Had an unexpected break today. Wrote a couple of chapters. :-) Voltron mine is not. :-(
Lotor being excellent in mechanical design is based on two things. First, if I remember well, its said in the 3D version that he's the one who figured out how to ditch their dependance on Lazon. Secondly, its a tribute to a fic I read a long time ago, in which Lotor built his own revolutionary ship. It was before the 3D show. I don't remember where I read this story, nor the title. If anyone knows, tell me so I can offer proper credits. That particular fic was unfinished, which is a shame, it was so good. It had Hazar as well, and he and Lotor were friends.
A note here, I have nothing against blue bloods, I warn you that in this fic many nobles are complete jerks, but remember its a fic and another planet, and its just to serve the story. Arisians crème de la crème is a xenophobic pack. Its not my take on earth ones, who no doubt have as many different personalities as there are individuals.
This chapter was fun to write, and re-write. :-)
112- Triangle
"I want all of you on your best behaviour," commanded Allura while pacing, her pink skirt fluttering in an attempt to keep up with her legs. "Prince Nikolai of Cerillia will visit Aris on a diplomatic overture to join the Alliance."
"Cerillia?", asked Lance, "Isn't that the smallish empire that sold its soul to Zarcon in the conflict?"
"Yes. But now their king is ill, and the son wants to turn a new leaf and open commercial channels. It would help my strategic position overall to convince this group to join the Alliance. The prince proposed Aris as a neutral ground, specifically asking that I head the negotiations."
Allura sopped and looked straight at them, chin high, back ramrod straight and with her hands clasped at her back.
"This is an ancient monarchy, gents. We allowed you leeway in court, but in this instance proper behaviour and attire will be expected at all times."
She continued relentlessly, her targets a bit wide-eyed at her use of the Royal 'We.'
"Lance, no dirty jokes. Pidge, no cutting remark that'll tell them you're smarter then they are. Hunk, don't offer them junk food or help to upgrade whatever mechanical device they use.. Keith, Do you still have that formal Commander uniform?"
"Er... Alas?"
"Wear it. Each of you will have to be properly attired. Nanny is seeing to it."
That elicited a pained groan from the boys. Nanny in charge of their formal wardrobe? Disaster. They hated formal visits; the demeaning looks of blue bloods had a way of making you feel lower then dirt. Most of them made it quite clear you were mere peasants just by using subtle gestures and insinuations against which there is no defence, unless you wanted to create a scene or even a diplomatic incident. The Arisian upper crust was bad enough... visiting royalty was sure to be hell...
"As long as its not pink," conceded Hunk with a sigh.
"Well, you can tell Nanny to skip whatever she had in mind for me," said Lance, "I'll find something on my own, thank you very much."
"Well at least have Nanny approve it. The prince and his retinue will arrive in a week." Allura favoured Hunk and Pidge a pointed look. "Please unclutter the work lab. It wouldn't do to have anybody step on a candy wrapper or a vital mech part, which are, I regret to say, equally distributed all over the floor."
Hunk whistled in a decidedly non-apologetic way as he fled to his afore mentioned lab, shortly followed by his companions who suddenly found urgent tasks be immediately taken care of. Allura smiled. Those four could take on monstrous robeasts without batting an eye, but talk wardrobe and they chickened out with the best of them.
***** ***** *****
True to form, Lance reappeared two days later, dashing in a black long coat, impeccable black riding boots, a frilly off-white shirt that put to mind an elegant corsair, and his longish hair tied back with a black velvet ribbon. He commented that if Keith of the Black Lion wore red, he of the Red might as well wear black, it would confuse the gentry. He even got out of hiding his numerous medals, an impressive row on his lapels. He looked like a rogue Prince. The servants that were scurrying, polishing the furniture to perfection, instinctively curtsied. He beamed at them. Preening in his best superior strut, he smirked at the princess.
"Nice outfit, ne?"
Allura had to admit that it was, wide-eyed and cheeks rosy.
Keith had no major problems, the castle seamstresses readjusted his uniform to fit his muscled shoulders. He was happy the shoulders needed widening while the waist still fit perfectly. Training hard has definite perks. He gave the Red Lion pilot fierce competition in this military cut formal wear, looking like an admiral. He even had a short shoulder cape, but chose not to wear it. He too had a lot of medals, and he and Lance teased each good naturedly on which set was the most glorious, not that they cared all that much. They wore them just to placate the more disdainful blue-bloods.
