Lotor POV
"My help?" he asked, cocking his eyebrow. "With what, princess?" He grips her hand loosely, not wanting to get into her personal space. Their relationship was a bit tipsy.
"My hair," she said, pulling him into the bathroom. He had a bit of trouble following her, trying not to step on her dress. "It's a bit lame, isn't it? We might as well match, right?" She beamed at him, then sat on a chair in front of a mirror.
"You want me to braid it?" he inquired dumbly. She nodded, throwing her hair over the back of the chair. He swallowed, running his bare hands through her hair, coming through it.
"Just like yours, but starting from the top of my head. Can you do that?" she asked, looking back at him a bit. He nodded and hummed a yes, gently turning her head forward.
"Are you sure you want me to do this, Allura?" he asked.
"Well, your future wife will want you to, so it'd be smart to get used to it," she told him. "And I should get used to my future husband doing my hair."
"Unless you cut it, of course," he muttered, moving his fingers through the soft strands again. He began to weave, the job effortless and slow. He wanted to take his time and use it wisely. He loved to look in the mirror and see the sight of what they were doing. It was sweet and made his heart ache a little.
"Cut it? Why would I do that?" she asked, a small laugh following. "I like my hair."
"I know, but after this week, if we keep doing each other's hair, then I wouldn't want any other man to touch your locks. I'd insist that you'd cut it." He ended the first half of the braid, splitting it into three to weave and finish with.
"I'd probably do the same. I'm easily jealous," she responded. "It just wouldn't be fair." Lotor kept braiding, almost reaching the end.
"Oh? Why wouldn't it?" he asked. He finished the braids, touching up the rest of her. She sat quietly for a few minutes.
"Because it wouldn't," she repeated after a few ticks, her face turning a shade pinker. Don't clam up again, Allura, he silently begged. Please. He finished tying her hair, setting it down and combing the ends. "You have gorgeous hair and the thought of another woman getting to run her hands through it infuriates me," she whispered at last.
"Infuriates you?" he repeated, setting her hair down. "Why? After all, I must be meant for another woman just as you're meant for another man." She turns around, taking his hand again.
"That doesn't stop it from hurting," she said, standing up. "Doesn't it hurt you?" Lotor nods, stepping away respectfully. Don't get too close to her, Lotor, he thought. "If it hurts, then why do you . . . ?" She trailed off. He stares at the floor.
"I'm sorry, Princess Allura, but I can't right now," he said. "Not when you. . . ." He couldn't finish his either, then attempted to walk away.
He had to stop, the wristband lighting up and pulling his arm toward Allura. No, no, no, he thought. Not now. . . .
"Lotor," she whispered. The way she said it haunted him.