I wanted to post this on time, I really did. But if you'll remember, I said a few chapters ago that my time zone is EST, which is the East coast to Midwest of the United States. My town has a Fourth of July (Independence Day) tradition that we hold a rib fest on the last day of June each year, and it's turned into a town-wide holiday. So I was at the rib fest (if you don't know, a rib fest is a festival-like thing, and ours had food trucks, bounce houses, hot air balloons, fireworks, etc.) My neighborhood also had a block party, and we went to that after the rib fest, where I saw the best fireworks show of my life. But anyway, we didn't even get home until midnight, so there was no way I could have posted this on time. I'm sorry!
This is the last chapter of Shiro Ship week! Today's prompt is Scars, and the pairing is Shiro x Lotor. This is a Season 5 Lotor, because we have discovered that he is actually a lying snake, and I hate him with a passion now. But in this story he's good. The rating is T, with warnings for panic attacks, self-harm, and abuse. Please be careful while reading.
I still don't own VLD. Also, this chapter is unedited, and most of it was written between the hours of 12am and 2am, so I apologize for any mistakes or inaccuracies.
Everything hurt. Shiro's body had become a punching bag, and bruises littered his body. He was pretty sure, if the stabbing pain in his chest was any indicator, that he also had at least one broken rib. Small slash marked covered his torso and arms, and one was even on his cheek, too close to his eye for comfort.
The inhabitants of the Castle of Lions had decided that they needed a break from fighting a war, so they had landed on a small planet, far away from the Galra. It was supposed to be a break, but they had been recognized by some of the locals, who were apparently anti-Voltron. There had been a scuffle, and the Paladins hadn't been in their armor. No armor meant no bayards, so they had gone fist to fist with the planet's inhabitants. Shiro had decided right after the fight that they needed more hand-to-hand training.
"We need to get you all checked out," Coran announced, once they'd arrived at the castle. "None of you look injured enough to need a healing pod, so I will do regular medical inspections. Hunk, you're first." The Yellow Paladin stepped forward and Coran quickly looked over him, patching the cuts made by the locals' switchblades. He repeated the process with every other paladin, and Allura, who had also been present. Nervousness grew in Shiro's stomach every time he finished someone.
"Shiro," The royal advisor called.
"I'm fine Coran, I can fix myself up," insisted the Black Paladin, not moving.
"Lad, I would prefer that I do your examination, just like everyone else." The Altean insisted. Shiro backed away slightly, shaking his head.
"No, Coran, I'm fine."
"You are not fine!" The advisor burst out. He rarely shouted, but when he did, it was serious.
"Coran," the paladin murmured, still backing away and starting to shake. "I can't."
Suddenly, strong arms enveloped him from behind. "I'll look at him," said a smooth voice. Lotor. Shiro was led out of the medical bay, and before he knew it, they were alone in his room.
"I have to examine you, Shiro," the Galra explained softly, sitting him down on his bed. He slowly reached for the human, trying to gently take his shirt off. Something clenched in Shiro's stomach, and his hand went swinging, hitting the alien square in the face. Lotor fell back, grunting, but his calm demeanor didn't change.
"No, no, no, no," Shiro mumbled feverishly. "Not again, not today. I don't want to fight, I don't want to!" Flashes of his time in the ring played in his mind, like a movie that skipped or a scratched record. He didn't know where he was. The ring felt so real, but he was seeing the arena, the examination room, and his cell all at once. It was disorienting.
Eventually, Shiro was able to calm down enough for his brain to register the bed beneath him. Once he did that, it wasn't too hard to come back to reality, and he became aware of his surroundings. He was in the Castle of Lions. He was safe.
"Shiro?" Lotor's soft voice made the paladin award of the Galra's presence. "Are you with me?"
"Lotor?"
"It's me," the alien reassured. "You're injured, Shiro, and I need to dress your wounds. I need you take your shirt off for me, can you do that?"
"No, no, I can't. They'll see," the pilot mumbled, still not thinking too clearly. "I can't let them see, they can't know..." He trailed off.
"The scars?" The prince asked. "It's okay, Shiro. I have them too." Shiro watched numbly as Lotor stood up and slipped off his armor, so that his chest and arms were bare.
They were riddled with scars. All sorts of scars, and they covered most of his skin. There were huge scars, tiny scars, and all sizes in between. Some were multiple scratches, as if he had been clawed, and others were puncture wounds. He had the distinctly charred flesh of a burn wound covering a patch of his side, and very whip-like lashes stretched over his back. There were more scars than Shiro had ever seen on a person, and he couldn't help but gasp slightly when he saw them.
"It's bad, I know." Lotor sat down again. "Zarkon and Haggar, well, they aren't the greatest parents. They're very violent, and my governess wasn't any better. She had a riding crop that she used to teach with, so I was used to going to bed bleeding." His voice was low and soothing, even though he was speaking of his own horrible experience. "Now, don't be ashamed. Scars are not a weakness, remember that. Never be ashamed of them, they show that you can survive. Can you take off your shirt now? I need to clean those cuts."
Almost mechanically, Shiro found himself complying to the prince's request. Before he knew it, his own scars were revealed. Shiro was used to seeing them, but showing them to another person sent a fresh wave of panic through him, and it was only stifled by Lotor's comforting hand on his shoulder.
Shiro's stomach was something he despised. There were plenty of large slashes covering his body, mostly from battles in the arena. There were more precise cuts, from the experiments of Haggar and the druids. And there was the small patch on his stomach, off to the right, that was full of tiny slices, from a small blade. Self-inflicted wounds.
Lotor didn't seem too shaken by the sight of the Black Paladin. He just picked up the first-aid kit on the floor and started treating the fresh cuts that resided between the older marks. Soon he was done, warning Shiro to be careful because he had two fractured ribs, and he was cleaning up the medical supplies.
Shiro expected that they'd join the rest of the paladins once he was done, but they didn't. Instead, they just sat in Shiro's room, silent but not awkward. After what felt like an eternity, Lotor spoke.
"Shiro," he started. "Your scars are nothing to be scared of. You are stronger than they are. I know it's hard, you've been through too much. But we'll work towards it, okay? You don't have to be all right, it's okay to be broken. We're going to fix it though. Together."
The room fell into silence again, and Shiro was able to think a bit. He was still shaken from showing Lotor his scars, but he calmed a bit at the words. Together. He didn't think he could get better alone, no matter how much he wanted to, but together sounded better. Sounded nice. Yes, he could do that. His past would not control him, not anymore. He would heal, eventually, and until then, he was not alone.
Shiro didn't feel good, but he felt a little bit better than he had yesterday. And that was enough.
That's it! The end of Shiro Ship week. This was a pretty dark chapter, but it had some fluff too, and I hope it didn't have too many errors. I hope you enjoyed this week of writing, and I can assure you that I already have ideas for more Voltron stories, so hopefully I can get some up soon. This is your last chance to review, so I'd really appreciate if you could tell me what you liked or give me some constructive criticism! Thank you so much for reading!
~April
