#when it looks grim i just wait till it doesnt anymore

[dog-girl-zezora]

.

[sword--wings]

Since my Lollura fic has been completely joshed by S3 now Im pretty much abandoning this series of drabbles but I figured I might as well post the part I finished. Takes place in an AU I guess where Lotor and Allura grew up together.

 The Prettiest Ghosts

When she comes to she's in luxury and hand cuffed.  If Lance we're around he might make a sex joke. But Lance isn't around. In fact she doesnt know where he or the other paladins are. If they're safe. Alive. If they were captured.

Like she clearly has been.

It's a bedroom. Expansive but dim. Why did Galra have to pick such, grim ugly colours? Then again, she knew their eyes were sensitive in ways Alteans we're not. She did in fact remember him telling her that they didn't see their own colour scheme as gritty.

"You're awake." he notes and she feels sick. She might entirely lose her self if it wasn't for the cuffs keeping her hands bound. She sits up best she can on the bed. Rich red. The heavy purple curtainsaround it.

Lotor turns on a lamp and all around the room different bright pink violet crystal lamps glow.

Its not the first time she's seen him up close in person, but its the first time where something else immediate isn't also happening.

"Where the paladins?"

"They escaped." He replies calmly taking off his heavy cloak and settling it on a chair.

She crinkles her nose. "You're lying."

He turns. Approaches her and stops near the edge of the bed. "Then why do you even ask Allura?"

Something awful coils in her guts. Treckle bugs along her back bones. Memories speaking her name. The last voices of her time clawing out of blackened empty space; their graves.

"What do you want with me?" she demands.

He almost smiles. Then he does. Chuckles unenthusiastically. "What do I want with you? You have to ask?"

He moves and Allura flinches. Her feet are not cuffed ankle to ankle but the cord there isn't long enough to let her run properly. He sits, a few feet away on the bed and from the bedside drawer pulls out a bottle and two crystal glasses of the palest blue out of a drawer. Her heart is pounding louder than the rocks on roof during a cascian shower. She angles away, giving him a cold shoulder, but she can't help but watch.

He places the beautiful cut mint glasses, their wide shallow bowls and stout textured stems on the table and holds the bottle to her view.

"10,000 plus years, how do you think it tastes?"

She looks away but can hear him pop the cork and almost immediately lets out a sharp breath.

"Bitter," he notes, the strong odour wafting out of the bottle.

He pours the dark liquid into the first glass and only then can Allura smell it. Its a little acrid but soon she recognizes it. She knew what it was; she's not even surprised he kept it. But there it is:

The smell of juniper berry wine.

Her eyes sting as she turns her head sharply.

Lotor notes the grimace. Clenched jaw.  Allura's perfect jaw.

He swirls the liquid in the glance: it looks almost black in the pink light.

And then like that, 10,000 years gone at once, he puts the cup to mouth and drinks a swig almost recklessly.

"Ah," he gasps, pushing the tainted spit down, smacking his tongue to suppress the aftertaste. "Bitter," he repeats looking at her.

He waits, his mind almost somewhere else. Some other time. Some other world that could have been. And now, impossibly, an alternate reality mirrors this one so closely. He wishes he could push through that curtain. He can. Imagine. But Allura wont imagine it with him.  She never did play nicely.

"Will you have some?" He asks.

She wants to tell him she knows its poisoned. Except she knows it's not and accusing that is just petulant. Of course you don't drink wine your enemy offers you. But he doesn't pour a glass: just asks. Sighs when she says nothing, and puts the bottle down, back next to the glasses; One filled, one empty.

Her throat feels parched. It might the last physical remnants of Juniper berry in existence.

But of course. Isn't that exactly how her father's corrupted AI nearly destroyed them all?

Why, why did all the things she loved, all the last bits and pieces of her home and life, why did they all turn sour? Why soil the only things she had, which very literally, we're just memories? Distorted livivng imitations of those she once knew--people she thought we're dead--couldn't the universe let her remember them as they were?

"Allura. Look at me."

She glances with eyes and then turns head farther to face the other wall. Apparently this angers him because the next thing she knows he's grabbing her face. Automatically she spits in his eyes, wrenches herself away. She loses her core, falling back to bed and Lotor single handedly grabs at her knees yanking her closer, her legs draped over his one. His hands arent as large as an average Galra's but they;re still large and strong enough to hoist her by her neck up sitting before he firmly cups her face. She spits again and he barely flinches, saliva drips down his face. Waits till she stops fighting. His grip is strong and unrelenting, but not painful. Not yet.

