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ArdentAspen In reply to bbb35 [2017-01-16 19:04:54 +0000 UTC]

Hehe thanks! A lot of the worldbuilding credit goes to Foxbear , who came up with as much as -- if not more of -- the story as me

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bbb35 In reply to ArdentAspen [2017-01-17 02:44:13 +0000 UTC]

Praise them, praise them

---

I wonder if you do points, art trades, or commissions.

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ArdentAspen In reply to bbb35 [2017-01-17 06:07:03 +0000 UTC]

I do actually do do points commissions ardentaspen.deviantart.com/jou…

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ArdentAspen In reply to Foxbear [2016-06-20 20:10:53 +0000 UTC]

I don't doubt it! By and by, she would eventually develop a similar relationship with Lotor as she had with Shiro or even Matt. It became a common enough sight to find Lotor sitting on the wing of his personal ship, reading, while keeping a grip on the back of Pidge's armor with the other hand while she hung upside-down tinkering with the targeting computer.
And while Lance took to going to Haggar with questions ("She knows water magic" was his constant explanation) and Hunk would ask anyone nearby for help if they looked friendly (and Keith tried to pretend he never asked for help ever, but they'd seen him sitting with Zarkon or Haxus a time or two), Pidge would go to Lotor first if Commander Holt couldn't answer the question.
So when a battle came perilously close to failure, and the Paladins instinctively knew their leader had gone too far in trying to shield them from Voltron's rage, Pidge was the one who dove out of her Lion first and ran to Lotor to warn him before tipping over when the adrenaline wore off.
That was the day Shiro lost his arm.

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Foxbear In reply to ArdentAspen [2016-06-21 06:00:00 +0000 UTC]

Lance sat in his alcove (well okay it wasn't technically "his" but this was the one that Grandmother Haggar always had him put in and he liked the vines and no one had kicked him out of it yet so...) going through his breathing exercises. His eyes were closed and he could feel his heart beating; breathe in, he flexed his muscles, breathe out. The Blue Lion paced at the edge of his awareness dripping fury and hate. Lance smiled  grimly and touched that park of himself that the lion claimed; the part that loved to feign indignation when Keith snaked at him, the part that was happy when he had yelled at his brothers and sisters back home.
"Die," Lance breathed out into the green foliage. 
Hate, unjust anger, greed, these were what the lions clung to, these were the conduits they used to drain your Quintessence. Let that part of yourself die and they had no control over you. That was what the Druids had said when they taught him to face the bloodrage. 
"But no human can ever really do that," Lance had protested. "We are creatures of sin and greed. It's like," he had frowned trying to remember the  lessons Abuelita had instilled in him on lazy Sunday afternoons, "its like trying to lift yourself up by your boots, the laws of physics just don't allow it."
He had wanted to laugh at the look the Druids had given him, like how Pidge looked at him when he understood some science thing she had said without explanation. Grandmother Haggar had agreed.
"There is no way for human, or Galra," she admitted, "to purge ourselves of these things. It must come from without and above."
"Padre nuestro, que esta-" Lance murmured the half forgotten prayers. He could swear he smelled the spices that sat on Abuelita's counter.
The alarms began to blare and Lance leapt smoothly to his feet. He moved for the door through a sea of swishing robes. How every Druid always managed to be just out of his way, brushing past so that their robes caressed his hands and their individual scents filled his lungs. As usual Grandmother Haggar stood before the door radiating stuborn resistance her eyes sparking with pain. Lance stiffened his lips and did not cry. 
"I'm going Grandmother," he said flatly. "Voltron is flying this battle."
Haggar gritted her teeth and raised a hand but before she could speak Lance reached out and grabbed her hands.
"For Shear," he said intensely. 
It was  a low blow, he knew, bringing up the innocent little Balmarian. A mere slip of a child, growing up starving in the crystal forests, under the autocratic thumb of the Altaen artisans. Shear was bursting with Druidic potential, something her adopted parents hid fearfully. One day the Galra Empire might free her and her people but so long as the Altaens were willing to detonate the laser bombs they had embedded deep in the Balmaria's skin no military force could take the living planet. But the tactic worked and Grandmother Haggar slumped in defeat. Lance leaned forward and gave her a kiss and a cocky grin. Not trusting himself to speak he darted around her and began sprinting towards the hangers where they kept the lions. 
"Lance," Lotor's voice called out to him and Lance paused in his flight for their ritual. Lotor swept him up into  a tight hug and squeezed until it almost hurt.
"Come back to my little brother," Lotor murmured. "You know I cannot produce nearly enough grandchildren for Father on my own."
"Don't you worry Bro," Lance assured him. "I'll be back to sweep some lovely Galra lady off her feet before you know it."
Lotor released him and gave him that fierce smile that almost made Lance believe they were invincible. Lance returned it and hurried on to his hanger. They didn't keep the lions together anymore. They seemed to set each other off somehow so Lance charged his lion alone. His fear of the beast had died on the Balmaria. If they could live, have hope, through what they endured than quizzit he could face an angry kitty. The Blue Lion snarled hatefully at him before reaching down to snap him up. Lance settled into the cockpit and opened himself. The rage flooded him and for a moment he was invincible. 
I am not invincible.
"Paladins are you ready to engage the enemy?" Shiro's voice pulsed over the comm, strong and powerful.
"You bet I am!" Lance assured him.
I bleed.
The rest of the Paladins checked in and the Galra medics called out that their biometrics were optimal.
I am flammable.
Lance drew a deep breath and let fury flow through him.
There are just targets out there.
He envisioned the Altean ships. He felt the rush of joy.
My loved ones still live.
He felt the Lion burn with fury when it could not control him and Lance focused on letting the anger flow through him in an uninterrupted current.
He felt the subtle change as the gravity switched from the Radiance's stable fields to the Lion's internal systems. At some Point Shiro had called them to action and Lance had missed it. The Blue Lion tried to seize on his mistake, blasting him with guilt, jealousy, and envy. Lance laughed and let them come, and go. And then Shiro called them to from Voltron.  Lance felt a flicker of unease as they joined but dismissed it. He had to focus on the battle, on fighting hard enough to destroy the Altaen fleet. On staying Voltron's hand when the escape pods jettisoned. Later, much later, when Haggar debriefed him he would say that there was just a little too much Black Lion in the bond, not enough Shiro but in the battle he was so focused on maintain the flow of battlerage he had little time to focus on his friend. This he would later confess as he sobbed into Grandmother Haggars shoulder.
They might not have noticed Shiro's weakness at first. Quizz they couldn't believe that their invincible leader, the Paladin who held the Black Lion in check, even was capable of weakness. But they all felt when the battle turned. At first the Lions were gleeful as the combat grew more desperate. When a Galra fast attack cruiser was split in twian in front of them and the bodies of the crew smacked into Voltron a tremble of pleasure ran through them all. But as the situation grew worse they all began to feel the prodding of the Black Lion. It wanted to do something. Distantly lance knew that Shio was fighting Voltron now as hard as he was fighting the Altaens, but the Blue Paladin had issues of his own.
There came a moment of stillness in the midst of the battle, the Altaen fleet was rallying for a concerted charge even as their weapons pounded the Radiance. The Galra fleet could not last long.
"Father," Pidge whispered over the line.  
Maybe that was what decided it. Maybe Shiro decided that the Green Paladin couldn't lose two fathers at once but they felt the Black Lion rejoice. They felt a wave of pain from Shiro. And then Shiro just faded. He was in the bond but it was the Black Lion who summoned a massive construct. Lance knew then, Shiro had gone too far, taken on too much, but he couldn't react. The battle still raged and a horrible pleasure Lance had never felt before took his breath away. Voltron, pure and unflitered by the shield of a brother's love. Voltron placed itself between the two fleets and a lance extended from the Green hand. The Red hand gripped the green arm and a shield a tall and wide as Voltron himself spread out in sparking purple light. They felt the energy begin to build in pulses, and when it released Voltron fell to pieces.

