Chapter Text
Chapter 1: How a Bond is Formed
Keith
Before
Keith opened his eyes and found himself in a dark place. The absence of light was overwhelming, filling him instantly with a sense of deep set panic. A musky, damp scent inundated his nose, sickeningly familiar, but still nauseating. There was no sound, only the frantic beating of his heart ringing in his ears. A chill swept down his back, making his fur stand on end and ice trickle down his spine. His magic began churning, unsure of what was happening, but ready to use if he needed it. He tried to move, but something kept him trapped. Was it another cage? A leash? A collar around his neck? Was he so used to the restraints that he hardly felt them anymore? The thought made Keith sick to his stomach, and he fought not to get caught up in it. He had to figure out what was happening.
Just as he was about to throw himself forward, a laugh cut through the silence like a knife. Keith immediately folded his ears back. That laugh haunted him. It was as dark as the place itself and as sharp as broken glass. It was toxic and nothing good ever came from the sound. Keith had hoped that he would never hear it again.
“Still trying to struggle, halfling?” the voice said with a sadistic snicker. “You know it never worked for you before.”
Keith’s mind roared in his head as he desperately tried to figure out what was happening. Why was he back here? Didn’t Shiro save him from-
“Are you listening, you dirty little beast?” the voice was suddenly right next to his face cutting across his thoughts.
He tried to jump back, desperate to get away from the voice, but slammed into metal bars. They burned against his skin, but before he could really feel it he turned in another direction. He hoped desperately that there would be another way out, but saw he was closed in at all sides. A cage, he realised as the hopelessness of the situation really began to set it. He stared at the bars in anger, and noticed their faint glamour. A magic cage, he thought and the fear in his stomach grew. A cage that would let the caster in and wouldn’t let the victim out. His panicked mind begged him to try, though, and launched himself at the bars, hoping that they would give. He thrashed wildly against them, fuelled by fear, and kept fighting even as his muscles began to ache. They begged him to stop, but he had to get away. He had to.
“So naughty” the voice crooned, and all the sudden, Keith felt a hand begin to run through his hair. He wanted to scream, he wanted to bite, he wanted to use the magic roaring inside him, anything to get that hand off of him, but his body didn’t listen. He sat frozen as those cruel fingers stroked from his hair and to his folded-back ears. He couldn’t help the tears that came when the hand clasped one of them.
Such a simple action, but yet it had so much power over him. Inside him, the magic cowered at what he knew was coming.
“If I do remember correctly, these are quite sensitive aren’t they?” The voice asked, amusement clear in the tone. “Wouldn’t want me to have to use that against you, would you?” It said and the hand holding his ear tightened.
Pain instantly burst on the side of Keith’s head, hitting him like a bullet. He couldn’t help the inhuman scream that ripped out of his throat or the tears that ran freely down his face. His magic twisted against the abuse, thrashing and writhing like an animal in death throes. And it felt so wrong too, to know that something physical was touching his magic and hurting him through his magic. It was all too much, screaming through his mind. The pain, the wrong, they were everything and Keith desperately wished that he could black out, just so it would stop.
The hand eventually released his ear, but not before petting him again. A fierce angry part of him wanted to bite the hand and tear it from the arm, but that was lost to his all-consuming terror.
“Good kitty, now let’s finish what I came here for.”
Keith smelt it before he felt it- an acidic, poisonous scent that slithered into the room like a viper. It reared its head and all of a sudden, he felt it in his mind.
The foreign magic dripped into him, despite how much he fought to keep it out. His own magic roared in protest, slamming against the foreign magic with everything it had. But it was weaker from the assault on his ear, and Keith could feel it’s movements were pained. All of it was futile, though. He knew his magic could never break through, even if it was at its best. He had been a victim of this spell enough times to know.
He couldn’t stop fighting, though, and tried to use his magic to do anything to keep the voice’s away from him. His magic, normally a bright and fervent fire, was beginning to weaken as the spell started to take effect. The foreign magic twisted around his and began suffocating it, slowing killing any power it had left.
