Disclaimer: I don't own Voltron or its original Japanese version Golion. I'm just borrowing them for some non-profit entertainment.

The Sindariin

Chapter Three:

"We received intelligence from Princess Amue and Ryou."

The four remaining Golion pilots jumped to their feet, eager for an update from the Galra capitol. After their humiliating defeat at the hands of Emperor Dabazaal, the destruction of the space-cannon and the capture of their princess, the team's moral had taken a decisive nose dive toward the hopeless and depressed. They had been lounging in one of the common rooms of the castle's living area, wallowing in the company of each other's misery when Raible had entered with a small autoreader in hand. Kogane almost snatched the information storage device from the strategist's hand in his eagerness for information about Fala.

"Its not gonna be the information you think it is." Raible warned him just as the Black Lion pilot switched it on.

A small hologram of Princess Amue, Fala's cousin, appeared standing on the the autoreader. Her eyes were focused on whatever recording device she had used but it gave the effect of fixing her commanding gaze on Kogane and the others that had gathered to watch over his shoulders. Raible gave the boys some space and leaned back against a near wall to wait for their disappointment.

"Things are divided here on Galra." The princess began, her voice calm yet somehow still commanding and full of authority. "Sincline and the and Emperor have turned against one another and both the court and the military is unsure about whom they should fallow. Daibazaal has imprisoned Sincline for his failure to defeat Golion..." Here she smiled proudly, knowing that it was her kin that was causing the Empire so much grief and vexation. "... and is planning to execute him. But this decision seems to have just sparked more disquiet. The Empire is devided. Now is the perfect time for an attack!"

The image flickered and then the message began again. Kogane switched it off with a despondent sigh and slumped backwards into the nearest chair.

"T'ch, old news is old." Kurogane scoffed placing his hands in his pockets. He began to pace the room in agitation.

"I don't get it." Seido said bewildered. "The falling-out between Sincline and Daibazaal must have happened weeks ago. Why's she only just telling us about it now?"

Now Raible cleared his throat, bringing all four of the boys' attention back to himself. He pushed off from the wall and accepted the autoreader back from the Black Lion pilot. "Amue and her rebel group cannot contact us directly." He explained. "Any transmission they send to us, or any transmission we send to them could easily be tracked by the Galra military. In other words, we'd just be giving away Amue and Ryou's location to the enemy and it would be the end of our allies. For that reason they instead communicate with us through pre-recorded message caches. Either Amue or Ryou will record a message for us with updates and intelligence on the capitol seal it in a pod and either attack it to an out-bound Galran ship where it will detach at the ship passes through the energy field that surrounds the planet or else launch then into space from the planet and hope it is picked up by a friendly ship passing by."

The four Lion pilots all nodded their understand but didn't comment. Kogane looked as if her were going to exclaim how useless a system that was be he remained tactfully silent. It was possible that Amue and Ryou were staging their own rescue for Fala at this very moment and he just wasn't aware of it due to the communication delay.

"What I have come to ask you," The strategist continued, "is what kind of reply should I send back. The space-cannon is gone and so we can neither launch an attack on Galra nor a rescue mission for Princess Fala. The princess is Daibazaal's hostage and I'm not entirely sure what he might do to her if we don't give into his demands. I have already spoken with the other representatives of the Leo Alliance and they are urging me to wait and give Amue and Ryou a chance to mount a rescue. However, because communication between the Alliance and their group is so slow I'm unsure about trusting Fala's fate to them. That is why I'm asking you." His eyes swept over each of them in turn before settling on their leader, Kogane. 'That's why I'm asking you.'

The Black Lion pilot was silent a moment before he slowly answered, "I want to rescue Fala... but, Golion is short one pilot and even if there was someone here who could take over piloting Golion we still have no way of getting through the energy field that surrounds the planet." He fell silent again, his expression pensive. "Galran ships pass in and out easily enough... If we could figure out how they do it, maybe we don't need the cannon anymore and could still mount a rescue for Fala. But that would still leave us short one pilot..."

"If we could get our hands on a slave-ship for a raider I bet I could take it apart and figure out how it works." Shorty piped up.

