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poor-sickies · 6 years

Note

For Bingo can ya do Allura hiding an injury :D

I actually wanted to post this request on Christmas… but I wasn’t able to.

To be truthful, between school, health issues and just lack of motivation in general, I’ve been having a hard time writing lately. I have ideas and more ideas, but actually writing and going through with them has been very tiring for me.

That being said, I do enjoy writing very much, and I find it does help me a lot being creative in other areas, and writing this bingo has helped me want to improve more and more. I still love getting prompts in my inbox and writing for them, even if it does take a little while.

So the prompt was directed to Allura, but I accidentally whumped everyone as well, I hope you don’t mind. I find the writing in this one is a little rougher, but I decided it would be best to publish it now and move on than to dwell on it and possibly not post it ever.

I hope you like it!

@badthingshappenbingo

family

word count. 6227 words

prompt: hiding an injury

Read on ao3

Waking up to blaring alarms had weirdly become routine.

Lance rolls over in bed with a groan, before getting up and dressing his paladin armor. Before leaving the room to run for the bridge, his hands wander to the little handmade calendar. It’s only when he turns the page that he realizes.

It’s Christmas Eve.

He wants to think about his family, gathered around a Christmas tree. His mother’s sweets, the kids opening their presents…

But Allura’s voice over the speakers sounds urgent, and he’s forced to push his thoughts to the back of his mind, as he runs out of the room.

They weren’t accounting for another one of Haggar’s robeasts and a swarm of druids.

They hadn’t had such a rough mission in a while, and even though they defeated the monster, there is a lot of damage to be dealt with. Half the castle is in the dark, after a few powerful hits without the particle barrier. After landing her pod back in the hangar, Allura drags herself to the bridge to make a wormhole jump to a peaceful galaxy, and, one by one, the lions get back to the hangars.

The paladins, though, take a little longer coming out.

Lance is first, climbing down Blue’s ramp with slow steps, his left hand clutching his right shoulder. Then there’s Shiro, limping down the railway out of Black.

“Guys,” Shiro asks out through the comms, “is everyone alright? Keith, Hunk, Pidge? Lance and I are out here, how banged up are you?”

“Hold on,” Hunk says, with a strained voice, “I think I did something to my back.”

Yellow opens up, and Hunk ambles out, favoring his left foot, back immobile and weirdly straight.

“Damn it,” he says, “we need to get Keith and Pidge and head to the cryopods.”

“Paladins!” Coran exclaims, running through the hangar door. “Are you okay?”

“Get five cryopods ready,” Lance moans, “we all need-ah! My arm-” he winces, rubbing the skin near his hurt shoulder. “We all need medical attention.”

“Keith and Pidge are still in their lions, we gotta get to them first,” Shiro decides, ready to make a move for Red. “None of them are answering their comms, so we don’t know how bad it is. Coran, go get Pidge.”

“Right here, guys,” Pidge’s voice sounds, both from the comms, and from Green, almost muted out. She’s ambling, one arm holding across her chest. With the other hand, she holds her helmet, trembling, almost as if it’s too heavy for her to handle, and it’s noticeable to everyone how pale she looks.

“Pidge!” Lance calls. “Are you okay?”

“I think I need a cryopod, but I’ll be fine,” she breathes out, unable to hide her pained grimace. “I probably messed up something in my thorax.”

“Alright, hold on, Pidge, we gotta go get Keith”, Shiro says, hobbling towards the red lion, “I think he was hit when we were down there. Either that, or when we flew out.”

“No, Shiro,” Coran stops him, with a hand grabbing his shoulder, “stay here, I’ll go get him. That leg doesn’t look good.”

Shiro sighs, impatiently. “Please be quick,” he pleads.

Coran nods, ready to fulfill his promise, and walks briskly to the inside of the red lion.

Lance walks up to Pidge’s side and helps her up with his good arm.

“Damn, you don’t look good, Pidge,” he winces as they both walk down the ramp, “was it when they threw you across the room?”

“Yeah,” she gasps, “I think I broke a rib.”

“It’s alright,” he assures her, “just lean on me.”

Keith comes out of the red lion, an arm around Coran’s neck. There’s blood on his forehead, and he keeps his head lowered, trying to avoid the light.

Coran keeps walking down, attentive and worried eyes on Keith. “We have to go down to the infirmary. The main control panel is completely destroyed-“

“What?!”

“Can you fix it?” Shiro asks.

“I can,” Coran sighs, “but it will most likely take a few days at least.”

“Oh no,” Hunk grimaces, “we’re all - all five of us are injured, we have no power-“

“We have some power, the lights are still working on the upper wing-“ Coran argues, still holding Keith upright.

“We’re standing in the dark right now, Coran,” Hunk continues. “I really hope none of us need anything too bad from the infirmary. Isn’t there any way to transfer the power to the cryopod room?”

“I’m afraid not. It’s two different cables, and if we shut down the upper wing, we might not get the power running again until we fix the whole panel.”

“How is Keith?” Shiro asks, walking closer to help Coran, hopping on one leg.

“He was unconscious when I went in, but he’s responsive now.”

“I’m okay,” Keith groans with eyes closed, “just hit my head.”

“Alright, let’s hurry then,” Coran ushers them towards the door, “no need to stand in this cold hangar for any longer.”

“Great,” Lance scoffs, dragging himself behind the others. “Guess we’ll spend Christmas in bed.”

“All done, number one,” Coran says as he finishes tightening the last strap of Shiro’s boot.

It’s a bad sprain, but he can still limp around if he’s careful enough. Coran had insisted on getting a pair of crutches, but Shiro had refused. It doesn’t hurt that badly, and he prefers being able to move on his own.

“Thanks, Coran.” He gets up slowly, hands braced against the mattress. “I should go check on-“

“No need!” Coran interrupts him, lifting a finger through the air. “The other Paladins have been cleared by me, none of them have life-threatening injuries, and they are all currently sleeping in their respective rooms, as you should be doing as well.”

Shiro stops a little to consider. He can’t say Coran he’s wrong. And battered as he feels, some hours of rest do sound wonderful.

“Alright,” he concedes, “I’ll rest now, and do that later.”

Not long after Shiro leaves, it’s Allura who walks in. Her hair is messed up and her face looks drawn and tired.

“How much longer, Coran? For the cryopods?”

Coran lifts up his face to look at her, from where he hangs in one of the cables of the control room, with a pensive face.

“Ah, well, considering the damage we took in the control panel… I’d say at least a few days, princess.”

A few days. She can handle a few days.

Coran looks concerned for a second, and lowers himself down from the cables, to stand in front of her. “I checked for the Paladins’ injuries earlier. They need rest, and a pod when they’re available, but none of it is life threatening. They will be fine.”

