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“So you are the one.”
Lance startles, staring up at the massive Galran who’s walking into the hangar. For his size he’s terrifyingly quiet. Lance hadn’t heard him come up.
“I beg your pardon?”
The man leans down, sniffing at Lance. His lips peel back with disdain.
“I have heard of you,” he growls. “That you are no great warrior.”
Keith bristles but holds his tongue. “Batak,” he says with a tone of warning but he’s ignored.
“Who are you to take one of our own?” Batak demands, gold eyes narrowed furiously.
Lance glances between Keith and Batak towering over him. He doesn’t know what to do.
The moment his eyes leave Batak he’s knocked off balance, shoved backwards, stumbling to catch himself.
“He is family,” Batak growls, putting himself between Lance and Keith. He advances on Lance, shoving him again until Lance trips, falling to the floor and scrambling back.
The Galran throws a knife, the blade embedding itself in the floor between Lance’s feet. There’s another already in his hand and he’s waiting in a low crouch between Keith and Lance like a living bulwark.
“Show me you are worthy of him,” the Blade snarls. He lunges for Lance and Lance grabs the knife on reflex, rolling out of the way and to his feet. He dances back and Batak begins to circle him like a predator.
Lance stares at the knife in his hand and Batak advancing on him. He sets his jaw and straightens, meeting the Blade’s eyes boldly.
“No.”
That startles Batak into stopping before he can gut Lance.
Lance holds the knife out, arm fully extended and drops it. It clatters to the floor, the sound echoing around the hangar. He holds his head high, chin up with a stubborn cant.
“I have nothing to prove to you.” And he means it.
“Keith chose me. Not the other way around. I don’t have to justify that choice. To you or anyone else.”
Before, Lance probably would have taken the bait, picked up the knife to defend his honor, his wounded pride. Now he knows he doesn’t have to. He knows who he is, what he’s worth. He has nothing to prove.
Walking past Batak, Lance goes and picks up the last of the crates, utterly dismissing him. He carries the crate into the ship, leaving the stunned Blade behind him.
A moment later Batak stands, chuckling. He scoops up the abandoned knife, tucking both into his belt.
He nods to himself, putting a hand to Keith’s shoulder as he passes, leaning down with a smile.
“I like him. You may keep him.”
He pats Keith’s shoulder approvingly before heading for the door.
“Batak,” Keith calls after him and the Blade stops, turning to face him. “For what it’s worth,” Keith says slowly, a smile pulling across his mouth. “He would have won.”
Batak laughs, pleased. His eyes sparkle.
“I have no doubt.” He inclines his head to Keith with respect. “He is worthy indeed.
“Keep him safe and he will surely do the same for you.”
Keith nods. “I will.”