Keith shook and thrashed as he felt the last of his magic’s strength flicker out. The fire inside him, usually so bright and burning, was now a cold ember. His magic lay still, as vulnerable and exposed as a patient etherised upon a table. Nausea swept through him as the violation of the act truly hit him. He wanted to scream, but fought to keep everything in, to not give that bastard the satisfaction. And yet, his heart pounded furiously in his chest as if it was a bird stuck in a cage.
The voice above him hummed. “And now for my favourite part,” it whispered, the words clear in the silence.
The foreign magic entered him again, now much stronger as it wasn’t competing against Keith’s own. It twisted through him, slithered along his insides and then slowly began wrapping itself around Keith’s vulnerable magic.
Then it pulled.
Keith screamed as he felt the bond being forced on him, forged from magic pulled from his body. It felt like everything inside of him was collapsing and exploding at once. His magic sparked violently as if it was being electrocuted. He couldn’t focus on anything, other than the pain and the wrongness as his magic was taken and twisted against his will.
He didn’t know how long it took, but eventually the pain subsided. The bond was still cruelly in place. Keith was frozen on the ground, unable to do anything but heave at the air. His eyes were wide, but they saw nothing. His claws dug deeply into the ground, the muscles taut against his bones.
All he could do was feel the forced bond and the foreign magic mingling with his.
Nausea rose up immediately, and Keith scrambled to his hands and knees before starting to heave. His stomach clenched and he tried to throw up, but there wasn’t anything left in him. His whole body shuddered and he nearly collapsed back on the ground.
There was movement in the darkness and the hand returned to his head.
“Now that wasn’t so hard,” it said simply. “Welcome home, Keith.” The voice started laughing, growing in volume until it filled the entire room and rang in Keith’s ears. The sound echoed it his head, grating against his mind. It was it last thing he heard as the world faded around him and he blacked out.
Keith didn’t know how long he had been here. The bastard had been in many times for their little “visits” leaving Keith a little more delirious each time. He couldn’t even remember the details of this place or who the witch was. This place was traumatising, but one of many and they all blurred in his head. After all, they were all the same in the end. They were all dark, cramped and painful. They existed to torture him, keep him against his will and break him down piece by piece.
He didn’t know what he had done in life to deserve this torture. He used to think that he was a generally good person, and yet something something had to be wrong with him or else his life wouldn’t have turned into shades of black.
He turned in his cage, his legs jutting uncomfortably against the bars. They screamed at him to flex them, use his muscles, but he didn’t have enough room to even do that. He bit back a whimper when a pain in his lower back started to flare up and he grit his teeth until it eventually died down. It didn’t go away, but it became a deep-set ache which was slightly more tolerable.
Inside of him, his magic flickered dully. Usually, his magic would be rushing to his aid and easing the pain. But not now, not while it was captured by that bastard’s spell, it only whined like a wounded animal.
Who was he kidding. He was a wounded animal.
His magic was in tatters at this point, twisted and mauled into something that Keith almost didn’t recognise. The forced bond had reshaped it painfully and into something that Keith couldn’t use and could barely feel.
The absence hurt more than any wound, like a deep essential part of Keith was missing.
After all, what was a familiar, a creature that was literally a manifest of wild magic, without his magic.
Pathetic, Keith’s mind helpfully provided and he flicked his ears back as if that would help him from hearing the words. His tail thumped against the bars of the cage filling the room with a tinny sound.
It wasn’t like he didn’t know it, though. The Garrison had many words to describe a familiar like him: difficult, broken, refractory, unmanageable, rebellious. All of them meant the same thing though- that eventually he would be disposed of. That’s what happened to familiars that didn’t follow the rules. He had just hoped that it would be painless. He had hoped it wouldn’t be, he looked around the room, this.
And an even smaller part of him had hoped that maybe a witch would look past all his flaws and see something that was possibly worth keeping.
Maybe they would have even formed a bond. An unforced one, one that wasn’t this god-awful thing that corroded in his chest like acid.
