#even ignoring how much we actually preferred them forfeiting because the transfers they did use were to add players WAYYY above our div

[slicksquid]

love getting a free luti set win because the other team just cannot get their shit together

[juniperallura]

Woman King: Chapter Seven

ao3 / header art / playlist

Almost mid November. Altea was on the cusp of winter, and even the Castle, its windows groaning against the wind, seemed to be affected by the anxiety with which the court went about its final autumnal business.

Her annual survey of lands was pushed back and back as the Galran War bleakened with the season. Allura had vowed not to send another soul north, where winter snows had already begun to fall, but with every foot of territory lost to the Galra the situation became more and more desperate. Her days had long been forfeited to the war, Coran following her with a constantly rotating entourage of generals and ministers. Every day- no, every hour- seemed to bring a new crisis.

Allura found two comforts in these weeks. One was her training sessions, when all her stress, and fear, and anger could be inflicted upon her unfortunate trainer (or an unfortunate scarecrow, whichever was present at the pitch when she stormed in.) Occasionally, when she was in a lighter mood, Allura interrupted her cousin’s training sessions— to test his growing skill, and to watch his blood boil indignantly.

The other, and more important, one was the nightly walks to her bedchamber with Shiro after their briefing sessions. Each evening in those twenty minutes, thirty if they lingered outside her door, she found him to be more of a confidant and kindred spirit. And although she knew it was irresponsible, that it would only lead to more pain further down the road, she allowed herself to lean into the comfort, the warmth, that his company gave her. Besides Coran, her court was not happy about their growing intimacy— and neither, if the increasing curtness of their communications were any indication, was the Gaian court— but, as Allura reminded herself, she was allowed some small solace.

Now she wandered the halls alone, almost wishing her briefing hadn’t been cancelled that night. She far preferred the somber conversation of her generals to the maddening silence that plagued her as she signed condolence letter after condolence letter, making a new widow with each signature. Allura sighed, trying to think of something else, but the dull ache in her hand wouldn’t let her forget. Even allowing her thoughts to turn to Shiro did little to help. Her ministers had been pestering her, complaining that their Gaian guest would not give up his information on the Galra, that he was feigning ignorance.

Shiro didn’t say much about it to her, but Allura suspected that his time in the Galra prison affected him much more than he let on. She wondered if he remembered much of anything. She saw how he flinched sometimes at a sudden noise, or a phantom twinge in his right side. She heard the whispers of the servant girls, who in the daytime giggled if they met Shiro’s gaze, but at night scurried past his room to spread stories of the cries that echoed in his chambers. A comment, made one night as they discussed the old orchard that had fallen into his hands, echoed in Allura’s mind. “The trees do not mind my night terrors, at least,” he had said, smiling wryly.

She sighed again, beginning to feel overwhelmed by the weight that pressed on her chest. When she heard footsteps echoing from the other end of the hall, Allura decided she didn’t possess near enough energy to navigate an encounter with anyone of her court. Although it was late fall and all she had was a few layers of cotton between her skin and the chilling night wind, Allura slipped through the nearest pair of doors and out onto a balcony.

She was hit immediately by the bracing cold. The flames that danced behind glass sconces threw little heat over the balcony, and the lights of the village, usually twinkling warmly at the Castle, felt cold and far. Indeed, Allura felt closer to the full moon that loomed above her than to the town below. She closed her eyes, letting its silver light wash over her. Thoughts of her father, still real and warm and alive in her memory, and her mother, that anonymous woman who smiled out at her from the painting above her vanity, rose from the storm that brewed in her chest. It was too cold to cry, but she sent a longing prayer up to the sky.

Allura shuddered. Her teeth had begun chattering in bodily protest, but her mind was beginning to clear in the crisp air. Her eyes were still closed when she heard the balcony door creaking open.

“Oh-”

She turned, immediately recognizing the voice. “Shiro-” She composed her expression into a soft smile. “Good evening.”

He had paused with his hand on the edge of the door, looking at her with a strange expression. Eyes wide, mouth open; not quite surprised, but like he was transfixed by something. He looked young in the moonlight, Allura thought.

Shiro cleared his throat. “Good evening, Your Majesty. I’m sorry, it wasn’t my intention to disturb you- the door was open, there was a draft in the hall-”

“Not to worry,” her smile spread, “There is nothing to disturb.”

“May I?” He gestured toward the railing and Allura beckoned him forward.

The warmth radiating from him as he joined her sent a shiver running down her spine. She rubbed at her arm, reminded again of the season. Almost immediately Shiro reached up and began fiddling with the clasp of his cloak. Allura protested, “Oh, Shiro, please, I can’t-”

“I don’t think anyone would forgive me if I allowed you to die of the cold, Your Highness,” he smiled, cheekily, and pulled at the fabric.

