Disclaimer: I don't own Voltron or its original Japanese version Golion. Both are the property of their original creators and/or importers/dubbers. I'm just borrowing them for some non-profit entertainment.

The Sindariin

Chapter Twenty-Two:

The story is told, though who can say if it be true, that once long ago before the days of Eliindaal when the Tribes of Galra were many and scattered there was a Prince. He was the eldest son of his kingdom's king, but because he was the son of a harem slave he could not succeed his father and so his younger brother was named Heir in his place. The Prince was not satisfied with this and so turned his eye toward finding a kingdom of his own to rule.

The neighboring kingdom belonged to a Tribe of the eldain, fairest of all the Galran peoples and said to have been blessed by Menegroth with long life. They were tall and lithe of body with finned ears and no pupils to mar the perfect orbs of their golden eyes. It was this kingdom that the Prince turned his gaze to, for he had heard that the king of that kingdom had no sons whom would succeed him, only one fair but frail daughter. The Prince presented himself as a suitor for the Princess, hoping to win the kingdom through a contract of marriage.

He was received well by the King but when the Princess was presented to him she turned her nose at the young Prince and rejected his offered contract. The King, always doting on his child, then turned the Prince out of his house and forbade him from ever returning to his lands again. Enraged, the Prince vowed revenge for the insult and stormed from the castle.

He had supporters in his own father's kingdom and with them was able to raise an army, forgetting his own father and brother and the kingdom that could have been his by birthright, the Prince turned his new army toward the eldain King and Princess whom had slighted him. His host marched through the King's lands, burning as they went, salting the land so that nothing would ever grow there again and slaughtering all those who stumbled across their path, warrior, mother and child alike.

When the castle was reached the Prince laid siege to it for five days and five nights. His men surrounded it, cutting off all exits so that none could escape, nor could any new supplied or previsions reach those inside. On the morning of the sixth day, the King himself came out bearing a banner of truce. But the Prince did not wish to listen to the old mans treaties and he hewed the man's head from his shoulders. His army rushed through the open gate like a flood of blades, destroying all in their path. The Princess whom had rejected him was given to his men as a reward for their loyalty and service and a punishment to her for her scorn. The castle itself was brought down, the stones of its foundations fractured out from under it and the Prince stood in the ruined rubble and saw what he had wrought.

He had come here seeking a kingdom of his own, but had instead destroyed a land of the fair-people, the eldain, blessed by Menegroth. He had offered a marriage contract to the Princess not only because she was the sole heiress to her father's kingdom but also because she was as fair and lovely as any woman he had ever seen, but he had given her to please his men without a seconds pause. He had won the battle but had nothing of his own to show for it. No kingdom, no woman, no lands and no treasure.

The Prince sank to his knees, feeling as if he had suddenly woken from a madness and offered a prayer to Angmaal, god of Doom and Destiny.

And then, a bit of shine caught his eye. The sparkle of light reflected off of something metallic. The Prince pulled from the wrecked ruin of the castle a small mangled trinket. It was a tiny thing, but it was of good quality and very fine. Delicate and fair, like the eldain people themselves but strong as well, to have survived the destruction of the castle. The Prince took this tiny treasure from the castle and cherished it as his one trophy. It was a small thing, but it was all he had.

And he called this treasure his sindariin.

…

Fala put down her data pad and ejected the datadisk of children's stories she had been reading. 'These are fairy-tales!' She though. 'Ugh!'

Of course, a people as bloodthirsty and cruel as the Galra would write children's stories about murder, destruction and rape. That was pretty much their whole culture in a nutshell, murder, destruction, rape. Everything else was just window-dressing. She looked down at her still flat belly with a glare of loathing.

"And you're going to be just like him, too." She growled allowed. "Just like all of them, your father and the rest of his despicable people."

She tossed her datapad down on her coffee table and stood, stretching. As per her husband's request she had stopped wearing the restrictive corsets under her clothing and so the motion was free and unhampered. Fala had to admit, there was something rather liberating about only wearing a single pair of panties for underwear, not that she would ever admit that to Sincline. He'd suggest that, since she felt so free without underclothing on, that she should try wearing no clothing at all. The degenerate pervert!

The Empress paced her sitting room restlessly. While lounging around her suit without any undergarments was a 'liberating' experience, the idea of actually going outside in such an indecent state of dress was just scandalous! (Not the people of Galra even cared much about what she considered to be a 'scandal'.) Fala crossed back into her bedroom and examined her reflection in the mirrored doors of her closet. The floor-length gown she wore was pattered in interlacing spirals of pink and lavender over forest green. The collar, sleeves and hem were embroidered with a similar pattern in gold and silver. Ribbons hung from the ends of her sleeves and back of her collar. It looked so heavy and gaudy (the phrase 'color vomit' spring to mind), but was made of a material so light that it felt like little more than a sundress.

