Chapter 12 – Exhale, Exhume

A tableau of crimson blood, golden victory, and every color in between, the sky heralded the end of an exhaustive day. Arden had taken a moment to pause, sitting on the floor of the command room of the northern Galra base at Altaira. Victory or death. Wiping a hand over his face, he sighed. Never before had he realized just how seriously many of the Galra took their creed; every one of them had fought to the death, Fleogan forces now carrying their bodies out of the command center. They would most likely be lit on fire, being their enemy captors in addition to the fact that the Fleogan forces neither had the space nor the desire to bury them in respective or even mass graves. It was better to burn the past and preserve the memory for future generations. There had been so much death, so many casualties on both sides. Arden's own forces were exhausted, but pushed aside their grief in order to complete their tasks. Still, there was a flicker of home, a kindred spirit that linked their souls together, bringing out smiles even in some of the most hard-hit members. The emotion lingered on lips, danced through their cores, straightened their spines in a fierce pride that fought the lingering exhaustion.

It was finally over.

They won.

Golden eyes lingered on the painted sky before him. Suddenly, the world seemed so much bigger than he remembered. It was the beginning of an age of possibility; the sky was no longer the limit. The Voltron lions had parked themselves outside the base, setting themselves down into formation, their pilots exiting and interacting with various people on base. It was a reminder that the battle was over, but the war had begun; there were countless planets out in space that needed to be freed, and Voltron could not do it alone. With time, Arden was certain that Fleogas would join their comrades. Perhaps the noblemen would need some convincing, but he was certain that his family would be able to convince them of their civic and universal duty.

This was not the end. This was the beginning of a new age, and Arden's shoulders already sagged with the responsibility that would come along with it. As he breathed in, he noted how strange it felt: to no longer live under the thumb of the Galra, to consider the fact that freedom was no longer a concept toward which they strove. It was as though the borders of a pen had been lifted, and he was an animal now confused, excited, and wary at the same time. Borders and restrictions sometimes also meant safety, and they were more open than ever.

But it was worth fighting for. Freedom, unrestricted. The golden sun twinkled in the distance. The sun had set on an old age; they were now entering the mysterious night, full of danger and things that lurked in the shadows.

The smile refused to leave his lips, even at these dark thoughts. They were free; free to roam the skies as their ancestors once did. The ancestral capital of Altaira could be rebuilt. In that moment, anything seemed possible, so long as they could dream it. They were undefeatable, unconquerable.

He felt another presence coming up to his side, sitting down next to him. Turning his head brought Alastrine into view, his crimson locks falling out of his helmet as pulled off the bulky black object. His brow was still laced with sweat, ever the imperfect vision of the perfect crown prince. Yet his exuberance made him magnificent; even though the two eldest brothers were no longer the closest, keeping one another at a polite distance, this moment only seemed to draw them closer. Alastrine's grin was jaw splitting, goofy and unbecoming of the supposedly composed eldest son. It was contagious, and Arden found himself grinning back. They were like kids again, running through the palace compounds and tormenting the poor frogs that failed to escape their grasp. Everything was right in the world.

"We did it."

"So we did." Arden looked back out to the vision in front of them. "It's surreal. I don't think it's hit me yet."

"The same here." Alastrine folded his legs beneath him, running his hands through his sweaty locks. "Here we are, sitting in the Galra's stronghold for the past few thousand years. I half expect someone to pop out and shoot me dead right here."

Chuckling, Arden looked back at his brother. "I know the feeling." He still hadn't quite calmed down completely from the rough start they had that morning. Had it not been for Jin's alert to their compromised position, he was certain that he would have lost even more men than he already had. They had adapted, improvised, and had pulled through. At the time, he had wondered what the price was. Now, he was certain that it had been worth it. "We had some close calls today."

Crimson brows furrowed. "It only makes you think about the future." Red eyes clashed with gold, a feeling of apprehension transmuted between their gazes. "This is only the beginning. Voltron said that they would not stop until the Universe is free."

Arden crossed his arms, considering his words carefully. "I know. Will we fight?"

His words carried a much more subtle meaning, and the two of them knew it. Arden may have been elite soldier and carried much weight as the commanding officer of his division, but Alastrine carried the hearts of the noblemen. It would be up to the councils in time to come to decide their fate; would Fleogas aid Voltron in the fights to come?