"But how would we get our hands on a ship?" Seido asked. The Yellow Lion pilot shook his head. "I can't remember us ever going up against a Galra ship of any kind without completely destroying it."

"Except for when we lost to it..." Kogane muttered gloomily thinking of their defeat at the hands of Daibazaal.

"T'ch." Kurogane stopped pacing and glared at his comrades. "Listen to you all. And here I thought I was the pessimist of the group. How did we escape from Galra in the fisrt place? Back when we were all slaves, I know you remember."

"We stole a ship." Seido replied with a shrug. "But it was also destroyed when we crashed here on Altea. You should remember that, Moody."

"Yeah, I remember." Kurogane shrugged. "But remember our second problem, we also need a fifth pilot for Golion. And don't forget who's younger brother Ryou is... If Shirogane's little brother can steal a Galran ship and fly it here then we'll have both a new pilot for Blue Lion and a means of passing though the energy field that surrounds the capitol."

"That's brilliant!" Kogane jumped to his feet. He turned to the strategist. "Raible..."

He nodded but before he left to compose the message that would be sent to Amue and Ryou's group he said, "But remember how much time this will take. The fact that there's no guarantee the message of our plan will even get to Amue, it will still take a while for Ryou to get here with the ship and then we'll still have to study it before we can figure out how to use its alien technology. I don't think Daibazaal's ultimatum will give us enough time..."

They all fell silent again, the depressed atmosphere returning with the reminder that Fala did not have the time that they would need. If they didn't surrender in whatever the Galran Emperor considered to be a 'reasonable' amount of time then he would no longer have a use for the Altean princess and no doubt kill her (or worse). Raible could stall, but not very long; a week, maybe a month at most. But no where near the time needed for their plan...

"Surrender." He finally said at length.

All eyes turned to look at the Black Lion pilot as if he had suddenly gone mad. Surrender Altea to Galra? Wasn't that what they were trying to avoid doing? Was Fala really more important to Kogane than an entire planet of innocent people? Everyone knew how the pilot and the princess felt about each other, it wasn't the same type of camaraderie between teammates. But he had been a slave in the Galra Empire once and should know that you cannot sacrifice an entire group for the sake of one person no matter how special to you that person is. The needs of the many out weigh the needs of the individual. Fala understood that, it was why she had threatened that if Raible actually did surrender the planet for her sake she would kill herself. She understood that Altea was more important than the fate of one woman. Why was Kogane giving up so suddenly? And only just when they had begun planing their come back.

"If you surrender Daibazaal's pressure on us will lessen a bit and Fala won't be in immediate danger." He explained.

"You know the moment Altea surrenders, Daibazaal is gonna demand we turn the Lions over to him." Shorty reminded his Cheif.

It was Kurogane who replied before Kogane had the chance to. "Yeah, but we won't be surrendering. Will we, Cheif?"

The Red Lion pilot cast a sideways look at his leader, a sly grin spreading over his face when the other man nodded and explained. "Raible the Strategist and Steward pro-tem will surrender Altea. But the Golion team will be so outraged when they hear about it that they high-jack the Lions and flee."

"That'll give Amue and Ryou enough time to get a Galran ship and new Lion pilot to us where ever we end-up setting up base." Seido realized.

Kogane nodded. "Raible, make the call."

The strategist left to compose a message to be sent to Princess Amue's rebel group before calling the Galra Emperor directly to announce the planet's surrender.

...

"You'll look simply stunning in this gown, m'lady."

Fala examined the dress the woman was holding up for her. It was a heavy looking dress made of gold silk with just the slightest bit of black accenting the collar, sleeves and hem in a delicate diamond pattern. Had it been shown to her in any other setting she would have thought it very nice indeed. At the moment, however, all she wanted to do was rip the material apart. She had been so close, so close to escaping. Why did she have to run into him?

