Arusian Crusade: Changing Tides
Epilogue: Taking the Reins
And here's three down. As always, many thanks for reading and extra thanks for the reviews!
And of course, Part 4 will be along shortly...
Lotor had called the Death Defiant's crew together in the hangar, standing in the shadow of the mighty dreadnought. Everyone knew who was commanding them now, of course. But there was one small matter left to attend to.
Within the Supremacy, it was tradition that a new fleet commander would rename his command ship. No matter what reason there was for the previous commander to have been replaced, those ghosts didn't need to linger—specters of failure should be put to rest, and memories of success should be retired in glory. Usually, a commander would simply reuse one ship name throughout their career—the first renaming w as an important milestone, one which could set the tone for all future assignments.
On Straton, the prince had chosen Chaos Arbiter, and had rather expected the name to stick. But...
It seemed like an intrusion. His new command vessel was still Yurak's ship, and the admiral's sacrifice had bound all his warriors even more loyally to him, even as he fell in combat to open their eyes. Lotor had no desire to waltz in and try to replace all of that. No... the spirit of the Death Defiant would be given its well-deserved rest. But he would not abandon its legacy so easily.
Nor would his warriors.
He knew why Varkor had broken on Arus. Knew why the rest of the Pride of Ralimar's crew had gone along with it. They'd thought to honor the fallen admiral through blind vengeance, and while utterly misguided, their foolishness was understandable. And Lotor did understand now... if he meant to command these people, to take up Yurak's mantle, he must prove he honored what had come before.
"Listen, all of you." Ranks of glowing eyes fixed on him as he stepped forward. "As is my right and duty as commander, I retire the name Death Defiant. May its victories pass into legend, as it deserves above all others." They were silent. Waiting. Judging him for what his next words would be. "I hereby rechristen this ship the Admiral Lionbane." Naming ships after people was almost unheard of, but if any hero deserved such immortality, Yurak surely did. "And we will finish what he started. Voltron will fall!"
Ever since his duel with Prince Lotor, Keith had gotten a lot more serious about hand to hand combat. Hard to blame him, really. Allura was up to sparring with Lance now—she knew that wasn't really how Keith would've preferred to do things, but he was still walking around with a sling and stitches.
Pidge was still making fun of him for it. Of course, he was sewn up quite a bit tighter than his commander, and had apparently screamed twice as loud about the disinfectant. The princess decided to keep that little secret between herself and Sharmila... for now.
That could always change, if the little pilot wasn't careful.
All the extra training was tiring, and Allura savored the nights. She was sprawled out on her bed now, relaxing her aching muscles and thinking about a hot bath. But that would involve standing and walking, both of which sounded terribly unpleasant. So she remained on top of the soft mattress and contemplated what the next day would bring. Probably more bruises, but she could deal with that. She was well on her way to becoming a true warrior.
So strange, the way the world worked... I know you're watching, Father. I hope you're proud.
Perhaps tomorrow she would have time to go and talk to him. To ask him directly, though there really wasn't any doubt in her mind.
A knock on the door; a familiar accent called out to her. "Princess?"
"It's open." It would have been more dignified to get up and actually open the door, but she was too sore to worry about dignified right now. And her visitor wouldn't mind.
"Ach, Princess. You look exhausted." Nanny shuffled into the room with an armful of blue and dark gray cloth, and set it on the bed next to her. "You should take a warm bath and get some sleep!"
"That thought has occurred to me. I'll do it when I feel up to moving again." Before she could be scolded for pushing herself too hard, she turned her attention to the clothing Nanny had placed on the bed, and her eyes widened as she recognized the uniform. "Nanny, is that...?"
"Commander Keith," the older woman explained, "requested that I pick out a suitable uniform for you. Pidge and Hunk seconded the request. And Lance," her lip curled, "threatened to simply ask you your uniform size himself if I refused."
Despite herself, Allura laughed, which earned her a bit of a scowl. She laughed to fight down the shock, the warmth flooding through her at those words. "Lance would."
"I am well aware he would, that's why I agreed to it! I still don't approve of this nonsense." She hesitated a moment, then her expression softened. "...But if you're going to do it, you may as well do it right. I am proud of you, Princess." She vanished before Allura could respond.
Which was probably just as well, because her cheeks had gone pinker than her flight suit.
Standing, grimacing as her body protested the motion, Allura slowly and painfully changed into the blue uniform. It was painful and ridiculous—what was the point of being in uniform at all this late at night, anyway? But she forced herself because it was important. Because the team had decided she deserved this color, this role.
And because she had to let someone know.
Blue Lion. I'm wearing your color now, the others told me to. You were right after all... and I don't have any doubts anymore. Allura leaned against her window and looked up at the stars. She wondered where Sven was right now, if he was healing, if he was wondering about what he'd left behind on Arus. Tell the heart of serenity, if you can. Tell him things are in good hands here... but tell him to come back soon.
She felt the lion's response. A gentle chill rippling through her, soothing her aching muscles. And a sense that she could only identify as gratitude.
A faint smile crossed her lips. You're welcome, Blue Lion. And thank you.