#VLD Melenor

[minamorsart]

AU where in the events of the show, Emperor Lotor and Princess Allura's return from the quintessence field proves successful, and the two decide to marry in order to strengthen the alliance between the Coalition and Galra Empire. However in the midst of their blossoming romance, the newlyweds come face-to-face with the aftermaths of war and heightened political tensions between the planets and rising factions within the Empire itself.

As Empress Allura struggles to come to terms with the increasingly difficult decisions her husband continues to make, she must decide between choosing her friends as they contend with the violence of politics and corruption, or choosing the man she's been falling in love with as he slowly descends into madness.

Inspired by my favorite K-drama Moon Lovers: Scarlet Heart Ryeo 💖💜

[pidges-lost-robot]

Some coloured sketching of Allura and a redesign of Melenor, her mum

[imhereformysciencefriends]

Day 1: Fairytales and Myths

Tags: @loturaweek2024 Curses, fairy tale elements, Bearskin (the myth), political marriage but also for love sort of, magic, background Alfor/Melenor, background Keith/Shiro, betrothals, attempted kidnapping, rescue, Lotor’s generals are there

Read on AO3

***

“You are fortunate,” mused the angry and spiteful druid while Lotor snarled up at him, ensnared in glowing purple chains made of magic and aether, “that the same magic you came here to steal from me does not allow me to kill you outright.”

Lotor thought, not for the first time, that it would be significantly more Galra to just put a knife in his gut than rely on their magic for literally everything. But if they were so wrapped up in their world of spells and power that they forgot their own fangs and claws that they were born with, well, Lotor wouldn’t be the one to remind them. This druid in specific seemed particularly filled with his own hubris.

A pelt, some heavy, thick-furred thing thumped down on his shoulders, and he shifted minutely from the weight.

“I curse you,” the druid said, voice going echoey with magic. “You shall not bathe for seven decaphoebes, nor cut your hair nor claws, you shall not cease to wear this pelt, nor sleep under one roof for more than a single night, and no one may travel with you for more than three quintents. Should you break any of these bindings, this curse will kill you.”

“And if I succeed, for seven decaphoebes?” Lotor asked, still snarling, still bearing his (small, Altean) fangs.

The druid was quiet.

“You must include a win-condition, witch. I know your magic’s rules.” He would not have risked infiltrating this place if he did not have a contingency plan for if he was caught, after all.

The druid made a snarling, growling, impatient noise.

“If you should last all seven decaphoebes, then the magic you seek will be yours. Now get out!”

Another rush of magic and Lotor found himself at the mouth of the small cave that hid the entrance to the druid’s lair. He grit his teeth and stood, shaking as though to dislodge the remnants of the purple magic.

Seven years.

More than he’d bargained for, but less than he was willing to pay for his goals. He already grew his hair long, and he was not one to frequently stay in one place for too long. That was doable.

The claws and bathing situation would be the most intolerable, he did not doubt.

Seven years.

He could do this.

In the first year: he could do this. He was centuries old and, if theories on how he aged were to be considered correct, he would have centuries more. Seven years would be nothing. A drop in a bucket. He used it to prepare, especially the first few months, when he smelled more or less tolerable. Any time it rained he spent as much time as he could in the water, knowing that washing in a river or stream would count. Magic was always fickle, and always skewed in favor of the worst. While he could still passably show his face in civilization, he stockpiled supplies enough to last him seven years, or near enough to it he could supplement when the time came.

In the second year: he had to leave Daibazaal. His country of origin was hardly a home, and hadn’t been since he was young and innocent and still so painfully naive. But he did know it, and he knew that all the many flora that thirsted for his blood and fauna that would chew on his bones could smell him for miles in each direction. He knew it intellectually, and he knew it viscerally, blood steaming across the pelt he wore and sliding down the blade he wrested free from the fresh carcass of a beast that wished to eat him. Oh, how he wished for a bath.

In the third year: he couldn’t do this. He could not bear this. He was not even halfway through and his own stench and fatigue were driving him insane. Being so constantly exposed to the elements was killing him, though the pelt was so thick and heavy it kept him plenty warm. And he was lonely. In the third year, Narti finally found him, Kova hissing and prowling just outside the edges of Lotor’s reach, recognizing him but also not. She wanted to help him, as best she could, but he explained the curse to her, the druid putting no binding on his tongue at least. She then offered to go kill the druid for him, and he insisted that she not, not until the witch’s power was his. She stated she would stay with him, despite her nose being even sharper than Lotor’s, and he reminded her that it could be for no more than three quintents, or the magic would kill him (and he doubted it would be instant, or painless).

She left with the promise to tell the others, and to bring back supplies for him. Just to drop off and then leave again. She promised she wouldn’t stay.

In the third year: Ezor found him, always best at finding things, and with her she brought Zethrid and Acxa. It was the best three days of these miserable three years, even with his companions wrinkling their noses at his scent the whole time.

In the fourth year: he left the billowing wilds that existed between Daibazaal, harsh and dangerous but inhabitable, and into Altea, the lush and verdant valleys beneath the billowing wilds’ mountains. Not to say that Altea did not come with its own dangers, no, just that they were more like the mountain creatures, not quite so capable of killing a lone wanderer as Daibazaal’s would have been.

In the fourth year:

Allura tied up her hair and shifted her hands, magic tickling as it turned her palms into suction cups. She descended from her room as only wayward princesses could, and hopped down onto the vibrantly green grass of the lawn with a little thrill of success.

With the tensions between Daibazaal and Altea on the rise once again, and all citizens from both countries feeling like a resumed war was all but a forgone conclusion, her parents had been increasingly strict with her. On a certain level, she understood, she was a princess after all, it was her job to understand.

On the other hand: she’d gone to the little brook with the little waterfall dozens upon dozens upon dozens of times, without any harm nor threat to her person. It was right next to the palace grounds, and she only ever managed to squeeze in an hour or two before her knights quit canoodling and came to find her anyway. She would be fine, just as she’d been fine every time before.

There was nowhere in all of Altea, in Allura’s opinion, that was a better place for magic than that little waterfall. Something about the place seemed almost to glow with magic, every drop of water and blade of grass and rustling leaf full to overflowing with rich mana. It drew her in, excited and comforted her, enthralled her and cleared her mind. Magic poured from her fingers like the water she lifted, guiding it to dance about her in a spiraling river floating suspended around her person, twirling slowly as she dragged the water about in lazy loops.

Even the sunlight here felt different, warm and yellow but not beating down on her, even in summer heat. It sparkled and twisted around her like the water did, slowly spinning and dancing across the shimmering surface, Allura’s skirts shallowly twirling around her calves, and she smiled and let her mind sink into the magic present here, imbuing everything.

