1The last chapter was re-written, as will be this one. So they are not as well rounded, sorry for that. I'll even have to add stuff to chapter 9 that I forgot. Grrr. Its not easy because I lost those chapters more then a year ago. I almost gave up my fic. But I told myself that with over 20 chapters still existing, it'd be a shame to let it die.
Voltron Universe is not mine. It belongs too many entities I have no ties with whatsoever. This is for fun, no money being made, dadda dadda.
10- Refugee
They gave him a room. Depressed as he was, Lotor didn't show a great deal of interest in his new 'home'. It was rather small by his standards, but cosier then the sterile, colourless medical wing. Near the single window was an enormous, wing-backed cushioned chair that became his substitute for his sofa. He curled in it for hours. He figures that if he didn't leave his room, he couldn't make any mistakes.
He now had an official refugee status. Keith wanted to keep a close eye on him, so they didn't send him to the drule refugee's little enclave in a nearby village. The commander kept him in the castle and established a set of rules to follow. The most irritating one was that the ex-prince had to make regular contact, in person, either with him or his second-in-command Lance.
Electronics and communicating devices of any kind were forbidden. He had no access to the village. He could go in the forest in a perimeter of one kilometre around the castle. Rose could accompany him, something she obtained after hours of nagging.
All of that went without saying, Lotor thought. Still, they were more generous that he expected. He was to be treated no worse then any other refugee. The servants deferred to him in certain things, like laundry and food, but he couldn't order them around.
The spycloak had been confiscated, but he was given used drule robes that were a gift from the association of drule refugees here. They were threadbare, but colourful, well cut and comfortable.
He was brooding, ensconced in his favourite cushioned chair, when someone knocked and entered. Little Rose came in with a box and papers, hair and skirts bouncing joyously. He smiled at her, happy to have the ferret relieve his boredom. He hadn't seen her for a while.
"Hello, Snow!" She began. "How do you like your room? Are you ok? Do your legs still hurt? Can I try your chair?"
She was poking around, testing the mattress, taking in the furniture. "Its an ok place. The view is cool. Here, I brought you messages and a homecoming-welcome gift."
He took the offered box distractedly.
"Messages?"
"There's a closed quarter of refugees in the nearby village. I told you about that. They give this packet of information to every new refugee. But you can read it later, Snow."
"You want me to open your gift." He smirked knowingly. She was practically bouncing in anticipation.
"I made it myself!" She announced proudly. "Well, I had a little help with the design as I don't know what it all means. I did research and also asked a seamstress in the village. The drule part of course. Open it!"
So Lotor did while Rose was babbling : "We'll all need formal wear in the castle in a little while, but Allura wouldn't tell me why, no matter how much I kept asking. Ma made me a horrible, *Horrible* pink dress with tons of ribbons I'll look like a cat toy in..."
Lotor was stunned to unfold a drulean formal robe in a purple so dark it appeared black. It had absolutely no frill, and the cut and design were fit for a prince. While most people wouldn't know what the long sleeves, half cape, epaulets and flow of the material meant, Lotor did and found himself quite touched that Rose had put so much thought in this. Even the absence of flashy adornment was significant. It implied that the person wearing it did not *need* any to impress. It was a sign of strength, a detail she could have overlooked, since that practice had been ignored for decades.
He held it to the light, strangely unable to speak as his throat constricted with emotion.
"It's a royal robe, Rose," he managed at last. "I'm no longer a prince."
"Do I look as if I give a damn? Besides, the drule seamstress thought it was a magnificent idea. They still consider you a prince, you know, and I'd take their opinion over Zarky's any day. Put it on! I wanna see!"
She gave him a good shot of puppy eyes. He smirked and said : " Wouldn't it be better to keep those for that formal thing we know nothing of?"
"Only if you promise not to laugh at my stupid dress."
"I promise I'll try, Little Flower."
He was still admiring the design, then seemed to remember something.
"I heard a servant call you 'Kohana'," he asked her. "Which is the right name?"
"All of 'em," Rose said, sitting down on the bed. "Kohana is my real name and it means 'little flower'. Dad married mom because he was so desperately in love then. She's from Japan. That's on Earth. He met her during a diplomatic outing. When he came back on Aris with a 'foreign' wife, the other nobles shunned him."