Her first instinct upon seeing Sincline standing in the lift doorway was to grab her knife and lunge at him. Go for the throat, the eyes, the chest... any vital part of him. But she hadn't even managed a scratch. The Prince Imperial had side-stepped her attack as if it meant nothing for him and grabbed her wrist, applying just enough pressure to force her hand to drop the knife. And then he laughed. The bastard actually laughed, not the low cold-hearted laugh of victory he often used but a laugh of honest to goodness amusement. Amusement! As if her attack were nothing more than a cute joke to him. He had looked down at her with an expression, not of anger or triumph, but rather warmth and affection. How dare he look at her with such a gentle gaze! He whom had been attacking her planet and people for the past two years. He had no business looking at her with such affection in his eyes.

Fala's eyes shifted from the dress to the servant holding it. No, not a servant, this woman was a slave. She was dressed in a servant's uniform not slaves rags, but she wore a collar around her neck, a collar she couldn't remove and would tighten and strangle her to death if she tried. She was human, as were all the slaves Sincline had given her. He had probably thought that being surrounded by members of her own species would be a comfort for her, all it did was serve to remind the Altean princess of the fate he had in store for her own people should Raible surrender to Galra. Either slavery or death, those seemed to be the options the Empire offered to those it concord. She supposed it was possibly better than the option offered to those within the Empire whom refused to submit to the ruling authority; the options of private assassination or public execution. She shuddered at the memory of Hornerva's body.

Her weapons had been once again taken from her. Sincline was leading her by the hand. They were surrounded by a host of his guards. She had no hope of another escape attempt. As the prince lead her out of the ship she saw it, the body. Laying at an odd angle half-way down the gangplank, crumpled and pulpy, the material of its tattered clothing completely saturated by bodily fluids, blood still oozing from it and trickling over the edge or down the rest of the ramp. Had it not been for the dark blue space-cat that was pawing at the fleshy mass so forlornly Fala would not have been able to identify it as the Occult-Sicence Witch, Hornerva. It was only later that she had learned that the Witch had sided with Daibazaal in the power-struggle between he and Sincline and for that she had been killed. And then that brought Fala to wonder about her own fate. Obviously she opposed Sincline, but he couldn't kill her until after Altea surrendered. She wouldn't have much use as a hostage if she were dead. But what about after? What did he plan for her then?

"M'lady...?" The slave-woman prodded, once again offering the dress.

And another thing she wondered as she took the dress and slipped into it, turning around so that the woman could lace up her back, why had she not been thrown in with the rest of Sincline's harem? She was more than well aware of his carnal interest in her, Fala would have though that he would be having her trained by his pleasure slaves right now, not waited on and pampered by a host of servants and slaves. She just couldn't figure him. Instead of putting her in with his harem and defiling her virtue as she had expected, the Prince Imperial and acting Emperor Pro-Tem had given her a suit all her own in the palace's residential wing, on the floor that was supposed to be reserved exclusively for the royal family. He had given her her own small army of servants and slaves all human and all female. But most astonishing of all, the Galran prince had not made a single inappropriate move toward her since she had arrived on the planet. A grand total of three days she had been on Galra and in those three days Sincline had insisted that she take meals with him (as he had also insisted on her attendance at the Arena today) but aside from that Fala had barely seen the man.

"You look beautiful, m'lady." The slave-woman said after she had finished lacing up the dress and Fala could turn round. Her name was Marisol and had been enslaved when the Empire had conquered the planet Earth which by coincidence was also Kogane's home planet.

"I wish I didn't." Fala admitted. "Maybe then he'd louse interest."

"Being the object of affection for one of the most powerful men in the galaxy can't be all that terrible." Marisol insisted.

"'Affection'?" Fala echoed. "Ha!"

The idea was laughable! To think that Sincline felt anything for her beyond his base and iniquitous lust was simply ridiculous. She highly doubted he had a single caring bone in his body. 'Affection'... don't make her laugh! The man probably had more affection for his shiny girly hair than he did for her. No, if the soon-to-be Emperor had any feeling for her at all it was infatuation, not affection. She was an interesting novelty to him, a woman who fought back, who took matters into her own hands and defended her planet and her people along side her campions instead of sitting safe in the castle with her embroidery. She couldn't wait until he tired of her head-strong willfulness and moved on, but at the same time she also feared it. What would Sincline do with her once he no longer found her amusing? At the moment she was a hostage against Altea and he couldn't hurt her lest he louse his leverage against Golion (which she assumed was also why he hadn't raped the hell out of her yet). But how long would that last?