It was that magic, present even in the twigs of a bush and the berries crushed underfoot, that alerted her that she was not alone.

She didn’t scream. She didn’t dare try to fight against near a dozen heavy boots. One moment she was smiling serenely, surrounded by glistening spirals of water, the next she was running so fast the water didn’t even have time to hit the ground before she burst through it. Shouts behind her, unmistakably Galra, and heavy footfall followed, but she didn’t dare look. She was fast.

But Galra were faster.

A giant, purple hand clamped over her mouth, a scream wrested from her too late and muffled by the flesh, and she hit the ground with a cry of pain, knees and palms skidding in the dirt.

“Grab her!”

She fought back, because of course she did. Princess trained in the art of diplomacy and regal bearing though she was, Allura was no weak fighter, and she was not one to cow in the face of unfair odds.

But they were unfair. She knocked two briefly unconscious, but she hadn’t brought her staff, not believing she’d need it, and these Galra were armored and armed, one opening a deep gash across the back of her leg, another finally getting his dagger pointed at her throat and compelling her to behave.

“You won’t kill me,” she spat, even as her preservation instincts forced her to obey.

“No. But you don’t need both eyes.”

She screamed a protest—she was submitting!—as he raised the dagger to plunge it into her eye, but then a dagger protruded from his own, sinking much deeper than just the eye. He toppled off her, dead, and the Galra turned on their new aggressor.

A beast, wilder than all imagining, lept from the foliage, its pelt hideous and bloodstained, matted with mud and dried viscera, its claws long as knives and yellow and flaking, silvery lengths of something dragging behind it as it fell upon its victims. The Galra shouted, united now against this beast, and Allura staggered to her feet, or tried to. The gash in her leg made fleeing nearly impossible, and she leaned against the tree as she watched the beast dispatch of the Galra, one by one by one, until there were none left alive to contest it.

Its yellow gaze fell upon her next, and she realized belatedly that she looked at no monster at all.

“You’re Altean!” she gasped, the man before her so deeply dirtied with various filth that she could not see even an inch of skin beneath the horrible mess, but his face was, poking out from the disgusting fur, unmistakably that of, well, a man. An Altean’s proud cheekbones and narrow jaw, eyes yellow as a Galra but silver hair (it was hair!) long and ripe with magic.

The man chuckled at her. “I suppose it only fair that you confused me for a beast.”

“Good sir, anyone would.” Sounds of armor—familiar, Altean—and rushed footfall came from the direction of the palace grounds. “Please, you are my savior, come into my home and be bathed and rewarded for your service.”

“I cannot bathe, princess,” he said, with every reverence of her subjects, “nor did I do this for a reward. I will leave.”

“You saved my life!” Allura insisted as Keith and Shiro burst into the clearing, swords drawn and lips flushed and kiss-bitten, confusion on their brows as they took stock of the dead Galra on the ground and the beast man their charge now argued with. “You would do me a great dishonor by not allowing me to repay you!”

The man seemed visibly to hesitate at that, and then acquiesced. “If for your honor only, princess. But I cannot remain.”

“At least stay the night,” she insisted, now half-frantic to have this strange man remain for any time at all, curiosity burning through her as fervently as the magic had only recently flowed.

“The night,” he agreed, bowing low, the mess of fur and hair and viscera and fresh blood shambling with his motion, “but no longer.”

The man spoke of precious little, despite Allura’s best attempts at interrogation. She learned not even his name. He would not allow any of her staff to bathe or groom him, though she noted that while his hair was dirty, it was remarkably untangled. He was certainly Altean, but his nails were more akin to claws. And of course, the yellow eyes.

At dinner, her parents hosted the man who’d saved their daughter’s life, because of course they did.

“Traditionally,” Queen Melenor remarked, though she was severe and stately in the way Allura knew she held herself when she discussed things she’d rather not, “the reward for saving a princess’s fool life from a band of murderous kidnappers would be that princess’s hand in marriage.”

Allura heard the man’s breath hitch, and for a brief moment, open want lined his filth-obscured features, before he shuttered again to something vaguely polite and unreadable.

“I could never ask for such a thing, being as I am.”

“Being as you are?” Allura said, sounding more accusatory than she’d meant. “A kind stranger who saved my life?”

“You have no proof of any kindness,” the man said, with a low chuckle that made her feel strange and hot.

“Only my life and well-being.”

“You speak as though you would wish to wed me.”

Allura’s mouth opened, then shut.

“Exactly.”

“Perhaps I would!” she said, drawing herself to full height while seated and glowering at the man, challenge in her tone.

“Allura,” her father scolded quietly, as he always did when her temper and stubbornness sent her headlong down paths her good sense would otherwise steer her clear from.

“...Allow me three years, then, princess,” the beast man said slowly, gaze never leaving hers. “I have matters I must attend, and am unable to remain here, nor take you with me. If, in three years, when I return, you still wish to wed me, we might discuss it then.”

Queen Melenor sighed, and Allura winced only briefly at the tone of her mother’s breath. Oh the lecture she’d receive once this man departed would be mighty. “You have more good sense than my daughter, it would seem. Please be made comfortable in our home, and if there is anything you wish for, merely ask it.”

“A grimoire, Your Majesty, if I may be bold enough to request it.”

“You’ve magic?” Allura asked, reaching out to touch the man’s face, where his Altean marks should be beneath the dirt, and rescinding her hand when he flinched from her.

“Call it a future investment.”

“Grimoires we have aplenty,” her father stated, “I’ll have one copied for you by the morrow.”

“My thanks.”

Allura, kept up late by her own desperately curious, gnawing thoughts, had to drag herself, bleary and miserable, from her bed to prevent from missing the stranger’s departure. She witnessed her father hand him a grimoire, and he bowed, first to the sovereign queen, then to the king, and then, lower, slower, with something like heat in his eyes, finally to the princess.

“Damn,” she mumbled when the stranger was gone, but comforted herself that at least, for the next three years, she’d have an easy dismissal of all talk of suitors.

In the fifth year: Lotor was nearly killed by a huntsman mistaking him for a beast.

In the sixth year: Lotor was nearly killed by a team of monster hunters, who he had to persuade with Narti’s coin to leave him be, paying higher than the village who’d hired them. He wandered elsewhere with faster purpose, after that, and committed himself to greater stealth. Narti was unbearably smug when next she delivered supplies, forcing more coin into the hands of a man who had no reliable use for it.

In the seventh year: Nearly killed again, by huntsmen and monster hunters both. But he was on his way out of Altea. On his way through the billowing wilds, climbing and descending that mountain. He’d memorized the grimoire, but kept hold of it, a baffling yet precious memory now tied to its cover and pages.