The crown prince weighed his answer carefully, speaking both hopefully yet pragmatically. "One can hope. The rest can be persuaded."

They were of the same mind. Both Alastrine and Arden saw the good and the bad, but decided to uphold the best standards. It would be a universal effort, and it would begin with Fleogas. The nobles would take some convincing, but it would be done under Alastrine's careful political maneuvering. Anything was possible, even probable. They would see it done.

"Sir."

The duo turned simultaneously, looking at a foot soldier that had entered the room, looking nervous. Arden's face immediately turned into a frown in concern and apprehension. "Yes?"

Shifting weight, the doe-eyed cadet clasped his hands behind his back. Clearing his throat, he continued. "It's for General Alastrine. You're needed at the front of the base. Immediately, sir."

Alastrine looked to his brother, the two of them sharing a look of confusion and severity. Turning back to the cadet, Alastrine waved a hand. "I'll be there shortly. You're dismissed." As the soldier made himself scarce, the crown prince moved to his feet, offering a hand to Arden. The other general took it graciously, allowing himself to be pulled up and adjusting his armor while Alastrine picked up his helmet, tucking it under his arm. "So much for peace."

"Peace is relative. But that is a philosophical debate for another time."

Cracking a smile, the red haired prince began to move, Arden moving into step next to him. "I'll save the philosophical for Eaghan, or Almira."

"Knowing those two nut heads, they'd have a lot to say."

"Perhaps." They strode with purpose through the hallways, ready to meet whatever came their way.

.

Or so they thought.

A massive crowd had formed outside the base, fighters of every rank and division. Arden and Alastrine had barely exited the Galran air hangar before being struck with the full vision of what stood before them. Towards the front of the crowd, the paladins stood in equal confusion at the turn of events.

Standing a few paces in front of the crowd, separate from the rabble, stood a familiar figure to the royal siblings. Arden slowed in his steps, Alastrine preceding a few more paces before coming to a stop in front of the elder nobleman. The crimson haired and eyed prince furrowed his brows, looking at the figure that seemed so far apart from the crowd. "Lord Daedalus," he began, his voice quiet as though uncertain if he wanted to proceed, "what brings you here?"

The man's gaze lowered, and Arden's suspicion was immediately drawn. This was a high ranking noble that fought against the military's every move, tooth and nail. There was no circumstance that Arden could think of where Daedalus would willingly step foot onto a battlefield, let alone leave the crater. He thought himself better than everyone, face eternally engraved into a snooty look, glittering eyes staring down a pointed nose. And yet, there was none of that here. Even when he looked into the two princes' eyes, there was nothing but remorse and a timid nature of which Arden had never seen on the nobleman's figure.

"I come with the graces of the gods, who smile upon your face this day." His voice was sonorous, projecting into the space unlike Alastrine. Everyone seemed to be caught off guard, Alastrine and Arden more than anyone. There was not an ounce of haughtiness, of disdain of stepping onto a battlefield; if anything, Daedalus looked as though he did not recognize where he was, only the faces of the princes anchoring him into the present moment. "Let every citizen hear my words, to witness fate here as it is, as it will be, as it will become."

Arden stiffened. These were no simple words being spoken; this was tradition happening in front of his very eyes. Golden eyes watched as the nobleman reached into his robe, pulling out the elegant circlet that he had always seen on someone else's head. Alastrine stepped back, as though repulsed by the item, as though he could refuse it by running away. Murmurs could be heard rippling through the crowd, reacting to the sudden reveal. Yet Alastrine said nothing, the only motion he made was the sagging of his shoulders with every step that Daedalus took toward him.

"Alastrine Liander, son of Khayin Almiriykh, son of Intisara Danu. The gods take the breath of the old and thus inspire the new." Arden could have sworn that he saw tears forming in the eyes of the nobleman, but the river refused to burst. "Take up the mantle of your forefathers, and lead with strength."

The crown prince kneeled as Daedalus' approach, accepting fate as it came. Slowly and carefully the elder set the circlet upon his brow, hands shaking ever so slightly until he pulled away. All Arden could do as he watched his brother rise from the ground, like an eagle spreading its wings to its full span in order to test its magnificence. Crimson eyes had hardened into something unreadable, and Arden knew that confusion had to be churning in Alastrine's gut, hidden away. There was no time for unsteady thoughts or movements. This was the beginning of a new age.