She acquiesced with a grateful nod, reaching to help him nestle the cloak over her shoulders. It was overwhelming for a moment, being wrapped in his warmth, his scent. She pulled the thick wool tight around her and hoped the flush in her face wasn’t too noticeable. “Thank you. You are too kind.”

He nodded and turned his gaze to the sky, allowing Allura to watch his profile. “The moon is beautiful tonight,” he said, voice low. Evidently falling into as pensive a mood as she.

“Yes, it is,” she hummed. Earlier thoughts threatened to catch in her throat so she stopped there, looking down at her hands.

Shiro caught her tone. “Is something wrong?”

Allura pulled at one of the braids that ran through her hair, examining it in the light. “Nothing really, just— this is supposed to an ‘auspicious time’ for me, according to the High Priestess. You’ve heard the legends, I’m sure. But-” A heavy sigh escaped her- “I always find myself thinking of my parents, wishing that they could be here.” She raised a hand to her cheek, not wanting to meet his gaze. “I know it’s childish, but with everything going on, part of me longs for their guidance.”

“You shouldn’t be ashamed, Your Highness.” Shiro turned to her, his voice genuine and concerned. “Even someone in your position- especially someone in your position- is bound to feel lost sometimes. Although, I confess, I’m not sure what you mean by legends.”

“You really haven’t heard them?” Allura tilted her head, a smile now playing over her lips. Something about that pleased her, his not knowing. “It’s a long story, and frankly a little embarrassing for me.”

Shiro laughed, leaning against the balustrade with a raised brow. “I have no engagements until the morning, if you are willing to tell it.”

She paused, considering. After a moment, she told him. There was the solemn part, of course, the part that had been haunting her that night. But once past her mother’s death, the story became a more humorous one, with Shiro at least. He mirrored her smile as she told him of the cult that had somehow emerged from her birth, her supposed connection to the full moon, the rumors of her spiritual abilities.

“Had I known I was angering the lunar powers, I never would have agreed to spar with you,” Shiro grinned.

Allura laughed, relieved to feel the tension in her nerves receding. Shiro seemed to have that effect on her. “No one in the court really believes it, but it makes a good story for the tapestries. You would be surprised, though, by how many of my subjects, out in the country, have taken to the idea. When I ride by, on my visits to the lords, they all reach out, trying to touch my hair.”

“I can see why some would believe it easily.” Shiro was still smiling softly, but his voice was lower, with a kind of intensity behind it. “Your appearance can be— striking, at first.”

“Oh-” Heat flooded her cheeks. Her eyes dropped to the valley that spread before them, then flickered back to his face, sharp and handsome in the moonlight. “You can be intimidating, too.”

“Ah, yes,” Shiro chuckled, suddenly amused, “There was a village I lived in, before I settled here- the villagers took one look at me and decided I was some kind of werebeast.”

“A werebeast?” Allura blinked, remembering her cousin’s use of the same words.

“Yes- actually, if I remember correctly, there was a full moon the night I arrived.” He tilted his face to the sky. “I guess it was an auspicious time for me as well.”

“Well I certainly didn’t mean you look like a beast,” Allura frowned. She wondered if that was what drove him so far from the edge of the village, with only the trees and his nightmares. “The way people talk is shameful.” Her fists clenched. “I am not always bothered by the myths, but sometimes it feels disrespectful. Like they would rather create a legend out of the living than memorialize the dead. The legacy of my parents almost feels tarnished, because of these silly stories.”

Shiro was watching her, his face falling into something serious as she spoke. He nodded slowly. After a moment he said, “You know- if I may, Your Highness, I remember the day your father passed.” He waited until she nodded slowly to him. “I was an officer in the Gaian army then, just transferred back to the main camp, a little ways outside the capital city. There were hundreds, maybe thousands, in the camp. We were all rowdy and wild, fresh off a victory in a Galra colony— but when they announced that King Alfor had died in battle, you could hear a pin drop. Everyone was silent. We were all shocked, devastated. It was like we had lost one of our own, truly. I remember our King wearing a black arm band for weeks.” His hand reached forward, resting just short of hers on the railing. “And I know others, in every kingdom, had the same experience that day. That was the kind of respect your father commanded- that is his legacy. And you certainly honor him in your rule, Your Majesty.”

Allura blamed the wind for the moisture that rose in her eyes. “Thank you, really, you don’t know how much that means to me.” She took a slow breath, collecting herself with a smile. “And Shiro,” she pulled his cloak tighter around herself, “You may call me Allura, when we’re- alone.”

His surprise was evident at first, but when he bowed his head to her a pleased smile spread over his lips. “Thank you, Your H— Allura.”

Allura.