At the end of the seventh year: he returned to the small cave where he’d first found the druid. His time was up, or near enough to it, and the moment the magic was his he would take vengeance for the seven years of misery he’d suffered. There he found Narti, there he found Ezor, there he found Zethrid, there he found Acxa, still loyal to him after seven years of absence, and he counted such loyalty more precious than all the gold in all the world.

“First, we kill the druid,” he ordered, feeling the curse sizzle along his skin as it warped into a blessing. “Then I take a quiznacking bath.”

At the end of the third year of waiting:

Allura was forced by circumstance to put her curiosity for her betrothed-to-be on hold, as political upheaval shook the land.

Her father’s old ally finally declared war upon her mother’s country, and Altea raised its arms for bloodshed. But as they prepared their weapons and rallied their armies, another missive came: Emperor Zarkon was dead, long live the Emperor.

Lotor, former prince, son of Zarkon who Allura had never met, shame to his family line and whose mother was Altean, had bested his father in ritual combat, according to Galra custom and law, and had seized the throne. Altea continued to rally, not sure if the bastard son would hold the same temperament as his father, but the tension that had built between their lands hung now, most definitely confused in perplexed balance.

Then an official letter from the Emperor, validated by report after report from their scouts: Lotor was coming, not with an army, but with a diplomatic envoy, to speak to the royals of Altea face to face.

Her mother was stern and stately, poised and graceful and elegant, the sovereign of Altea, bearer of the Altean royal line, pride and jewel of their nation, its Queen.

Her father was tense and stiff, militant and grave, leader of their armies and father of the nation, sire of Altea’s heir and husband to their sovereign.

Allura wasn’t quite sure what she was. But she drew herself up, a shadow of her mother’s grace, stiffened her lip and brow, a mimic of her father’s gravity, and lifted her chin, a prideful stubbornness that was all hers.

Whatever the Emperor Lotor came here for, he would find it on Altea’s terms, or he would leave without it. Or, if it might make for a swifter path for peace, she would slaughter him in this very reception hall. She had her staff with her today.

The Galran procession arrived in waves, wargs and beastmasters first, towering Galra broad each as a mountain and bearing heavy shields second, four mismatched women each bearing the new royal crest and colors third, and in their center: Emperor Lotor.

He was the singularly most beautiful man she’d ever seen. Long, plaited, silver hair that nearly dragged the ground, Altean bones and Galran eyes, soft velvety purple fur so short it could pass for skin, pointed ears pierced with glinting gems in silver casings, and on his cheeks, two marks that glowed with powerful magic.

She shivered, feeling less certain of her ability to slaughter him where he stood, should he pose threat. His magic was enough, indeed, to rival her own, and she was famed throughout Altea for her prowess, her own marks pink and luminous.

“My thanks for hosting on such short notice,” the emperor began, seeming perfectly at ease surrounded by distinctly uneasy Altean guardsmen.

“Our thanks for your peaceful arrival. Are we too optimistic in hoping it may bode for a peaceful future between our nations?” Queen Melenor of Altea answered, staring down at him with regal coolness from the dias they three stood on.

“Not at all,” he assured with a smile. “I am as hopeful for such as you are.” A sigh escaped the whole room, tension palpably leaving. Allura was not exempt, tension loosening from her shoulders.

“Though I would start by returning what was borrowed. I know you gave it to me as a gift, but I would return it as a show of good faith.”

That piqued Allura’s curiosity. As far as she knew, her parents had never met the then-prince Lotor any more than she had. But as the emperor of Daibazaal approached, Allura’s breath caught in her throat.

He extended, to Alfor, a grimoire. The same grimoire her father had given her intended three years ago.

“You!” she gasped, rushing forward and grabbing him by the wrist, making his generals tense but ignoring them, staring instead at his yellow eyes.

“Me,” he agreed with a smile, staring at her with that same reverence he’d held three years ago. “I hope my appearance is more agreeable to you, now, than it was then, as I have little desire to return to such a state.”

“More than,” she said with a wild grin. “Please, come in and be hosted by us, I would have my betrothed explain to me how I may find him in such different states as this!”

“Well,” she heard her father murmur to her mother as she beckoned their guests inside, “I suppose a wedding is one way to end all this.”

And so it would be.

But first, they went to dinner.

[ethereance]

Aʅϝυʂισɳ  αυ

Where shapeshifting isn’t the only trick up alteans’ sleeves.

Basically, this is an au where, among their other abilities, alteans can fuse SU style. They’re a diplomatic species, and so as well as being able to fuse amongst themselves, they can do so with those from other planets. It’s just easier to both initiate and hold when they’re both altean. 

-The first people Allura sees fuse are her parents. The dance is magnetising, effortlessly elegant, so different from the stiff dances from Altea she’s used to, such a departure from tradition. It comes straight from the heart, from their very being, their quintessence aligning perfectly to form a person so wholly new, yet familiar, those eyes loving and kind in the way she had known her parents to be. 

-She decides, right then and there, she will find herself a bond like that, someone who will dance with her and make sparks fly across the dance floor. She wants what her parents have, a fusion like Melfor, born of love and trust. 

-Then she sees Coran fuse with Alfor, a dance somewhat more traditional, but no less loving, that unconditional trust in those eyes there as Alran forms. As Allura will later learn, any fusion Coran’s part of will include a moustache. Always. No exception. Even when Allura eventually fuses with him, a boundless rush of energy in her veins, popping and crackling, their fusion is not exempt from this rule.

-Coran has fused with both Melenor and Alfor at the same time. They are the ultimate parent to Allura.

-Coran and Allura fuse into Cora after cryosleep, when the paladins have retrieved the lions and they are alone and bound by their grief. It doesn’t last long, and the unfuse when they realise what is happening. It’s doubly crushing, but with it, what sticks with them is the small sense of comfort, knowing that they have each other.

-Coran has so many tales to tell about his past fusions (they’re all gone now. Will never exist again). 

-Coran doesn’t really fuse anymore. But if he did, you just know a fusion between him Pidge and Hunk would be an engineering wizard. 

-Fusions speak a medley of whatever languages are in their brains. You don’t notice it with the universal translators on though.

-They also gain their own accent.

-They can also wield their normal paladin weapons + their own special fusion one.

-The first paladin Allura fuses with is Shiro. (Lance has a sexuality crisis when he first looks at Shallura but that’s neither here nor there). She’s known the paladins for a while at this point and is steadily warming up to them, steadily gaining hope and trust in them. They’re not much yet, but one day they will be. Hopefully. At least Shiro seems dependable. 

-Their fusion feels strong, a true leader, the only responsible one in the room ™. 

-Still only one flesh arm.