"foreign? She wasn't human?"
"Yes she was, silly, some humans still make distinctions based on skin tone, eyes and suchlike."
Ah, I understand. We have the same problem among drules. I thought humans were above that. Aren't humans among the 'good guys'?"
"Most are. But some are very stubborn about it. The higher-ups here are a pretty narrow-minded bunch. They all crawled from under their hiding place when Allura began more actively ruling Aris. Then two years ago mommy died. Poor dad was demolished. And there I was, black hair, slanted eyes and all. The nobles know I'm a one of them, but look at me as some sort of nullity. He wants them to "recognise' me or something, so much it that he wont listen when I say I don't care. He says that when I'm a baroness everyone will bow and scrape, and he wants me to marry a baron friend of his. I loathe the guy, and we have big fights about this."
"Marry? Just how old are you?" Lotor exclaimed.
"Thirteen."
Lotor's eyes widened comically in surprise. She was minuscule and as flat as a carp. He thought she was nine or ten at best.
"Legal possible age to marry here is fourteen. It's a age old law, it kept the bloodlines and all. They all intermarried at a point, pretty disgusting if you ask me," she went on. "I wont accept of course... Not even when I'm eighty. The guy just gives me the creeps."
"Good for you. And the name 'Rose'?"
"Lance called me that all the time because I hate pink. A rose is a flower, but its also the colour pink. I griped a lot about it in the beginning and of course, he insisted so much it stuck. I don't mind now." She paused, then said : "Do you want to go haunt the forest? Pink Mammoth changed the patterns again. I want to study them, we can't have them get the better of us!"
"That would be a shame. But its best if stay here, flower. Who knows what unsaid principle I could break? If I'm to follow your rules I need to study the human society first. I don't want to forsake my soul for a simple blunder. The only 'diplomatic' knowledge I have of your way of life is the please-thank you thing."
"One other very important one is not to lie, Snow. Its because your legs hurt, don't they? You keep shifting them."
"All right, they do. But what I said is also true. Satisfied?"
"Tsk, lie by omission. Bad, bad. Want me to call someone?"
"No, I see Hausmann this afternoon. Besides we wouldn't have the time to go far, and I want to read this," he said, showing the stack of papers Rose had brought.
"Ok. I guess it means I should get rid of homework," she said, heading for the door with a disgusted pout.
Lotor got out of his chair and carefully put the robe away. "Thank you for the gift, Rose," he said with more emotion he wanted to show. "I'm sure I'll do perfectly well if l gauge my take on human nobility on you, I think." She grinned.
"Thanks. Heroics is Keith (Lotor scowled at this), good humoured jokes and philosophy is Lance, kindness is Hunk and all of that, plus the rationale behind it is Pidge. You can do no wrong taking their example..."
"Grrr."
She laughed. "Bye, Snow." She bounced out and the ex-prince sank in chair, curling up with the packet of letters.
The front page was a standard greeting to new refugees, it described the association and its goals. Then came a list of persons and places to avoid, with a clear note to destroy the document once read. Those were the more vicious drule haters. A shorter list named friendly places and people. Unsurprisingly, Lotor found Kohana on the list. She apparently took lessons by a master right in the drule quarter, with full authorisation. He smiled, unsurprised, and noticed a folded slip of paper addressed personally to him, which he unfolded.
***** ***** *****
The pilots were tinkering in the lab. Hunk and Pidge were discussing the design of the cybernetic hand they were working on while Keith and Lance were reviewing their practice schedule. They all turned when the door slid open and Lotor entered the place almost timidly, holding a small piece of paper.
"Hey, campanule1..." Greeted Lance sarcastically, clearly not as a salute but as a mean to make the others notice he was there.
"Hey, come here, Lotor, come see the design of your future hand!" Called Hunk, always enthusiastic about new mech parts to build.
Glad to escape Lance's hostile gaze, the ex-prince went to Hunk's terminal and looked at the design that turned on itself on the 3D platform.
"We have a problem integrating certain circuits," explained Pidge. That's why its taking a long time. A hand can move a gazillion different ways. We can't seem to find a design that'll mimic the tendons properly and still permit enough circuitry..."
