She was no hero, of that much she was sure. Certainly, her pride would not let her turn away from a challenge, and her anger kept the war against the Galra Empire alive, but the Princess was no hero. Once upon a time, she may have believed that to wear the armor of a paladin automatically made one a champion, but she wore the armor, bright and new, and felt more insignificant than ever. Her friends wore their suits with chips and cracks, covered in muck, their eyes haunted, their stance tall. They were the heroes. She was an impostor whose only claim to glory was a throne that no longer existed. But she could pretend for the rest of the team. After all, Blue had chosen her. The lion had refused her pilot – her true pilot – and taken the Princess instead. There had to be a reason behind its choice, even if it was desperation.
She could see the pain on Lance's face every time he passed the blue lion. He had Red now. It was an honour, and yet she knew it to be a great burden on him that his lion had rejected him. He never spoke of it, though she felt he had a fear of being overlooked, or cast off like an extra button on a coat. She couldn't say she blamed him – she felt the same way. How long before 'Princess' was no longer enough to garner attention and reverence? How long before everyone saw her for what she truly was; a frightened, under-prepared child? Everyone else had taken to being paladins with a fair amount of ease, and yet here she was, covering up her mistakes by barking orders she had no right to make, masking her fear with extra training sessions that were driving her fellow paladins into the ground. She feared one day she would push them too far and they would fall apart, but they never did. They were all so strong and she was so weak. If only she could pull herself together!
Allura let her guard down at night, sitting curled upon her bed. She let the tears fall along with her barriers. Her nails bit into her palms, seeping blood into her bed sheets like an admission to her shame. She flung the sheets away from her. She could not continue being this way! Not with others counting on her. But what was she to do? Dreaming of being a paladin all those years ago on Altea was a far different beast than actually being one. Every move she made to improve herself felt like a step closer to death, but with every retreat to safety, another planet was lost. Billions of lives lost. Even one was too much to bear, and as the public face of Voltron she bore them all. Funny that it hadn't seemed so real before she was the person in the cockpit. It had almost been like a game.
Allura slumped forward, thinking of simpler times. A star that must have been very far away winked out of existence before her eyes. She recoiled in shock, recalling something her mother often used to say when the constellations above their world shifted, "Do not mourn for the stars. They are already gone, and new ones will soon take their place. But neither you nor I will see it, the beginning and the end."
She flipped that thought over in her mind until she was dizzy. Even ten thousand years wasn't long enough to see both the birth and death of the same star, but if she was lucky, she might see the rebound of one or the other. She hadn't been there for Zarkon's rise to power, but if she worked hard enough, she may just be able to see his end.
Her vigour renewed, the Princess nodded. She was a pretender, but she was determined. One more training session, one more victory against the Galra, one more day spent as 'Paladin' rather than 'Princess'. One by one, she could change. She would change. For the good of the Universe.
Perhaps she would never be the hero of this war, but she would be a participant.
Her soul would sparkle and moulder with the souls of every other being who had been trod upon by the Galra, like a burning star, on the edge of collapse. Divines help the being who sent her into supernova.
A/N: Thanks to FF for freaking out all day and not letting me post (am I that bad?), and, uh, this is a story. I hope y'all enjoyed it.
Love,
Lucy~