-Shallura also has a bottomless well of material for their gallows humour. Please don’t let them participate in standup comedy.

-So much PTSD from the galra.

-Most likely of the fusions to give a lecture.

-They’re the first fusion the team meet, and for a second Keith goes through all the stages of grief thinking they’ve lost Shiro again. “What have you done with Shiro?!”

“Keith, I’m right here. Kind of.”

-Hunk, Pidge and Lance absolutely want a turn afterwards. Pidge is interested because science ™ and Lance for reasons his two friends will tease him about.

-Pidge is very younger sibling in Shallura’s eyes. Shiro’s protectiveness over Matt’s sister and Allura’s want to become closer to the only other girl on the team meshes. Pidge gets free piggybacks (she acts like a disgruntled cat about this).

-Keith has no idea how to act around them. Sometimes he starts treating them like Shiro, then catches himself. It makes Shallura feel a little put out, having known Keith for so long, so much trust built up there (well, with Shiro anyway). They just want him to be comfortable around them. 

-Knowing Keith the way Shiro has helps soften the revelation of Keith being part galra (also by fusing with Keith herself later on).

-When fusing with Kuron, something feels so unimaginably off, though Allura can’t quite place it. It leaves her with a slight headache in her head afterwards, almost like someone was whispering to her. Kura (Kuron and Allura) fusion doesn’t happen many times, and those fusions don’t last. Kuron is hesitant to fuse, but doesn’t know why.

-Bayard form is a rapier. Because why not (the reason I’ll use for all bayard forms I give). Or maybe just another form of sword. 

-Hunk, ever friendly Hunk, is Allura’s next fusion. He’s determined to create a dish that reminds her of home, only with their limited ingredients at the time he’s struggling to even make food that tastes like his own home. He’s unfamiliar with what is out here, so far out in space. But, eventually, he gains an eye for picking out ones that are edible and won’t give you a nasty space rash. And, with the help of coran, makes a flan that somewhat tastes like altea as it once was. It’s not exact, but the dish is filled with so much heart, so much flavour, that she’s thankful nonetheless. 

-They fuse as she hugs him in thanks.

-Ank or Hura??? Is somehow more disney princess than Allura. They will give those little guys as many baths as their heart desires. They are also the first fusion out of the paladins that gets photographed because they love taking silly selfies with the mice.

-Has made the mice blanket burritos because they’re cute.

-Will kill you with kindness.

-Ultimate diplomat. Not only will they win you over with words, but also food. 

-(After Allura becomes a paladin) They’re two legs!!! Team leg!

-The mix of Allura’s tastebuds and Hunk’s gives them a strange palette. Yes, they know logically that space chocolate should never be mixed with space mustard and argleberries and yellolian pie. But wouldn’t it be interesting to try?

-Ank won’t let anyone try those dishes though. They know that would be considered a disgrace to cooking.

-They get on well with Pidge and end up helping her through the altean language simulator once they realise she has an interest in learning. 

-When unfusing with Allura, Hunk eventually realises that a few altean words do stay in his brain even without the universal translators.

-As comforting as the fusion is, being Ank does heighten insecurities about winning this war. It’s best to fuse when neither of them are in a downwards spiral.

-Has a very, very large fear of loneliness.

-As Allura’s relationship with Lance ends up improving, it reflects in his friendship with Ank. “It’s like having two best friends in one!”

-Bayard form is some sort of grenade launcher. 

-Pidge has had less walls up for a fair while now that the secret of her identity is out, so, though a little hesitant, she really wants to try this fusion thing. She knows she’s not the best at people, which is another reason why she’s interested in this. It’s like a shortcut, a hack into the system. Instant bonding. Only they don’t fuse right away, that ridiculous dance seeming like it was all for nothing. 

-But you can’t force a fusion. Like bonding with a lion, it requires trust.

-Eventually Allura and Pidge bond over talking about family. Allura becomes even more determined to help find Pidge’s brother and dad. If Allura can’t have her family anymore, at least she can help Pidge find hers.

-Pallura is incredibly smart, and whilst Pidge’s understanding of altean tech is way above average, fusing with Allura gives Pallura that extra edge.

-Sometimes the need to see her family is debilitating. 

-She’s pretty insane about Monsters & Mana.

-Bayard form is a chakram. Or perhaps a flail?

-Give her a crossword or space puzzle cube any day.

-Matt is so confused when he first meets her. 

-Palunk/Hillura/Hida (think I like Hillura more?) is Allura’s first three person fusion and they don’t stay fused for long because of it. 

-Kallura first fuse when they both try and run away to stop Zarkon tracking the team. 

-The team finds out when on that call.

-“You fused with Allura before me?!!!”  - Lance

-Lance is upset about Kallura having a mullet. “You’re better than this!” He’s very conflicted on how to interact with them. On one hand, they’re Keith. On the other, they’re Allura. But they are also both and neither.

-Their bayard is a rope dart.

-Kallura has a lot of suppressed anger from grief. Bottling up and compartmentalising works for them until it doesn’t. They feel things so intensely.  

-they feel like a ticking time bomb at times but do not want others to see that. -They just end up unfusing if that happens.

-Nevertheless, Keith appreciates the fusion, finding it difficult to connect with people, so it’s meaningful when he does. 

-Keith and Allura end up with a stronger bond because of this. 

-Stick them in bubblewrap and save them from themselves. They are prone to self sacrifice. Please stop.

-Later, upon that revelation ™ , Allura doesn’t know how to feel about fusing with someone who is part galra.

-But Keith is Keith.

-Their fusion’s thoughts were genuine. So maybe, just maybe, Keith’s are too. 

-Lotor and her can never quite fuse. They almost get it, both driven by an aligning desire to connect with the lost culture of Altea, and Lotor wants to fuse, he does, it’s something he’d learned of during his research, though he himself couldn’t on his own, but even together it never quite works. Lotor has too many secrets, too many things he keeps hidden to open up enough for a fusion to work.

-Then, as Allura hurls him across the room, she’s ultimately glad they never did (but she has to wonder, what would she have seen, have felt? Would there have been love there, or endless lies?). 

(Heads up for romantic allurance)

-Lallura eventually fuses sometime during s3. 

-Lance grew on Allura after he shielded Coran, but they never really click until they make an effort to do so around the time of the lion swap.

-Lallura is hot and they know it.

-:3

-Also very good with people. Lance’s natural peopleing charisma shines through into Lallura. Allura wonders, if she had fused into Lallura earlier on, it would have helped with that outsider feeling when trying to connect to the other paladins. 

-Great at parties. You want Lallura at your social gathering. This skill comes in handy when the paladins need to dress up fancy and interact with diplomats.