He curled into the tightest ball he could manage and desperately tried not to cry over a life that was never meant to be his. Why are you sad? he cursed to himself, that was never yours, that was never meant to be yours, you don’t deserve it.
The tears didn’t come, but it wasn’t for lack of trying. He hadn’t had anything to drink since he got here, and, though he couldn’t tell how much time had passed , he knew it had to be a while. His body was shutting down on him. No water, no food, no room to move around. He knew he didn’t have much time.
Suddenly, on the other side of the dark place, a door burst open and filled the room with light. Keith, after being in the dark for who knows how long, squeezed his eyes shut against the assault and prayed that the bastard hadn’t come back for seconds.
“Keith!” a familiar voice yelled and Keith froze. But not out of terror, out of shock. He forced his eyes open, pricked his ears forward and finally saw the figure haloed in light. Joy leapt into his throat when he saw his brother’s familiar wings and face. He looked like an avenging angel standing there against the light.
“Shiro,” he croaked as loud as he could manage. His throat was scratchy and rough from all the screaming.
Shiro immediately rushed into the room, following his voice. When he saw the cage that Keith was trapped in, his face twisted in rage and Keith couldn’t help flinching back. He was instantly guilty when he saw the other familiar’s hurt look, but couldn’t help it. It was all so much, he felt like he was losing his mind.
Shiro whispered encouragingly to him, approaching him like he was a wounded animal. Keith was too delirious to care, barely keeping consciousness. He focussed on his brother’s voice, though, not his words, he was too far gone to understand them, but the tone was soft and caring and promised that everything would be ok. God, he desperately wanted to believe that.
He heard a click and fought to see what his brother was doing. His hands were… dancing? No, they were fiddling with something. Then suddenly the bars in front of his face were pulled away.
Hands came into the cage. Not rough hands this time- gentle hands, Shiro’s hands and Keith felt himself being pulled into a warm chest and soft wings. He breathed heavily basking in his brother’s safe scent and protective touch.
Keith hadn’t been sure if Shiro was going to rescue him quick enough this time. After all, it was the fifth time this had happened and this one was much worse.
Keith whined when his brother lifted him. His muscles protested the sudden stretching after being cramped in the cage for so long. Blood rushed to his head and his world spun. There was nothing but movement, Shiro’s apologetic voice and pain. So much pain.
And as his world shifted and swam, Keith idly wondered if maybe Shiro wouldn’t come quick enough next time.
Lance
Now
“Shit shit shit shit” Lance whispered to himself as he flung clothes out of his closet. Nothing good was clean, and everything that was clean didn’t match. If only he had done laundry yesterday like he was supposed to, then he wouldn’t be in this situation.
Inside him his magic, twirled and spun, playfully teasing him in its movement. It flowed like water inside chest, babbling like a crooked brook. Normally, he would pay attention to it, drawing it out and playing with it- but today he was on a mission.
After ten more minutes of searching, he groaned and shut the closet door with a loud bang. He held up the only pair of clothes that he had that didn’t look like a completely fashion disaster- a yellow shirt and a pair of orange shorts. Jesus Christ, his skin was going to clash and he was going to look like a friggin’ sunbeam. Great. Awesome. Wonderful start of the day.
Lance held back another groan and hastily put on the offending clothing. He took a look in the mirror and flinched when he saw how freakin’ bright he looked. Great, just great. He looked just as sunny as he thought he would- people might have to wear a pair of sunglasses around him. Fan-fucking-tastic.
He started to leave, but his eyes caught on the mirror in the corner of his room. He met his reflection’s eyes in the glass, blue challenging blue. Then slowly he pulled down the collar of his shirt, revealing the dark tattoo against his skin. Today would be the day, he promised himself. Today had to be the day.
He turned away from the mirror, not daring to risk those darker thoughts and left the room. He climbed down the stairs to the main kitchen area and saw his roommate Hunk and his familiar Pidge were already in the kitchen. She took one look at him and smirked.
“Good morning, sunshine” she tittered and the feathers on her wings shook in amusement.