Allura sighs. “I know, Coran, I just-”

She stops herself. Coran knows her too well, and she’s not telling him everything. She fears that a simple misstep will be telling enough of what’s wrong. “…I worry about them.” She ends up saying.

Coran’s expression turns more sympathetic. “It’s a feeling we share,” he says, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder, “but they are strong. They will be okay. As I said, there are no life-threatening injuries, just some broken limbs and scrapes. We’ll let them rest and take care of them, until the cryopods are fixed. One of the most important things for humans to heal is affection and comfort. When the cryopods are ready, they will be feeling a lot better already!” He exclaims excitedly, turning around to go back to work.

Affection and comfort, she thinks. I can do that.

“Thank you, Coran.”

Allura twists her heels to walk towards the door, decided and focused. She had a mission at hand, and she would start it right now.

“Oh, and Princess?”

She stops and tilts her head sideways, not quite turning around.

“Get some rest yourself. It was a rough mission.”

“I will,” she answers, but the feeling of guilt in her chest grows. Lying to Coran doesn’t make her feel better, but it has to be done.

The other paladins are in each of their rooms after being sent away to rest by Coran. Following their simulated Earth cycle, on a normal day they would be having dinner by now. Today, however, it seems they will be eating in their rooms later, if at all.

Allura goes in her room quickly, closes the door, after making sure the hallway is empty, and takes out the roll of bandages she had hidden under her sleeve. With an arm around her back, she unzips her suit and pulls it down gingerly.

Standing in front of the mirror, the wound looks a bit worse than it feels. It’s not too big, but it glows purple.

Druids.

They had been attacked by a group of them, while infiltrating the Galra base. It was a relatively small ship, still under construction. It was loaded with quintessence, and it would be used for experiments, once it was built. Lance and Pidge had gone in first, but once they came across the druids, they immediately called for help. Shiro, Hunk and Keith came, and even Allura left the castle to help a while later.

The Galra ship had also damaged the control panel of the castle. At least the food machine and the cryopods were under reparations.

And in the end, they’d only managed to damage the ship and take down half the druids.

Allura isn’t quite sure why she doesn’t tell anyone about her injury - it’s partly because of how guilty she feels about the whole situation. She had stayed in the Castle for a while, helpless, as she heard the others from the comms, until she couldn’t take it. What if she had gone earlier? Could she have prevented the others from getting hurt? Could they have taken down more druids? Her life force is connected to Voltron, and she feels as if she should have somehow protected them better, instead of sending them to the ground like soldiers.

But she’s here now. If she wasn’t able to protect them, she will do her best to keep them comfortable now.

So Allura takes off her suit and runs a wet tower through her body. The wound glows and pulses, across her side. She disinfects it, hissing at the pain, and bandages her torso. Once everything is more or less clean, she dresses her most comfortable dress, blue with some lilac details, and leaves her room.

The paladins all had their rooms in the same hallway, fortunately. She makes a small detour to grab five water packs and makes her way there.

First, she goes to Shiro - the closest room to hers and probably the easiest to help.

“Shiro?” She calls out quietly, standing outside the door.

“Come in,” he says from inside, voice low and muffled.

Allura opens the door quietly, closing it after her.

Shiro lays, legs tangled around the blankets. It’s oddly unusual seeing him like this, out of his clothes and in his pajamas, eyes bleary and tired from sleep, leg encased in the black boot propped up in a pillow.

“How are you feeling?” She asks gently.

He smiles, thankful for Allura’s concern.

“I’m okay. I think I just need some rest. But thank you.”

Allura considers. There isn’t much she can do for his sprain, but she winces when she remembers how bruised his back looked when Coran was checking him up at the infirmary.

“Maybe some ice for your bruises? And for your ankle?” She suggests, “I can bring it to you.”

Shiro does a half smile and nods.

“That would be nice,” he says, closing his eyes. “How are the others doing?”

“I will check on them. They’re all resting in their rooms now.” She stands up, slowly. The change of position makes her breath hitch. Her wound isn’t hurting too bad, but it’s definitely not pleasant when she feels the muscles underneath pull like that. “I will be back with your ice in a bit, alright?”

“Thank you, princess”, Shiro thanks her softly.

Allura closes the door behind her, taking a deep breath. Now she just has to check on all the others. Hopefully her wound won’t trouble her too much.

She moves on to the next room, Hunk’s, and knocks on the door.

“Yeah?” She hears from inside, his voice raspy and tired, but still warm.

“Hunk, it’s Allura,” she calls out with a gentle voice. “Can I come in?”

“Sure,” Hunk says. She steps in, and he doesn’t look much better than Shiro. He lies on his back, posture stiff and rigid, his left foot laying across the mattress, wrapped in bandages. Despite the tense lines in his brow, he still smiles at her.

“How do you feel?” She asks, before lowering herself onto the mattress when he shifts aside to give her space.

“Ahh, my back is really sore,” he winces, “but I’ll be fine.”

At least Hunk is honest right away. But this time, Allura is at a loss of what she can do to help.

“Do you think some more pillows would help?” She tries, “I could bring them to you.”

Hunk considers the offer with a half shrug - or the closest he can manage right now. “I don’t think that would do much of a difference… a heating pack would be awesome if you had one, though.”

“Oh, I do!” She perks up, beaming. “I’ll get it right away!”

Hunk chuckles fondly, face a little more relaxed. “Thank you, Allura. It’s not urgent, though, I’m holding up okay.”

She nods. “I will check on the others, and then I’ll bring it.”

“How are they doing?” Hunk asks. “Keith looked really bad after that hit on the head… Pidge was in a lot of pain as well… and I’m pretty sure Lance dislocated something-”

“They’re fine, from what I know… mostly the same as you,” she answers, looking down.

Hunk sighs. “Yeah, what a shame this all happened right in Christmas Eve. Lance was so happy this morning-“

“Christmas Eve?” Allura questions, cocking her head to the side in confusion. The term isn’t entirely unfamiliar, especially coming from Lance, but she isn’t very knowledgeable in Earth customs, despite the frequent conversations with Lance.

“Uh, yeah, it’s an Earth celebration,” Hunk explains, “one of the best there is, unless you prefer Halloween, of course, but that’s Pidge - uh, yeah, it’s one of Lance‘s favorites.”

“And what do you do in that Christmas exactly?”

“We just gather our family together, eat together and swap presents, usually, but I think every family does it a little different. It’s a religious thing, but plenty of non-religious people celebrate it as well.” He looks down, chuckling, nostalgia ripping at his heart. “Back home I used to help my mother bake Christmas cakes… I was thinking of trying to make some today, but-“, he points to himself vaguely, “I can’t really cook much.”

