Court of Feathers

Fifteen

Word Count: 2,214

"Come on, Keef, hold still."

"No, there is no way you're putting that thing in my hair."

"Please?"

"No."

"Pretty please?"

"No."

"Pretty, pretty please?"

"No."

"Lance, do you really think this is necessary?" Shiro watched as the prince continued to coax Keith into dying a strip of his hair white. The teen was currently backed as far as he could go against the wall, fixing Lance with a hardened stare that could only be accomplished by years of practice. Shiro figured that he was closer to Lance's shelf of possessions he would probably start throwing things.

"Yes, of course! You guys can't go out looking like yourselves, people would start to panic a whole lot more than they already are, and that's the last thing we need right now." Lance said, bringing up, once again, the lack of Galra interference. He turned to Shiro, a pulsing white crystal in his hand. The blue markings on his face pulsed a pale glow in time with the flashes, and Shiro wondered what type of crystal it must be to make one's skin glow.

Lance claimed it would make Keith's hair look like "everybody else's," he guessed that would mean Keith would be getting a new hairstyle as well, he thought, remembering Lance threatening to "shave that mop right off," after Keith and Lance had walked back to their rooms the night before. And even though Lance said over and over for the past hour that it won't hurt and will do the trick, Shiro still didn't really see how a crystal—yes, pulsing and glowing, but it was still just a crystal in Shiro's book—could do the job. A hairdresser would be far more qualified for that kind of job, he thought.

Keith scooted further down the wall as Lance's attention turned back to the job at hand as Keith tried hitting the avian in the face again. Keith ducked as Lance tried thrusting the crystal towards Keith's black hair yet again, and Keith almost pushed out his next sentence in a frustrated growl that would make anyone, except the prince apparently, take a step back and leave the poor, black-haired teen alone. "Why can't we walk out like ourselves?"

"Because," Lance huffed, lunging at him again, Keith ducked and sprinted, but didn't get very far when Lance shot out his startlingly blue wings to keep Keith from taking another step, forcing him back against the wall again, shooting them back to square one. "Because dad doesn't want the people to worry any more than they already are, imposters walking around without Marks and Streaks would make anyone panic around here, especially with the way things are right now. Dad said you guys can go outside, but he didn't say you could do it without looking normal." He shot Keith a glare when the teen tried protesting against Lance's chosen words, "Our version of normal, Mullet, not yours."

Keith groaned and swung out a kick at Lance's middle and missed. He almost looked like a cornered animal by this point- eyes blown a little too wide. The only person he'd let touch his hair was Shiro. Lance refused to let them go out without disguises and Shiro reluctantly agreed with the logic of the notion.

"Why does my hair have to be white?" Keith almost whined.

"Because that's what the quintessence does," Lance threw his hands up in the air after groaning at his frustration. After about an hour or two of trying to get Keith to dye a piece of his hair, along with multiple threats that they wouldn't be able to leave for the village today because Keith was wasting all of their time, he was done with the struggle, for now at least.

The prince sat in the chair in front of his desk, fingering the crystal and occasionally shooting a look up at Keith who stayed his distance to avoid being tackled again.