A/N: I'm a huge fan of female Lance and the Altean Lance + Galra Keith combo. Here's a fic with both things I love.

"Her Majesty Queen Lance of Altea, and Prince Consort-General Keith."

Rich brown hair, once youthfully tumbling around her shoulders, is braided and tightly coiled around her head. A gold-and-sapphire circlet rests on her forehead. The cyan light ebbing in lines around the palace catches in her blue eyes, making them shine as she enters the throne room. The edge of her dress swirls around her ankles, matching the laser-cut ivory walls enveloping the royal court as they wait for their Queen.

White silk follows the curves of her body, the gentle swells of her full breasts and large belly on display. She will be a mother, soon.

Lance stands before her throne and faces the assembly. Keith is beside her, black hair in a neat plait, his armoured clothes navy and black, his dark purple skin contrasting the bright colours of the Altean court. A familiar smile plays on her lips.

"Good morning, Altea." Lance announces, with all the regal demeanour of a Queen.

"Good morning, Altea!" Princess Lance chirped into her wrist device, her visage broadcasted system-wide on interplanetary streaming sites. Her hair bounces around her face in a short bob. "Lance here to talk about the latest fashion trends sweeping the galaxy, like the newest green trend all the Galra are crazy for! I mean, what's that all about? Purple and Green? I didn't know dressing like a Forest Galgyx with the Slipperies would ever look good!"

The court bows back to her, and Keith glances at her with a raised eyebrow to see her unreasonably amused face. Coran's talked to her about it before – such phrases aren't very Queenly, but Lance does what she wants. Her hands grip the armrests of her throne as she gradually lowers herself onto the seat, careful to mind her heavy pregnancy. Keith's golden eyes don't leave her as he steps closer, ready to help should she need it.

Once they are both seated, the day's court can begin.

Allura was always meant to be Queen. She even inherited the silver hair of the royal bloodline, while Lance got the dark brown hair of their commoner grandmother. Their roles had been clear ever since Lance was born. Allura's childhood had been filled with the training and lessons to lead Altea when she was of age. She was fluent in some four thousand languages, proficient in politics, diplomacy, war, culture, economics – and all else that a Queen needed to know. Lance was the spare, the princess to support her Regent sibling, to oversee smaller committees and courts, and support various charitable and secondary efforts.

Even though Lance longed for the spotlight some day, she thought it would be through being allowed to be a star pilot. The idea of the throne was far from her mind. She knew what it entailed, saw the countless meetings and trips and lessons Allura was always whisked away for.

Everything changed on Allura's twentieth birthday, coinciding with the once-in-a-lifetime selection of the Voltron paladins. Lance, together with their parents, were far from the only Royal family present.

They watched the other four Lions find their paladins amongst crowds, golden eyes gleaming and gales sweeping over the audience as the Lions flew over them to their other halves. Several systems' worth of citizens were present that day and each delegation brought their best. The paladins were strong warriors from their planets, royals, ace pilots, generals. All of them were worthy of their position, and the day echoed with cheers as they were selected.

Finally, only the Black Lion was left. The most powerful of them all, the head of Voltron, the most coveted, prestigious position. A near-absolute silence fell as thousands waited expectantly to see who she would honour.

Black had stood motionless for most of the ceremony. When she moved, the crowd was struck with the raw power possessed in her massive body, the rumble of her limbs like thunder in the sky. She prowled past entire system-wide congregations, only to stop in front of Allura with her head lowered. Allura, who had thousands of eyes riveted to her at once, they who waited, expectantly, for her to acknowledge her destiny, to touch the Lion's muzzle with a hand and spark her golden eyes, for the Black Lion to throw her head back and roar in triumph.

Allura's eyes were wide. She would describe it later as the feeling of soaring through the vast reaches of the galaxies, experiencing the power of a supernova, the birth of a star. Lance could only stare at her awestruck expression, speechless, frozen. Allura never did anything by halves. This could mean only one thing.

Allura was the Black Paladin.

And Lance would be Queen.

"Lance, you're strong. You're stronger than what anyone thinks. They don't know you like I do, I've known you your entire life." Allura's eyes twinkled, and Lance tried to furiously blink her tears away.

They'd had this conversation countless times, but Lance still needed to hear it. Like the summer floods, her doubts always came back. It was like being swept away by the monsoons of the Altean summer while locked away from every building. There was always an end, always an answer, a conclusion, but, drowning in her uncertainties, Lance could never see or even imagine the end.