***

Lotor returned to the bridge and took his customary place beside his father. In front of the men the younger royal was every bit as calm as his sire. They couldn't see how his arms itched where they had held lance, how Pidge's farewell kiss burned his cheek. Lotor turned his attention calmly to the display screen and watched as Voltron flew into battle. The angle of death, Lance had called the great robot, and Voltron lived up to the name. As the battle dragged on and worsened, the Altaens had trapped them in the sector and there was no way out but through, Lotor found his attention drawn away from Voltron as he directed defense. He sensed when the battle turned from bad to worse but it wasn't until his Father hissed out a denial that was filled with panic and pain that Lotor glanced up again.
"An electromagnetic storm generator," he murmured in confusion as the construct tore the Altaen fleet apart. "I have not seen that Bayard construct before."
Lotor blinked as Zarkon suddenly turned and swept from the bridge. Lotor's first instinct was to rush after him, he had never seen such horror on his father's face, but he had a duty and he spun to the deck officer.
"I have the bridge," Lotor said calmly and felt the tension in the bridge ease. "Have the Talon lead every ship that can make the jump to the fallback position. The Radience will provide rearguard while the Druid's Blood leads the rescue efforts."
"Sir," the officer replied crisply.
Lotor turned back to the screen and frowned. The strain of the construct had broken Voltron apart and the Green Lion appeared to be the only one fully functional. It was darting around, shoving the other lions in the direction of the radiance. Lotor tried hailing Pidge but got no response.

***

Zarkon swept into his quarters and wrenched open the cupboard that held the Bayard. He pulled out the weapon and stared at it wildly.
"How is it still hear?" He demanded of the empty room. "It is not possible...It is not possible!" He roared in fury and slammed his fist into the wall. "The Black Lion's Paladin cannot summon the Basilisk without the Bayard!"
Zarkon shook himself and frowned grimly. He clipped the Bayard to his waist under his robes. Keeping the thing from that thrice quizzed stuborn boy had not done a bit of good apparently, and Zarkon feared that it might have been a grievous mistake. He knew the cost of that weapon. The only thing keeping him from dropping screaming to the floor was the display on his wrist that mercifully still showed six bright stars. 
"Perhaps my son," Zarkon whispered as he headed for the hanger. "You are truly that much stronger than I was."

***

Lotor strode into the hanger just as the Red Lion was pulled in, limp and unresponsive, one leg canted at an impossible angle. The tractor beam lowered it to the floor and the Yellow Lion began to enter next. Lotor's eyes darted over the space as the four limp mecha came to rest on the deck. The were still but thankfully their mouths were still clenched tightly shut. A lion had no use for a dead Paladin. If the Paladin was of no use his father had told him the neck muscles relaxed and the remain were ejected without ceremony to be replaced without thought. Rage threatened to choke Lotor and he focused on at least one good omen. The Green Lion flew in behind them, slowly, and landed painfully on the last remaining open space. The jaw slumped open and a green streak darted out of it. Lotor barely had time to raise his hands when Pidge ran up his chest, grabbed his ears, and pulled his face in close.
"Shiro!" She gasped out. "He finally did it, took too much, the Black Lion, it has him..."Her eyes fell shut and the Green Paladin collapsed into his arms. 
Lotor gave her helmet a quick kiss before handing her off to Lorka. "Ismal!" He shouted. "Open the Black Lion's head! I don't care if you have to rip it apart."
Ismal blanched but moved to obey. Lotor was aware that Zarkon had swept in the door and was approaching but he was too focused on the Black Lion to divert his attention. The more kinetic and violent aspects of the rare male Druids were not advertised and few knew how truly potent they were in battle. Damaging, or killing a living being was so foreign to a Druid's Temperament that engaging in combat often left them  crippled in mind. But Ismal was trying to get to a patient and he stepped forward without outward fear. He held out his hands and produced a ball of sparking blue lightening, he carefully directed it at the tightly shut lion head and it darted up to the mouth and wedged itself into the small space offered. The the ball diffused the the great heat began to creak and strain as it was forced open.
"Shiro!" Lotor felt relief surge through him when he saw the figure standing at the back of the mouth, head down and arms stiff at his sides. The only visible damage was his right hand, which did look bad, as if it had been crushed in some vice but such things could be easily fixed in the healing pods. Lotor made to rush up the ramp-
"Stay Lotor!"
Lotor had never heard so much pain and fury in his father's voice and that more than the command stopped him cold. Haggar swept up beside him and hissed. Lotor looked back to Shiro, suddenly realizing that something was off as the Paladin sauntered down the tilted ramp. The Black Paladin lifted his head as he cleared the mouth and Ismal let it fall closed behind him. Lotor felt cold confusion grip his heart as he stared at his brother...that was not his brother.
A dark laugh bubbled out of the mouth that should have belonged to Shiro and the Druids began to drift around the room at Haggar's gesture. What looked like Shiro's eyes lazily took in the hanger before coming to rest on Zarkon, there was a moment of perplexity on the face that used to be Shiro's before a dangerous smile seemed to drop the temperature in the bay.
"Father?" There was incredulity in voice that sounded like Shiro's. "You have thrived since I had you last my Paladin." 

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ArdentAspen In reply to Foxbear [2016-06-21 12:03:09 +0000 UTC]