“I’m sorry, Hunk,” Allura says sadly, “perhaps we can celebrate on another day.”

“Yeah, maybe,” he sighs, “that would be nice.”

The room is dark, only with Keith’s bedside table allowing her to see where she’s going.

Keith lies on his back, the bandage around his head barely noticeable against his pale skin. He looks sick and in pain, and Allura reminds herself not to be too loud.

“Keith… how do you feel?” She whispers, lowering herself beside him, “is there anything I can do?”

He frowns, an unsuccessful attempt at trying to keep his face neutral.

“I’m okay. Just trying to get some sleep.”

“I’m sorry…! I didn’t mean to-“

“No, no, it’s okay - I’m fine Allura, really,” Keith insists. “I was awake already.”

“I can still help you… Maybe some ice for your head?” She suggests, “I can bring it to you.”

Keith seems to consider it for a moment, before giving a short nod, that he regrets right after when pain shoots up through his temples.

“That would be nice,” he says, closing his eyes. “The others…?”

“I’ve seen them. They’re all resting in their rooms now.” She gets up, trying to be light on her feet. The change of position makes her breath hitch. Her side stings now, and her skin feels hot and sweaty around it. She takes a deep breath, as silently as she’s able to, and turns to Keith again. “I will be back with your ice in a bit, alright?”

“Thank you, princess”, Keith thanks her softly as she leaves.

Pidge‘s room is right around the corner, but Allura has to stop before she goes in. The pain is a lot worse now, making her breath hitch in her throat. The pain is getting gradually unbearable, and moving around from room to room hasn’t been helping much.

She takes another deep breath, trying to settle herself and push the pain to the back of her mind.Her team needs her. She steps in very carefully, trying to manage her weight, and not press too hard on her right side.

Pidge lays curled up in a little ball, holding her broken ribs with her small hand, face buried in the pillow.

“Pidge,” she calls out. Pidge‘s position is alarming for Allura. She’s tough, but laying like this, she looks incredibly fragile and small, and it makes her heart ache. She’s so young. She wouldn’t be fighting in a war and getting hurt. Allura walks closer, fighting off the tears at the corners of her eyes.

Pidge shifts a little, wincing, as she turns her head to face Allura.

“Oh? Hey Allura,” she croaks out quietly.

“Hi Pidge.” Allura sits down at the end of the bed, placing a gentle hand on Pidge’s leg. “How are you feeling?”

“Hmm,” Pidge considers, “you know, Keith and Lance are always breaking their ribs… they get hurt a lot, right? When it’s Shiro or Hunk you know they broke something worse, but…yeah, Keith and Lance, they just break ribs all the time, and they’re fine and okay… my point is, you’d think broken ribs don’t hurt a lot, right?”

“I’ve never broke a rib, Pidge,” Allura says, “but Keith and Lance have a good pain tolerance.”

“Yeah,” Pidge agrees, shifting again with a grimace, “well. I don’t,” she lets out, closing her eyes and drawing out her breath. “My chest really hurts.”

Allura rubs her leg in soothing circles. “Oh, Pidge,” she says, “I can bring you some ice. And maybe a couple more pillows?”

Pidge turns over again. “Thanks, Allura,” she hears, muffled by the pillow.

“It’s no problem,” Allura reassures, before standing up. “Just hold on.”

Coran had told them to rest before, and Lance can’t exactly say he was against the idea. Hell, he’s not against it now, but laying on his back with his arm trapped in a sling, staring at the ceiling isn’t exactly entertaining.

All he can think about is Christmas. And with Christmas, comes the inevitable memories of his family.

He sighs. Compared to what he’s been through, a dislocated shoulder isn’t that bad, but it still aches and bothers him.

Not celebrating Christmas is a hard blow as well. He had been halfway through convincing Hunk to bake some Christmas foods this morning, but in the state they are all in, any celebrations are probably off the table. So maybe he’s better off closing his eyes and forgetting about it.

But…

He needs a distraction. Trying to forget about Christmas feels like trying to forget about his family. He needs to at least try to honor this tradition. His parents and siblings are probably together right now, and the best he can do is celebrate as well. It feels like it can bring Lance closer to them somehow.

So he gives himself a new project.

*“Hey, Coran,” Lance asks from the doorway, pajama top hanging off his good shoulder, “do you have any paper? Like for decorations?”

Coran looks up from the panel he’s working on and ponders, two fingers stroking his moustache. “Paper, huh? Well, we might have some in one of the storage rooms… what do you need it for though?”

“It’s Christmas Eve!” he smiles.

“That holiday with the large bearded man…?”

“Yes!” Lance exclaims, before sighing, as his face drops to a sad expression. “I - I know it’s probably not a good time, after how this mission went, but… it kinda feels wrong not to celebrate it… and it would lift the mood I guess?”

“Well, I’m not making much progress with the panel right now… I still need a few things to finish loading, so…if you’re really up to it…” Coran puts down the screwdriver and gets up. “Let’s get to that storage room.”

“Just one last room,” Allura thinks, “then I’ll take a break.”

She had stopped by the kitchen first and brought Hunk a heating pad (which he had been incredibly thankful for), and some ice for Shiro, Keith and Pidge. Lance had seemed okay enough, hence why she had left him for last, but she still feels guilty for it. After all, he is still injured and alone.

But no point on blaming herself any longer. She’s determined to make him feel a little better.

To her surprise, Lance isn’t in his bed. instead, he sits on the floor, with various types of paper around him, a couple of pencils and a pair of scissors in his good hand.

He lifts his head up and smiles, putting down the scissors. “Oh, hey Allura!”

“Hello, Lance,” she greets, “I thought you would be resting…”

“I did, but it got kinda boring,” he gives a half shrug.

A wave of dizziness hits her suddenly, and she reaches for the wall. With careful steps, she lowers herself to sit down in Lance’s bed, barely managing to conceal the wince as her side burns, the pain spreading outwards to the rest of her abdomen and chest. “What are you doing?”

“Just some decorations for Christmas,” Lance chuckles. “If Keith wasn’t feeling so bad, I’d ask him, he’s the artsy guy… but I checked on him a while ago, and there’s no way he’d be up to it. I’m bad enough at crafts with my dominant hand, imagine what this will look like with my left, but at least it’s something, right?” He asks, and holds up one of the Christmas tree cutouts in green paper. “They don’t look that bad, do they?”

She guesses they‘re trees, by the shape, green and looking like the ones in Olkarion. They’re maybe a little lopsided, but with the little accents in red and yellow, they do look nice. “They’re very pretty, Lance.”

“Thanks, Allura,” he says. In a second, his smile fades and he frowns. “Are you okay? You look a bit pale.”