Pidge was understandably worried, he didn't have formal wear and was at the complete mercy of Nanny, never an enviable fate, especially concerning clothing. He was awfully relieved when the servants presented him a dark green uniform very similar in cut to the commander's. It was tastefully trimmed in gold. Pidge was embarrassed the first time he wore it, the females servants goggled at him as if seeing him for the first time. The looks he received were a bit predatory, something he wasn't used to at all. He blushed a lot at all the waggled eyebrows and appreciative smiles. He resolve to hide in the lab for the duration of the cerillian prince's visit.
Hunk adamantly refused the burnt orange uniform, or costume as he called it. The seamstresses worked diligently and replaced this with a deep gray formal suit, almost black, with golden yellow satin stripes on the sides of the pants, and in place of a jacket he had a long coat that barely missed the floor, with gold cordon that made him look like an legendary giant.
All decked out, they decided to put on a show for Allura and went to see her in a four-wide formation. Everybody cleared the corridors to let them pass, stopping whatever they were doing in admiration. The formidable quatuor presented themselves to Allura and Coran. The dignitary gaped, and Allura blushed.
***** ***** *****
Lotor was in his room, gazing out his window with narrowed eyes. From his vantage point he could see the castle entrance. The cerillian ship had landed and in moments he would be able to see prince Nikolai and his dignitaries. He recalled the cerillian king, a wily snake, that one, and notoriously ugly.
He had seen Nikolai when they were both kids, and they had hated each other instantly, as was common among royal children in his circle. He barely remembered the snot-nosed brat. He fervently hoped Nikolai grew up to look like his genitor.
His hopes were crushed when the prince appeared : Nikolai looked like the epitome of human perfection in a splendid white and gold uniform. Lotor though his white hairs beat any other, but he had to admit Nikolai's golden mane was a close second. His face was handsome and virile. Lotor couldn't see the eye colour from this far, but he bet they were blue or even worse, green, making this human a male god. He was also taller then all the pilots, but this didn't bring Lotor any pleasure. He hated how beautiful the cerillian prince was, as pretty as he himself had become repulsive. His teeth grit as he saw Allura was greeting the man and his retinue with all the protocol. Nikolai bowed politely and kissed her hand.
Furiously jealous, the ex-prince trembled in suppressed rage, growling and closing his eyes, not wanting to witness any more. He suddenly shivered in something he would never admit to be fear. A strange sensation crawled along his spine, and he turned around, cranked up the heat in the room, going back to his drawing in an attempt to stop raging on the arrival of this new contender.
***** ***** *****
The charming prince Nikolai was again closeted with Allura and Coran, deep in interstellar diplomacy. Keith kept himself occupied, trying to ignore his growing apprehension. Was it his imagination or did the prince make headway with Allura? And if so, what right had he to judge, the princess was free to like, show good manners and smile coquettishly to anyone she damn well pleased.
The pilots found excuses to be absent most of the time. When they were obligated to mingle, they kept as close as they could. Surprisingly, Lotor gravitated toward them, preferring their proximity to that of cerillians. They couldn't understand because the cerillians simpered a lot to royals, and they obviously still considered him high-ranked.
Such encounters ceased when Lotor retreated in his room, seemingly decided to camp there until the delagation was gone.
Keith's dislike Nikolai grew daily. The man was just too perfect. He had nice conversationnal skills, he supposed, because he often obtained the princess' marvelous little bell laugh. He was perfectly handsome, and Nanny fussed a lot over him. Coran seemed completely taken as well. Keith couldn't understand why. While spectacularly blond, glittery and imposing, the decorative prince didn't exude the quarter of the intensity Lotor achieved only with his dark, unadorned formal robe. Not that Keith would ever admit it out loud. Hating the cerillian had to be the first thing they agreed on.
The commander passed as much time as he could in practice, in two, three or four lions formations. Allura was tied with her diplomatic duties and it seemed a good time for this.
"Keith, we've been practising this formation for a full hour now," remarked Lance from Red Lion, annoyed with this morning's dual exercise. "Do you want to try another combo before I close my eyes just to see if I can make this figure blind? I'm bored."
He smirked, and added : "I think someone is distracted by a certain princes, wooing certain princesses..."
"Shut up, Lance. Or do you want me to trigger the x33 scenario?"
"Hehe... Bull's eye! So Nikolai is competition, ne? Just think how the campanule must be handling this..."
"I can 'almost' sympathise. Nikolai is perfect, and I'm pretty sure Nanny is going through every wedding magazine she can get her hands on to find..."
"...a pink wedding dress," they said in unison.
***** ***** *****
Lotor had spent the last few days in his room, drawing plans and schematics. He requested to be excused from the meals and asked to have his food served here. He'd been surprised that the commander granted this immediately, not requiring any explanation. Perhaps he thought Lotor wouldn't be able to resist strangling Nikolai on sight, which was a fair estimate.