"Let him go, Voltron," Zarkon squared his shoulders and hissed. "This one does not belong to you."
"So he seems to think," the voice that was not Shiro's seemed to agree, "But you and I know the truth, my Paladin. He has taken up my bloodrage willingly. He is marked. Just like you."
There was a fury bubbling through Zarkon's veins, an anger wholly unlike anything Voltron had ever fed into his systems. Ignoring the cries of his men, he strode forward to meet Voltron with power in his step.
"You could not claim me and you will not claim him," he thundered, "I defy you, Voltron! By the Artist and all of creation I defy you!"
Not-Shiro seemed to falter for a moment. Fear flickered through its eyes: a pure, unadulterated terror belonging not to Voltron, but to Shiro. Relief washed over Zarkon, but dimmed none of his wrath. If the boy could still feel fear, he didn't belong to Voltron fully yet.
"Shiro," he focused on that flicker of fear like a drowning man clinging to a spar of wood. "Fight him. With all the strength you have left, fight him."
Without taking his eyes from Voltron's, the emperor shouted to his soldiers, "Raise particle barriers between us and the Lions. Sendak, Haxus, to me!"
Voltron's eyes narrowed. "What can you be planning, my Paladin," he asked in a horrible, condescending voice. "You think you can shield the Lion and I'll just fade out of your..."son"..." he spat the word in disgust, "as you move him further away?"
Abruptly, Voltron was silenced as, with a visible, painful effort, Shiro clamped his mouth shut and clenched his teeth.
"How much did you give him, Shiro?" Zarkon demanded. He seized his shoulders and resisted the urge to shake him. "What did he take?!"
Shiro shook his head frantically as muffled words that were not his own raged against his teeth. But by then, Zarkon already had his answer.
"Ichor!" Sendak swore, "Look at his arm!"
Between the gaps of the armor on Shiro's right arm, a sickly lilac glow had begun to emanate.
"Alkar, disengage! You're channeling too much!" the memory hit Zarkon like a knife blow as he remembered the stony growths that slowly absorbed the last Green Paladin into his Lion. The emperor's face stilled with a deadly calm, and even Lotor trembled where he stood restraining Lance and Keith.
"The shields aren't to protect us from you, Voltron," Zarkon said flatly. "They're to stop you from protecting him."
"Hold him," he ordered tersely. As Sendak and Haxus hastened to comply, Zarkon reached to the back of his belt and shook the Black Bayard into life.
He heard Pidge shriek when she saw the blade form from it, but he did not acknowledge it. They would understand one day. He had to do this.
"Father-!"
It was barely a strangled squeak, a terrified whisper, but it was Shiro. For a moment, seeing the horror and guilt and -- worst of all -- resignation in the boy's eyes, Zarkon nearly lost his nerve. Then he steeled himself and raised the blade.
"Shut your eyes, Shiro," he said in as gentle a voice as he could manage.
Haxus forced the Paladin's right arm up and leaned back out of the way. With a mighty downward swing, Zarkon brought the Bayard down upon the human's arm. A burning, acrid stench filled the air as the blade burned through armor, skin, muscle and bone.
The severed limb dropped to the floor and lay twitching, and from the blood pooling under it, a poisonous looking whorl of crystals formed rapidly. Zarkon brought down his boot heel upon the purple formation with a vicious crack.
"I told you," he snarled, "This one doesn't belong to you!"
The Paladins were still screaming. Shiro had cried out once, then his eyes rolled back and he collapsed to the deck. Zarkon knelt and placed two fingers against the human's throat, relaxing a little when he found a pulse -- weak and rapid, but undeniably there. Carefully, he lifted Shiro from the deck and turned.
"Alert Haggar," he said emotionlessly. "Priority black."
Pale faced, his men scrambled to do as he'd ordered. He passed a shaken Lotor, who let go of Lance for a moment to catch at his sleeve.
"What was that?" he demanded, horrified.
"That," his father answered grimly, "Was Voltron."

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Foxbear In reply to ArdentAspen [2016-06-21 14:20:16 +0000 UTC]

There was little time to rest and ponder in the aftermath of such a devastating battle. The search parties circled the derbies again and again, bringing in the wounded and the dead. Zarkon worked himself to the point of exhaustion again and again as  was normal in this situation but all noted that his stamina was not what it usually was. Lotor, as was usual took up the more clerical duties that his mother had once shouldered. It was boring as a three day pod cleaning detail but essiential and it let him work from anywhere in the ship. No one was surprised to find him in the Druid's wing with his siblings. 
Pidge had recovered first, and had flatly refused to stay in her pod. Rather than fighting it the Druids had made her a nest of blankets and pillows by Lotor and she had curled quietly up to his side. Lotor honestly hadn't known that anyone could weep that long. He began to suspect that humans were actually made of water. Hunk had recovered next and had immediately gotten up to help with the relief efforts. Haggar hadn't objected.
"Bless him," she had said fondly. "Voltron has no hold on his heart and his body will recover better if his mind and hands are busy."
Lance and Keith had woken at the same time and while Lance had immedatly burst into tears and joined Pidge in her nest (Lotor had tried not to laugh while they had been fighting for the "bestest spot next to big brother") Keith had simply glared at him with fury. All Keith had said was a bitter. "Your Father nearly killed Shiro." before retreating to his own pod. Shiro slept still, shoulder encased in a growth pod that was generating and attaching his new arm. 

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ArdentAspen In reply to Foxbear [2016-06-21 18:06:05 +0000 UTC]

Zarkon eased into the Druid's wing, silently cursing his weakness. A moment's unguarded haste, coupled with an exhaustion that threatened to overwhelm him, had resulted in a collision with what had once been part of a Galra ship. The Emperor suspected he'd cracked a rib or two at least. He'd managed to fool Haxus, and while he suspected that Sendak was aware of his injury, Sendak knew better than to call him on it in front of the men. 
The Druid's Wing was dark, meant to simulate night to keep the patients' sleep cycles regulated. The flicker of a still-lit screen sent eerie shadows across the sleeping face of Lotor, leaned back against the wall with Lance in one arm and Pidge in the other. Zarkon paused, a tender look stealing over his scarred features, and brushed a tendril of hair out of his firstborn's face. It would have been better if Lotor had never had to see what Voltron was truly capable of, but he could not turn back time. At least now the young prince would have a better idea of what to watch for. The Emperor leaned over and adjusted Lance's position so that he wouldn't be quite as stiff when he awoke. Then he carefully pried a datapad out of Pidge's hands and stepped back. Both humans made sleepy mumbling noises, but seemed more peaceful than they had been when he'd entered. Satisfied, Zarkon slipped past them to the table where the Druids kept general medical supplies.
"Come to finish the job?" a resentful hiss startled him as he was reaching for the drawer where a small surgical knife was usually kept.
Keith was crouched on the end of Shiro's pod, holding the knife out in front of him. There was something in his eyes that sent a chill up Zarkon's sore and protesting spine. He saw anger there, and fear, and betrayal, and something old and hard that no child his age should have had in his gaze.
"What are you talking about?" he asked, already knowing what the answer would be.
"You almost killed Shiro, Zarkon," Keith spat. "Did you come back to finish it?"
"No." Zarkon said sharply. He felt anger surge up in his soul at the very suggestion that he would intentionally harm any of his sons. "I don't expect you to understand what happened in that hangar, Keith, but-"
"Oh I understand plenty!" the boy's voice was rising, threatening to wake the others, but he ignored the Emperor's gesture for quiet. "Shiro stepped out of line and you made sure he wouldn't do it again. I'm familiar with the idea, you don't have to explain anything."
Zarkon's jaw hung slack. Shiro had confessed to him once before that Keith's home life had been less than harmonious before the Academy, but this seemed to suggest something a little more serious. If his hunch was correct -- by the stars, he prayed it wasn't -- then Keith would have come away with an entirely different interpretation of what had happened in the hangar than his siblings.
"I don't know what happened to make you think that way," he did his best to keep his voice calm and level, "I don't know who hurt you, Keith Kogane, but you are wrong.'
Keith brandished the knife again, mistrust emanating from every pore of his body. "Shiro is strong! He's stronger than you think!" he snapped, "He could've fought that thing off on his own, but you didn't give him a chance!"
"I did what I had to do to save his life-"
"You cut off his arm!" 
Zarkon closed his eyes. "Enough. You will not listen to me and so this conversation has little point. Give me the knife."
"Why?" Keith challenged, "You gonna cut off my arm?"
"No." Zarkon growled back, and in sharp, irritated motions he unbuckled his upper armor and laid it on the table. "I need it to dig shrapnel out of my ribs so that I don't have to wake up a Druid!"
Keith made as if to argue more, but the words caught in his throat as he got a good look at the ruler of the Galra for the first time. Thick, ropey scars criss-crossed the backs of his shoulders and his upper back, white against purple flesh. Across his chest, strange patterns ran across the skin as though someone had made a clumsy attempt at drawing Lichtenberg figures with a hunting knife. There were deep pockmarks that looked suspiciously like exit wounds here and there among the curling lines, and Keith found he could not look away from the horrifying marks. He was scarcely aware of the huge Galra gently yanking the knife from his grip.
Keith's hand rose of its own accord to trace a minute line of scar tissue on his own face, running just under the hairline from above his eyebrow to his ear. Zarkon glanced up from where he had been working a sliver of plasteel out of his skin and caught the stare. 
"Did you not wonder why my immediate course of action was to choose amputation?" he asked in a soft, bitter tone. Laying down the surgical knife, he thumped a fist against the raised knots of tissue and scowled. "This is what happens if you let it spread: the crystals erupt when they reach maturity, no matter where in the bloodstream they are. A Galra can survive it -- barely. I doubt a human could do the same."
Keith slumped back against the pod and stared at the warrior king in fear and in awe. "You did save his life," he whispered in shock. Seconds later, anger entered his eyes again. "You had the Black Bayard all this time. You knew what that thing can do -- was doing -- to us! And you let Shiro get in that Lion without the Bayard?"
"It would not have changed anything," Zarkon said grimly.
"You don't know that!"
The Emperor heaved a long, shaky sigh as he fished the last piece of metal from out of his chest. Keith winced at the sound. That was the sigh of an adult fighting tears. He didn't want to be responsible for whatever breakdown would follow, but he was not willing to let go of his anger. Someone had to protect Shiro while he couldn't protect himself.
"Maybe you're right." Zarkon shrugged with a self-deprecating chuckle. "Maybe it could have helped. we'll never know now. All I know is that I truly believed that by withholding the Bayard, I could protect Shiro -- protect all of you -- from making my mistakes." He rose from where he had been sitting at the edge of the table. "Goodnight."
He paused at the door as if debating with himself, then turned. Twice he opened his mouth to say something, then closed it. The third time, he took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "What I did to -- for -- Shiro, I would have done if it had been any of you. You will not likely find that comforting, but you need to hear it. It is because I love you." He left the room quickly, not bothering to wait for an answer.
Keith stared into the darkness after the door closed, alone with his thoughts.