"M'lady, we must not keep His Eminence waiting." Marisol reminded her.

"No, I suppose we mustn't." She sneered. Fala would have very much liked to keep the pompous prince waiting all day. She certainly had no desire to be near him and she was curious to test just how far she could push his temper. But not today, she decided as she stepped through the door Marisol held open for her and stepped out into the wide hallway.

Two pairs of guards instantly fell into formation around her. Sincline was very good about keeping her surrounded at all times so that she never had any hope of escape. Human slaves fearful of punishment while in her chambers and heavily armed Galran guards when she was out and about the castle. The Altean princess was actually quite surprised he let her wonder the palace at all. She would have thought he'd have her under house arrest and confine her to quarters. It would have been what she'd have done, had their roles been reversed. She certainly wouldn't want him wandering around her home, guards or no guards.

They lead Fala to the main lift that took them to a skyway that connected the castle to the Arena. Looking up at the dark sky with its perpetual cover of murky brown and black clouds she searched for any sign of color, any flash that might indicate Golion's appearance. It had become painfully obvious to her rather quickly that Sincline wasn't going to give her the opportunity to escape on her own. He had been to carful since running into her on the Angband and she couldn't find the opening she needed to escape. If the Altean princess were ever to get out of here it would have to be with outside help, she would have to be rescued. Fala bristled at that, she was well and tired of playing 'damsel in distress' all the damn time. She had almost freed herself on the Angband. It was just plain damn rotten luck that she had run into Sincline when she did. Damn him! But she wouldn't dwell on that anymore. Now the plan was to sit tight and play nice until the Lions came to rescue her... until Kogane came to rescue her.

Their party reached the Arena and her guards led her through another maze of hallways until she stood outside the door to a private box -the royal box. Fala inhaled deeply as one of the guards held the door open for her. 'Its just until Kogane comes.' She told herself. 'I can play nice until Kogane rescues me.'

"You're late." A low, almost feral growl issued from in front of an ornately carved high-back chair.

She glided with court trained grace to the chair next to him and sat, daintily folding her hands in her lap. Fala did not look at him, the Altean princess not wanting to meet his eyes when she said, "A woman is never late, Sincline. Nor is she early. A woman arrives precisely when she means to."

"That might be true for a Queen, but I hardly think it applies to all women. You are not a Queen yet, Fala." The Prince Imperial, Emperor Pro-Tem tapped his fingers on the arm of his chair in irritation, the material of his black glove making a disarmingly soft pat pat pat sound. At length he said, "I had planned to be down there instead of up here watching. I wanted to do it myself. But I'd rather share this moment with you. The least you could have done was show me the courtesy of arriving on time."

It was then that Fala realized what was going on in the Arena below her. Daibazaal, former Emperor of the Galra Empire, stood naked and chained to a solid iron post. Around him danced two bare chested Galran females with blades in hand. Galran women had no breasts (they did not nurse their young) and so it took the princess a moment to realize that they were female. They twirled and pirouetted and leapt in tight circles around the deposed despot and with every pass they made a fresh cut seemed to open in the man's flesh. Fala assumed that this sort of sadistic display of blood-letting by half-naked women must be thought of as highly erotic to the iniquitous people of the Empire. Why else would they have women as their executioners and why else would you draw it out in such a torturous way?

They must have been at it for a while already because dark purple blood flowed over most of his body, making his scaly green skin almost nauseating to look at. Fala placed her hand over her mouth in fear that she might be sick. The last thing she wanted to do was to show any kind of weakness in front of Sincline. She needed something to distract herself from the grotesque performance. For once, she found herself not just willing but actually wanting to talk with him if for no other reason than to turn her attention from the gruesome deed taking place just meters from where she sat.

"I can't imagine you dancing like that." She said. Fala had been trying to make her voice sound light and matter-of-fact, as if she didn't care. What came out, however, was high pitched and strained. She cleared her throat almost the moment the words were out of her mouth and hoped he wouldn't notice her agitation.