Daedalus turned to the crowd. "The old king is dead, but the breath of his line lives on! Long live the king!"

The crowd responded in king, echoing the refrain whole heartedly before saluting their commander and taking a knee. Daedalus turned back to Alastrine, and for the first time in Arden's memory the man bowed deeply, full of respect and without an ounce of malice or sarcasm. Behind his brother, Arden also saluted and bowed, but turning his head to watch the man in front of him.

Without a doubt, Alastrine had been prepared for this moment. Perhaps not on this day, or anywhere near this time, but as Arden stared at his shoulder set squarely upon his body he knew that the eldest son was ready. He was crown prince no more; the planet's new regent stared serenely out at the crowd before bowing back before the group, pulling himself up to address the group.

"Brothers." His voice was no longer quiet; it boomed even louder than Daedalus' address, ensuring that everyone around him would hear his words. "Sisters, comrades, friends. We have achieved a victory here today, at a great cost."

He strode forward a few steps, not even watching as Daedalus moved out of his way and came to stand beside Arden. "We have lost many. And be assured, we will have time to grieve. But we stand at a crux unlike any other in our history." At this, his voice hardened, crimson eyes staring into the crowd that watched back in amazement, hanging on his every word. "We have earned our freedom. Yet so many other planets like us are so close to giving up hope. We cannot let the stars be erased from our universe, snuffed out like a lamp in the darkness. We must continue the fight for the sake of others.

"There are longer fights to come," he conceded, taking a moment to pause before ramping up again. "But we have already proven that we bend, and not break. We will move forward alongside the paladins of Voltron and create a new universe that will learn mercy and kindness, and a freedom of the skies for all." Pulling his figure into a sharp salute, he cried out. "We are Fleogans, and we will never surrender!"

Immediately a roar rose from the crowd, applauding the speech. Arden clapped as well, watching with pride; Alastrine was one of the finest orators he had ever seen, even making up speeches on the spot. It was this unfaltering ability to inspire his men that made Arden want to become a better person. Looking to the side, he noted that Daedalus' tears had finally begun to run. Surprisingly, there was no animosity, no distrust at his words. There was nothing but respect, and perhaps a glimmer of a reminder of what the past had looked like. Arden wondered absentmindedly if the noble had seen the coronation of Arden and Alastrine's father as well.

Alastrine turned back to Arden, eyes hardening as the two exchanged a look. The new king looked at Daedalus, subtly motioning for the two men to join him in private conversation. "Thank you, Lord Daedalus," he began, "but there is much that you do not tell me."

The noble clasped his hands in front of him, his own eyes hardening. "I can explain much on our journey back to the crater. Your presence has been requested immediately for matters concerning the crown." He turned to Arden, eyes glimmering now with regret. "You have also been requested back home, Prince Arden. A matter concerning your sister."

It was his turn to have his brows furrow in confusion. "Almira was here, at the attack of Altaira."

A Fleogan airship began to descend not far from their location, and Daedalus beckoned the royal brothers on with a tilt of his head. Alastrine took the lead, with Arden and Daedalus falling into step behind him, creating a 'v' formation. The nobleman clasped his hands behind his back as he trudged on, speaking quickly. "Princess Almira was found nearly dead at the scene where we found the King. It is a matter we are trying to get to the bottom of as quickly as possible."

Arden saw red flash across his vision. "Are you implying that Almira attempted to kill the King?"

Daedalus shook his head, although a glimmer in his eyes suggested a different idea from the one he gave. "No, I would not accuse the princess of such a thing. There is another variable at hand."

"Am I supposed to guess, Lord Daedalus?"

"Arden."

The prince immediately quieted at Alastrine's voice. The King did not turn, simply continued walking forward. "Please tell us plainly what has happened, Lord Daedalus."

"An unexpected turn of events," he gestured as the trio boarded the aircraft quickly. "A griffon appeared alongside the princess as well."