One couldn't tell she wasn't wearing any underwear, not by looking at her anyway. But Fala knew she wasn't and that knowledge alone made her blush uncomfortably.

'You can't spend the rest of your life trapped in this room.' She reprimanded her reflection.

Turning away from the mirror, she screwed up her courage, attempted to ignore the feel of the soft fabric against her bare breasts and stepped out of the bedroom, back to the sitting room, her hand on the door handle and out into the hall. Her normal quartet of guards silently fell into formation around her. Nera's shift had already ended for the day and the Empress was somewhat disappointed to not have the woman's company. Of all the people she had met here on Galra, the Captain was the one she had grown closest to and might even consider calling a 'friend'. Oh, well. Friend or no friend, she had stepped out of her suits. Where to next?

Fala thought momentarily about fleeing back into her rooms. She had ventured outside successfully, no need to push herself. But then she reminded herself that she was not the type to run and hide in a corner. She was a Lion pilot, a warrior, a princess, an Empress! No, she had made it out of the room, she would not go charging back in again so soon. She turned down the hall heading in the direction of the bath. Showering was nice and all, but every now and again a person just needed a hot soothing bath, and boy did Fala need soothing right now!

As she made her way down the corridor she took note of the extra suits that stood shut and unused. It seemed that the Royal Residential wing had been build with a large family in mind but the Empress couldn't imagine any Galran Emperor (past, present of future) having a big family. Big families, in her mind, happened when two people cared about each other and loved each other deeply and their many children were the product of that shared love. Of course, she reflected, all these rooms could be for multiple wives; and then many wives would just as easily equal manny children. Perhaps it made sense after all. And that wasn't including any illegitimate bastards an Emperor might get from his harem slaves. Fala grimaced, with all the sex these Galran Emperors seemed to have, it was a wonder they ever managed to get anything done at all!

She reached the communal bath chamber at the end of the hall and one of her guards opened it for her with a strait back and a salute.

The Empress didn't thank the woman. Her manners had been declining ever since she learned that she was pregnant, ever since she realized that there was no escaping from Sincline now. Even if she did manage to somehow get away, he would still always be there; she would still always see him reflected in her child's face. Even if the little monster didn't resemble the vile and hated Galran Emperor in the least, she would still always look at it and see its father. She would never escape him, could never escape him; their lives had been irreversibly intertwined and that knowledge made her despair.

But she tried not to let her grief be her master. No, she endeavored to master her grief. So while she may have let slip a few of the simpler courtesies of a polite society she refused to give up her spirit. She refused to lock herself away and wait for uselessness and old age to claim her. No, she was still a princess, an Empress, a daughter of Kings!

The Daughter of Kings stepped into the bath chamber almost cautiously. She had peered in it tentatively when she first arrived on Galra but had not done much more than that. Upon learning that Sincline was free to walk in on her at any time (and probably would too) she had promptly ignored it. Now, she didn't really care all that much if he walked in on her or not. She had already been as violated by him as a woman could possibly be violated, what was a little peeping on top of it all?

The carpet disappeared from under her feet and was replaced by smooth wood panels, the same dark wood that her bed and coffee table were made from, 'chalha wood' Sincline had called it. It came from a tree that had once been indigenous to Galra before the Cataclysm. She looked down and saw herself reflected in the floor's polished panels, her head crowned by a halo created from the bath's overhead light. She looked almost heavenly, sad, but heavenly. Fala walked a wide circle about the room, taking note of the racks of clean and fluffy towels of blue and black each embroidered with the horned skull of Galra in the corner, the servant's door which (while not technically hidden as the door in her bedroom was hidden) was still concealed, another door that upon inspection lead to a steam room and finally her eyes fell on the focal point of the chamber: the not-quite-as-large-as-a-swimming-pool bath.

It was long and wide and oval shaped, with a shallow ledge only a couple of feel below the brim and then a deep bottom. It was made of a highly polished black marble and reflected her visage far more clearly than the floors; so much so that it was almost like looking into a black mirror rather than a stone tub. The tub's walls were lined with what could only be jets for bubbles, all perfectly evenly spaced. It really seemed more like an overly large jacuzzi rather than a bath tub.

"And me without my swimsuit." She muttered.

One of her guards offered to fetch a slave to fill the bath if the Empress so desired. But Fala waved off the notion. Her idea of a bath was a cozy white porcelain tub in a cozy pink-tiled bathroom, it was not a dip in an almost swimming pool sized hot-tub with bubbling jets and who knows what else. The Empress shook her head and walked out of the room, her loyal but silent guard maintaining their formation around her.