-Has a strong sense of homesickness. Both for homes they have never been to (and yet they have).

-Vast majority of the time they’re pretty confident. Mutual belief in each others’ abilities makes for a fusion that knows how to believe in themselves to a healthy degree.

-Though they have caught themselves a few times going into a downwards spiral of imposter syndrome and worry about their capabilities as a leader/paladin. But it doesn’t last long.

-Gives good pep talks. 

-They’re a magpie. Love shinies.

-Don’t talk to them about Lotor. Just. Don’t.

-Through Lallura Lance gets the chance to fly in blue again. 

-Their joint bayard form would either be a grappling hook (Pidge would claim her bayard does it better) or bayonet or maybe bow and arrow like Valayun had??? A crossbow??? I do not know

-They’re Coran’s favourite of the fusions.

-They love tying their hair up the way they used to for their sisters (not sisters. But also are?). 

-Spa day is a very serious matter. Don’t interrupt it.

-Will sleep in if given the opportunity.

-Rachel (Lance’s sister) manages to get a matching jacket with them. They have no idea how when this jacket exists because of fusion.

-Nadia and Sylvio (Lance’s brother’s kids), upon meeting the fusion, request that Allura princessifies them too.

-Allura doesn’t comment on it, but she does start to feel some of the affection Lance feels for her when they fuse, especially as the seasons progress. It takes her aback, its intensity, but it also comforts her. But she’s also conflicted because of her growing crush on Lotor. She also has no idea if what she’s starting to feel for Lance is because of that fusion (it’s not).

-Lance is still very much in denial about Allura liking him back. If they do fuse over the time period of Allura starting to realise her feelings, he will still interpret it as Allura just being her usual caring self. It’s not like he has fused with anyone else to tell the difference.

-The first allurance kiss under that tree ends in them turning into Lallura again. The euphoria of that is short lived, however, once they find out what happened to Luca.

-After Allura sacrifices herself, Honerva tells her she shouldn’t pay for her mistakes with her life. So after aiding Honerva with her alchemy, Honerva immediately sends Allura back to her own universe, right after the sacrifice. 

-Lallura fuse in space, with Lance immediately jumping out of red after her (+ the rest of the team in their respective lions). After almost losing each other like that, it’ll be a very long time until either of them want to unfuse again. As a long term fusion for the meantime, they start going by the name Lure.

-Lance’s family are a little thrown at first, but they adore Lure. They’re basically a bonus family member. 

-Romellura fusion first happens during s7. Rora???? Rura????

-Romelle is the first altean (other than Coran) Allura has seen in a long, long time. Of course these two are bonding quickly.

-And as is this au’s way, they fuse.

-And are overwhelmed with a wave of emotions, happy, sad. The colony, all those alteans, their people still alive. Bandor, the other colony.

-It’s a lot. They lean on each other to process this grief.

-Without the translators, this fusion is a mess of old and new altean colloquialisms.

-She has a rich person accent. Lance loves it.

-A double altean fusion like this bolsters Allura’s alchemical abilities.

-She’s usually seen wearing a hair bun mixed with a plait

-If you thought bringing up Lotor around Lure was bad, well. Definitely, definitely don’t bring him up around her.

-Kallurance would have been pretty unstable had they first fused earlier on. Kurance? Lalith? Laeira? (I think I like the last one).

-But as it is, they make a really good team.

-Pray you never meet an entire team fusion. They won’t last long, too unstable for that (but more stable than you think. Used to working in unison for Voltron), but they don’t need long.

[the-lightning-strikes-again]

How would you have ended Voltron ??

In particular, what would you have done with Lotor and Allura ??

Hi, anon! Oooh what an interesting question!

If I absolutely had to start with the end of s8, assuming everything before has still occurred:

The easiest option would be that Allura doesn’t die, given that her life force is tied to Voltron and the Realm of Universal Consciousness is where the living and dead exist in the same space anyway.

Instead, previous paladins of Voltron, current paladins of Voltron, Voltron itself, and others (including a willing/repentant Lotor) help Allura restore the universe so that it’s not always just mostly her doing all the heavy work, offering their spiritual energy together to accomplish this massive feat. (Because legit, we need some found family / stronger together vibes! That’s the heartbeat of Voltron!)

It’s during the restoration that the selfish and defeated Honerva gets purified / fully restored herself.

The restoration burns out the rift creatures haunting the quintessence field.

When the universe is restored, Allura realizes she can bring the previously dead with her from out of this liminal space.

All the current paladins open their Lions to take in refugees and bring them back to their restored planets.

While Allura might offer them a second chance, Honerva and Zarkon choose to stay behind, as do many of the victims of the 10,000-year war who prefer the peace they’ve found.

Cue Allura’s heartfelt convo with her parents, who like many of the elders choose to stay behind, but not before doting on their daughter and offering her something that indicates the crown of Altea has been passed down to her / replaces the circlet she lost in s7. Perhaps Allura can still call on her parents in some way if she ever needs help or guidance (as previous-franchise versions of Allura could do). (More under the cut!)

The elders (Zarkon, Alfor, Honerva, etc.) could agree to help guard the flow of quintessence in some way, so that the living have sustainable access without going insane. (Idk what the limits are of this liminal space they're in.) Or else maybe the true secret of sustainable power is revealed through them, answering the problem that started this whole war.

As the paladins are encouraging others to come back with them, Lotor hangs back in the crowd. He does not feel worthy of a second chance at life, and is possibly unsure whether he even has the energy to try. He feels shame over his past and how quintessence twisted his mind.

Out of all the paladins, Allura approaches him and holds out her hand. “We were meant for more than fear and war,” she says, voice soft. “Do not be afraid to live.”

Lotor asks something like, deeply hesitant, “What life do I have? I isolated all allies and nearly destroyed the universe in going mad.”

Allura goes silent and then tries again, still holding out her hand, “And yet, the universe is restored, and all here know you took part in this great work. Your energy and will is a part of New Daibazaal’s atmosphere, its rivers and valleys.” She manages a weak smile. “If I remember correctly, you always did want to explore.”

“And can the past be so fully undone?” he asks. “Would I even be free to explore?”

Perhaps some moment where Zarkon and Honerva take responsibility for Lotor’s screwy life. Bonus if he gets some kind of call that the Galra still need a leader to help them in this new phase of peace, and that he hasn't reached his true potential yet.

Probably, some paladins chime in, validate that the alliance is back on, and the serious moment gets broken.

Lotor grabs onto Allura’s hand. She leads him to Blue Lion, where he joins the multitudes returning to the restored universe.

The Robot that jettisoned itself off Lotor’s spaceship from S5 is part of the crowd!! Lotor reunites on-screen with his cat, Kova!