It was Arden's turn to balk, and he even saw Alastrine stiffen as they took their seats. Alastrine chose to sit across from the duo, both of which strapped in without questioning one another. Clearly they were all on the same team, if the lack of icy stares from the nobleman was to go off of. Instead he clearly expressed concern; of course, a dead King whom was thought to be in one of the most safe places on the planet would be troubling for all parties, potentially enough to get them to work together. But this new revelation sent both Arden and Alastrine for a turn. The new king tilted his head, eyes wide. "A griffon?"

"Truly, I tell you that the matter is complicated, and we are still searching for answers." Daedalus lowered his head in apology briefly. "But I will tell you everything we know thus far."

.

As soon as they touched down in the crater, the trio immediately split. Daedalus left detailed instructions to Arden of where to find the princess before ushering the new king away. Arden's head was still reeling from the recent turn of events, but managed to find his way easily. With only a few twists and turns through the forest he found himself coming upon one of the military facilities near the palace, briskly walking up the steps of the medical unit and briefly asking for further directions through the complex.

Almira had been placed in a quiet wing, nurses and doctors softly shifting through the hallways. It was quiet, but Arden knew that it wouldn't be for long; soon the hospitals around the planet would be filled with the injured, attempting to address every need and preserve life when it could be preserved. For Arden, the battle was over. For the medical staff, the battle was only beginning.

The white haired captain had her own room, guards stationed outside the door. It was in this room that Arden sat for hours upon end. He was sweaty, exhausted, and pensive. He wanted to go home and take a shower, but his desire to wait for his sister and to take a few quiet moments to contemplate the fight wore out. It had been quick, decisive, and destructive. Now was the moment for introspection and contemplation, before their next move was decided.

Midnight melted into morning. Morning gave way to the afternoon. An interrogation officer joined Arden, neither speaking to one another aside from the curt greeting Arden had received along with a stiff salute. Introducing himself as Ors, the middle-aged man had situated himself on the far end of the room, across from the foot of the hospital bed. Arden continued to sit in a chair he had drawn by her side, eyes blankly staring at her face and willing her to wake up. He had certainly dozed once or twice, but no one said a word. It was after the fifth time he dozed that he snapped to attention, a pair of golden eyes staring back at him.

Almira moved to speak, but her mouth only gaped open, voice cracking and unwilling to work. Deftly moving to grab a glass of water from a tray that had been left for him, Arden supported his sister as she drank slowly. He took the cup away before she had finished, not wanting her to sicken herself, and she stared slowly at him with beady eyes that blinked in confusion.

"Did we win?"

Arden couldn't help but grin, his smile threatening to split his face in half. "We won."

Relaxing back into the pillows, Almira sighed quietly. She stiffened however when she noticed the officer in the room, body freezing as her face mysteriously drew a blank. Arden frowned, but said nothing as the officer stood from his position, moving to stand across the bed from Arden. His face was placid, almost too polite. "Captain Almira. You've been out for nearly seventeen vargas. We're glad to see you alive and awake."

A curt nod was all he received, a bit stiff from lying motionless for so long. Pulling out a tablet, the man continued. "My name is Ors. I'm an interrogation officer, assigned to collect your story from yesterday's events."

Two pairs of eyes watched her face shift from confusion to recognition, then falling sharply as she stared at her hands with sudden interest. Arden watched with suspicion, willing her to tell her story. She would explain how she had mysteriously appeared at the crime scene. She would prove that she had no part in the murder of the king.

When it was clear that she would not speak, Ors cleared his throat, continuing. "You were discovered at the site where King Khayin was found murdered, along with a legendary griffon. How did these events come to pass?"

Her hands clenched, then relaxed. Arden could only watch as she closed her eyes, brow furrowing for a minute before smoothing over. When she opened her eyes again, he was stunned at their emptiness, yet resolution. Still, she was silent, mulling over something unknown to the other two. The officer shifted his stance, uncertain of the long pause.

"Captain?" He paused before prodding her again, as though worried she had forgotten his question. "What were you doing?"

Tears began to fill her eyes, but she raised her gaze to the ceiling, willing them away. Once she had collected herself, she spoke, her voice quiet and sullen.

Arden's blood went cold at her response.

"I went to kill the King."