"No." Sincline agreed. "I would have fought him like a man. He would have had a glorious death on my sword, a death worthy of kings. This is a death we reserve for traitors and military deserters." He moved his gloved hand from the armrest and took one of Fala's hands in his. He leaned over to gaze at her with what could only be described as unwarranted tenderness. "But the satisfaction I would have gotten from killing him myself is nothing compared to the pleasure I have just being here with you."

The Altean princess pulled her hand back out of his gentle grasp. "Nice line. Did it take you all night to think up or did you just make it up?"

The tenderness vanished from his finely chiseled features and he bared his teeth in a silent snarl, frustration pained across his face. "Careful, Princess. Without you, your precious Lion pilots cannot form Golion. Your planet is practically helpless and with you as my hostage they wouldn't dare to oppose me. If I were in your position I'd think twice before spurning me."

"If you were in my position you wouldn't care." She shot back. "You don't care about your country or your people. You only love yourself. You can hold me hostage against my planet and you can hold my planet hostage against me but don't you ever compare yourself to me! You and I are nothing alike."

"You presume much, Fala."

"Any man who delights in watching his father be slowly tortured to death could not possibly care for anything beyond his own selfish desires."

Sincline opened his mouth as if to speak but only snarled. He stood and with a seething air stormed from the royal box, much to the confusion of the guards that waited outside. Fala was left sitting alone and confused in her seat until she saw him walk out into the Arena.

...

The Emperor Pro-Tem stormed through the corridors of the Arena towards the lift that would take him down to the ground level. He grabbed a spare sword from the weapons store room (not technically an armory) and stalked onto the field.

So he was selfish, was he? Well, fine! He'd show her selfish. Sincline had wanted to share the moment of his triumph with her, to hold her small pink hand in his as the curtain fell on his father's reign as Emperor and his began. Well, if that was selfish then fine. He had also wanted to be the one to kill Dabazaal. The Prince Imperial had sat on the edge of his seat while waiting for her to arrive, wanting to be the one down there in the Arena instead of sitting serenely in an overly stuffed chair. He had chosen not to destroy his father himself because he had wanted Fala with him, he had wanted to give her the satisfaction of knowing that an enemy had been destroyed. If she called that selfish then he would just fall back on his original desire. He would be the one to kill Daibazaal.

"Leave." He snarled at the dancing executioners. The women hurriedly made themselves scares, not wanting to incur their new Emperor's ire. They wiped the blood from their weapons on the material of their dancer belts and sheathed them. Offering respectful bows to Sincline, they exited the Arena.

The prince glared at his father, focusing all his frustration with Fala onto the deposed despot.

Daibazaal, his face dripping with his own violet tinted blood, sneered back at his son. Then his expression changed, the sneer melting into a sardonic smile. "Finally work up the courage to do it yourself?"

Sincline chose not to dignify that with a response. Instead he released his father from the chains that bound him and pressed the spare sword into his hands. "Face me."

"No." This time the former Emperor's smile was vicious, a subtle, passive revenge.

Sincline realized only a second to late his mistake. By waiting to come out and challenge the old king the Prince Imperial had made himself look like a coward. Daibazaal was already obviously handicapped by his injuries, there was no way he could hold his own against Sincline and he would be the winner of the fight. But that didn't mean that he was the stronger warrior, the stronger leader. Instead it conveyed the idea that he was a weak, spineless coward who had to fatally injure his opponent before actually fighting him. And the wounds were fatal. Daibazaal had already lost allot of blood to the open lacerations in his scales and was still lousing blood. He would not live out the night if he walked out of the Arena at all. One way or another, Daibazaal would die today, and Sincline would succeed him, but the old king would still rule the minds of the people thanks to this single foolish act by the prince.

The Prince Imperial and Emperor Pro-Tem bit the inside of his cheek in frustration. "Fight me!" He all but snarled. "Show them how strong you still are."

"No." Daibazaal repeated. That same viscous smile still stretched across his thin serpentine lips.