"But – how do you know I'll be a good queen? I don't have your training – you're prepared to be Queen your entire life!" Lance insisted, trying not to cry. Her hands came up to hover over her face, ready to wipe away any tears. But that would just smudge her eyeshadow and ruin the delicate makeup the artists had spent an entire varga on. Her tresses were magnificent in a woven tapestry, a silver and gold train trailing behind her coronation dress. The antechamber they were in hid them away from the outside world ready to crown their Queen.

"You're intelligent, and you have a good heart. You learn quickly, you can do anything you've set your mind to. You've been training for years, Lance! I wouldn't have anyone else take my place." Allura murmured. Clad in the black bodysuit of the Paladin armour, she grasped Lance's hands and hugged her.

"That's not what you said when I was eight." Lance whispered.

"You were just a dumb kid." Allura whispered back.

They broke into giggles. Lance rested her chin on Allura's shoulder and frowned. "But I haven't been learning stuff as long as you, you've had your entire life! I've only had, like, four decaphoebs."

Allura drew back and gripped her shoulders, her no-nonsense face on.

"You will be a glorious Queen." She declared, and Lance tried to smile with watery eyes. "Now come on! Your coronation is about to start."

Lance grew up in crowds. She had been a few weeks old when she was presented to the planet. The next royal child, a small babe swathed in blankets in Alfor's arms, blue eye scales as vibrant as they were now.

Every decaphoeb had festivals and ceremonies to conduct, and she learned to smile and wave for vargas, to come up with a speech the few times it was needed, and to deflect questions she didn't know how to answer.

The air was filled with fluttering showers of pink juniberry petals that smelled exactly like the real ones. They would land in a palm, but later fade away, being holograms. At Lance's coronation, her image was projected on huge screens, beamed across the galaxy. She had to smile and pretend that everything was fine.

A blue and white dress, decorated with ancient Altean runes. A train behind her. Her long brown hair bare for the crown to be placed on her head. A rainbow of Alteans surrounded her, the sea of their heads vast and curving up around like the packed royal stadium. The sky was a pristine azure due to the efforts of their climatologists. Everything had to be perfect.

Parties and congregations used to be what she lived for, the people, the energy, the activity, the attention. Millions of eyes were on her as she glided toward the ceremonial throne, the air like water. The faces of the crowd blurred together as she passed, one beaming smile identical to the others. She was smiling, out of instinct. Lance kept her smile small and tight – this was not a celebration, it was a ritual. She shouldn't be smiling too wide – but when had that ever stopped her, until now?

This was unreal. This was insane.

She passed her family, seated beneath the steps to the raised throne dais. Allura was in full Paladin armour now, her silver hair swept into a neat updo, her families' proud grin never leaving their faces as Lance approached her fate.

Where was Keith?

For a moment, she desperately wanted him there to remind her that this wasn't an insane, fever-induced dream.

The Altean Priest touched her eye scales with the tips of two fingers – right, she was standing in front of him – and announced – something, as her cerulean scales flashed bright, bright cyan. She could feel the warm glow of Quintessence in her hands, in her being, as the channels on her dress and gloves lit up, painting the peripherals of her view with its light.

"Your Majesty, please perform the transfer of Quintessence." He whispered to her.

Silence. Millions of eyes on her, but all she could do was stare at The Priest's wrinkled eyes. The Crown, a delicate masterpiece of gold, diamonds, and Quintessence-conducting crystals, was so light that she hardly felt it resting on her head. He had kind, grandfatherly eyes, his scales the colour of spring grass.

Lance swallowed to wet her dry throat. Focusing her energies, she pushed it into the conduits carved onto the dais, a roar coming from the audience as the arch behind her blazed blue with Quintessence.

"Queen Lance of Altea, First of her Name." boomed out around her.

The stadium bowed and knelt with the sound of a reverberating wave. Squadrons of aircraft shot through the sky, leaving plumes of colour, and the crowds stood up and cheered.

The Altean Royal Crown had long been packed away, the ceremonies and meetings and receptions over. Lance had smiled and waved through it all, her big smile so familiar to her that her muscles moved on its own, dazzling the many royals and politicians present.

Now, her priceless train strewn on the floor, loosened hair a wavy mess around her shoulders, and face scrubbed clean, she couldn't have looked more unqueenly.

More like a heartbroken girl dumped during a graduation dance. Sat on the edge of her bed, crying in the dark in her room – which wasn't going to be her room any longer. A Princess's room wasn't fit for a Queen.

Stars, she was being such an idiot. Because she was. An idiot – who cried when they became Queen, held the absolute power over a planet? Who would let an idiot become Queen? Who let her?

"Your Majesty?"

