned to glance behind him. The man was looking around them, brow pinched slightly. When he caught Lance looking he scowled, shoving him forward as they started off in a certain direction. A direction that was definitely not where the village was. Lance almost corrected him, but at the last second he caught himself and bit his tongue. Either this guy was taking him somewhere other than the local jail, or he was seriously bad at directions. A grin slowly spread across Lance’s face. If it was the latter, Lance was about to give this guy one hell of a time.