P.S: I hope this chapter helps you better visualize our precious kenneth! New outift!
P.P.S: Anyone is free to use Kenneth Ethan Kogane in a Voltron fic. Just give me the link in the Comments!
If he thought being Zarkon's son would be easy, he was as wrong as slavery is. A large stretch of time later, and he's still fighting in the Arena, still being tortured and flogged and teased by the sentinels and guards, and still ultimately, being treated as a slave. There was a noticeable difference.
Every match would be watched by Zarkon.
Every match would be approved by Zarkon.
Every guard that made him pass-out from the pain was killed by Zarkon.
Where Lotor used to be be the once constant in his lonely life, Zarkon now filled out the spot, acting, dare he think it, fatherly, as much as a tyrant could be. The food he was given wasn't scraps anymore, but it was still unappetizing and he was still underweight for a man his height, build, and muscle.
Right now, he's sitting against the wall, head tilted back as he breaths ragged breaths as he traces a single heated claw over a considerably deep slash in his side, filling the air with burning skin and blood. Then, he pulls down his shirt, not even bothering with zippering the vest. He hears something. Footsteps and cloth occasionally brushing on the ground. The steps of guards stopping in unison, before starting again as the steps become louder. He knows who it is.
"Stand."He only shows minimal pain, using a blood covered hand as a support to drag himself up the wall before turning to properly face the man on the other side of the cell. The electric bars disappear, and Zarkon still stands there. 'Obviously' he tells himself. He pushes the pain to the back of his mind before moving away from the wall, walking to Zarkon, body stiff. If the Emperor notices, he doesn't saw, before walking down the hallway, Kenneth walking behind him.
"Eth'ean, it is time you learn how to be a ruler, a Dark Prince." They turn, walking up an ascending hall before entering a lift. "We have already created you're armor. You will be disciplined in the way of ruling with an iron hand, ready to take the throne at any mistake Lotor has."
"Thank you, Father." He says. Zarkon was not his father. He wasn't anyone he appreciated. He enslaved civilization, captured and tortured him, took him away from an orphaned Keith, and forcibly molded him into a new person.
"Remind me what type of accent yours is called?"
"Country. Rural." Zarkon nods. For some reason, he found Kenneth's accent very pleasant.
Soon, they are in the throne room at the top of the ship they are on, the room huge and menacing, with a dark throne in the middle. In the center of the throne room is a Gahlra woman flanked by guards, a large box in front of them.
"My lord." Says the woman, bowing. "Repid sa." She says, as well as the two guards.
"Repid sa." Says Zarkon, He looks at Kennth out of the corner of his eyes. He was giving Kenneth the honor of saying the moto last, usually reserved for the highest ranking person in the room.
"Repid sa." He says. Zarkon nods, and they stop infront of the woman and her box.
"Plais, this is my son, Eth'ean." Plais looks intrigued.
"What species did you breed with to get him? His skin is so pale, white almost. And his eyes! They're white, with a magnificent golden-brown iris. His hair is splendid; feathery, fluffy, light, and the color that is brown with different strands of light and darker shades in the background!" She holds one of his ears. "In the name of the Empire: they're round!"
"Plais, he is half human." He says, "An Earthling." He quickly glares at the short woman, who lets go of Kenneth's ear and quickly steps back, back straight, face serious. "I'm assuming this is it?" She nods.
"It was harder than Prince Lotor's, but I managed. I think he will look very striking, regal, and handsome, just like his father." Zarkon smiles, squeezing Kenneths shoulder. Maybe he did have some kindness in him after all.
The guards bend over, removing the lid from the box after typing in a code. Plais continues to talk. "Kin is very, very pale, as you know. It will contrast more greatly with the palette, truly making him a, what had you said? Yes, a Dark Prince. He will look so fine, people will think of him as the physical manifestation of the name Eth'ean!" She quickly gets to work.
Kenneth never gets to see the outfit she puts on him, due to fact he has to be very still to get the perfect fit. Plais works quickly, putting the armor on top of the signature black clothing he wears. Its only after five minutes that she says the word.
"Done." A shadow of a smile is on Zarkon's face as he turns him around, and he see's that the lid is propped against the bottom of the bow, inside facing him, which turned out to be a full sized mirror.
He wears all black. Flexible metal laced black boots reach to below his knees. The armor is also black, so deep of a color that it blends in with the space outside of the window. It doesn't look bulky, instead a close fit. It turns into a metal laced cloth at his torso, shoulders, and neck. A black belt is buckled around his torso, the lapels of the cloth covering the stretch of leg between his hips and the top of his knees, a sheath for multiple knives strapped to his left lef The cloth on his neck is tight, accenting his collarbones and reaching mid-neck, where it stood with a lining of metallic dark purple cloth. His sleeves are black with dark red, almost black lining the color of blood, stopping at his elbow, showing off the scars on his arms. His hands have skin-tight black gloves, the tips of his fingers soft and malleable to help for when the claws come out. The grandest part of the outfit is a hooded black cloak, draped across his back amd pushed over his shoulders, held by a silver clasp in the shape of a 'V' right below his collarbone. The cloak is stylized, looking older than the rest of the outfit and cut to look tattered. At his neck hangs a piece of black cloth. He pulls on the hood, pulling up the mask, which wraps around the back of his head from below the ears, the front covering the bottom half of his face.
Honestly, he looked a bit scary, with death pale skin only his eyes showing on top of pale skin, brown with an old, deep scar above the right eye.
"You have done good." Says Zarkon. Plais nods.
"It is my best work."
"Good. You will never make better." And in an instance, his beyard is out, transformed into sword, and in a single arc, Plais and the guards are killed. He steps over their bodies, walking to his throne, Kenneth following. He didn't like the outfit, no matter how good it looked. It made him scarier, like Zarkon. He was already forced to have too much similarities with the tyrant.
"My son", says Zarkon, "I am proud. All of my plans are coming to life. I shall personally teach you Gahlra etiquette all in one year."
"And what about the next year?" Zarkon chuckles darkly, tugging Kenneth's hold down and ruffling his hair.
"Next year, I will send you out to find the Lion's, so that you know them, and you will be ready when they attack. And why not keep them?" He grins, tracing his teeth with his tongue. "So then when the Paladins attack, they will be in shock when they realize that we have you, someone that the Lions recognize, the true Paladin of Voltron." Kenneth's heart sinks. This is real. All of this is true now. Its his life. He will never see Krolia again, he will never see another human being...
He'll never see Keith again.
And with that thought, a wave of darkness hits his mind, and he falls, Zarkon catching him and roaring for Haggar.