“I - I’m fine, Lance,” she stutters. The dizziness hits her again, and she sees white spots, as the pain sharpens in her side, making her double over with a whimper.

“You don‘t look fine.”

Lance gets up and places a hand on her shoulder.

“Did you get hurt too?” He asks, moving side to side, to check for anything that doesn‘t look right.

The pain makes her shiver and sweat, and hiding doesn’t seem like much of a real option anymore. Under Lance’s attentive gaze, and judging by the way she can’t seem to sit straight, Allura knows she can’t keep lying much longer. But there’s still a chance she can make it to her room, get some rest and come back later. No one needs to know.

“I‘m okay, Lance,” she insists, before getting up, “I should get going, I - ah!”

“Allura!”

Lance catches her on time, with his good arm, but he‘s caught by surprise, and his whole weight gets dragged down with her, his hurt shoulder hitting the floor. Allura falls on his lap, her head against his chest.

She looks pale, sweaty, face twisted in an expression of pain.

“That‘s it, I‘m calling Coran,” Lance says. He looks around frantically, and reaches for a pillow, before placing it on the floor and lowering Allura‘s head into it. “I’ll be right back, just hold on.”

To say Coran had been worried would be an understatement. Seeing Allura lying on the floor, pale and struggling to breathe normally had set off a panicked reaction Lance hadn’t seen in him before.

Between the both of them, they manage to lead her to the infirmary. Her wound is dressed properly, and Coran sets up a little bed for her. By the time Coran finishes checking up Lance’s shoulder for the second time, Allura sleeps in her bed, looking peaceful enough.

“Allura will be fine,” Coran says with a sigh. “She’s needs to rest now, but hopefully she’ll be able to eat something later.”

Lance sits in one of the chairs, shoulders slumped forward, looking down. “I wonder why she didn’t say anything… it’s not like we have such a big threat on us right now…? Right? We’re in a peaceful galaxy, and with all of us like this, it’s not like we could exactly go anywhere to fight the Galra…”

“She did seem quite upset about all of you getting hurt today,” Coran points out, remembering his last conversation with her. “Let’s hope she feels better soon… how’s your little earthling celebration coming about?”

“Eh, I’m halfway through decorations… just need the food, but I’ll probably need Hunk… and Pidge for the lights…” Lance considers. “Hmm…”

“Maybe they can still help,” Coran suggests, “I’ll even join you after I’m done with this panel… a little celebration would be great to lift our spirits up a little after this terrible day.”

“Thanks, Coran.” Lance walks to the door. “See you later.”

“Hunk! Buddy!”

Hunk shifts in the mattress with a groan and reaches for the blanket to cover his head.

It’s not that he doesn’t enjoy Lance’s happy voice – he just doesn’t enjoy it right now.

It has been a few hours after today’s disastrous mission, and Hunk is currently suffering from post-nap drowsiness. Besides, waking up has brought back the ache in his back, and his foot feels stiffer than before.

Lance steps inside anyway, stopping in front of the bed.

“Hey, Lance.”

“So you know today is Christmas Eve, right?”

“Yeah, you told me this morning…” Hunk rubs his eyes with his good hand and makes a move to sit up.

Oh. Ow. Nevermind. He’s staying down.

“Good! So – decorations are done, just need Pidge’s help with the lights, and, uh, probably music, so now I just need you to-“

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, Lance. Slow down.” Hunk closes his eyes. “What are you talking about?”

“Christmas! Come on, Hunk, we can’t just not celebrate! You don’t even have to get up, I just need some directions.”

“I – I know, but maybe it’s not a good time, you know? Everyone is, like, in bed-“

“I’m not.”

“You should be,” Hunk nods forward. “Doesn’t your arm hurt?”

Lance fidgets with his sling, and his face falls a little. Hunk sighs. He hadn’t meant to make Lance upset.

“It’s not too bad…” Lance says. His voice drops down, and Hunk winces at how sad he sounds. “I – look, today has been downright awful. I just want to celebrate something that reminds me of home. If I don’t… I’ll probably spend the whole night alone thinking about it. And… Allura is in the infirmary, and I thought it would be nice for her, you know? She looked so sad when we came back. Makes me wonder what she was thinking about…”

“Wait… Allura is in the infirmary?” Hunk asks. “What’s going on? Is she okay? I thought she wasn’t injured!”

“Yeah, apparently not… got hit by a druid blast on her side, and she didn’t say a thing for hours. She spent like fifteen minutes saying she was sorry but I think she was probably in too much pain to be coherent. She’s resting now, though.”

Hunk sighs.

“Okay. I’ll do it.”

Lance’s face lights up again. “Really?”

Hunk smiles. “Really. Come on,” he says, swinging his legs off the mattress, “you’re gonna have to help me up.”

“Alright, Hunk!” Lance says, still searching the cabinets for ingredients. He had cooked a few times with Hunk, so he knew more or less what he was looking for. “You’ll be my hands… and I’ll be your legs.” He grins. “Like a human-sized Voltron!”

Hunk sighs, but can’t keep himself from smiling. “Great. Let’s do this.” He rolls up his sleeves and motions at Lance to grab the apron for him. “Okay, I need five of those weird eggs from Olkarion, two packets of Altean sugar, and that cool spice we bought on that desert planet.”“You got it!”

Despite being short of one hand, it’s not too difficult for Hunk to work. He and Lance make a good team, alternating between stretching the mix, cutting it up, and putting it in the oven. Two hours go by, and there’s already five different desserts, one more on the way, and next up is the main course for dinner.

“What are you two doing?”

Hunk and Lance turn around to see Shiro, limping with his boot, as he moves towards a chair to sit down. He looks somewhat amused, despite the dark bags under his eyes, and the obvious pain he’s in.

Lance smiles, opening the oven door with his good hand, as Hunk carefully takes the cookie tray out from where he’s sitting.

“We’re baking cookies!” Lance replies excitedly, closing the oven door, and sitting next to Hunk again.

Shiro raises an eyebrow. “In the state you’re in?”

“We are working as a team,” Hunk says, eyes fixated on a cookie he was carefully placing on the tray, “like a human-sized Voltron.”

Shiro chuckles. “Well, it’s always a better Christmas with cookies.”

“Of course!” Lance smiles, before remembering, “hey, have you checked on Keith? I went to his room a few hours ago to bring him an extra pillow, and he was asleep.”

“That must have been a hard hit on the head, he’s probably sore as hell.” Hunk comments, with a hint of worry on his voice.

Shiro gets up. “I’ll go check on him.”

Keith’s room is dark, and Shiro approaches his bed with light footsteps.

“Shiro?” Keith groans from under the blankets. He moves a little from beneath the covers and takes a hand to regulate the room to a dim light.