Lotor suggested a few changes that sunk Hunk deep in thought while Pidge stared at the ex-prince in surprise. The two submerged again in their design so completely that Lotor shrugged and turned to the commander, giving him the paper.
"Since I have to be 'supervised'," Lotor began with a strangled little growl, "I have to ask permission to respond to this invitation."
The drule was humiliated, but followed the rules. Keith was pleasantly surprised and read the short note. 'The village of the drule refugees have the honour to harbor the Khiaran Master Kovak. You are invited to a trial for lessons.' There was a string of characters Keith couldn't read, but Lance, reading over his shoulder, said that it was a date and time and a drulean salutation... to a royal, on which he commented that it was a bit outdated.
Lotor scowled and lifted his chin in defiance. He didn't like to be reminded he was striped of his rank.
"What exactly is a 'Khiaran Master'?" Asked Keith.
"Khiara is an ancient combat form using two swords," Lotor explained. "Its almost a lost art now, the masters are very rare and as old as dirt. I learned the art on mother's planet until age ten. I was then sent to the military academy2 where they did their best to make me unlearn it."
"Weapons are forbid – you know that."
"The masters use practice weapons. They are harmless."
"I saw pictures of that," threw in Lance. "Its similar to Kendo. Kendo masters can kill with their practice bamboo stick, though."
"I can kill just as well with my bare hand," argued Lotor. "Hausmann wants me to exercise and I can't abide training on static pieces of junk. We would practice in the forest and you can have an army with laser pistols aimed at me if you so wish. It'd still best pedalling to nowhere on those contraptions."
The two pilots looked reluctant.
"Look," Lotor continued, "I am bound to abide your values, that means I can't go murdering babies or mauling kittens. You know I'm already proficient with weapons. I would do no more harm. Its an honour to be invited to such a trial. I thought Khiaran masters extinct."
Lotor looked at the floor as if it harbored secrets, his one real hand tightened in a fist. He hated having to justify his moves and, even more humiliating, to ask permission.
"Father didn't like the art. Said they had this stupid code that made them override direct orders if it suited them. He killed all he could find. Not by fighting : he'd have lost. The masters are demons with swords. He had assassins use lasers, poison, you name it. They disappeared just about the same time our sorcerers did. It would be a way to infuriate father, if nothing else, that I would come back to something he hated with such passion."
"I would have to be present and armed," Keith conceded.
"Agreed. I don't care. The trials are in three weeks time." Lotor sighed. "Hausmann won't allow me sooner, " he added mournfully.
"Keep me informed."
"Don't remind me of my duties," the ex-prince growled, heading out, vainly trying to hide a limp.
Keith bristled at the tone, but didn't call Lotor on it. It was amazing enough he'd come directly to him, and it must have taken lots of nerve not to completely lose it.
"Well, at least he asked," he said, turning to Lance. "What do you think?"
"I think its better then it seems." Lance answered, thoughtful. "I know about those Khiarans. Khiara isn't only a combat form, it a code of conduct that goes with all kind of rules. They place respect of life above all else. Curious, for an art that teaches you how to kill, but hey, it's a drule thing. Maybe that guy can teach the campanule a bit or two about honour..."
"Care to tell me how it is you can read Drule?"
Lance just grinned.
1- A campanule is a kind of dainty bell-like blue flower. Lotor has no idea what it is... I think he would object the nickname! :-)
2- The fact that Lotor lived his first ten years of life on his mother's planet and that he was then sent to the Academy is a tribute to and is inspired by a fic from Tamysan I enjoyed a lot, The Redeemed and the Damned, with is rated M, well worth a read *if* you're of age.
Author Note:
I don't like re-writing at all, so it's a bit rushed, but I would be agonizingly slow if I waited to be completely satisfied with a chapter before posting. I hope the story connects correctly. Auuugh! re-writing... *bawls and cries over lost chapters...* After my computer fried, I uploaded my last back up and saw it was outdated. I salvaged what I could and then began to write all the rest of the fic by hand, so the last leg of the story will have to be typed. I still check traffic for my story, as you people don't review *hint, hint*, and I do have visitors (thanks for reading), so I figure I should make the effort.