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Foxbear In reply to ArdentAspen [2016-06-22 03:57:59 +0000 UTC]

"Ye should be in your own pod boy," Haggar grumbled almost absently as she swept the vines aside to enter Shiro's alcove.
Keith grunted and hunched forward, turning his gaze away from the old druid. He curled back into the corner of the alcove to give her room as she carefully opened the pod and began to run her fingers lightly over Shiro, starting by gently brushing them over the white shock of hair on his forehead. Keith watched silently until she had moved about halfway down his body and then eased forward to approach Shiro's head. The Red Paladin tenderly reached out and turned Shiro's head towards him.
"He looks better," Keith offered hopefully when Haggar completed her examination.
The Druid grunted and bent to inspect the smaller pod that entirely encased Shiro's right arm. Keith fidgeted a minute and then asked.
"Is he getting better,"  the desperate plea in the young voice, the fear and uncertainty that overwhelmed the anger softened Hagar's heart and she sighed.
"There is no sign of the crystals themselves in his flesh," Haggar informed him, pulling up the relevant screen over the pod. "He lost blood in proportion to the flesh he lost so that is of little concern. The shock of the pain should be well healed by the sleep and the pod."
Keith waited until is was clear that she wasn't going to go on. "But is he getting better?"
Haggar looked at him and he shivered in fear. He knew that look. He hated that look. 
"Keith child," the Druid murmured tiredly. "Shiro was overwhelmed by his Lion and possessed by Voltron himself. The defense his body had to mount alone cost him more dearly than if he were to race across the Malvarian desert on his feet..." she saw the growing distress in his eyes and gave another sigh. "His blood serum levels have returned to normal. His body is not rejecting the prosthetic. So far as it is in my power to tell he is nearly returned to physical health. All that he will need when he wakes is good food and hard exercise." 
Keith nodded and looked back at Shiro's slack face. There was love in his gaze and a fearful lost look that caused Haggar to pause.
"What was Shiro to you child?" She asked gently.
"Everything," Keith muttered. Tears began to slip down his face noiselessly. "He found me you know. I was just some street rat runaway." Keith hesitated and glanced resentfully at Haggar, She gathered her robes around her and sat down, looking at him expectantly over the open pod. He was clearly torn between mistrust and his need to talk to someone. Finally he looked down and Shiro and smiled weakly.
"I was running with this bunch of kids in a beach city," Keith explained. "We avoided the gangs and the cops both. We did petty theft to feed ourselves and moved between abandoned building but,"  he swallowed hard, "but then we had a bad few weeks. We didn't want to hurt anybody." He spoke as if he was trying to convince someone. "But we were real hungry. We decided that we'd mug someone who could take it, someone who wouldn't miss the cash. The gangs had all the territory marked out but there was this one place they didn't go."
Haggar raised an eyebrow with a quizzical smile. "You thought to hunt a territory that the professional predators avoided?"
Keith smirked and nodded. "Stupid in retrospect but not one of us kids were over fourteen, we were hungry, and we were convinced that we were dong some Robbin Hood thing. Robbing the rich to feed the poor. So we scoped out this bar where the Galaxy Garrison cadets liked to hang out. It wasn't really a bar, most of them were too young to drink, but it had games and food and drinks. They went in with a lot of money."
"So you decided to jump one before they went in." Haggar guessed.
"Yes, " Keith confirmed. "There were five of us. But there was a problem, they always went in and came out in groups of three at least. Usually six or nine. The flight crews stuck together, we were getting more and more impatient when we thought we had a stroke of luck. This one cadet went in with a group but came out by himself a few minutes later. He was pretty big but he was alone, and he was chatting on the phone with someone."
"A lone and distracted target," Haggar commented when Keith drifted off.
"Yeah," Keith snorted, "easy pickings. I went in first and the others followed me. I got in one hard smack across his back and then he whipped around and I saw stars. When I could see again the sirens were coming and he was tying up my friends. I ran," Keith admitted this with a grimace of remembered shame. "He chased me, yelling for me to come back but I made a clean getaway." Keith grinned. "I was alone then. I hid in one of our hideouts but the next morning, there he was. In a black coat and pants, just looking at me all funny."
"Shiro?" Haggar asked.
Keith nodded. "I was sure he'd hunted me down to get revenge and I tried to jump up and defend myself."
"You hadn't eaten in days,"  Haggar pointed out, "And were but a boy, and injured to boot." 
"He just stood there while I cussed him up one side and down the other," Keith continued. "When I ran out of steam he held up this paper bag and asked me if I was ready to eat. I wasn't going to trust him for anything and told him so, but he just shrugged, sat down on a box and pulled out this sandwich, man," Keith's eyes grew distant with memory. "It was this monster of a homemade meal, layers of meat, veggies, olives, it wasn't even hot  and it smelled up the whole space, and Shrio, that rat, just starts eating it. I lasted all of fifteen seconds before I had the other half." Keith smiled and reached down to brush his fingers through Shiro's hair. "He told me that my friends were being taken to child services. He wasn't going to press charges. There was a safe space for me if I wanted it. He asked me to come with him." Keith paused and clenched the edge of the pod. "I couldn't then, I couldn't risk them sending me back to him." Keith's voice broke and he shook his head. "But Shiro didn't force the issue, and he didn't turn me in. He kept coming back. He'd bring me groceries and he left me a phone so we could keep in touch while he was at school He'd come and hang out and we'd just talk. He'd tell me about the Garrison, about Commander Holt and the missions they were planning. I wanted that so bad," Keith said softly. "Shiro convinced me that I had to have a proper education to get in. He set it up somehow so I got to stay with a foster family near the Garrison. They were okay I guess," Keith shrugged. "They didn't have much time for me but they gave me a roof, an address, and a school district. Shiro was there a lot. He graduated but he still kept in touch no matter where in the world he was stationed. I got accepted into the Garrison and he made it back," Keith sniffed and rubbed his nose on his shoulder, "he gave up a chance at a mission that would have skyrocketed his career to make it back to the Garrison for my induction ceremony." Keith sighed and looked down at Shiro morosely. "I don't know, sometimes I think that all I wanted was to follow Shrio, even if it meant becoming a pilot and following him the the ends of the galaxy. But it hurt when I washed out. The Garrison, being a fighter pilot meant more to me than I knew, and it was gone. I was furious with myself, angry at Shiro for leaving..."
"And that is when you heard the Blue Lion calling to you," Haggar murmured. 
Keith nodded slowly. "I guess," 