“Shut up, you little gremlin.” Lance snapped back, glaring at the bird-hybrid familiar. Somehow his angry look wasn’t effective enough and only made the girl snicker more.
“It’s not my fault that someone decided beating me in Mario Kart was more important than laundry last night.” Her glasses gleamed.
Lance narrowed his eyes at her as both hands moved to his hips. The little bird was way too smart for her own good.
“Hunk, your familiar is bullying me.” Lance whined, hoping that maybe his best friend would give him some sympathy. Instead of support, though, the other boy just laughed and slid a few pieces of French toast his way.
“You and I both know that Pidge does whatever she wants.” Pidge perked up and looked quite pleased with herself. Even the feathers on her wings seemed to glisten with pride. Lance had no idea how she did that, but then again he kinda never knew how Pidge did anything with those wings on her back.
“So,” Hunk’s voice startled Lance out of his thoughts about Pidge’s wings and back into reality, “are you nervous about today?”
At Hunk’s words, the tight ball of feelings that Lance had been suppressing by stubbornly not thinking about later today, came back full force. The nerves clenched in his stomach and all the worrying thoughts flooded back into his mind.
He gave a bitter laugh and looked down, at the toast he had nervously been fiddling with. “I was actually kinda trying not to think about it. You know, I wouldn’t be so anxious.”
“Oh” Lance glanced up in time to see that he had made his friend was making his kicked puppy face.
“Wait, no, Hunk, my bud, my bro, my bromigo, you didn’t say something wrong! I’m just being dumb.” Lance scrambled, his hands flying in the air, trying to get Hunk to smile again.
Hunk, bless his soul, cracked a smile and Lance could breathe again.
“I don’t think you’re being dumb” Pidge cut into the conversation as she chomped on her toast, “it’s a big day. I mean, you could meet your familiar today, so that’s exciting.”
Lance smiled and the little ball of nerves turned in his stomach as he repeated the words in his head. I could meet my familiar today.
He wondered who it would be. Would they be nice? Messy? Cute? Awkward? Smart? Would they even like him? When he got past his fears about making a fool of himself in front of someone he would spend his life with, he was very excited.
He just hoped today was the day.
“Yeah, I guess I am excited.” He admitted and both Hunk and Pidge gave him a little cheer. He smiled, thankful he had friends as awesome as this. “I just hope that our bond is as strong as you guys.” He said, turning the conversation.
“I don’t know,” Pidge teased, leaning forward on her arms. Her wings shifted in response and hunched forward on her shoulders. “Hunk and I have a pretty good thing going on.”
Hunk shook his head, though. “Lance, don’t worry about that. Your familiar will love you, how can they not, and I’m sure your bond will be crazy strong.”
Lance accepted that, and began crunching on his toast again.
Hunk and Pidge had a very strong bond and he was sure that they had a ton of resonance. Lance didn’t need a resonist to tell him that. He could see it in how comfortable they were around each other and the way that they could almost predict what the other was going to do.
He also saw it in the way that they used their magic. Together, Hunk and Pidge were master creationists, and able to meld magic and science into intricate inventions. If they had a weaker bond, they wouldn’t be able to control their magic so finely and the lack of resonance would clash against each other.
They had one of the strongest bonds Lance had ever seen and he just hoped that his could compare.
“You done?” Hunk said motioning to his Lance’s plate. He nodded and gave the other boy the dish. He rinsed it and stuck it in the dishwasher. “I think we’re about ready to go.” He said, while taking a quick look around the kitchen to make sure everything was clean.
“Ready, Lance?” Pidge slid up beside him, and Lance swallowed his nerves the best he could.
“Ready as I’ll ever be.”
Hunk drove silently in the car and Lance drummed his fingers on his knee while Pidge flew overhead. She rarely rode in the car because it cramped her wings, plus she loved any chance she got to fly. Usually the car ride to the Garrison was a loud one, full of Lance and Hunk singing pop songs at the top of their lungs. This time, though, there was no singing and Lance fought against the nervous nausea that rose when the Garrison came into view.