To his credit, Ors barely flinched. He did look around for a chair, dragging one to her side and mirroring Arden's every move and gesture, as he leaned closer and set the tablet in his lap. "I'm sorry, I don't understand…"

"The King was the mole in the operation. I learned of this on my mission. No one had the power to put him down. So I acted alone." Her words were deliberate, almost mechanic as she stared at the wall in front of her, refusing to make eye contact. Arden reached out to take her hand, to which her eyes barely flickered in their hand's direction at the contact.

"Mira, this is treason." Arden's own eyes flickered to Ors, who only seemed to look at the captain in disbelief. His task was forgotten, so confused by the turn of events that he had forgotten his role of interrogator. "Even if the King was at fault…"

Her eyes hardened at his response, and immediately he knew it was the wrong answer. "I know." She turned to Ors, and inwardly Arden's heart sank. She deliberately avoided her brother, and he knew it was his disbelief at what she had said. The King was the mole? It was seemingly impossible, and even though Arden knew his sister would never lie, it was inconceivable. "I escaped with the griffon, and set the creature on the King. I killed him."

Almira was well known as a princess, but better known as an infallible captain and mesmerizing leader within the military, with talents unprecedented by anyone in any recent history. She was famous, even if people did not know her personally, and it was obvious that even though Ors was intended to be an impartial party he was also struck by how insane her story sounded. He knew of the youngest Wind Bender captain in history, her starry track record, her dedication to her comrades. Her story sounded impossible, and his hand strayed from the record that would decide her fate. "Captain…"

Gold eyes turned on him. "It is the truth. I will not lie. I know the consequences."

Death. She would be declared a traitor to Fleogans, a disrupter of the peace. A king killer. Her treachery would be remembered through the ages, would blot out her stellar record and dazzling career. The interrogator could not bring himself to do his job; to write down her response would be to seal her fate. His eyes turned down to the hands that lay unclenched on her bed, open and helpless.

"Do it." Gray eyes flashed to meet gold in a sympathetic gaze. She knew what he was thinking, how he felt. Yet there was no blame. Pulling himself together, he nodded, punching away at his tablet and sending in his report before he could do any different. Standing from his seat, he bowed his head in respect. His job was done.

"Orders have been given for you to rest for three days on house arrest. On the fourth day, you will be called to a trial."

"Wait a second." Arden growled from his chair, rapidly rising and leaning towards the officer, as though threatening him. "They already called a trial? Before you had collected your report?"

"Arden."

The two men looked down at the patient below them. Her face was weary, not just from recovering from her injuries, but instead took on a world-worn look, as though she had walked through the centuries and back. Turning her attention to the officer, she nodded. "Thank you for your time."

So surprised by her greeting, Ors saluted the captain, bowing fully before retreating from the room. He threw one last glance over his shoulder, a look of apology for writing her fate before disappearing from the room for good. His work was over.

Arden had sat back down in his chair, calming down once again from his outburst. He took to studying his sister before him, waiting for her to speak. Something had changed within her. She had a distant look in her eyes, as though she was not quite present in the moment, and that worried him. Almira was once a dreamer, but as a child she was quick to learn the lesson that dreams only manifested with hard work. Growing up with a title that the nobles only seemed to shove in her face as a limiter took her daydreams and whimsical thoughts away, stripping her childhood and turning her into a warrior sooner than should have been allowed. Yet this was the very look that settled into her molten eyes, shaking her to the core. No, as he looked closer, he realized that she was not dreamy.

She was haunted.

"I had to do it."

Like a feather being blown in the breeze, her voice was gentle, almost trembling with uncertainty. It left him at a loss for words. He didn't want to believe her. But Almira did not lie.

"Why?"

It soon became apparent that she did not hear his question of why she killed the king. She continued to ramble on, as though she had not even heard his response. "The nobles need someone to blame. It can't be the griffon. They would never allow it. That just left me."

Arden's brows furrowed, half in confusion, half in anger. He wanted to shake some sense into her small frame, but she was already injured. Instead his hands clasped his knees, ensuring that he could not do anything reckless. "Almira, what are you talking about?"

"Don't you see?" It was the second time her eyes had meet his that afternoon, and now he could clearly see that she was consumed by fear. Her hand trembled, arms wrapping around her body as she began to shake. "The trial. They're shaken. They need to find an answer for his death." She choked, almost laughing with hysteria. "It's funny. I was supposed to die anyway."