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ArdentAspen In reply to Foxbear [2016-06-22 05:36:08 +0000 UTC]

There was more coming, Haggar sensed it. She waited patiently, torn between a need to see to her patient and a desire to lay a grandmotherly comfort and blessing on the wounded soul sitting across from her.
"I hated him."
There was a rawness, a lost sound to the confession. Keith ran his fingers across the sides of the pod, letting the faint ripple where the plates joined catch at his fingertips to distract him.
"You hated Shiro for leaving you alone again?" Haggar guessed. "For disappointing you as elders had done in the past?"
Keith's red-rimmed eyes widened a fraction. "I..." then he faltered and ran a hand down his face. "Yes. I did. That must be what caught the Lion's attention." The boy sniffled a little and wiped his nose on his sleeve again, ignoring Haggar's disapproving glance. "My captain disappears, is declared dead, and the best I can do is resent him because poor little Keith got left behind? No wonder the Lion thought to target me. I was pathetic."
His tone made it all too clear that his use of past tense was formality only.
But..." his voice faded, "To tell you the truth, I wasn't talking about Shiro."
"You spoke of the emperor." Haggar reached out despite the pain beginning to tear at her own heart and took his hand across the pod. "Oh, child. He meant no malice to you or your siblings."
"It's easy enough to say that. I didn't mean to - I'm sorry, it won't happen again - stuff like that. It gets hard to believe eventually if you can't see it in someone's eyes," Keith spat the words out and, out of habit, tugged a lock of hair down further as if to hide the faint scar on his temple.
"And what did you see in Zarkon's eyes, Keith?" Haggar pressed.
Some part of the wall the boy had constructed around himself cracked and his last reserves broke down. Keith's face crumpled and Haggar was reminded again how young he truly was as the Red Paladin fought tears. "He...he looked at me, Haggar. Not my scar, not my armor, not Shiro, he looked at me, and, and-" A hiccuping sob interrupted his words, and with great difficulty he brought his emotions under control enough to force out, "He looked at me the same way Shiro did, the day he found me in the warehouse. And I - I can't even -- I can't even let him-" 
Keith covered his eyes with one hand, pride dictating that he retain at least a little dignity otherwise denied him by his shaking shoulders and hoarse sobs. He was dimly aware of arms wrapped around his shoulders, but he did not look up. Haggar's voice hummed old melodies in his ear as long fingers brushed through his hair. Keith stiffened on instinct, and the old Druid seemed to sense his discomfort. Smoothly, she left off stroking his hair to wipe away tears instead.
"Dear child," she said kindly, "Do not fret. It is only right that you should grieve the hurts you suffered in the past, as well as the hurts you inflicted in the present. Neither Shiro nor the emperor hold it against you, I am certain. But tears do not last forever, Keith. Every wounded heart must one day heal."
Keith sucked in a long breath and held it until he had stopped shaking. He turned his gaze on the oddly serene face of Shiro, asleep in the pod below. "And what about Shiro's heart? Will that heal too?"
Surprise flashed across the old woman's face, followed by a quiet pride at the Red Paladin's burst of insight. "If he has a brother like you, Keith, then I have no doubt that he will," she said firmly. "Shiro may face fear, and uncertainty. He may even lose portions of memories again, but who can say how his mind will react to the horrors inflicted upon it. But with the love of his brothers and his sister, and his father --" she emphasized the words a little more sternly than Keith thought was strictly necessary -- "He will mend."
She patted the boy's cheek and smiled benignly at him. "You must rest now, child."
Keith pulled further back into the alcove, stubbornly. "I don't want to." He crossed his arms childishly. "Shiro might dream again. He has to have someone there if he has nightmares."
Haggar glanced at the monitor over the pod that measured its occupant's brainwave activity. Several distinct instances of marked activity suggested that Shiro had, indeed, been having nightmares periodically. She didn't feel like guessing their contents. Instead, she retrieved a blanket from another part of the wing and returned to the alcove. Imperiously, she pointed at the bench beside the pod.
"He will not waken for at least three more days," she scolded. "In the meantime, you shall rest." The Druid laid a hand on the boy's forehead in blessing as he settled himself reluctantly on the bench, protesting all the while. "Now now," Haggar shook her head, "I shall inform you if Shiro's condition changes, and in exchange, will you do an old woman a favor?"
Warily, Keith stifled a yawn and asked her what the favor was. He met glowing yellow eyes, full of sadness and warmth.
"Stop blaming yourself, Keith. Open up a little. Remember, the beam that tries to hold up the tunnel alone is the beam that cracks."
Keith wrinkled his nose. "Shiro said that when I resc-- when we ran away from the Garrison."
"Zarkon used to say it to Lotor and Shiro," Haggar nodded. 
She remained between the pod and the bench until she was certain that Keith had finally dropped into a healing, dreamless state. He still kept a tight grip on one of her hands, and it took some doing to dislodge them. "Thank you for trusting me, boy," Haggar whispered, dropping a motherly kiss on the back of the hand before folding it across Keith's chest.

***

"Hey Dad?"
Zarkon started to wakefulness in the throne, straightening hurriedly. There was Hunk. He hadn't been in the Druid's wing when he'd gone to remove the shrapnel and he hadn't seen him much the previous day. 
"What's wrong, Hunk, is everyone alright?" he asked immediately, worry in his tone. The tall boy shook his head almost guiltily.
"I just..." Hunk shifted his weight awkwardly. "I wanted to make sure you were okay. I heard Keith yelled at you."
There was something perversely amusing about the statement and the implied reversal of roles therein, but Zarkon did not smile. "He had cause to," he said flatly. 
"He's scared. We all were," Hunk sounded almost wheedling as he edged closer. "Sooner or later he'll stop guarding Shiro so closely. He always does."
"And you wished to come and reassure me?" Zarkon asked dryly.
By this time Hunk practically stood beside him. The Yellow Paladin reached down and obligingly, Zarkon took his hand. 
"We -- Pidge, Lance, Lotor, and I -- know you did what you did to save Shiro. That...that thing was messing him up and you didn't just stand there and let it keep him. So I just wanted to make sure you knew you weren't a...a bad dad." 
Caught off guard, Zarkon squeezed the boy's hand. "I...thank you, Hunk. That means more than you know." He motioned to the countless screens surrounding his throne. "We suffered a bad loss, Hunk. So did the Altaeans, but time and again they have proven to be a fast-recovering adversary. We have been in dire straights before, but..."
"But this is the worst one yet?" Hunk guessed.
"Precisely so."
Hunk sighed and crouched next to the throne. "Shiro needs to wake up. We need him," he muttered.
"Shiro needs to recover," Zarkon corrected him with a note of guilt in his voice. "Shiro needs time."
He ran a finger across the Black Bayard at the back of his belt and frowned.
"Dad?" Hunk's voice was smaller now, worried.
"Mm?"
"Was that really Voltron, speaking through Shiro? Like is Voltron really a person and not just a weapon? Because this, frankly, raises some questions that I'm not sure I want the answers to."
Zarkon winced, barely visibly. "Yes," he said after a long silence, "That was Voltron. He hasn't been angry enough to possess a Paladin for a very long time, but you and your siblings have defied him enough that he decided it was time to take measure. And your brother-" he paused and shut his eyes against the old pain, the memories of Alkar and Brevic crying out for help, and Sarai screaming when the Yellow Lion ejected what was left of Tila onto the surface of Galleria. He remembered the "safety" restraints of the Black Lion cutting into his back, holding him fast while the Blue Lion absorbed Frexus.
"We came too close," he hissed. Then, more to himself than to Hunk, "I should have destroyed it when I had the chance."
Hunk eased himself into a sitting position next to the throne, not removing his hand from Zarkon's, and sighed heavily. "Great. It's the Ring of Power," he muttered.
"The what?" Zarkon asked, startled.
"It's," Hunk chuckled dryly, "It's a long story."

