A/N: Written as a Multifandom Drabble 2018 exchange gift for Lunarium.
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Inner Strength
Romelle fears and thirsts for strength.
Bandor left—he wanted to create power for the new colony. Higher power squashed him.
Yet she needs power, a voice and outlet, to warn the Alteans of Lotor's plot. Proof. Justice never yields, and she wants to exert veracity for Lotor's unaware worshippers. Such a thing too soon will bring her to death's door should Galra apprehend her.
Age brings wisdom, heart, rise of understandings. But she forces herself to eat less and revels in her anxieties. Deliberately hurts herself physically and mentally so she'll never be chosen.
Her resolution builds every day.
Who He Pretends to Be
In the sea of colonized Alteans, she feels like the one abandoned on an asteroid. Every time she sees him walk among her remaining friends and family, tiny metaphorical ice and rock stab into her limbs.
Romelle swallows her screeches.
Lotor laughs jovially. His voice is smooth, gentle. They flock to him for his advice, his assurances, phrases that are so deep-rooted in his political agenda nobody notices his smug triumphs.
Lotor turns to her. "You're happy here?"
Onlookers glower, jealous his attention lands on her.
Romelle is mortified, tongue-tied. She sequesters her ill-feelings.
"I can't convey my gratitude enough."