Her heart gave a little twinge at the fondness in Keith's voice and its edge of amusement. Lance had only managed to see him once during the post-coronation events, and there was no way she could have talked to him the way she wanted to. Lance looked up. It was dark, but she could still make him out. His formal breastplate and belt with red with gold details was gone, leaving him in black slacks and shirt, the collar undone to cool off. "Hey." She sniffled, wiping her eyes.

Keith was instantly at her side, holding onto her with lifted ears. "What's wrong? What happened?" He urged, his brows furrowed together. She could already see the fire in his eyes. He was ready to attack whoever made her sad.

Lance shook her head and gave a watery giggle. "It's nothing, it's just dumb." Keith stared back at her, unamused. Right. He wouldn't let her get away with her usual evasion. "You can tell me what's wrong, Lance."

"I don't want to give up my room." Lance blurted out.

Keith raised an eyebrow in exasperation. "You're Queen, you can choose your own bedroom if you want. Now tell me what's wrong."

Lance chuckled. "You know me so well, huh, Keith?"

His dark eyes burned into hers, fingers brushing over the swell of her breasts. "I know you the best of all." His voice was low and husky. Lance leaned in closer, into his scent, into him. She rested her head on his shoulder.

"It's a joke, isn't it?"

"What is?"

"Me becoming Queen. What a joke. Who decided that I should be Queen?" She rolled her eyes dramatically, quickly looking down as they filled with tears.

"What? Why?" Keith tilted his head, frowning. He leaned over to flick the lamp switch on, bathing them both in cool light. "What are you talking about? What's wrongwith you becoming Queen?"

"Everything, Keith." Lance sighed. "Allura should have been Queen, I don't – I can't – I can't be like her."

"But you're not her." Keith said bluntly, nuzzling the top of her head. "You're you."

"Exactly. The second Princess." Lance laughed hollowly. "Charity events, small committees, advising Allura – that was what I was raised to do. I was never meant to lead Altea. I used to vlog, for goodness's sake!" She slumped over, head dropping from his shoulder and clutched her knees. Keith stroked her back.

"But that was five decaphoebs ago." He insisted, ears flattened against his head. "Things changed. You've changed."

"It's not enough. Not when – when Allura had been taught her e-entire life to be Queen." Lance stifled a sob. "I'm – I'm not good enough." She murmured, tears streaming down her face.

"Hey. Hey, c'mon." Keith reached around to hold onto her other arm, pulling her closer to him. "That's not true. You know that's not true." He pressed his lips to the scales on her cheekbones, trying to pour as much reassurance as he could into it.

He held her, trying to find the words. They were never his strong suit. "You're smart, Lance. I know you don't think that way, but you are. It's just that you've been in Allura's shadow for so long. But you can do it. I've seen you before."

"You have lots of people to help you." Keith continued. "You still have your mother and father. Coran. Your tutors. You can even still talk to Allura for help. They love you, they'll be here for you."

He wiped a tear away. Lance rested on him, clutching his front, emotionally spent. He would just have to prove to Lance that she could do it.

"I'm here for you too."

Court was the usual. Trade agreements, policies, and laws that Lance had to examine and ratify, each clause and topic endlessly batted back and forth between her and the court as parties to and against the issue formed. Polite words masked their complaints, grievances and jibes, and Keith suppressed his snort behind a smile when Lance, equally politely, blocked their verbal attempts at outmaneuvering her, before countering with damning words of her own. Keith had found a new fascination for these dull things, even if they remained as tedious and frustrating as ever.

Although, since he had to do this every day, it was probably a survival mechanism he'd developed at this point.

Keith didn't intervene much during court, except when military matters came up. As her General, Lance let Keith take control of the conversation during these instances, intervening to make the final decision. Today she had been listening to the conversation while her hand drifted to her belly. Her hand was rubbing circles all day, and Keith couldn't stop glancing at it.

His fur was on end, ears pointed up. All day, he felt his mate's discomfort in a vague sense of unease and a dull ache in his chest, but as to where it stemmed from, he couldn't be sure yet. Lance continued to rub, and he couldn't miss how her hand would glide higher and higher, even brushing her breast several times. But, each time, she held herself back, and each time the ache throbbed in his heart.

When a lull in the conversation permitted it, Keith leaned over to whisper "Are you okay? Shall we stop for today?"

Lance looked at him fondly, but there was an edge of impatience and exasperation in it. "Not yet." She murmured, and Keith felt his heart pound. What was it? Did he do something wrong?

Lance knew that deep down, she was just a quiznaking mess.