"I will not make a martyr out of you." Sincline hissed through barred teeth.

"Then why did you bother coming down here at all?" His father shot back. "Or did your little Altean bitch piss you off so much that you just couldn't think strait?"

He bristled at the mention of Fala. Yes, she had irritated him into coming down to face his father himself. Yes, he had been frustrated over her these past few days. Frustrated over how he finally had her here in his home and yet he couldn't touch her for fear of lousing her value as a hostage against Altea and frustrated over her continued coldness toward him. He had been trying his best to be amiable toward her and endear himself to her but she was continuously brushing off his attempts or returning his kind words with verbal barbs. Never in his entire life had a women frustrated him so! But was it possible that she was really clouding his judgment? Was he really so weak of mind as to let a woman impede his ability to think clearly and tactfully?

"She seems like an uppity bitch." Daibazaal continued in an attempt to goad his son. "... Just like your mother. She just couldn't learn her place. Ya know, son, I never did tell you what happened to her, did I?"

Sincline's eyes narrowed in sudden suspicion. "You told me she died in child-birth."

His father chuckled a low, mirthless, malicious laugh before saying. "No, she was to stubborn for that. No, she lived almost a whole year after giving birth to you... before I killed her."

The prince stood motionless. The rational thinking side of his brain told him it wasn't that surprising and that he shouldn't allow himself to be thrown by the news. He knew his father was an evil callous butcher and that he wouldn't have hesitated to kill one of his concubines if she ever displeased him. Unfortunately for Sincline, he had never been dominated by the rational side of his brain.

"Bwa-ha-ha, what's that look for, boy?" Daibazaal taunted. "Didn't Hornerva ever tell you? I had heard that you and she had quite the little heart-to-heart about it some time ago. Ya know... your little Altean princess does look a bit like her, something about the eyes... they have that same look or willful disobedience, like a horse that just needs to be broken."

"Shut-up!" Sincline finally snarled, knowing that it was just the kind of reaction the man wanted. He was trying to get the prince riled, trying to get him to land the killing blow in the heat of his anger and solidify his image as a weak coward in the eyes of the Empire. Emperor Sincline fin Nimninel, Sincline the Cowardly... Sincline fin Isil, Sincline the Weak.

"Oh? Does that bother you? To hear someone speak about your little pet-princess as if she we nothing more than a beast of burden?" Daibazaal swayed on his feet a little. The loss of blood from his earlier injuries beginning to take their toll. "Are you riding her yet? I can't imagine her being a very willing mount. Or are you playing the 'gentleman', hoping she might come around to you eventually? Pathetic. She'll never submit for you, Sincline, you're going to have to rip her open to get anything at all. Menagroth willing, I'd love to be a fly on the wall when you break her maiden-head."

"Stop it!" The prince's sword hand shook with barely contained emotion.

Daibazaal smiled yet another one of his cruel thin-lipped smiles. His voice changed to a higher pitch, the closest he could get to impersonating a female's voice. "'No, Sincline, please! It hurts! No! Ah! No. It hurts! It hurts!' She seems like a talker to me. But then again, one can never really tell. She might turn out to be a screamer. 'Ahhhhh! Kyaaaaaaah! No! Plea-ahhhh! Please! It huurrrrts!' Huh, huh, huh."

That seemed to be the last straw for Sincline. Lashing out in uncontained rage he slashed his sword across his father's bare chest. "Shut up! Shut up, shut up, shut up!" Each shout was punctuated by another strike of his blade, the blue-tinted glow of the lazon momentarily illuminating the fresh flecks of blood with every strike. Daibazaal made no move to defend himself, he was as good as dead anyway, what would have been the point? He stood passively and when he could not stand anymore he fell to his knees and when he could no longer kneel he lay on the ground -dead. Though while he had been the one to die, it was Sincline whom had lost their little battle of wills. It was Sincline whom had proven himself a coward. It was Sincline whom was an overly emotional weakling. Daibazaal died, but by his death he had his revenge.

...

(A/N: I had actually planned to end this chapter with Sincline's coronation, but meh... I think I've kept you guys waiting for an update long enough. Tune in next time!)