Hunk parked, and before Lance could get out of the car, Hunk leaned over and put a hand on Lance’s shoulder. Lance blinked and looked up to meet Hunk’s kind brown eyes.
“Hey, it’s gonna to be ok,” he sounded so sincere that Lance couldn’t help but be moved. “There is no way that they couldn’t love you.”
Lance smiled, but he could feel it was forced. He wanted to assure Hunk that he believed him, but he had heard those words so many times. And the past had proven them wrong so many times.
Every year the Garrison hosted the annual Familiar Bond Selection and brought in available familiars from all around the country to bond with their witches. Every year, Lance had gone. And every year, he had been rejected by every single familiar.
And this year would be his last. The event was supposed to be for ten-year olds. Lance was seventeen, the oldest witch in the Garrison to not have a familiar. Next year, when he was an adult he wouldn’t be allowed to participate and he would have to come to terms with the fact that his magic just wasn’t strong enough.
He got out of the car and straightened his yellow shirt. He scowled at the thing and Hunk jokingly told him that his shirt would not discourage any waiting familiars.
“Can’t we just go back home so I can change it? Maybe do a few loads of laundry.” Lance said, and Hunk laughed while shaking his head no. Guess, there was no getting out of this now.
Together, they walked up the familiar steps into the Garrison gym, where the event was hosted each year. The building was huge with several indoor courts, tracks and even a swimming pool in the far corner. Light poured in from the huge skylights above, brightening everything across the floor.
Usually the gym was just a flat expanse of flooring, but today there were hundreds of people mingling about. The witches all wore brightly coloured tags that corresponded to the type of magic they favoured. The familiars were all easy enough to pick out from their animal traits, but also wore similar tags, though theirs were a different shape.
Lance noticed how there was markedly less familiars than witches. Just like every year.
Behind him, Pidge suddenly made a noise of annoyance and gave him a little shove in the back. The push was enough to make him stumble forward and he shot a glare back. Neither of them looked even a little bit guilty and instead motioned for him to go on.
“Some friends I got,” he muttered under his breath and walked up to the check-in desk. Behind it was a pretty middle-aged woman with laugh lines and her long hair pulled back with a head band. Beside her was feathered familiar that gave him a smile as he walked up.
“Hello,” she said kindly, “What can we do for you today?”
“Hi, my name is Lance McClain-Rios and I’m here for the familiar selection.”
“The familiar selection?” She repeated, looking him up and down. He could see her doing the obvious math in her head, trying to figure out how this seventeen-year old was at an event for ten-year olds. He looked at the ground, not wanting to see the pity in her eyes when she figured out what that meant.
“Okay, sweetie, let us just find your name on the list.” She looked at her companion, who was already searching through the names.
“Oh, here he is,” the familiar chirped, taking a highlighter and crossing through his name. “Lance McClain-Rios, water elemental. Is that correct?”
“Yep, that’s me.” He chuckled nervously.
The two ladies worked together to find him a blue tag and write his name and number on it. Once they were done they handed the tag over and instructed him to place it on his chest.
“Thanks” he said once he was done, both of smiled warmly at him.
“Good luck out there,” one said
“I’m sure someone will love you.” Said the other. Lance gulped and thanked them again, trying not to let the backhanded encouragement fluster him. He knew she hadn’t meant it like that.
He walked into the gym and was once again struck with how he had no idea what he was doing. People milled around everywhere and usually that didn’t bother him, but they were all at least five years younger than him. He stood out like a sore thumb because he was at least a head taller than everyone else.
Was there really no chance of just going back home?
He looked over to the side of the gym where Hunk and Pidge stood. When he caught their eyes, they waved like proud parents. He gave them a sour look and stubbornly tried to find a familiar to talk to.
He started with the water familiars because those were the ones that he had the greatest chance of resonating with. He quickly found who he thought was the oldest (even though she was still at least three years younger than him) and began to strike up a conversation with her.
She was a sweet girl with braids in her hair and pretty dark skin that was mottled with indigo scales. Lance couldn’t exactly pin down what animal hybrid she was. Snake or maybe a fish? Or maybe a mix of animals? Mixes were really common these days.