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randombrowser8513 In reply to ArdentAspen [2017-05-20 13:53:54 +0000 UTC]

What happened next?

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ArdentAspen In reply to randombrowser8513 [2017-05-20 14:04:57 +0000 UTC]

Oh geez, I'm trying to remember what comes next now. Someday Foxbear and I will need to put this whole story together chronologically haha
It jumps about a bit in the timeline, but I think "Desperate Measures" was the next thing we wrote

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Foxbear In reply to ArdentAspen [2016-06-23 04:04:08 +0000 UTC]

"So do you know what actually happened yet?" Lance asked around a mouthful of hair pins.
"I have told ye time and time again child," Haggar responded without looking up  from her mortar and pestle, "No druid can read the mind."
Lance grunted as he expertly weaved a complex braid into Pidge's hair. He secured it with a pin and began carefully treading pale green beads onto one of the braids. 
"To Shiro's arm," Lance clarified. "How come the Voltron blood only got his arm and not the rest of him."
Pidge snorted, and Haggar smiled as the girl rolled her eyes but refrained from correcting her brother's inaccuracies.
"Aye," Haggar nodded over her work. "Lorka gave me the report not an hour ago."
"Hold still Pidge," Lance interjected as the Green Paladin's head snapped up, "almost done. What did it say?" 
"Quite a lot my boy," Haggar said with a snort. "Far and away too much to take in while distracted."
"Almost done," Lance assured her.
"How do you even know how to do this?" Pidge demanded holding up a round mirror to inspect his handywork when he pulled back.
"I have so many sisters,"  Lance held up his hands helplessly. "You don't even know."
"Well thanks," Pidge turned the mirror this way and that, admiring the flow of the pattern. "Lotor doesn't like it when I let it get all scruffy and he really likes it when my hair is done up all pretty."
"Hey," Lance said seriously. "Anything to make Big Bro relax a bit. The guy seriously needs a girlfriend." 
Haggar smiled to herself. "Get the rest of your brother's," she instructed them. "Your father will be down to hear the verdict himself soon enough." 
"Aye Grandmother," they chorused. 
Haggar heard them bustling about the Druid's wing, pulling Hunk away from reading to the remaining seriously injured, comming Lotor from the hangers, and a several minute argument with Keith. She sighed and carefully decanted the mixture she had been working on into a holding dish. They had learned much from Shrio's severed arm and the resulting investigations, but there were still many questions and the answers they did have would place yet another heavy burden on the Paladins. She picked up a datapad and led the way to a special alcove that could be soundproofed when needed. Larka herded the children into her when Lotor arrived. 
"This is delightful work," Lotor was saying as he admired Pidge's hair. "The beads set off the weave."
Haggar smiled at them. Pidge had been correct, the small act of kindness on her part was clearly boosting the eldest brother's mood, and like gravitational pulses from a star his joy was spreading to those who looked up to him. Even Keith seemed in a lighter mood until Zarkon arrived. Haggar rose and bowed to her monarch but her eyes were on the Red Paladin. He neither greeted his father nor fled but sat stiffly where he had been. Haggar decided to declare that a win and waved them to silence.
"You all know why I called you here," she spoke up. "There were many questions about what transpired in the last battle and now we have some answers."
She very deliberately ignored the mutters that followed this statement and from the set of his jaw so did Zarkon. She summoned a view of the battle and pointed out the small form of Voltron in the midst of it. 
"When the tide of battle turned against us according to what we have been able to gather Voltron began to push for Shiro to summon the Basilisk. It is a most fearsome weapon and near impossible to direct, Lotor?"
The eldest gave her a small bow and stood. "The Basailisk is an electromagnetic storm generator," he explained. "It creates cascading waves of electrostatic charge that travel through hyperspace, exiting into real space when they encounter the gravitational pull of any particle larger than a dust mote. Each pulse it generates makes it easier for the next to break through into realspace. When it hits a solid object like a ship it can tear it apart at a molecular level."
"How do you aim something like that?" Hunk demanded. "It should pulse out 360 on every strike."
"The lance tip generates the storm," Lotor explained, "The shield is shaped to direct it along a set cone angel. with succeeding pulses negating any backwash."
"That must take nearly immeasurable processing power," Pidge noted. "Voltron doesn't have that kind of processor." 
"Nay," Haggar agreed, "and so it draws on the minds of the Paladins."
"So that's what that was," Hunk murmured thoughtfully, rubbing his temples.
"It also uses a quizzing lot of Quintessence," Lance muttered, rubbing his arms at the vague memory.
"Every time it has been used in the past it has drained and killed at least two Paladins," Zarkon interjected flatly.
The children fell silent as even Lance couldn't help but understand the source of the pain and anger behind the stiffness in the monarch's voice. Haggar found some comfort in the fact that their reaction was to reach out for each other as if to assure themselves that all were still among the living.  
"The Altaen fleet regrouped and fled," Haggar continued. "How much damage was done is impossible to tell and not particulary relevant to the rest of what I have to say. So far as my Druid can tell Shrio when must have agreed to let Voltorn form the Basilisk he was still largely in control. The Black Lion presented him with the Bayard receptacle -"
"He didn't have the Bayard," Keith muttered but there was little accusation in his voice and he kept his eyes on Haggar.
"And this is where it began to get very strange," Haggar agreed. "So far as we know the constructs cannot form without the Bayard to channel and draw the Quintessence."
"But Shiro did it," Pidge protested softly.
"Indeed he did," Hagar frowned. "His hand was damaged in such a pattern as the gears and nodes of the Bayard receptacle might make were they to close around his fist and engage thus." The entire room winced at the thought. "The engineers likewise found his blood, sinew, and bone embedded in the receptacle. Every bone was torn from the next and shattered," Haggar said grimly. "The pain must have been unthinkable and it was in this moment of distraction that Voltron seized control. Now what Lance calls 'Voltron's Blood' is actually the pure corrupted quintessence of Voltron. It can only infect cells devoid of life. Usually it spreads by draining the quintessence of the victim and taking the cells slain by the lack of this. for a reason I still do not fully understand it was unable to do this to Shiro, or any of you yet." Hagar paused and glared at each of them in turn as if they might give up the information like guilty secrets. "But Voltron was able to take the cells slain by brute force just as well. So far as I can tell this resistiance is what kept Shiro from being taken, each cell in his flesh fought the draining."
"Shiro is capable of manipulating his quintessence without the Bayard?" Zarkon asked, there was soft awe, but not surprise in  his voice.
"So far as I can tell all of your human children can," Haggar corrected him. "Those tests I ran?" The Paladins nodded in memory. "It seems that human quintessence is very reactive, if something tries to draw it out of a living cell there is a systemic response."
There was a chatter of excitement from the Paladins, Pidge and Hunk were highly curious but Lotor exchanged a grim look with his father. As if a planet of eight billion potential slaves weren't lure enough for the Altaens this just made humans the most marketable commodity in the galaxy.

