Lavenders Blue ❦

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟChapter Thirteen; Where We Stand

Lance's legs had never carried him father than they did that day. His thighs and calves burned like they were ignited within, flaming, hot coals looping around from his feet up to his knees. His throat felt like a drying paste with the thirst he felt, but he was on a runner's high powered by a stir of emotional fuel, so he didn't notice much. Marmora didn't feel like home anymore, and he couldn't bare to stay in it's walls for another minute.

Lance needed to be home, and home was just far away enough to be seem impossible. Nonetheless, with too an unbearable weight on his shoulders and tears burning the back of his eyes, he ran out of the reach of the kingdom. His legs feeling like stiff, burning hot rods by the time he reached the border, yet he still had miles left to go. He remembers the border, it had never changed since he left. He lived most of his wholesome childhood days in the cottage just a few miles away from the border, and spent a lot of hours at the schoolhouse a little farther.

The summer heat and the overbearing amounts of sweat dripping from him made him overheat quickly, but he didn't have water and he didn't believe in stealing from a family's well. So, for four miles he ran with a dry, itchy throat that would whistle if he wasn't so busy scratching it raw with his heaving breaths, threatening slowly to turn to sobs the second he slows down.

When he reached the wall that separated Marmora from her sister kingdom, he passed the gate and threw himself against the stone where no sun hit, only shadow. The rock was cold and soothing on his hot, wet, burning skin and relieved it for the better. A heaving gasp flew from his throat, and he felt like a hot pan of oil that just wouldn't cool off. Though, he left the stone wall sweaty and damp with his moist remains after he continued on.

Deciding to walk while the sun set behind that wall, he dragged his new shoes across the dirt roads until they were scratched and dusty from the tiny rocks and kicked up earth. Keith had gotten them for him, but he didn't much think of that at the time with all of the other thoughts he had on his mind.

When Shiro had slipped up and Lance was finally open to Keith's truth, it had felt as if someone had swung a boulder in the direction of his skull, and the realization was painful- not only because of how much pressure he felt, but it was embarrassing. How could he not recognize his own prince until his biggest clue told him to his face, and how could Keith come to him each day knowing that they were living a fantastic, beautiful lie?

And that's when he saw it.

The small, blueish cobblestone house that laid foundation for a one of a kind childhood home. As he suspected, the shame that his father left in Altea left the house shabby and uncared for, probably not even on the market for sale; it would embarrass whoever associates with it and any business they may have here. (Yes, it was that bad.)

Lance kicked over the bluest rock underneath the crisp-dead lavender bushes in his Mama's wooden planter, careful not to let his sweat drip onto it, then bent over to pick up the dirty, old brass key. He was almost entirely sure it would snap in the lock when he tried to turn it, the rust and feebleness of the old thing sure looked the part, but it held up and the door gave way to him.

The first step he took inside creaked the wide wooden floorboards, a nostalgic memory that gave him a small feeling of youth. He parted his lips to finally breath from his mouth, but his throat burned and his lips were cracked and dry, causing him to lean back against the door and focus of rehabilitating. He was sure he had a form of heatstroke, he'd had it before a year or two back and it wasn't looking great for him.

"Lance?"

His eyes shoot open as Lance weaponizes himself with the key at his side, eyes darting around for the source of the voice. Is was familiar, but it was quiet enough to be distant.