“Sorry,” Shiro says, “did I wake you?”

“It’s fine, I wasn’t sleeping.”

“How do you feel?” Shiro asks, sitting in the edge of the bed, stretching his leg in front of him. “Lance said you had been sleeping.”

“My head is killing me,” Keith croaks out, wincing as pain shot through his temples. “I managed to sleep for a while, but I can’t right now.”

Shiro winces in sympathy and pats Keith’s shoulder with gentle fingers. “I can go check with Coran and see if there is something you can take for the pain.”

“Thanks. How are you? And the others?”

Shiro shrugs. “My foot hurts a little still, but I can manage. Allura apparently was hurt, and she’s at the med bay right now.”

“What?” Keith opens his eyes, looking more alert now. “Is she okay? She was here before, and I didn’t notice…”

“She’ll be fine. Just needs to rest. Lance and Hunk are making Christmas dessert.”

“Christmas?”

“Yeah. Good thing they still check the calendars.”

“Huh,” Keith considers. His eyes wander a little before he manages a half smile. “Can’t believe it’s been that long since we flew out of Earth.”

“Between all the fighting and travelling, time really does go by,” Shiro says with a hint of sadness. Keith is about to nod in agreement, but he winces again and turns his eyes away with a hiss when the pain comes back suddenly. “Hey, I really should go get those painkillers, huh? Just hold on, okay? I’ll be right back.”

A few hours later, the dining room is fully decorated, with paper angels and snowflakes. They weren‘t able to get a pine tree, but Coran had some sort of blue bonsai in a vase, and Lance had argued that they needed a tree (even if it was neither a pine nor green or big). The dinner table is full of cookies and Christmas foods as best as they could replicate from Earth, but Lance couldn‘t help but add some alien sweets as well.

Between the two of them, he and Hunk had managed to convince Pidge to leave her bedroom and carry her out to the living room somehow, where she‘s currently dozing off on Hunk‘s shoulder with pillows all around her. Keith is still in bed, but he did look slightly better when Lance had checked on him just a while ago, after Shiro brought him painkillers.

So he decides to go check on Allura at the infirmary. When he gets there, she‘s clearly not one hundred percent better, but her complexion isn‘t as pale anymore, and she‘s half sitting in her bed, chatting with Shiro.

“Hey, Allura,” he greets with a warm smile as he steps towards her. “Are you feeling better?”

She nods softly, making the loose strands of her hair around her shoulders bounce a little, and smile back. “Much better now. Shiro tells me you’ve been preparing that earthling celebration, huh, what was it-”

“Christmas,” Lance offers with a chuckle, lowering his head to scratch the back of his neck, “yes. Hunk helped as well, of course, I’m not much of a cook.”

“I certainly hope that celebration doesn’t involve any sports event, however,” Coran comments from where he stands, near the control panels of the room, “you all need to rest.”

“We will,” Lance promises, “my favorite Christmas tradition is to lay on the sofa watching Home Alone with my nephews after opening the presents. There aren’t any presents… but I think Pidge was able to find the movie on her laptop, so we can all watch!”

Allura shifts on her bed and cocks her head to the side, squinting. “What is a “Homalone”? Is it some kind of meteorological phenomenon that happens on Christmas?”

Shiro snorts beside her, doubling down, before laughing openly.

“No,” Lance says between laughs.

“Home Alone is a movie, Princess. It’s a classic that many people like to see on Christmas time,” Shiro explains, still grinning.

“Oh. I see.”

“Well, I suppose we should be getting dinner,” Coran points out, walking towards them. He stops slowly, his eyes lingering on Allura’s face with a worried look. “How are you feeling, Princess?”

“I’m alright, Coran. I feel a lot better now.”

“Well then, let’s help you to the lounge,” Coran smiles.

Shiro and Lance end up following close behind, while Coran helps Allura walk the couple of corridors that separate the lounge from the infirmary, closely behind her as she walks slowly, and steadying her occasionally, grabbing her hand.

Pidge is awake now, her waist and legs still covered in a blanket. She holds herself with her arm against Hunk’s, still pale and cradling her broken ribs, but smiling.

“Hey guys! Allura!” She yells excitedly. “Are you feeling better?”

“I’m fine Pidge, thank you.”

Coran guides Allura to the sofa, where she settles next to Keith, who in turn is resting his head on Hunk’s lap and half enveloped in a blanket cocoon.

“Ah, yeah, he’s not watching the movie,” Hunk explains, while running his hand through Keith’s hair gently, “he dragged himself here half an hour ago, and said his head hurt like hell. Guess those Galra genes really do interfere with meds. It’s probably for the best if he keeps sleeping,” he shrugs.

“Huh, that’s a shame.” Lance sits next to Pidge, crossing his legs, and grabs the laptop for Pidge. “Maybe he’ll feel better for Home Alone 2.”

“These desserts are heavenly!” Allura pops up suddenly, holding up half a cookie in her hand.

“Thank you, Allura. I couldn’t find gingerbread, but I found this one ingredient on Olkarion that’s incredibly similar. And Lance helped, too.”

Allura turns her head to face Lance, and leans back with a fond smile, as Coran covers her shoulder with a blanket. “Thank you, Lance,” she says sincerely, “you really did put up an amazing celebration for us.”

“Even in a terribly unlucky day!” Coran comments as he drapes one last blanket over Shiro, making sure to cover his stretched leg, and plops down on the sofa beside Allura.

“I’m just happy we can celebrate Christmas somewhat,” Lance says, looking down with a shy smile. “It’s not perfect, and I really wish my family was here too… but I’m really glad we’re all safe.”

“Stop being sappy,” Pidge complains, “it’s weird.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Lance laughs, “let’s just watch the movie and eat.”

Allura relaxes as she watches the big screen pop up on the wall, the lights dimming down. Stretching to the right, she taps Coran’s shoulder with her finger, and he leans his ear towards her.

“These paladins may be unexperienced, and young, and…alien.” She sighs. “But they have some of the biggest hearts we’ve come across.”

“Undoubtedly, Princess,” Coran agrees, taking his eyes off the screen for a moment. “It really does seem we found ourselves a little family here.”

#vld #fanfic #a writes #m #badthingshappenbingo #bingo #ask #allura #coran #lance #keith #shiro #hunk #pidge #injury

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dragbunart · 7 years

Text

If You Ever Come Back Chapter 16

Chapter 16: Technically, Our Marriage is Saved.

Warning: Character Death

She was so beautiful. So ethereal, Lotor debated picking her up and running off with her before any press could snag a picture of his lovely bride.

How could he be so lucky? He got the smartest, bravest, cutest creature in the Universe. Everything was perfect.

