This chapter is called Sacred Duty, which should have been the title of the fic. When I first posted the story I realised I didn't have a title... woe me... and chose one on the spot, but it really should have been 'Sacred' Duty, because frankly, even though I like Lotor as a character, I don't see him honoring a sworn duty to the letter if it no longer fits his agenda... and isn't it part of what makes him a multifaceted character? He would maybe respect a vow if something he is supersticious about is involved. He wont become an angel. He'll gripe a lot. Grrr, humans...
Spirits of the dead and of the Lions will play a big part in the fic. I worked with this idea that lions have associated spirits, as it is mentionned in V3D. I don't remember if it was part of the original series.
9- Sacred Duty
Lotor was not what you'd call sensitive. He had been a cynical, opportunistic and ambitious person, but having lost that, he was now literally assaulted by feelings he didn't know how to deal with. He would have preferred having real, solid monsters to tame.
Tame! Now that was a good word. A word he was used to. He firmly told his unruly feelings to curl up somewhere and die. It was not as efficient as he'd have liked, but it did help somewhat.
He could now walk around with almost no support, and noticed with amusement how this had been acknowledged: they had put armed guards everywhere. He wondered in what kind of confinement he'd be transferred to when they declared him healthy.
He learned that his father had declared himself King of Vh'tai, and that he was establishing a new Drule Empire, asking all drules to rally to him. Lotor was amazed that a large number of drule actually flocked to the tiny planet. They kicked quite a number of rogues out, and new constructions were underway there.
He laughed when he saw his father on the 3D platform saying he denied him. Where in the multiverse would the fossil find a female of any species willing to give him a new heir? But the smile disappeared when he thought she'd probably have no choice, just like his own mother. He thought the Voltron team would make a big deal of his being demoted to a Persona Non Grata in the new Drule Empire, but they didn't. Arisians still called him my Lord or Prince, even though he was their prisoner and Zarkon had stripped him of his titles and citizenship. No amount of complaining on his part convinced them to stop. It was almost irritating; why would they do that?
He got his new arm and it did move well, but it lacked the most important part: the hand. Hunk was still working on it, having made the building of this thing a personal challenge. In the meantime, they had plugged in a rather good model, three fingered like the one he had before, but this one, at least, had an opposable thumb, which made it much better.
Between physiotherapy seances he sighed and planned. He seemed to be in relatively good spirit, but that was just to fool his entourage. His decision still stayed the same. Strangely enough, he did feel a little sorry for the doctors and all of the humans that tried to make his body less of a torture device. That was certainly a great deal of effort that would lead nowhere. But then, he had never asked for any of this.
The spies would have been hard to fool, they were quite keen, Marble especially. The small man seemed to be able to see right through him. Sometimes, there would be two of them, and Lotor distractedly noted from their conversations that they despised their leader and were a bitter, frustrated bunch. They had good ideas. They were insanely loyal to Allura. Their main complaint was the Count himself, their not so esteemed leader. Lotor wondered if his father's soldiers held a similar discourse...
But now that they'd been replaced by armed soldiers, he stood a chance. Every now and then, he would hear the alarms of the castle, and the familiar sounds of the lions in battle. Sometimes the lights would flicker, and immediately come back on, and that hinted at an auxiliary system. He carefully noted the routine of the castle soldiers. Maybe one of his father's attacks would allow him to try again.
In preparation for this, he deliberatelly made himself appear weaker then he really was. He looked at the lock of the door. This model wasn't a challenge for him. Having been confined by his father several times as a child and a teenager, he had made a point of learning as much as he could on locking mechanisms. He would just let himself out and scout the castle unhindered, and return to the same room to make it appear as if he hadn't left at all.
Another strategy he used then, when he had guards inside his chambers, was the superior, arrogant smirk, a non-smile that drove underlings mad with a fury they couldn't express. As a result, whoever was stuck to on guard duty would carefully avoid looking directly at him. They would guard the door, the windows, and ignore him if he wasn't actually trying to get out.
These talents would serve him well now, all he needed was some kind of sharp object. The rickety chair that had been pushed in a corner. Some parts were held with wire. He put it facing the window as if he wanted to sulk, and sat on it for hours. It was a simple thing to pretend to worry nervously at protuding, offending bits. He carefully weakened the part he needed, and reigned in his elation when the perfect little metallic sliver came loose.