"Do you want to hear something horrible?" He asks with a mouth full of teeth .

Allura tries to wrest her face into a more confrontational glare.

"Let me guess," she says, "You're a monster. A murderer whose killed hundred, no, thousands of people across the galaxy. That your empire has destroyed the lives and homes of countless innocents. Eradicated whole species all with disregard for a single living thing but yourselves and your pride."

He moves, not really closer, but just more comfortably on the bed, not ever looking away from her. Fabric sheets shift against each other. He thumbs the edge of her cheek mark, soft, sad yellow eyes following.

"No," he breathes, "I misremembered your face."

*-*-*-*

One hand chained to the bed post, the other holds a wine glass.

Allura swirls the blackened wine around in its chalice.

"This is extremely fermented," she says post-drink. "Its vile."

Lotor chuckles quietly. "I dont know." He says, "It's not so bad."

"Apparently," she muses, "You've forgotten what Juniperberry wine is supposed to taste like."

Lotor pauses less than a tick, staring acutely into his cup. Then, unceremoniously chugs the entire glass. "Likely so," he says finishing it.

He places the pretty crystal glass back on the table. "There's much I've forgotten." He looks at her pointedly. "You've been asleep my dear and there's so much you don't know."

She pouts. Scoffs. "I know enough."

Then swallowing hard, she adds, "I won't forgive you. You've had all the time in the world to change your ways."

"I have changed." Lotor admits sadly. "I could not even pretend to be the prince you remember."

Allura's eyebrows frame her eyes angrily before she turns away, hoping to hide the tears starting to swell. She's not allowed to have anything is she? She wouldn't want a mirage no, but that someone from her life, the last of familiar faces is right there, right beside her, and yet- He's not. He says he's not. She knows he's not. Not anymore.

"Allura," he asks, so benignly she almost doesn't register it, "Tell me."

She looks over at him. In the dim light he doesn't look a day older than when they last saw each other's faces.

"Tell me what you do remember...." he asks and Allura can see the Castle gardens on Planet Altea, its cobblestone pathways, the flowers in bloom. She can see them walking there, happy and uncaring before things went sideways between their planets.

"How do you remember me?"

[thegoblinqueenx-blog]

This is pretty grim just warning in advance

So the past week has been really bad, anyone reading this that doesnt know i suffer from ptsd due to a traumatic childhood and other events which took place a bit later on and OCD which no isnt me constantly cleaning or needing things a certain way (except for items on a till belt and shampoo bottles in shops and other silly things) its having constant intrusive thoughts. Thoughts about things that logically wont happen (lying in bed convinced theres a tsunami coming and youre going to drown), thoughts of hurting yourself (might just stick my hand on this hob lol no dont do that), thoughts of hurting others (walking past someone wondering how theyd look skinned alive). Its constant torture there is no off switch and when youre running your own house with a ten week old newborn son it takes its toll. I dont feel like myself anymore, i dont want to leave the house most days because im scared of all the potential things hurting me and loud unexpected noises make me scream or start crying. I cant watch a lot of films because if i see one shred of violence in a film thats not slapstick comedy i spend the next three hours having vivid flashbacks driving myself crazy, i dont have the concentration to read so most of the time i just sit and scroll media. Sure i can watch comedies and do housework and of course feeding bathing and changing my son keeps me busy too, but the time inbetween all that is literally spent wishing i could sleep but instead having flashbacks and panicking. The point is that Quentin Tarantino was my hero at one point, gory violence was my favourite thing and nowni cant even see someone get punched in the face without freaking out. I used to love going to gigs it was my favourite pass time besides swimming, but now i struggle to get outside and a room full of people bumping into me with constant loud noise is my idea of hell now but it used to be my idea of a perfect night. Its soul destroying to have the things you loved taken away by a mental illness. This week i guess its just been worse than it has for a while, my CPN has been to see me and she's bringing the lead psychiatrist Dr Crawford to come see me on Monday. I look forward to seeing him but am also nervous i met with him whilst i was pregnant (i was taken off any meds when pregnant for obvious reasons) and we discussed going back on to different medications once id had jason. Its taken 10 weeks but finally ill be finding out what theyre starting me on and taking a step towards recovery, my psychology referral has been sent off so hopefully i wont have too long a wait to start psycho therapy and EMDR treatment. So i guess i just have to stick it out till monday, ive managed this far im sure i can go another day. I just had to get this off of my chest and ive always used tumblr like an open diary. I dont want sympathy, i just want some understanding. If you actually read this and can relate to any of this my inbox is open and ill try to help u in any way i can. ♡