Court was a disaster. She had no idea what she was doing regarding their economy because all of her lessons had evaporated from her mind that day. How were they going to expand and manage domestic growth in tandem with the level of exports? They'd better ask someone other than Lance, because she didn't know anything. She didn't have anything to offer. It was mortifying how she relied on her Master of Coin for ideas, just like she was the student and the Master her tutor. It was a struggle that day in court to keep her demeanour level and pretend that she still had control of the situation, to not look at the faces of the assembly and see their disappointment at Altea's inexperienced, uninformed Queen.

Everything was made worse by the fact that she was pregnant.

It was all fine, wasn't it? She was Queen, Keith was her Consort, legally wedded husband and wife, and their duties included producing an heir to lead Altea into the future.

Not when they'd been married for literal phoebs.

Lance paced around their room, wringing her hands and repeatedly smacking her face into her hands. She didn't want to…postpone their heir, since they were already here, but what would the court think once news got out? What would Altea – Daibazaal – and the rest of the system think? What would Mother and Father and – oh stars, Allura – think?

That the rulers of Altea were indistinguishable hormonal teenagers ready to pop out babies in an instant?

Her parents had Allura decaphoebs after Father became king. Things – wars, laws, heirs – all had to be planned. She knew that. Her tutors had covered that too – and here she was, knocked up.

Soft arms curled around her middle, and Keith nuzzled into her neck, his palm caressing her abdomen gently. "What's wrong?" He asked. "You smell really good today…"

Lance let herself enjoy his embrace for a few ticks, before turning around to face him. "You know what I'm worried about, Keith." His expression stilled at her words. "I'm an idiot." Lance confessed, looking away, laughing – at the situation, at herself. "I totally quiznaked at court today, I don't know anything about the economy, and I'm pregnant - This is the Number One thing not to do as a new Queen!" She exclaimed, slightly hysterical. "And of course I do it, I'm a terrible ruler, who the quiznak thought I would be good on the throne? Why did they-"

"Lance." Her eyes snapped to him when he grasped her wrists. "You're not the only one at fault. It takes two people to make a baby, y'know."

"I was there." He finished bluntly, and Lance wasn't sure if it was her cue to start laughing. "If you're calling yourself an idiot, then so am I." He said, his expression turning sheepish. Keith's ears twitched. "I guess I couldn't control myself…"

Oh, right. Lance blushed a little, recalling many nights spent together. Well, this could be blamed on how she had a Galra spouse, rather than an Altean one… One thing that Keith got ridiculously turned on by was unprotected sex. Galra were notoriously instinctual, after all.

"We got here together, and we're gonna manage it together." Keith insisted. "I….I don't really know what we're going to do exactly," Lance giggled "-but I'm also at fault. This isn't just your problem, Your Majesty. We're going to work it out." He said, and that was Lance's catchphrase, thank you very much.

There were really, really big things they had to start working out. But just for this moment Lance blinked back tears – she always cried easily at the slightest bit of distress – and smiled. "You smooth quiznak." Lance murmured, kissing him.

When court was done for the day, Lance marched out of the throne room with alarming swiftness for a heavily pregnant woman. She pulled Keith along with her and he nearly stumbled with the grip of her hand on his arm, before righting himself close to his queen, the system's best representation of royal fidelity.

"Your Majesty, dinner is ready." One of the staff called out, and Lance absently replied "Later."

Past the dining room she strode, the doors sliding open into the hallway leading into their chambers. Now that they had their privacy, Lance grasped her breasts with a suggestive groan. Keith watched her squeeze – and two wet patches appeared on her bosom. "They've been hurting all day…" Lance panted. She was lactating. Her fingers continued to massage and fondle her breasts, moaning in a way that had Keith's tongue slipping out of his mouth before he knew it. The dark patches on her bosom grew larger and wetter, and the heat in his loins grew when she squeezed one breast – hard – and a whine tumbled out of her mouth, satisfied and erotic.

"Shall I suck your tits, Your Majesty?" Keith purred, and Lance pulled down the front of her dress, milky breasts bouncing out of her bodice. "To your duties, Consort." Lance replied teasingly, yet he could hear the need in her voice, and Keith licked his lips. He bent down to latch onto one nipple, licking the pearly beads of milk budded with a hand cupping the other breast.

The sounds that tumbled from her mouth as he sucked went straight to his dick. Lance groped for the wall behind her, knees buckling, panting in relief and pleasure while he swirled his tongue around her fat nipples, suckling and coaxing the milk from her swollen breasts.

Her milk was sweet and thick, and an instinctual pride welling up at him at the taste. Their pup would be well fed on such rich milk from their mother. "Your milk tastes so good, Lance." Keith lapped at her tits, making sure to swallow every drop. Lance keened, her cheeks red as her hands stroked her belly impatiently, fisted into the folds of her skirt and tugging at the fabric around her hips. He smirked at her arousal and how her pregnant belly – the one he gave her – left her helpless to sate her pleasure without him.