From then on it was a waiting game. His chance came one night, he heard the sounds of an attack, and a massive explosion near the castle illuminated his room. His guard immediately came to the window to look, a stupid mistake Lotor wasn't going to waste. He knocked the guard down, took his gun and hurried to the door, making short work of the lock.
The castle soldiers were in full battle mode, their attention to the invasion of footsoldiers. Lotor could hear the growlings of a robeast, and assumed Voltron would be kept occupied. He used all the stealth he could, ignoring the pain and following his plan. He went to the deepest part of the castle, at the one place he was certain no one would look for him : the temple of the Lions. A fitting shrine, he thought, for one final act.
***** ***** *****
Lotor marveled at his ease in finding the place. He had seen the schematics of the castle, but Doom's info on the specifics of that part was scant at best. Still, Lotor had felt a pull to the temple, and so came upon it without difficulty.
He was ashamed to feel a bit awed by the radiant beauty of the place. The statues of the five lions were not exactly unexpected, but the place *felt* beautiful. The walls were multihued veined marble, lined with decorative archways. The silvery light seemed to seep from all around, he couldn't see any definite source for it. There was an autel on a dais, and he lowered himself comfortably in front of it. He was serene. His resolve didn't waver.
He took the laser gun.
He pointed it bellow the chin in a manner that would bring instant death.
He smiled in contentment.
He pulled the trigger.
Nothing happened.
He stared in horror and betrayal at the weapon. Safety down, standard footsoldier issue... He fired again. Again, nothing. He rose and aimed at a wall. This time, a killer beam emerged, blasting a path in the marble. How?! How could that be? In a rage, he continued his furious destruction of the walls, all the while turning the weapon around. As soon as the beam came near his flesh, it stopped. He let out a scream of pure agony.
He sank to the floor, incomprehending, spent.
*Desist, my son*
Lotor lifted his head toward the sound, and let out a startled, hysterical laugh, thinking he was insane at last.
A shimmering silver aura surrounded a stunning woman that was *hovering* thirty inches off the floor. She was looking down at him with kindness. She was human with long, dark golden hair, white skin and deep blue eyes. She wore an intricate black drule robe that moved to an unfelt breeze. His mad laughter dissolved to tears as he let his eyes plead the ghost of his beautiful mother to take him with her.
***** ***** *****
It was the second brush with Hagar's new magic. Keith and the others had discussed it, and they'd concluded that the only thing that would penetrate the stones magic was itself. The commander maneuvered his team to force the enemy vessels and the robeast to come on either side of Voltron. They then shifted in an intangible state, so that the violet beam passed right through them, and their enemies jsut hit each other. That disabled the protective magic of the stone. After that it was the more familiar fight and they made short work of the vicious robeast.
The furious pace of the battle left the V force tired and more then happy to call it a night. Keith was understandably furious when he learned the disapearence of the Prince. They assumed he had fled with the drules, but called a wide search all the same.
Four of the pilots were searching the castle themselves, when Hunk suddenly stopped dead in his tracks.
"Did you feel this, guys?"
"A pull?" Inquired Pidge.
"So I'm not imagining things", added Lance.
"It feels like the spirit of the Lions," commented Keith. "We might as well follow it."
Allura was not to relax either. The nearest village had been damaged, and she was busy orchestrating the aftermath of the battle. The enclave drule refugee quarter had only one exit, and it had become clogged as they tried to get out to the shelters. Many refugees were seriously hurt. She thought it was such a shame, to come here to flee Zarkon's tyranny years ago to be threatened again by the same despot. She couldn't free herself for a while, but she also felt the pull of the Lions, and a soon as she took care of all the lose ends, she followed it. She was the most spiritually atuned to the Lions and knew exactly where : the temple.
She was so lost in thoughts of how to protect the planet from this new magic that she was doubly startled when she entered the temple. She was confronted by one of the strangest sight she had ever seen : Keith was arguing with a magnificent ghost!
She looked a bit like her, but her face was more elfin, and Allura realised the bone structure was similar to Lotor's. Her unbound hair flowed lazily as if she was immersed in water. She was semi-transparent, and evocated those ancient victorian paintings, in spite of the drule robes. Allura felt this spirit was benevolent, so she didn't fear for the team. Instead she took in the rest of the scene. Lotor was kneeling before the spectral woman, his shoulders nearly to the floor, utterly still, his hair pooling around him. A laser gun lay nearby. The wall showed laser damage, and she wondered if he was hurt, as his posture suggested. And the strange conversation...