Her magic was kind too, easy to mix with, but a little cold for Lance’s taste. His own magic shivered within him to back up the statement. Idly, he wondered what his magic felt like to her. Probably rambunctious, that’s usually the word that familiars used as a reason not to bond
They talked for a bit and soon it became clear that they weren’t meant to be bonded. Anyways, Lance could see the way that her eyes kept flicking to a light witch a little ways off.
Lance smiled at her and followed her eyes to the light witch. “Hey, you should go talk to him.” he whispered and she immediately widened her eyes looking startled.
“No, I don’t want to be rude,” she stammered obviously flustered, but when she met Lance’s kind eyes, she began to calm down. “Do you really think so?” she said, her voice small.
“Of course. He could be the one.” Lance said, “Don’t worry about me, there’s a lot of fish in the sea.” She giggled and thanked him for the conversation before walking off. He smiled as he watched the two strike up a conversation. The girl was smiling a lot more than she had with him and he could practically see the bond forming between the two.
Eventually, after watching them for a bit, he sighed and went back to his own search.
He talked to a few other familiars and even began to branch out to ones with different elements than him. They were all nice, but they were all so painfully young and obviously looking for someone around their age.
Lance could see a younger him in all of them, so eager to find their someone and begin their journey. At that age, Lance was so sure that he would have a familiar. He was so sure that his magic was good enough. So sure that his little ‘problem’, wasn’t actually going to be a problem
All that had been washed away by seven years of rejection.
Hours later and Lance had circled the gym probably about a hundred times and he was really beginning to feel the toll of it. A small part of him told him just to give up already. It was obvious that he wasn’t meant to have a familiar - he just wasn’t good enough.
Another desperate part of him told him to just keep looking. They’re here. They have to be here. He just has to find them. He just had to fight for them.
He took another walk around the perimeter of the gym, searching for an available familiar that he hadn’t talked to yet. The gym had thinned out greatly over the last few hours and now there were only a couple dozen familiars left.
Just as he was about to give up for good, his eye caught on a flicker of red in the corner of the gym. He turned, focussing on the colour and saw that there was a familiar sitting in the shadows. The familiar, Lance realised, was around his age and obviously unbonded from the tag he wore. Lance didn’t recognise him from the other years that he attended the selection, meaning that he must be new to the pool.
Lance tried to fight it, but immediately a wave of hope washed through him. Could it, could it be? Was he the one that Lance had been searching for, for all these years?
Slowly, he approached the crouched familiar, his magic swelling as he came closer. He didn’t know whether it was just because of nerves, but he felt that it must be a good sign.
The familiar’s details became easier to see as he got closer. He was a fire elemental, which contrasted against Lance’s own element, but they could make it work. He had seen contrasting pairs before and they could always achieve a strong bond, they just had to work a little harder. He was also some kind of mix of cat hybrids with huge black ears and a long, tufted tail that twitched against the floor.
The familiar didn’t seem to notice Lance approaching and kept his gaze firmly locked on the ground in front of him. He was scratching his claw into the gym floor, creating an indent that would be sure to annoy Iverson later.
God what should he say- he had to get this right. This moment will be remembered for their whole-
“Who are you?” The familiar’s gruff voice sliced through his mind.
He snapped his eyes up and met the familiar’s. They were beautiful, dark, and Lance feel himself starting to get lost in them. Oh god, the familiar was hot. Mayday, Lance. SOS. Oh no, he’s staring. Say something!
“Uhhh… Hey. I’m Lance.” He tripped over his words, and his voice coming ohut choppy and almost unintelligible. The familiar lifted an eyebrow and tilted his head to the side. His lips puckered out in confusion, and Lance melted a little. Not only was he hot, but he was adorable.
“Okay…? What do you want?” Rude. Ok, Lance was making a complete idiot out of himself, sure, but that wasn’t an excuse for all the rudeness. He was just trying to talk and maybe make a connection. The mullet boy didn’t have to be so rude about it.