She felt a thrill in her veins when she heard her name in his low timbre. The wild beating in her chest compelled her to close the distance between their hands. His skin was calloused but warm beneath her palm. He met her eyes, and after a moment she withdrew her hand again.

“What about you, Shiro?” she asked, turning to look back down at the village but peeking at him in the corner of her eye, “You don’t speak of your family- if I’m not prying-”

“No, no, don’t worry,” Shiro chuckled to put her at ease, but his voice was tired. “It’s a rather somber story, is all.”

“It’s not as if I have been regaling you with mirthful tales,” Allura said.

He ran his hand through his hair, tilting his head in consideration of her words. He sighed and began, “Well, my father was a commander in the army. Not very prominent, but capable enough. He died when I was young, a sudden illness, so for most of my life it was just me and my mother. As I understood it she didn’t have much extended family, but our village was kind to us, and we managed to get by without him. When I joined the military she was so proud- she spoke as if I would surpass my father.” The youth that had smoothed his face earlier was gone, the deep creases returning as his voice grew weary. “I don’t know if my mother is even still alive, but- my reputation back home is ruined. If I saw her again it would only bring her more hardship.”

“Shiro,” Allura reached out, eyes full of feeling as she laid a hand against his shoulder, “I know your people’s customs about these things are harsh, but I am sure that if she knew, she would understand. Surely, she cherishes your memory.”

“Yes, maybe. I am grateful, at least, for the years we had. Everything is so different now.” He met her gaze, lips pressed together as his eyes searched for something in hers. “I wonder, sometimes, if she would recognize me.”

Allura’s eyes raked over his form. She wondered if he was thinner than he had been, if he was still filling out after his time in the Galra camp. She was certain, of course, that some things were different; the shock of white that coursed through his hair, the right sleeve of his shirt folded up and pinned above the elbow, the raised scar that cut over the bridge of his nose. In the moonlight she could see other scars, small ones, that she hadn’t noticed before. One on his jaw, another through his eyebrow, one on his collarbone that disappeared under his shirt. She wondered if there were more scars that she couldn’t see, telling stories she didn’t know. It was a strange thought- she pushed it away.

Shiro’s dark eyes were still on her. Allura reached up, fingers crossing slowly through the cold air between them. His eyes fluttered closed as her fingertips came to rest gently over his scar. She followed it, horizontal across his face.

Then he was looking at her again and his hand came up to fold around hers. This time neither of them pulled away. Allura’s lips parted, but she didn’t say a word. He brought his lips to her knuckles, softly. “I misspoke earlier. You are always striking, Allura.”

She hadn’t realized how close they had gotten. Their hands, now held to his chest, were the only thing between them. She could feel his breath, steady and warm, against her wrist— it was only then that she noticed hers was held tight in her chest. As she exhaled, slowly, they leaned closer to each other. His nose nuzzled against hers. She heard his breath hitch.

Every part of her was crying, screaming to close that last electric inch that kept them apart, but Allura paused. The list she had ticked off to Lance, all those long weeks ago, forced its way into her mind. Her court didn’t trust him, her people didn’t like him, her title was far above his. She was the Queen. She had duties, responsibilities. He was probably running through his own list that very moment.

There were so many reasons she shouldn’t have; but, in spite of it all, she did. His kiss was tender, sweet, and soft, tasting faintly of the wine served at dinner. He wrapped an arm around her waist, drawing her flush against his chest. She reached up, clinging to the nape of his neck, suddenly hungry for the feeling of his lips against hers. His hand left her back to bury in her hair as she sighed, falling deeper into their kiss. His stubble was rough against her skin but she savored the friction. When he pulled away she leaned forward again, pressing her lips slowly against his. And again. And again. She could feel him smiling, a chuckle rumbling from his chest.

Allura leaned her forehead against his before pulling reluctantly away with a sigh. Shiro reached for her hand again, entwining their fingers. “I must leave in the morning, Shiro,” she breathed, “Unless a great flood comes and cancels my survey of the lands once and for all.”

“We can only hope-” His eyes were still lingering on her lips. “-Or else I’ll miss our walks.”

She smiled, taking a deep breath as the pounding in her veins began to slow again. “It will be nearly a month before I return. Coran will remain here for the duration of it, to oversee the court. Maybe you should take this opportunity to see to your estate, before winter settles.”

“Of course, Your Majesty.” He gave her a crooked grin.

Allura’s gaze lingered on his before she pulled his cloak off her shoulders. Shiro bent down so she could drape it over him, refastening the clasp around his neck. “Goodnight, Shiro,” she murmured.

“Goodnight, Allura.”

Her hand slid slowly from his chest and she disappeared into the hall, leaving him to gaze up at the full moon with a smile.