Cue silly paladin shenanigans, a few stowaway mice finding a new resting spot on Lotor’s shoulders, and Allura’s new circlet catching the light as the paladins of Voltron launch back toward their reality, away from the Realm of Universal Consciousness.

Cue a pan-out to the restored universe, where the rift is healed, and New Altea and New Daibazaal exist side-by-side as their suns rise.

I think something open-ended, in the context of several characters—focused on a theme about not being afraid to live, about reconciling the past with the present—would hype that found family / stronger-when-we’re-together / comic energy that made Voltron unique…and leave lots of possibilities for the fandom to explore this new world!

If I could roll the clocks farther back than s8, I’d massively overhaul several things about the show. But this is just where I see a way to better land what we got toward the end.

Thanks for this ask! So fun to think about!

[galraluver]

Here's (most) of everyone's favorite VLD ladies for International Women's Day 💕

[bigriceenthusiast]

“You are the most beautiful princess I’ve ever seen.”

Immediately, Allura tilted her head, looking at the girl like it was a strange thing to say. “Isn’t that Mama?” Melenor’s heart swelled. ; or: allura gets told she looks like her mother often, they both love it

hello voltron fandom

i've actually been meaning to write a vld fic for YEARS so here we finally are. this is for the like. three allura & melenor enjoyers out there

i hope u enjoy kiss kiss

[shirophantomvox]

Any Advice?

What’s up y’all? I’m here with another story from the prompt : Alfor learns Zarkon is getting married by @vld-prompts. Enjoy! 

The red sky on Planet Daibaazal seemed rather darker than usual. This was a beautiful darker shade of red. The sky was a beautiful ombre blended red to dark red with the sky full of stars. The sky and ground suddenly were full of light brown dust, quickly flying and dissolving in the air.  Out came the creator of Voltron; King Alfor of Altea. He nearly ran up the many stairs of Daibazaal to meet his friend on the platform. When he removed his helmet, Zarkon looked rather upset than content like he usually did. The snow-white haired king frowned, shaking his head. Zarkon had everything he wanted at his fingertips; what could he possibly be upset about?

“Is something wrong, Zarkon?” 

The King saw that he had something folded in his hands, his fists were clenched; hard. Zarkon looked flushed; so flushed as if he’d seen a ghost. 

As the two friends were on their way to the “Board Room”(The board room is a  room where Zarkon had important meetings with his high ranking generals), everyone was running up and down the halls with flowers, table cloths, balloons, and other elegant party favors trying to place them in their necessary places. The inside of the Galra Palace already looked fabulous, but these gold and red decorations made the little details pop. It was customary that no later than 1 phobe after a proposal, the groom has to provide a “welcoming dinner” for the brides’ family and close friends. This was done so that the “strangers” could be quickly acquainted. This event happened up until a movement before the wedding. Galra weddings were slightly different than the ones on Earth. Both the groom and bride wear matching colors of red, black, and gold while the audience wore just purple, pink, or white. Instead of the bride having a veil, she wore a flower crown full of her planet’s most popular flower. This symbolized delicacy and trust. The groom also wore a flower crown full of red roses. The roses symbolized love and commitment. Instead of reading vows, they light three candles; each symbolizing hope, faith, and encouragement.  It could be said that the Galra valued relationships more than any species in the universe. Alfor had asked Zarkon over and over what was bothering him but he kept skurring around the question. 

“Zarkon, you didn’t answer my question. What’s going on? Why is everyone running around like their heads are cut off?” 

“Boy, you can’t just let it go, can you?”

“Well, you’re acting rather strange.”

“How?”

“Well for starters, you haven’t said anything to Blaytz about him asking the server for his fighting schedule.” 

“I’ve never minded that.”

“You’re lying. Dare I ask? Why are you being so...nice?”

“What? I’ve always been nice!”

“No, you haven’t. You’re very stern.”

Alfor folded his arms and gave Zarkon the stare of slight intimidation. He wasn’t going anywhere until the tea was spilled.  

“Very well. I’ll tell you.” 

“I’m listening.” 

“Don’t make a big deal about this but...I proposed to Honerva 3 movements (weeks)  ago.” 

Alfor eyes widened and his mouth dropped nearly to the ground. His reaction was priceless! The King was rather surprised that his stern, follow-by-the-book friend had found love and that he was actually going to pursue marriage for love rather than seeking out a bride. You see, for several deca-phobes, each Emperor, Prince, and Princess would be matched with a partner to marry but Zarkon decided that he would no longer participate in that tradition. When he was a prince, his father tried to arrange for him to be married to a woman that attended the same military school as him. She was very nice and sweet, but he did not love her and she didn’t love him. Some Galra didn’t hesitate to tell  Zarkon about how disappointed they were once they found out that he was breaking tradition. It was more surprising that he was going to marry Honerva of all people. She was free-spirited in a way; not only did she enjoy learning and teaching others about science and the endless solutions it provided, but she also enjoyed her free time and did whatever she wanted. Zarkon on the other hand lives his life on a narrow path. He trained day and night and when he did have free time, he spent it hiding from Kova. Well, you know what they say...opposites attract. 

“That’s wonderful news! I saw her yesterday. Why didn’t she say anything?”

“I told her to keep it a secret. I was planning on telling you all once you came over for dinner. I wasn’t expecting for you to stop by so early.” 

“Well, cheer up! Marriage is a great thing! You’ve found your other half!”

“I’m aware of that I’m just...I don’t know...nervous…?”

Alfor laughed. Is this coming from the strong-willed Emperor Zarkon? No way. 

“This is why I didn’t want to say anything.”

“Forgive me Zarkon.  You are one of the most powerful leaders in the known universe. What do you have to be nervous about?”

“I may be powerful, but a charmer? No. I’m not funny like her. She’s smart and beautiful but me? All I can do is lead the military and that’s it.” 

“Obviously, there’s something that she likes about you. Whenever we met for our morning meetings for the last 12 phoebs (months), you were all she talked about! She said you had a sense of humor!”

“Huh?”

“That’s what I said.”

“Hey!”

“I’m just pulling your string, Zarkon. She said that your ability to lead shows how much you value the people around you and how you care about their safety and wellbeing. Don’t be so hard on yourself, my friend. Everything will be ok.” 

“I hope so. Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.” 

Zarkon pointed to a room where he and Alfor entered and sat in two cherry red comfortable cushioned chairs. 

“What’s going through your head?”

Zarkon sighed and wiped his face. 

“How were you able to confess your love for Melenor in front of a crowd of people without tearing up?” 

“I imagined that we were alone. If you tear up, that’s ok! It’s perfectly normal to cry. Just look into her eyes and speak from the heart.” 