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ArdentAspen In reply to Foxbear [2016-06-23 12:24:18 +0000 UTC]

"Haggar," said Zarkon heavily, "Place that data under Phoenix Imperative."
The Druid was not surprised. Phoenix Imperative was designed to wipe out sensitive information in the event of an enemy hacking their database. It wasn't hard to guess why the emperor might want this information hidden. Should the Alteans ever learn of the curious abilities of the humans, the isolated world they hailed from would quickly become a target.
"I don't understand," Hunk muttered, "What did humans ever do to Voltron? Or Altea, for that matter?"
Zarkon placed a hand on the young man's shoulder, but did not look at him.
"Such is Voltron," Haggar answered in his stead, "And indeed, such is Allura that they would rather see humans enslaved and "useful" than see them free and content."
"Free and content kind of depends on where in the globe you are and what your economic status is, among other things," Pidge adjusted her glasses and frowned softly. "We have as many problems as any other world."
Zarkon nodded thoughtfully. To be expected. He wasn't sure he believed in utopias, after all. It was his hope that Allura, who knew full well that he had been the last Black Paladin, would assume he'd passed the Bayard down to his successor. A muscle in his cheek twitched slightly at the thought. This was not a legacy he had wanted to pass on, though if it had not been for Voltron, he would have none of the children who stood before him today.
"Haggar," he began, hating himself for even having to ask the question, "Has it been determined whether Voltron was able to leave any imprint on Shiro's mind?"
He felt Hunk's shoulder tense beneath his hand, and heard the others' startled murmurs. Keith shot him a withering stare, then turned concerned eyes on Haggar.
Haggar hesitated a moment before answering. Scans had indicated no corrupted quintessence in the boy's body after the amputation. It was impossible to guess his emotional and psychological state with any true degree of certainty, given his sedated state, but there were hints.
"My emperor," the druid said carefully, "Shiro is given to calling out in his sleep at times. Keith tells me it is his native tongue that he speaks, calling out names."
"He asks for his parents. His human parents," Keith stated flatly. "Or sometimes his grandfather."
Haggar made a gentle quieting gesture. "Aye. Do these sound like the ramblings of Voltron to you?"
Zarkon was forced to agree. Under the thrall of Voltron, one either saw visions of power and conquest or fire and pain, depending on whether he was in a mood to punish. Memories of a pre-Paladin life would be deemed useless and suppressed unless used to create "motivational" nightmares. They would have to watch Shiro carefully, but the signs thus far were encouraging.
"Good." Years seemed to fall away from the Galra ruler's face, and he did not bother to hide the stark relief there. "Keep him under for one more day, Haggar. Then put him on observation."
Another time, Haggar might've gently scolded her emperor for trying to tell her her own business when it came to healing. Instead, she smiled sadly and inclined her head, promising to do so.
"I'll help," Pidge declared. She waved off Haggar's protests with a stubborn gesture. "Look, that could've happened to any of us. I need to know what to watch for in case it happens again."
"It will not happen again," Lotor snarled. "You will not enter those Lions again!"
"You can't guarantee that!" Pidge argued, "What if someday it comes to a choice between us and the Empire?"
"We'd find another way," the prince's voice was almost pleading.
"Then we have to actually study this thing so we can find another way." Pidge folded her arms with an air of finality.
"She has a point," Lance pointed out. "If Voltron has to physically get into your bloodstream to take over, maybe there's a way to like, vaccinate against him or something."
He stopped and made a face. "I kind of hate that I can talk about vaccines against robots without thinking it's weird anymore," he sighed.
Lotor, Pidge, and Hunk began to argue the merits and drawbacks of the idea with Lance adding less than helpful commentary periodically. Keith remained where he was, watching Zarkon with some undefinable expression in his eyes. Zarkon had just made up his mind to go over and speak to the boy when the Radiance lurched, throwing them all off balance.
Alarm lights flashed red and purple across the wing as druids rushed to ensure the safety of pod-bound patients. Lotor stumbled across the room to page the command center.
"Mumm-ra's eyes!" he cursed, hardly caring that his father and younger siblings were present, "What hit us?!"
"Asteroid field, sir," Commander Prorok, captain of the Druidsong, answered grimly in a ship-to-ship broadcast.
"Asteroid field?" Lotor repeated in disbelief, "There are no asteroid fields in quadrant Zeta-124-kyrex!"
"There were no asteroid fields in quadrant Zeta-124-kyrex." Prorok corrected.
"Put it onscreen," Keith and Zarkon said at the same time. They glanced at each other warily, but did not comment.
"Jinx. You both owe me a soda," Lance responded out of force of habit.
"Dude. Not the time." Hunk nudged him roughly.
The display lit up with a view of debris careening out of control, seeking something to orbit. Zarkon felt icy horror gnawing at his stomach.
"A Balmerra," he gasped when he saw partially formed crystals still sticking out of stone.
The Paladins whipped around to stare at him.
"Not Shear-!" Lance choked up.
Haggar hurried to the screen and examined it carefully. "Nay. This Balmerra was far older."
Zarkon's eyes hardened. "Lotor," he barked, "Get up to the command deck and alert the fleet to take evasive action! Take Hunk and Lance with you."
"Yes sir!" Lotor bowed slightly and made for the door. "Let's go, boys."
"Keith, you stay with Haggar and Orpah," Zarkon pointed towards the younger druid currently tending Shiro's pod. "And for the love of the Artist, if Shiro wakes prematurely do not let him out of that pod!"
"Fine," Keith ground out, but there was no real disagreement in his answer.
"What about me?" demanded Pidge.
"You're coming with me, daughter," Zarkon took her hand and left the Druids' wing at a pace almost too rapid for her to keep up with. "We're going to to find out just what caused a previously healthy Balmerra to die like this."
Pidge swallowed hard and hoped that it wasn't Alteans.

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AngelOfBeauty88 In reply to Foxbear [2016-06-23 10:06:55 +0000 UTC]

Sorry to interrupt but please say you guys will put this into an actual fanfic format.

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Foxbear In reply to AngelOfBeauty88 [2016-06-23 12:15:48 +0000 UTC]

Possibly, we save the documents but are very both very busy. It will either go on FF.net or Archiveofourown

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AngelOfBeauty88 In reply to Foxbear [2016-06-23 12:42:21 +0000 UTC]

Please share a link to either if you do.

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AngelOfBeauty88 In reply to Kite-J [2016-06-23 10:06:09 +0000 UTC]

I'm hoping he'll turn up in the next season. It's not the same without him.

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ArdentAspen In reply to Kite-J [2016-06-20 18:38:25 +0000 UTC]

probably not with the hat he wore in the 80s though hehe 
And thanks!

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Kite-J In reply to ArdentAspen [2016-06-21 19:53:11 +0000 UTC]

LOL the dual edge battle axe helmet lol. Yes I think that's why the creators had him take it off so often. They weren't fond of it either.