After a few days, though, the ex-prince was going steer crazy. Ever since the Bastille 12 prison sentence, he intensely disliked being enclosed. He supposed he wouldn't come across too many persons if he chose to go out very early in the morning to indulge in his spying on the princess.
He wasn't sure she would even be in her garden; autumn had left the place desolate, and the tasks left in preparation for winter where not very appealing. The gray sky, threatening snow, didn't help matters. He perked up when he saw her.
The princess was faithful to her beloved garden, she was there, pleasantly discussing with the chief gardener while they were digging up bulbs. Lotor crouched in his favourite bush and observed. He'd missed spying like this, and indulged in his infatuation, his half mast eyes drinking in the beauty of Allura.
But then, he came. The porcelain doll prince Nikolai. He went to the princess and began small talk with her. Lotor burned with the desire to slice the bastard! Slowly. Very slowly. He couldn't hear what they said, but he could see them rushing in when cold rain began to pour, giggling all the way back to the castle.
He lost it. It took all his strength and courage just to avoid catching up and strangling the cerillian. He rose, trembling in restraint. Turning his back on the scene was one of the hardest things he had ever done. He had to find an outlet for his rage or explode. He fled in the forest.
***** ***** *****
"Where the hell is he?" cried Keith in frustration. The commander was just coming back from a meeting he had been invited to attend, and he was furious for many reasons. First, it was the only seance of the diplomatic effort he'd been invited to, and he couldn't place a single word. The cerillian diplomats acted as if he was a guard dog, never once looking at him. Secondly, Keith thought that this had been a complete waste of his time, which would have been better used revising strategies with the pilots. And third, and not least, he had to look as Nikolai subtly worked his charm on Allura. And now Lotor had failed to report.
"Calm down, Keith." Hunk suggested. "Blueberry is probably just as frustrated as you, and wrecking something in some corner. We'll find him."
Keith sighed.
"Ok. Hunk, search the temple and surrounding area. Pidge, east wing ok to you? And Lance, take the south, and I'll cover the north."
Hunk had his sources in the castle; he went directly to the kitchens. Castles servants were a tight knit group and extraordinarily observant. The gossip always made its way to the kitchens, the unofficial meeting ground of all the castle personnel. He was jovially greeted upon entering their domain, and asked if they'd seen Lotor while filching a conveniently placed pastry.
A gardener in dirty coverall was helping himself in the same stash and declared he had been working in the garden when he saw the flash of white hair retreating in the forest.
"In this rain?"
"Yep."
Hunk called Lance. "you're the closest to the garden. I know its raining hard, but..."
"I'm on it," answered Lance. "If he is outside, I have a pretty good idea where he might be."
"Thanks, bro," said Hunk, relieved to avoid the cold rain and the winds. "I owe you one."
In gratitude he had the kitchen staff prepare warm food for the sure-to-be-drenched pilot.
***** ***** *****
Lance followed his instinct straight to the khiara practice ground. He was right : the enraged prince was going through the seventeen khiara sequences. Not the slow, elegant sword dance, but a furious, dizzying race, his practice swords flashing, his hair plastered on soaked formal robes and flowing on his contorted face. He seemed completely absorbed, and Lance kept a prudent distance, not liking the way he could see the drule's fangs.
It was almost dusk, and Lance wondered how long the ex-prince had been at it.
Suddenly the drule slipped on the cold, wet grass and missed a move in the sequence. He screamed in rage, bringing both his practice swords in a swooping arc above his head and down onto a sapling. The small tree barely moved, but the brittle blades exploded in thousands of fragments, glittering as they fell with the rain.
This shook Lotor out of his self induced trance.
"Have you been here long, human?" Lotor asked without looking.
"I thought it best to keep a distance."
"It was a good idea."
"Are you about done?" He asked, not unkindly.
Lotor sighed, realising he'd been fighting his rage for hours. The cold hit him and he hugged himself miserably, trying to fend it off.
Lance refrained from joking. The drule was spent and looked about to collapse. He felt he if he got Lotor to spend one more calory he would fall and he'd have to drag him all the way to the castle. Besides even he couldn't find anything humourous in this scene. So he shrugged, offered a soft "let's get inside" and started his way back, the ex-prince following sullenly.
***** ***** *****
Author note : Two scenes in the fic inspired the entire story. The first one was Lotor flying his ship into the sun, being pleasantly numb, and seeing a black spot that would turn out to be red lion. The second one was the scene where he breaks his two swords in the rain. I really envisionned the wet hair and the brittle, black fragments flying off in all directions. Lance is there in both, but then, he is my favorite pilot.