“I know...but--”

“I’m sure you did that when you proposed, didn’t you?”

“Yes. I have another question.”

“What is it?”

“How did you get through your...honeymoon?” 

Alfor smiled and raised a brow. He was a genius by day and a freak by night. 

“I can’t advise you about that. That’s something you and your wife will have to figure out.”

“How?”

“You’re overthinking it. Just wait for you two to be alone together in 5x5 room. Remember how you felt when you kissed her fo the first time? Multiply that by 10 million. Don’t worry. You’ll be fine.” 

Zarkon sighed in relief. Talking to his best friend made him feel so much better and more confident. What’s better than putting that confidence to the test? The door flung open and there stood a woman dressed in a purple gown and a purple hat with a beautiful flower on it. This was Zarkon’s royal advisor; she was his public representative. 

“Sir. Honerva is here,  awaiting your presence.”

“She’s here now? I told her--”

A heavenly sound came from behind this woman’s head. So quiet and elegant, I might add. Zarkon already knew who it was. He stood up straight and proceeded to the threshold of the door. 

“May I come in?”

Her bright blue eyes were piercing through his soul. She smiled because she was finally going to have some alone time to talk about their future and any other arrangements.  Her Altean markings began to glow as she began to scratch Kova on his stomach. She knew Zarkon hated Kova, but this was her way to pick at him in the most loving way possible. 

“Please, do.” 

[spacelion-loveshermulletson]

Melenor: Allura, darling, why aren't you dressed?

Allura: I... uh. I don't have any clothes!

Melenor, opening the closet: Sure you do! You have jeans, your dresses, t-shirts - Oh, hello there, Keith - that new skirt you bought, some shorts-

[winterskywrites]

When Allura steps into the light, the warmth of it settles around her shoulders like an embrace. It takes her a moment to realize that it’s not just the light, that the weight on her shoulders is real.

“My daughter,” Alfor whispers, holding Allura tightly. “My beautiful, brave daughter.”

“Our daughter,” Melenor corrects, embracing Allura as well. “Oh, how we’ve missed you, little one.”

“Mother,” Allura whispers. “Father. I- I missed you so much-”

Tears well up in her eyes and choke off the rest of her sentence. Both of her parents hug her tighter, and Allura can feel their own tears splash on her skin.

“We’re so proud of you,” Melenor says fiercely. “So proud.”

“You saved the universe, Allura,” Alfor says. “You’ve saved every universe.”

“Can we be together now?” Allura asks. “The three of us? Am I- Am I done fighting?”

“You’re done,” Alfor says. “The universe is safe, thanks to you. You can rest now.”

“We can be together,” Melenor promises. “We will always be together now, my dearest.”

“And the others? Lance and Coran and-”

“You’ll see them again,” Alfor promises. “They’ll come when they’re ready.”

“Tell us about your new Paladins,” Melenor says, putting an arm around Allura’s waist as Alfor puts one around her shoulders.

Allura smiles and opens her mouth to begin as they walk forward into the light.

[pidge-holt]

I’m thinking about the designs of voltron female characters today, and it just pisses me off how lazy they were. Many of them just look like previous characters!!! Allura and Romelle? Florona (and the mermaids) and Nyma? Allura with her own mother?!

[vld-prompts]

Young!Allura shares a bonding moment with her mother, Melenor. 

[theoneandonlyespa]

So, I have recently finished my first multi chapter lotura fic...

...and since I have no idea how to properly incorporate images on AO3, I have decided to make this separate post with the images that I have either created or been inspired by for the creation of certain scenes from the last chapter.

Starting with Allura’s wedding dress:

Lotor’s ceremonial sword:

And finally, Allura’s scepter:

If you love lotura, please consider checking out my fic Where is the Fragrance of the Sweet Juniberries? on AO3, here is the summary:

Lotor and Allura have been best friends for as long as they can remember. Unfortunately, when Allura receives the news Lotor was promised to marry a princess from a far away land, she is surprised by a horrible desease that is spreading through the galaxy killing the victims of unrequited love.

[imhereformysciencefriends]

@loturaweek2023 final day: Cooking Up Chaos!

Allura had never considered herself particularly foolish or in need, but as straits grew more dire, she found herself more and more willing to entertain certain flights of fancy, all the way until she had gathered her wits and struck out into the forest in search of the witch that lived there.

The closer she got, the easier her walk, bramblebushes giving way to a well kept path, undergrowth trimmed back, and in the center of the clearing she approached: a sprawling herb garden with a neat and tidy cottage in the center. It seemed out of place, if only for its charm in an otherwise wild stretch of forest.

She cleared her throat as she entered the clearing, unsure of how close would be too close to go uninvited. But nobody was in the garden, and there was smoke pouring from the chimney, so her mark must surely be inside.

She knocked on the door.

The man that answered was—not quite what Allura had expected. He was purple, for one, not green. With long, trailing, starlit hair and catseyes. His hat was so large it almost wouldn’t fit through the doorframe, with a dent at the halfway point that left the tip pointed sideways, and his dark robes trailed the floor with a tattered end.

“Greetings.”

“Oh,” Allura jolted, blinking and gathering her manners, “Hello, um, good witch?"

The man snorted softly, smiling with an almost playful gleam. “When it suits me. Come in,” he ushered her in, and she let out a small noise at a second surprise.

“I, oh, I hadn’t realized there were two of you,” she mentioned, hoping that wasn’t too rude. There was another woman, her body even more changed by her magic than his, eyeless and seeming… scaled, lounging near the fire, cat on her belly.

“Typically, witches are solitary outside of gatherings,” the man mentioned, stirring something in the cauldron over the flames. “It’s just that somebody decided to take my cat as her familiar.”

The blind witch looked smug, gesturing something Allura did not understand at him, and he let out a grumbling noise. He huffed, and turned back towards Allura.

“But come, you’ve traveled all this way for a reason, have you not, Princess? Tell us what you wish from us, and we’ll assess the cost.”

Allura settled her hand on the bag in her deepest pocket, filled with things she truly hoped the witches might take. She had no real desires to offer up any firstborns or lindworms.

“My father’s court is full of liars,” she stated. This was… pretty well known, all considered. Even her father admitted to it now, and he’d long attempted to hide the truth from even himself on the matter. “They’re deceptive and cunning, and will lead us all to ruin. I’ve tried begging my father to take more aggressive methods with them, but he resists. I… do not wish to kill them, but come in search of whatever solutions you are capable of providing.”

The male witch hummed, stirring his brew. “If the liars are the issue, then perhaps they should not be allowed to lie.”

Allura frowned, then lit up. “A truth spell?”