Other times, Lance would have said exactly that, but he was desperate. So he swallowed up his annoyance and pride and put on a (hopefully) kind smile.
“Well…uh…I… I’m a witch, you’re a familiar. We are both unbound.”
“Oh,” he said, his voice becoming more guarded. The guy tensed and his ears flipped back. “No. I’m not looking for a bond.” He looked down at the ground again, refusing to meet Lance’s eyes.
Lance blinked, unable to come up with something to say. Inside him, his magic rolled in indignation.
He wasn’t expecting that.
Familiars had an even greater reason to bond than a witch. They were incarnations of wild magic, a force so fierce that it could barely be kept in physical form. Bonding with a witch helped even out their magic and kept them from going crazy with it. Unbound familiars were feral, inhuman and often so violent that they had to be put down for their own good.
At this age, the familiar’s magic must be getting feral.
“How can you not be looking for a bond? You’re as old as I am.” Lance said without thinking. Internally, he groaned because he knew that wasn’t the way to ask someone something so obviously personal. Him and his big, stupid mouth.
The familiar flinched Lance’s words, which made him feel a thousand times more guilty because, yeah the guy might be acting standoffish, but Lance didn’t need to pry into his business. And that sure as hell was not going to get him anywhere if he wanted the familiar to trust him.
The familiar had similar ideas and tensed his body as if he were expecting a fight. His eyes narrowed and he flexed his claws against his palms. Behind him his tail whipped madly like a snake.
“I’m not looking for a-“ he started growling, but suddenly he was cut off by another voice.
“Keith, who’s your new friend?” A warm voice broke between them and Lance turned to see a muscular familiar approaching them. He must have been the largest familiar that Lance had ever seen; the huge wings on his back made him look even bigger. Lance definitely would’ve been intimidated if it weren’t for his kind eyes and warm smile.
He stepped up and offered his hand. Lance took the hand and shook it. “My name is Shiro and I see you’ve met my brother Keith.”
Lance was about to answer, but the stubborn familiar suddenly stood up next to him and glared at Shiro.
“I know what you’re doing,” he hissed. His tail whipped behind him and his ears were flat against his head. “and I already told you I’m not going to bond with a witch.”
The two familiars stood off against each other. The unbound one, Keith apparently, looked like a startled cat, hissing with all his fur standing on end. Shiro stood calm and steady like a rock, not at all startled by the other’s reaction. In fact, he looked saddened by it.
“Keith, I’m just trying to help. You have to bond with a witch and this is the best way.” He said softly, and it only seemed to make Keith angrier
“No, Shiro,” he growled low, “I’m only here because you forced me to. The best thing for me is to not take a witch at all.”
There was silence between the two, and, then, Shiro spoke considerably slower, “You have to at least let him try.”
Keith growled again out of pure frustration. His tail whipped angrily around his legs and he ran a hand through his hair. He looked like he wanted to attack something, and Lance hoped to God it wasn’t going to be him.
“Fine,” he ground out, as if speaking the word physically hurt him, “come here, bluey.” He turned to Lance, meeting his eyes with a glare. The witch could practically see the fire behind his eyes.
Lance sputtered at the nickname, but before he could think up with a good comeback. He felt the guy’s magic brush up against his.
Immediately, all his thoughts about how annoying the mulleted familiar were wiped away by the magic. He couldn’t help but gasp and struggle to suppress a smile as he felt himself fill with something he had never felt before. He closed his eyes and focussed on the burning sensation within him.
He was warm, impossibly warm, like there was a fire inside of him. He was a crackling fireplace, a flicker of a flame on a candle, the heat when you feel when open an oven full of baking bread.
He was everything bright and burning and so impossibly warm. How had he ever lived without this warmth?
He smiled this time, because he knew that he wouldn’t have to live in a cold world again. Not with this.
Not with their bond.
He opened his eyes and turned to the familiar, expecting to see him looking just as happy. He didn’t look happy, though, he stared at Lance with wide terrified eyes.
Then suddenly, he launched into motion and punched Lance in the face.