Ooooo maybe they could bring him back as an outcast. Perhaps Lotor hated his father enough to do something that got him put into exile and he offers to give the Voltron force a means of taking out Zarkan... that could end up going in a couple different directions depending upon what Lotor hates more... his father or exile.

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ArdentAspen In reply to Kite-J [2016-06-21 20:30:29 +0000 UTC]

A Galra attacked his own soldiers and shut down the shield in episode 11, freeing the Paladins. I'm wondering if that might've been Lotor

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Kite-J In reply to ArdentAspen [2016-06-22 01:06:25 +0000 UTC]

Ooo interesting. I'm watching them one episode at a time because I have a 8yr old and 4yr old.. so we're watching one episode right before bed lol. But I think we're almost to the end. Then I'll binge watch them all over again LOL.

Wouldn't that be something... kind of in-line with my thought.

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ArdentAspen In reply to Kite-J [2016-06-22 02:15:09 +0000 UTC]

Yeah I hope they expand on that guy later

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ArdentAspen In reply to Fanatic97 [2016-06-20 16:00:00 +0000 UTC]

it was slightly based on old Allura costumes, yes.

And since SG Zarkon has the incessant need to parent everything in sight, he convinces the kids to agree to a formal Galra adoption to give them legal standing with the Empire. It also affords them a very slight barrier of protection against Voltron's endless rage and destruction.

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Fanatic97 In reply to ArdentAspen [2016-06-20 16:09:17 +0000 UTC]

Hmm I see. 


So wait wearing gala attire or the adatopn XD 

And I knew the look, but when you mentiopned the pink "Thing" I gusses that it was Aullura's dress 

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ArdentAspen In reply to Fanatic97 [2016-06-20 16:16:39 +0000 UTC]

Foxbear and I had this joke going back and forth that Zarkon always wanted a daughter and he had all this pink stuff just waiting to be used. But Pidge is not the girly-girl type. It took the three-day Pink Strike of 2026 (Pidge locking herself in with the druids for three days) for him to relent.

Yeah, they have to wear ceremonial clothing for the adoption. Keith would rather be anywhere but there, Pidge is just glad she isn't wearing pink, a massive fluffy skirt, or a cape, and Shiro is still trying to sort out his very jumbled memories.
Hunk, on the other hand, adjusts almost instantly and is cheerfully referring to Zarkon as "dad" or "space dad" within about a week.

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MiniKoontzy In reply to ArdentAspen [2016-06-20 23:01:31 +0000 UTC]

Hehehe. "Pink Strike." Why, why is that so easy for me to picture? xD I'm like Pidge. Massive nerd...and I'm not a girly-girl at all. I just never clicked with most of the girls I interacted with. Thank God for my bestie right now - she freaking understands me so well I'm genuinely thinking we might be lost sisters or something. o.O

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ArdentAspen In reply to MiniKoontzy [2016-06-21 01:12:01 +0000 UTC]

I've had my share of "No pink!" moments growing up.
But I was also the kid who'd put on a sundress, go outside, make a gigantic mud puddle with the garden hose, make eye contact with you, then sit down in the middle of it.
I was sort of balanced between more feminine clothing and crazy tree climbing shenanigans

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MiniKoontzy In reply to ArdentAspen [2016-06-21 18:42:12 +0000 UTC]

I've always been a tom-girl. I wore pink for a bit in elementary school but that faded real fast. My sis and I are both real athletic (she was in marching band in middle school all the way through high school) and I bike around a LOT. I think my max mileage so far is almost 11 miles in one ride. But I'm that one girl who you literally have to drag my dead body into a dress to get me to wear it. I compensated at prom and wore a schmancy jump-suit like thing that looked like a dress, was very flowy and nice, but had legs and not a skirt. That I will wear without much complaint. My mom is really the one who complains the most about what i wear. Nothing is ever "formal" enough for her. And Jesus does it annoy me. 

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ArdentAspen In reply to MiniKoontzy [2016-06-21 19:33:58 +0000 UTC]

Yep, I remember the feeling

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Fanatic97 In reply to ArdentAspen [2016-06-20 16:20:34 +0000 UTC]

I see XD 

I coul;d imagine that Zarkon found himslef having to dye the clothing different colors to suit Pidge. 

I see, well someonje has to takt eht title since it;'s not Shiro! 

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ArdentAspen In reply to Fanatic97 [2016-06-20 16:31:27 +0000 UTC]

there's an old phrase that, loosely translated, goes "Who watches the watchmen?" (It ended up being used for the tagline of the series Watchmen)
Basically the idea here was for someone to look at Shiro and say, "Who dads the spacedad?"

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Fanatic97 In reply to ArdentAspen [2016-06-20 16:32:08 +0000 UTC]

XD 

And how about.

Who granddad's the dad of the spacedad?" 

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ArdentAspen In reply to Fanatic97 [2016-06-20 16:41:05 +0000 UTC]

good question. Probably whoever ruled the empire 10,000 years ago

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Fanatic97 In reply to ArdentAspen [2016-06-20 16:44:11 +0000 UTC]

I see XD 

What does SG Voltron look like? 

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ArdentAspen In reply to Fanatic97 [2016-06-20 16:54:29 +0000 UTC]

Well, did you see that one picture I reblogged from Foxbear on tumblr of that very sinister looking Voltron? Think that, with more crazy.

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Fanatic97 In reply to ArdentAspen [2016-06-20 16:55:34 +0000 UTC]

I see, Sideways Crazy or Megatron on Dark Energon Crazy 

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ArdentAspen In reply to Fanatic97 [2016-06-20 17:34:34 +0000 UTC]

He's...he's anger personified. Voltron is bloodlust and love of battle and destruction in a tangible form, made up of the individual, insatiable fury of five Lions. It drains the Quintessence and perhaps even the life force of each pilot, slowly driving them mad, but in exchange it imbues them with the bloodrage, which keeps them from feeling it as it happens. Much like how a vampire bat numbs the site of the injury on its host when drinking its blood. The wrath acts like a narcotic, and longterm Paladins can easily become addicted to it, to the adrenaline rush and the feeling of invulnerability it grants them.
But it takes and it takes and it takes and one day there won't be anything left for it to feed on.
So the Alteans go from sector to sector, rounding up young aliens they think will be compatible with the Lions, and feed them endlessly into the war machine that is Voltron. They are expendable.
But the last group, the newest group, for the first time are able to exert some semblance of control over the Lions -- something the Lions almost seem to recognize and hate -- and the Black Paladin is determined to keep his team from being drained and addicted, even at great personal cost.

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Fanatic97 In reply to ArdentAspen [2016-06-20 17:40:19 +0000 UTC]

Wow.....

That's actully pretty terryfying/cool ^^: 

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ArdentAspen In reply to Fanatic97 [2016-06-20 17:44:41 +0000 UTC]

I know, right? Foxbear came up with it.

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Fanatic97 In reply to ArdentAspen [2016-06-20 17:51:39 +0000 UTC]

That's impressive  

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ArdentAspen In reply to Fanatic97 [2016-06-20 17:56:31 +0000 UTC]

well, she is a published author

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Fanatic97 In reply to ArdentAspen [2016-06-20 18:02:48 +0000 UTC]

That'll do it ^^ 

Honestly I'd like HRER to be my Jedi/ Writer teacher XD 

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ArdentAspen In reply to Fanatic97 [2016-06-20 18:07:48 +0000 UTC]

she's pretty cool

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Fanatic97 In reply to ArdentAspen [2016-06-20 18:08:25 +0000 UTC]

I would agree 

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