"You ask for the impossible," Keith was saying.
"Not so, young man. If this is to work at all, he must be allowed a minimum of freedom. A boundary would be acceptable, say, a couple kilometers around the castle..."
"One! Even one is too much!" Keith exclaimed. "We'd have to have a way to monitor him at all times. And under guard!"
"Come now," the ghost was arguing, "that arrangment would drive him insane. It would have no chance to succeed. He's bound, you wouldn't have too..."
"Excuse me... Lady...?" inquired Allura, cutting off the argument.
"I am Alana Leatitia Alestrin," answered the floating spirit. She smirked, an expression they'd seen countless times... but on Lotor's face. She added "Was. I am quite dead. I've been hovering for years, trying to make contact."
"What's going on exactly?"
Keith took a disgusted expression.
"This... lady claims she is Lotor's mother. Was. She wants us to give Lotor a chance to try 'our values'."
"It's a bit more then that, Princess. My death was sudden and I never had the chance to make my last wishes known. Such wishes are sacred to drules. Even though I am human, it is significant enough to me that I never could move on. I won't ever be at peace if my last wishes aren't fulfilled. I tried several times to contact Lotor, but my spiritual from could only come through to him in dreams and I couldn't even make myself heard. In this temple, I can be both seen and heard. Its the first time we are both in a spirit place that is not affected by the shield Hagar put on him. This is unhoped for, after all those years..."
Alana hovered, giving Allura a pleading look. She continued.
"My death wishes are to be given to my chosen, my son. They are twofold. One, he should not seek death. And secondly, he is bound to try live by your creeds for a full year. If he deems them without merit, he can then choose his way of life, but he has to give it a sincere try."
Her eyes were desperate. She looked at all the pilot in pleading.
"My time is limited. I'm already starting to fade. Lotor has already pledged to my last wishes. He is now bound. To drules, such vows are sacred. To deny them would forsake his soul. He will trully try. But in order for it to happen, I need you. I need him to have an opportunity to fulfill his duty. If he is too confined, how can he see the merits of your society? I might as well take him with me right now..."
At this, Lotor looked toward his mother in such obvious longing, that they couldn't help a pang in their hearts. The male pilots turned toward Allura. It was her planet, after all, and Lotor and his obsession was one of her biggest problems. The princess sighed.
"I am not necessarily against this. I always thought there is light to be found in the darkest corners. But the first creed he has to understand, or at least act upon, will be to respect my right to choose a companion for myself. Also, I would not be the one to manage the logistics of this. Keith, I think it should fall to you. Pidge could handle the security gadjets you'd need. I think its feasible if you're in charge : he cannot manipulate you."
"I think the whole team should have a say," said Keith, mostly for the benefit of Lance, who looked the most furiously opposed. "I will refuse if you are not willing, Lance."
The ghost approched the red lion pilot and lowered herself to his level. "Help me, Angry One," she pleaded, "help me find peace at last. If you accept, my ordeal will be lighter. It will last one year, at the end of which I'll be able to pass on, or will be eternal, if Lotor fails to this duty. But at least, I will have the certitude he at least tried. Please... Give him a chance to end my errancy in the trails of the likes of Zarkon and his witch... I never had the chance to raise my own son. I could only observe from beyond the growing monster Zarkon was shaping him into." She sighed, her shoulders sagging. "It was and still is Hell, Young one. Pure Hell."
Lance stubbornly crossed his arms. "I wont ever do it for him, he doesn't deserve it," he declared. Alana widened her eyes in dismay. "However, I'm willing to accept for you."
At this, there came in their hearts an explosion of joy so intense it that their minds reeled. Alana became brighter and offered Lance a smile so radiant and relieved that he swayed as her gratitude hit him. She then floated to Lotor, bending gracefully to kneel before him, as he was still curled up on himself. She cupped his face, never quite touching.
"Remember, my son. Even though you will not see me, I am never far. It is in your power to give me eternal happiness, whatever you decide at the end of this year. But know that your vow to at least try has already ended years of painful yearning. Thank you, my beautiful son. Thank you so much..."
She faded slowly, still smiling at all of them, silver tears trailing her cheeks.
Lotor turned toward the pilots, shaken to the core. Allura looked hopeful, Hunk calmly accepting, Pidge was frowning but nodded determinedly. Keith was a study in doubt, and Lance's eyes were narrowed. Lotor realized that to end his mother's Hell, he now had to enter his own.