Until it wasn’t.

He was simply staring at her when he saw it. A telling red dot, aiming to kill. He knew people were against the marriage, but would they really go as far as to kill her right when he was happiest?

Lotor’s mind was racing. He had to act fast.

He tackled her, making sure her head was shielded from the ground and the shot.

The pain in his hand was nothing compared to that in his back and chest.

“Lotor?” Pidge’s voice sounded dazed, and small, and yet she was calling out to him.

“Are you alright, Katie?” He had to know. He had to know if she was ok. “Kathrine, please answer me.”

“I-I’m fine, what about you?” He smiled at her. He felt the life draining out of him, but he couldn’t let her last memory of him be him not smiling. “Lotor what just happened?” He struggled to smile at her, gently caressing her face. “Lotor, answer me!” Their lips met. Lotor knew it would be their last. If he was to face death then he’d do it with no regrets.

“I love you, Katie. Never forget that.” His vision was starting to fade. He could hear Pidge calling out for him, begging him to hold on.

Pain. Pain is all he felt. Then nothing. He floated in nothing for so long.

Was this death?

Would he ever learn if his darling Kitten survived?

Ache.

An ache filled his chest at the thought of his love dead. The thought that he might have failed. That perhaps she did the same thing he did: put on a brave face. He wished he could’ve seen her smile once more

He felt something enfold him. It felt wet, but warm.

Not like the warmth him and Pidge shared at night.

It wasn’t comforting at all.

Suddenly he was staring at the celling of a lab. He finally noticed he was naked in a bath of quintessence.

How was he alive? Why was he alive?

Druids stared at him, along with his father and the witch. Where was Pidge? Where was Katie?

“Katie?!” Was she dead.

He felt tears run down his face. Pain worse than the one that caused his death fill his chest.

Did he lose her? The only one who could make him happy.

“Where is she?” Lotor desperately searched for answers. “Is... Is she dead?”

They wouldn’t bring him back without her, would they?

“Unfortunately, the Green Paladin is still alive.” Zarkon’s voice rang out. Lotor felt relief flood his system.

“Then where is she?”

“With her fellow Paladin’s mourning your death.”

“But I’m right here, I’m alive.” “You are now, but you most certainly died.” Haggar explained. “We brought you back to make a deal.”

“Like I’d trust you witch.”

“So, you’d rather die again? I guess you wouldn’t have to wait long for your wife. The assassin group won’t be happy until she’s dead.” Lotor went to attack her, but stopped as druids pushed him back down into quintessence. “We want the Galaxy reclaimed for the Empire, Voltron and all. If you want to be able to return and protect that Paladin you hold dear then you will do as we say.”

Lotor thought through his options.

He’d do anything to keep her safe, his darling Pidge. Even if it meant becoming his father. All he needed was Pidge to be safe in his arms. He’d destroy everything if that’s what had to happen.

“I agree to your terms, now when can I see my wife?”

“In do time, but first we need to go over some plans.” Zarkon ordered.

Lotor opened his eyes.

He hadn’t slept or dreamed in ages.

Why would he dream of his rebirth?

He sleepily raised a hand to play with his wife’s hair, as she laid sleeping with her head on his chest. He sighed as he felt her breath rise and fall against him.

His dear little wife… He understood his parent’s desperation to save each other now. He’d do anything to keep her safe.

He’d give her the universe. Or destroy it if she asked. If that’s what it took to keep her in his arms unharmed. Even if he never saw her smile again. If he had to lock her away from everything and everyone. All he needed was Pidge by his side.

Forever.

Her tiny snore broke his thoughts. He placed a hand on her stomach.

Lotor was well aware, when the children grow old enough she may take them and leave. He had a solution. It wasn’t his proudest thought… But if it took keeping Pidge in a cycle of pregnancy so she wouldn’t leave him… He’d do it.

Besides, she looked so cute when she was pregnant with his child. With her stomach bulging out gently. He was surprised at how compatible their biology has been so far. Both times the had been truly trying for children they were rewarded for their efforts.

Lotor gently kissed the top of Pidge’s head. She nuzzled his chest, her arms tightening around Lotor’s waist. Her legs practically hugging on of his own.

Was she cold? She was wearing one of his old ‘sleep’ shirts as a nigh gown and a pair of his sleep pants rolled up to fit on her tiny frame. She had gotten into the habit her first pregnancy, and never really stopped. The thin alien silk-like-satin sheets weren’t doing much to protect her from the freezing air of the Galra ship. He himself wasn’t going to be able to warm her up, even if the incident causing his rebirth never happened Galra just naturally were colder than humans.

He heard the door open. He watched KitKat walk in, blanket and plush lion in hand. She had requested her own room after his surprise to Pidge, though in the middle of the night she would almost always return to the nursery to sleep with Marmora, or climb into bed with him and Pidge if she had a bad dream.

Lotor also noticed his daughter stopped with the requests to see ‘Uncle Mattie’, instead saying now she’d rather attend meetings with him rather than play with ‘Uncle Matt’. She learned something she shouldn’t have learned. He could tell in her eyes. They matched her mothers.

They looked just liked Pidge’s when Lotor first met her. So full of youth. And pain and knowledge. Knowledge of things you should never find out at young ages, and pain of having your world shatter around you.

Those same eyes were now on his three-year-old daughter and neither him or Pidge knew why.

Today was a day where she went straight to Marmora’s room.

#Lotidge #If You Ever Come Back #IYECB

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andwinterfell · 4 years

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#9 - blinded

from goretober 2020 prompts characters included: μ mossell, emmeray holt, & laylah du golgota (with guest appearance from finnegan aendryr since it’s kind of a continuation from here, kind of) warnings: eye horror / eye trauma, violent loss of a limb, blood, dissociation, etc

1539 words

It hurts. He’s never felt pain like this before. There were other pains (broken bones, insect bites, poison), and if he survived this there would be many more. But somehow this was so different.

It was a strange feeling, like floating, like dreaming. Strangely serene when the blade slipped between his eye and skull, causing a ringing in his ears that makes him stop squirming under her grasp. The woman’s long, dark hair fell like a curtain over the two of them, contained. He looked up at her - cold slate gray eyes carving out his amber - and the way she was gritting her teeth, like trying to force a smile. There’s an unbelievable burning, slicing through his skull. It stopped his heart, it caused a hitch in his breath.

What a strange sort of intimacy.

“It hurts,” he chokes. His hand goes up to the collar of her dress.

“It’s supposed to. That’s the point.” She’s being careful with the blade, she’s making sure she gets it all.

***

He’s rarely afraid, even in the face of the worst dangers, even when threatened with death. Ray always chastised him for it, getting closer to monsters in the swamps, climbing weak looking trees or crumbling cliffs to get this or that thing.