The opposite end of the corridor found Fala pausing outside the curved door of the shrine. Sincline had spent an awful lot of time in there since they had learned of her pregnancy. She didn't know if he was thanking his gods, cursing his gods or if his faith had just been generally strengthened by the news. She supposed that under any other circumstances, she would have viewed a couple that was supposed to not be able to have children suddenly conceiving to be a miracle. She pulled the door open and slipped inside. Sincline was not there, much to her great relief.

But signs that he had been there at some point or another that day were. The feet of Menagroth's statue in the center of the room were smeared with blood, dry and flaking. Nera had explained to her that the god-King demanded blood as tribute because it was by his will that their lives were given to them and that the proper way of thanking him for his gift was to give back a small bit of your own life-force (your blood). This idea was somewhat revolting to Fala but given what little she had already known of the Galran people it did seem to make a kind of morbid sense.

At the base of Aradianya's statue was found a small but intricately tooled pendent on a thin gold chain. The goddess of Arda seemed to favor jewelry and other such trinkets for her offerings. It was explained that, though she was a kind and compassionate goddess, she was also very vain. This was shown in part of Galra's creation myth when Menagroth offered the world to her as a gift. Fala sneered inwardly; of course the female god would be the shallow vain one. What else would one expect from a barbaric male-dominant society like Galra?

Next she moved to Maltessak, god of parenthood where a single candle had burnt down to its base. Dry droplets of white wax stuck to the statues pedestal and dotted the floor in front. Fala scratched at the wax absentmindedly for a lack of anything else to do. The candle was meant to represent vigilance, it was Sincline asking the god to watch over and protect his child from harm. The fact her husband seemed to care so much about the thing in her womb was a little unsettling to Fala. It was like he had suddenly become an actual person with feelings and stuff; not just a vile, heartless, mass-murdering, fuck-head rapist.

Beside Maltessak stood Vianya's statue, the goddess of sex and fertility. At the base of her statue there was a dry and flaky mass of white… stuff. Fala didn't know what it was (although, she had a guess), and neither did she want to know. She moved on to the final statue that the Emperor seemed to pray to: Angmaal.

The offerings Sincline left for him confused her a bit. At first it had been a single gold coin, and so the Empress had assumed that the god liked to receive money as tribute. But the next time she visited the shrine there was a five-sided spinning top at the statue's feet instead. Then Nera had explained that the god of doom and destiny liked games of chance, a coin toss, Tarle (the spinning top game), roulette, etc. After this explanation the offering made since, and today Sincline had honored his god with a pair of red dice. They were shaped like any pair of normal six-sided dice from Altea, only in the place of dots or numbers were instead characters. One die sported the characters for 'ground', 'sea', 'sky', 'star', 'cup' and 'sword'. The second was marked with the number one to five and then the sixth side had been marked with the character for 'infinity'. She wondered what kinds of games were played with such a pair of dice. Certainly not any of the games she was familiar with.

The Empress lightly tossed the dice back at the god's feet and watched them bounce around for a bit before settling on 'four' and 'sea'. Fala heaved a heavy sigh. Number four, the number of her Lion's shoot and the sea, water, the source of Blue Lion's power. Thinking of her old mech and how she had piloted it in the defense of her beautiful home world made the Empress realize just how far she had fallen and in such a short time too. It seemed like eons since she had last been in Blue Lion's cockpit, but in actuality it had only been a few short month. Oh, but look at how much had happened in those months!

With another despondent sigh, Fala exited the shrine. Well, this had been a lovely little outing. Maybe next time she might actually make it to the lift. Though, where she would go within the castle she had no idea. There was no place on all of Galra that she wanted to be. The one place she did want to be, ney, that she longed to be was back home on Altea. She wanted to curl up safe in her own bed in her own room in the Castle Gradam. She did not want to be here. Trapped in this god-forsaken castle on this god-forsaken world where the sun never shines and there are no trees, or grass, or flowers, or anything green and good at all. If she could ask for anything at all, it would be to see sunlight again.

…

(A/N: Short chapter is short. Actually, I think this is the shortest chapter I've written for this story so far. Sorry this is such a crappy update but I've been kinda busy lately and just haven't had the time to write or when I did have the time, I just wasn't in the mood. You know how it is.

For some reason I'm just not happy with this chapter. Aside from its relative shortness it just sort of feels like "filler" to me. Of course, "filler" can be important if it furthers character development, but I'm just not sure if that was accomplished here. Bah. 'You are your own worst critic', am I right? Maybe its not as bad as I think. So, my most beloved readers, does this chapter have any value beyond just "filler"?