"Stop-" She murmured, pulling his wrists away from her breasts. "Bed. Now." Keith let himself be hauled quite happily into their quarters. As quickly she could manage, Lance plopped down on their bed and spread her legs, hiking her voluminous skirt up. Keith plunged his hands into her dress, clawing at her stockinged legs until he found the hem of her underwear and dragged it down. The lips of her wet cunt were red and parted, anxious to be filled.

Keith had two favourite tasks as Consort. One was training, when he wasn't overseeing the military, and the other was satisfying Lance. Gently, he slipped his (trimmed) claws inside her cunt, stroking her walls while rubbing her engorged clit with the pad of his thumb. He chuckled when Lance managed to lift her pelvis off her bed, wanting to grind back even with the weight of their child. "Hurry up, Keith!" Lance pleaded. With her belly in the way, she couldn't even see her clit, let alone touch it.

"Patience yields focus." Keith teased, and Lance groaned in exasperation at his brother's words he loved to parrot. He gathered the slick from his cock and rubbed it into her folds, making her leak even more and rubbing his scent into her. Lance moaned and shook around his fingers. Unzipping his fly, he crawled on top of Lance and thrust into her wet, blazing heat with a broken gasp from his mate, fading into a satisfied sigh.

"Yes, finally-" and Lance broke off into another moan, convulsing, as he angled himself and hit that spot she liked so much. He smirked at her insufferably, knowing that his cock was pressing against her walls in all the right ways, knowing that she knew it too. But all Lance could care about was her husband being inside her. His feet dug into their bed for purchase as he held onto her hips and kept pushing into her, fucking her.

"I s-swear, court was never going to end today, I wanted to just fuck you in front of everyone-" Lance babbled. "I wanted you to suck my tits right there."

"I would've. If you'd wanted." Keith breathed, slamming into her. Lance trembled in lust. "I don't care who watches. I'm your mate, after all. I gave you this." He rubbed her swollen belly possessively.

A pair of their hands entwined and Lance let out satisfied noises of "yes" and "more", writhing as her thighs shifted and her legs opened and closed around his hips. Her other hand buried into his hair, pulled – "Mmm, K-Keith-" and his golden eyes flashed bright, Galra instincts spiking.

"How does it feel, Lance? Tell me how good it feels."

The slap of skin on skin was delicious, Keith rolling his hips, determined to drive Lance crazy. "Yes!" Lance moaned. "Don't stop - I'm close-" That delicious friction was building up inside her, and Lance wished she wasn't so encumbered at that moment, wanting to grind back, fuck his cock, but all she could do was lie there. Lance fondled her breasts, pinching her sensitive nipples as streams of milk dripped from them, her head lolled to one side.

Leaning over, he licked up the milk still spilling from her tits. Delectable. He kissed her, their tongues meeting, and he could feel her walls clench around him in pleasure. Keith was rutting into her, his hands now holding her hips down on the plush bed, harshly panting and grunting. His wife, his mate, his Lance, full with his pup. He wanted to make her scream in ecstasy, soothe every ache she had.

"Faster-" She begged. Keith let out a low growl. One claw squeezing her breast, the other rubbing quick, tight circles around her clit, his cock pushed inside her, Lance jerked, her thighs shaking uncontrollably as pleasure spiked.

Closer - he pulled her even closer to him, their unborn child between them, fucking deep, and Lance's hands shot up around his neck, letting out a cry into his mouth as she shuddered and came, her walls spasming around him and milking him of his seed. Keith shoved the entirely of his knot into her cunt, loving how she yielded to him so easily. He kissed her and swallowed her scream as he shot cum inside her already pregnant womb.

He held her tightly as they came back down from their high together.

Exhausted, Lance's head hit the bed. Her hair was a mess, locks and strands falling from the once neat braids. She shot a lazy, sated smile at him, kissing and nuzzling his cheek as they settled into a more comfortable position to wait for his knot to come down.

His fingers were once again at her cunt. Keith never got over feeling her folds stretched to take his dick and his knot. Lance whined, thighs quivering at the overstimulation.

"Feeling better?" He murmured into her ear.

"Much better." Lance murmured, already dozing off.

Dinner could wait. Keith pulled a blanket over them and swept her hair away from her face, settling in to cuddle. Lance felt blessed by the Gods for him by her side, one arm slung around her protectively.

With him, it felt like they could work anything out. That it would all be fine.