When they found the open convent, Ray had snatched μ up like a cat and set him onto a lower branch on a tree. “Climb up there, wait until it’s safe, then go find those druids again. I think this here’s what they were talking about.” He’d discounted μ’s curiosity, he’d discounted μ’s reaction to something so different he just had to look, he’d discounted how attached μ had grown to him, and he probably hadn’t even imagined what form fear would take in μ.

To be fair to that last one, even μ couldn’t imagine that until just now.

He’s rarely afraid, but the sound of Emmeray screaming in pain is just terrifying.

(He rarely shouts, yells, or screams. His voice is always an even monotone, except when he’s telling stories. Always even, always controlled. Even in a fight, even in pain.)

Instead of going to the druids, he instead bolted towards the sounds of screaming.

***

(We existed in peace with them for many years, despite their preferences. Their desire for chaos came with the requirement of there first being a balance to tip, and a cycle of that. Just as we believe: growth and decay.

Until recently…)

***

He’s stuck between something contradictory. On one side, there’s a deep fear that shakes him to his bones, a despair that makes him want to fight and crawl away, to either find some form of sanctuary or a place to lay until he bled out and his body broke down into fertilizer for the soil. Something rock bottom. On the other was a sort of ascendance of the soul, where his mind slips away from the searing pain to wonder and wonder and question these new feelings, this strange intimacy. Something that wanted to stay right here and let it happen so that he could pull this moment apart, understand it, get to the guts of it. It wants badly to see through those gray eyes, to have someone else’s mind and work through it, to slip away.

It might be a different sort of fear.

A fear of being afraid.

If he survives this, he doesn’t want to walk away afraid. So instead, he questions.

“Why, why why why wh -!”

(He realizes he’s screaming, has been for a while now most likely.)

***

(What changed with them? We don’t know. We don’t ask.

Like the town that sent you, we too have had siblings of our circle come back with missing limbs, missing tongues, missing eyes, missing organs, missing lives. We will say this: we do not work with them. But, nor will we actively seek to destroy them.)

***

It was a stupid thing to do. He’d had nothing on him but the small blade Ray was still teaching him to use and a little bracelet made of delicate fern leaves from the druids he and Ray had gotten direction from. And, when he finally finds him, he’s out in the open. One small gnome standing in front of four figures with robes and habits that were going from white to red with each cry his friend let out. One small gnome running towards four figures with robes and habits and knives that glowed around the red of Ray’s blood. He’s easy to grab.

One of them snatches him up like a cat, and then slams him down to the ground. The fern bracelet tears from his wrist and - though he does not see it - dissolves into the ground. Rapid decay.

***

(However, you’ve helped us, protected us. So we will help you in return.)

***

He focuses on the thing right in front of him. The thing - woman - with cold gray eyes that puts a hand on his throat, forcing him to look straight up to the gleam of the knife. “If you move too much, the blade will slip. It’ll hurt even worse.” She sounds just as bored as Ray always does, but there’s an edge, like there’s someone she’s trying to impress. Someone watching. (Who’s watching.

Who are you doing this for?)

“Ray!? Ra - ouch, ah -” he’d turned his head, looking for Ray, looking for whatever it was that wanted this. The knife slid, and opened up his skin so easily, like it was paper.

“See. Keep still.”

When the vines rip out from the ground it knocks the thing on top of him over. Things are light again, he can breathe again, the sky is wide and open and

he’s stuck between something contradictory. The feeling of loss (liquid seeps down his cheek in a steady flow that’s so foreign it feels nothing like tears) the feeling of loss (that confined little space with gray eyes and a silver knife in front of him) the feeling of loss (the mystery of it) the feeling of loss (the reason behind it) the feeling of loss (one bloody eye with muscles and nerves still attached in strings in the hands of a woman who swings a silver bloodied knife behind him) the feeling of loss (she never answered his question

why?)

The feeling of gain (is he really alive?) the feeling of gain (the plants that carry him to the arms of the person behind him) the feeling of gain (he sees Emmeray too, pale and bloodless but still breathing, and moves to his side - he still has herbs and salve deep in his pockets, and though his hands are shaking and he can hardly see and he feels like he’s about to pass out, he starts to tie a tourniquet over the spot where the figures sawed Ray’s leg off, starts pulling out herbs and salve while Ray keeps choking idiot, idiot, idiot, lay down, you’re still -)

the feeling of loss (Emmeray’s leg, the bone splintered and cracked from where they gave up sawing and just twisted, the places where skin and muscle and meat was turning black from some poison or magic, his blood pouring out and feeding the earth itself

the feeling of gain (new knowledge, what it’s like to fear, what it’s like to feel something cut from him so easily, what Ray looks like when he’s so afraid he’s angry, what Ray looks like without his leg)

the feeling of loss

(The eye, the leg. What are you using them for?)

“H-ey, hey! H- wh-at are you u-s-using th-em f -” he tries to choke the words out, but the thief is already gone, and he’s being hoisted into someone’s arms like a child, and the vertigo it all causes him to black out right then and there.

--- --- ---

μ finishes his story surrounded by the eyes of Savras in Finn’s small cabin. He ends the note on a laugh, one that’s more hollow than Finn is used to hearing from him. “Where I grew up, they called me the Bonesaw, you know? Wonder what they would have thought of those guys.” Strange that he’s still smiling, strange that he’s still laughing. “I still want to see her again. I wanna ask what she did with my eye, and Ray’s leg, and all the other parts they stole from people.”

Why are you like this?

“I guess I’m more afraid of being afraid than I am of her. If I stayed afraid of her, of them, then I’d never want to question or explore anything ever again. She could kill me, she could torture me

but being frozen in fear for the rest of my life?

For me, I couldn’t handle that. For me, that’s worse than death, or pain, or torture. So -” he shrugs, “- I decided to force myself to want to see her again.”

“Uh… I see?”

μ hums, “it’s okay if you don’t get it. Sometimes I don’t even get it. Ray told me it sounded like some sort of cognitive dissonance.”

“Well, at the very least I can tell you it doesn’t surprise me. Not coming from you.”

“Should I say thanks to that? Or: well that’s mean?”

“Either. Let me fill up your glass.”

“Thank you!”

#ch: mu mossell #ch: laylah du golgota #ch: emmeray holt #ch: finnegan aendryr #source: dnd campaign #prompts: goretober 2020 #prompts: goretober

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comic-book-reider · 7 years

Text

Shance Fluff week Day 1 blue / black

“What. the. Quiznack.