It was all too confusing. She was making no sense, and Arden was convinced that she had lost her mind. Moving from his chair to sit on the edge of the bed, he gathered her small hands inside his. The movement seemed to quiet her for just a moment, and Arden took advantage of her attention. "Almira, was he really the mole?" Even speaking about the King—their father—Arden was torn. Half of him wanted to believe that this was all a dream, but the other half of him kept him rooted in reality.

Almira nodded once, squeezing his hands back. "He was."

"Then we tell them." Arden was on the offense now, his eyes blazing. "If he was the mole, then you saved our men during wartime. That has to count for something!"

But her hope was already lost. "Arden," she began quietly, "do you really think the nobles could forgive me, of all people?"

He wanted to say yes. He wanted nothing more. If anything, he wanted to give her the comfort, to give her hope that she would be able to survive past this trial, to live her life, even if it was a life marked by the assassination of her own kin. But try as he could, he couldn't find it within himself to give her the answer that he wanted, that she deserved. And she knew it. Squeezing his hands again, she shook her head. "You know just as well as I that the nobles will jump at the chance to kill me off. It's a miracle I've survived this long."

"No…"

"Don't deny it. It—" Her voice cracked, and she shook her head. "It only makes goodbye harder."

She had held up for this long, but no longer. Gently wrapping his arms around her and being careful of her injuries, Arden gathered her up like a child as she leaned forward into his embrace, the torrential downpour of tears released. Her back shook, jerking as she tried to catch her breath, jumpy as it was. Neither pair of golden yellow eyes was dry, and for a time they just held one another.

Neither wanted to face the fact that the end was nearing, and there was nothing they could do.

"Almira." Once he had found his voice again, Arden willed himself to speak Time was precious, and he would not waste another second. His only response was the silent nod of her head. "I love you," he whispered, "and I don't blame you."

All he felt was a squeeze in return, the only confirmation that his words had been heard. A few minutes had passed before he felt her body go limp, most likely still exhausted from everything. He continued to hold her for just a bit longer, unwilling to let go.

It reminded him of when they were children. Gods, he had been such a brat to Almira at the beginning. It had taken Lavena and his mother combined to convince him to let their new youngest sister tag along with him, after a conversation that made him realize that she wasn't actively trying to annoy him. In fact, it was rather the opposite; she was completely in awe of her elder brother, wanting to copy him and show off, to make him proud. After that point he had warmed up to the tiny white haired sprite, had learned to enjoy her piercing laughter when he put her on his shoulders to run around the gardens. The first time she had honestly hugged him had pierced his heart in a way he never knew it could twist, and he was completely dedicated to their adoptee just as his full-blooded sister.

She had surprised everyone. She was filled with life and spirit, shocking even the nobles at every twist and turn, when they thought they had caught her and pinned her down. In every situation she continued to rise, learning grace with every step and falter she took. He was proud of her, and loved her fiercely. And now, after everything she had accomplished, she would finally fall to those who had tried to tear her down all those years. Arden thought back to the flash in Daedalus' eyes when he had been accused of believing Almira to be a traitor. Now Arden knew the truth; the scum did not know it – he prayed for it.

Surely there was something he could do. Releasing Almira from his grasp, he delicately tucked her into her bed, moving slowly away as he memorized every line in her face, every angle. Then, certain that he had enough power to move on, he turned from the room and marched down the hallway.

This was no longer a battle of swords and steel. This would be a battle of wits and words. And there was once person upon whom Arden could rely for a job such as this.

AN: these line dividers are driving me NUTS I SERIOUSLY HAVE THE WORST LUCK WITH FORMATTING WITH THESE FREAKING LINES

anyway hi hey what's up? :D

I hit another writing block, but the good news is that I figured out how to get around it; sometimes I just can't write in this style, and I have to change the genre. So unfortunately/ fortunately for all of y'all, you'll have to suffer with my latest creation next chapter! In my defense, I'm really trying to get this story out and done. Seriously. I'm gonna do it.

Also, I kind of just realized how chunky my paragraphs are. I have another story in the works, and I'm trying really hard to make my paragraphs a little more readable. So thank you for sticking with my writing style through now! I'll do my best to make improvements and work hard.

I love reviews! Please? Please review?