“Potion, but yes,” he said, ladling glowing yellow liquid into a pitcher. “I’ve none on hand, and Narti—” he turned to look at the lady witch (Narti, Allura supposed), who shook her head, “—has none either. Give me a moment to put my current brew away, and we shall have an elixir that will make even the most silver tongued liar speak plainly.”

“And the cost, for such a thing?”

He cast her a sly glance. “What have you to pay?”

Allura pulled from her pocket the bag she’d brought. “Gold, and jewelstones. Coin, if you want it.” Though, rumor had it witches rarely did. “If you want something else—”

“We’ll take the coin,” he said easily, and—oh.

For some reason she’d expected it to be harder than that.

He laughed at her expression. “Despite what the fairytales will tell you; even witches need to purchase goods and services from those in town. You’re more capable of affording to part with your coin than some of the desperate folks that cross our door.”

Well now she just felt silly.

She cleared her throat. “And will you tell me your name, good witch?”

“Lotor. And I know you, Princess Allura. There’s plenty talk of you, around the kingdom.”

“What kind of talk?”

“Mm. I wonder,” Lotor hummed, continuing to drain the cauldron and offering no elaboration. “But I will warn you of one thing, Princess. There is a second cost to our deal: the cost of using magic at all. The more you use, the higher the price. Be cautious, little royal, that you do not use so much, that it becomes a price you are unwilling to pay."

Like the purple skin. And the scales.

“I’ll be careful. I don’t plan on needing more than just this, anyway.” If she could just oust the liars, if they could separate the wheat from the chaff, she knew things would get better.

“No one ever does,” he warned, tipping over the mostly-empty cauldron to let the remaining trickles of glowing amber slip through a grate on the floor, mingling with ash and other discarded brews below.

She watched him begin the next batch, made mostly of harmless water, but the more ingredients he added the more… otherworldly, the mix became. He had her fetch a few things for him while he stirred, and Allura was willing enough to comply, figuring normally Narti must do this (or that helping make the potion was perhaps necessary, since she’d be the one to use it).

It worked.

The court was in chaos. Everyone was saying what was actually on their mind and all hell was breaking loose. It had started when a courtesan had told Alfor to his face that she thought he was weak spined and easily manipulated, her eyes going wide in horror as she had attempted to backtrack, but her tongue hadn’t let her.

Allura watched on with what she hoped was not-too-obvious glee.

Alfor took advantage of the magic, however it had come about, and was able to swiftly dismiss those forced to confess their ulterior motives. He was left with a small, but genuinely loyal group, and they began rebuilding their ranks with similarly loyal replacements.

Allura’s hair turned slowly silver, over the days it took to oust the liars. She hid her hair behind colorful scarves and told her mother it was simply premature greying.

All was well for months after that, until Allura’s mother fell ill.

“Welcome back, Princess Allura. Your hair looks striking,” Lotor greeted, looking slightly flustered at her appearance. “Was the truth elixir insufficient to the task?”

“Not at all,” Allura assured as she entered his home once again, Narti off somewhere and a mug of tea wafting softly next to an open book with complicated diagrams in it. “It was exactly the miracle I needed, but now I ask you for another.”

“Then ask away, but remember: all magic comes at a price.”

“For this, I would pay anything—”

“Be careful how you utter such words.”

“My mother is sick!” Allura burst, tears in her eyes only for her to swipe them angrily away, smearing on her cheeks. “My mother is ill, and nobody can cure it. Help me, Lotor, I don’t care if it turns me into a frog if it means my mother lives.”

Lotor’s expression softened and he placed a gentle hand at her elbow. “Ease, Allura. Ease. Tell me her symptoms. I’ve magic aplenty to spend on her cure.”

“Yes?”

Allura had been so worried, so anxious that perhaps this was not the kind of magic he could do.

“Yes. She will be alright, Allura.”

Allura sagged against him, and allowed him to comfort her, to settle her on the couch with a mug of tea of her own as she explained the onset, the symptoms, the nature of her mother’s illness. He listened steadily and took notes, and nodded at the end.

“I know of the cure that will work. Sit tight, Princess. You will carry it with you when you leave.”

And so she sat, and watched him, and found his silvery hair to be even prettier than the last time she viewed it.

“Thank you,” she said in his doorway, with a sachet of something faintly glowing in her hands and her purse much lighter. She rose up on tiptoe and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you, Lotor.”

He stood dumbfounded at his own threshold, and she giggled before taking off, his catseyes on her as she left.

The next morning, her mother was cured overnight, and Allura found what she at first believed to be a rash all over her own skin. Except it wasn’t a rash, it was… markings. Crescents and circles and half moons and dots and waves, all bright pink, decorating her limbs and spine and two V’s on her cheeks.

She swore her ladies in waiting to secrecy and hid the marks beneath her clothes, all except those two facial markings which she passed off as “a fashionable new trend of face painting.” Everyone was too relieved over the queen’s recovered health to pay the princess’s antics much mind.

And all was well in the kingdom a second time. Allura felt almost like she was ready, when the third trouble arose.

War with their bordering country had long been something that loomed on the horizon. It seemed with their court cut in half, and the rumors of the queen’s illness and likely death spreading slowly their direction, they’d taken this as opportune timing.

Allura was not fearful of the outcome of a fair battle. Her father’s forces were powerful and well armed.

Allura was worried about their beast of a champion, a man more lion than human, undefeated no matter the number of foes he faced.

“You wish to craft a champion of your own?” Lotor echoed, and Allura nodded.

“My father has a loyal soldier I think would bear the burden, but I need something that will put him on equal footing to their lionman. Lotor,” Allura reached out, and placed her palm over his, “this I ask of you.”

Lotor sighed. “You make it terribly difficult to deny you anything.”

“Then do not deny me.”

“There will be a price.”

“I know.”

And so Lotor gave her a greave imbued with magic that hummed all through it, and Allura asked her father’s soldier if he would bear its burden.

He did. It cost him his right arm, forever changed, but he did, and he won against their lionman, despite the difference in their sizes.

Allura paid the cost of the magic’s casting. Her hair, she could hide. Her markings, she could wave away.

But when her brown eyes turned bright near-glowing blue, the secret could be kept no longer.

The princess was using magic. The princess was consorting with witches.

And so the princess took off her crown and picked up as many coins as she could reasonably carry, and left.

And now there are three witches, stirring a cauldron in the woods.

[bravepaladinsedits]

An Alfor x Melenor edit,, wish we gotten some moments of them in the show :,)

From our Instagram @/bravepaladins

[artsy-alice]

💜 lotor loves keith! lotor loves allura! lotor loves... revolution!

royal babies from the 'honey let's get married' au where keith is prince lotor's favorite baby cousin & allura is their childhood friend slash playmate.