They weren’t even on a mission. Hunk was cooking, Pidge Coran and Allura were all asleep after fixing some major problems with the Particle barrier, maybe now it can take more than 3 hits before going down and putting the last two alteans in existence in danger, Haggar gave up her identity as Altean when she betrayed them for the Galra. Keith and Lance were training by running a combative maze back-to-back. Lance was confused by the cargo ship that passed the window.

That confusion only lasted until keith passed out, Lance could smell the gas and held his breath. Two masked figures walked into the room, Hunk over the taller ones shoulders and pidge hung limp on the small figure’s frame.

Lance got a shot off in the small stranger whom had put Pidge in danger, before he also fell from lack of oxygen . The small one fell revealing the face of Haggar, bleeding out.

“ My son! Help your mother! Do not forsake me, Lotor!” Haggar cried, reaching with her free hand, holding Pidge over her wound. The tall galra hybrid dropped Hunk and kicked Haggar.

“ Witch! Your mother privilege died the day you left me on Karanax , now you can die here, today. Things might have been different if you were Galra…” Lotor grabbed lance and keith, leaving the rest to the sentries.

When everyone woke, they were chained to the floor in Galra main command. Lotor stood before Allura, pulling some kind of liquid into a syringe. Lance saw an opportunity and took it. He grabbed a sentry gun and shot the chains from his friends, all the while tackling Lotor to the ground.

Lotor snarled at Lance when he realized that the syringe was empty and stuck in his neck. “This was not meant for YOU!”

“Get to the lions! Tell blue I’ll get to her after I wipe the floor with this guy!”, Lance yelled, more to Keith than anyone else. Keith led the team to the hangar where Shiro and Matt had apparently been coordinating an attack through the lions. An attack that Lance had been leading apparently, having the strongest out of all the lion bonds, having reached out with Blue and Black to find Shiro.

Shiro, Matt and Keith all snuck back to the main bridge where a horrible sight unfolded before them, Lance vomiting multiple times, and blood spewing from his mouth. Lotor kicked him again and again while he fought for breath, until he stilled and quieted.

“ It’s funny, the virus I was going to inject into the Altean, only affects Alteans; right now, your response to it, confirms my suspicions. You… Are… Part… Altean… it’s your human side that makes you so weak that it’s only killing you that much faster… It would have infected Allura, then Coran, from there it would evolve and start hunting your fellow paladins before it began killing. Now, you will introduce it to both species, well done my little half-bred carrier… Wait, don’t die yet… you’re missing something,” Lotor chastised Lance as he picked him up by the face” I know what it isss!” Lotor sang in a childish way that made keith and shiro’s stomachs churn. He dug his clawed thumbs into Lance’s cheeks, blood slowly dripping to the floor.

The sight of Lotor laughing as he carved into the blue beauty’s face sealed the deal. Matt was half-way down the bridge before Shiro noticed that he had gone, “ TUCK AND ROLL, BITCH!” Matt screamed as he used his staff to throw Lotor into the lower deck, smirking when he heard him go splat against the metal hull of his ship.

Shiro ran to Lance as he once did cycles ago when he was almost blown to bits. Lance used what little energy he had to drag himself away from shiro, inch by bloody inch.

“ Stay… Awa- … ay, Shii- Hirro. Let… me… di-hiii… here. “ Lance wheezed, pushing Shiro away, to the best of his highly impaired ability. Well push isn’t the right word, more like gingerly touched Shiro’s helmet, before his arm fell to Shiro’s side. Lance’s breathing grew even more faint and laboured.

Keith watched helplessly paralyzed as Blue ripped into the bridge and pitifully roared at her motionless cub before she told Shiro to get out of the way. Blue did something almost unthinkable… she froze Lance… she then lay with her maw open so Matt could drag the Frozen body into a real cryostasis pod somewhere inside of her mechanical body.

Shiro yelled for Keith to get to Red. The two ran to their Lions, both trying to get the image of a practically dead Cuban out of their heads… it was twice as hard for Shiro, he saw every detail: the blood beginning to dry and turn brown crusting his jaw, which hung horrifically slack yet firm, his half lidded glassy red eyes that filled with tears; he didn’t want to go, he wasn’t ready, he still had, no has, he’s going to survive this, he still has too much to learn and see and do… his eyes have seen some of the worst that the universe had to offer, but he still looked for the best in people. God… he’s too young, they’re all too young… none of them have tried alcohol or even their first cigarette… has he even kissed anyone outside of family? They’re all just so young, 19 is too quiznacking young to carry the weight of the universe on your shoulders if you ask Shiro. “ Let me die here” he was delirious from the blood loss, he didn’t actually want to die…. But Shiro knew the feeling from his time in the ring, the beg of the weaker defeated opponents, they had been through the wringer so many times that they begged for death…. He spent many sleepless nights questioning the morality of it; was it too cruel to try and save them? Or did killing them make him a monster?

He didn’t want to think about his sins as Lance lay dying. God, why couldn’t it be him? There were plans in place in the likely event that he died. Black was reluctant to let Keith pilot her when Shiro was gone, would Blue ever let anyone in again if anything worse happened to Lance. Lance, his sharpshooter, his friend, his confident, his partner in crime when it came to sleepless nights roaming the halls…

Lance was rushed into a healing pod for the time being, to keep him in cryostasis and to heal as much as it could.

They put Lance next to Haggar; who was apparently Coran’s wife, eons ago, in cryostasis. When her wounds were sufficiently healed Pidge threw her into the airlock for interrogation.

“ Antidote. Now.” Pidge hissed at the Altean witch. Haggar never said a word, she just struggled against her restraints.

“ Start talking or start bleeding, Isasdejo… your druids broke easily, just a couple of shocks from my Bayard and they hummed like baby klanmeurls . They told us everything that they know, but you kept the antidote from them… Coran is so disappointed in you” Pidge said softly, caressing Haggar’s face, after back handing her cheek. Haggar looked severely distressed and Pidge smiled even as her lips trembled. “ If you don’t start talking soon, I’ll have to switch to some of the less savory methods…. Let’s stick to water techniques, it is Lance, CORAN’S FAVORITE PALADIN, who’s dying of your virus… let’s see, there’s …. The classic waterboarding… even more classic, Chinese drip torture… a tide chamber would work wonderfully. Any thoughts or suggestions sweetheart? “

“I’ll talk! I’ll talk! Get this crazy girl away from me though, Coran! CORAN! COOORRRRRAAAAAAAAANNNNNNNN!” Haggar screamed and shrieked. Keith high fived Pidge on his way into the room.

“So about that antidote, what do we need to save Lance? “ Keith said in a low gravelly growl.

Haggar hung her head as she explained the potion to Keith who began to write everything down on his hand with a small blade, he wasn’t actually trying to hurt himself,he just didn’t think anything through and he kinda figured that if he carved into himself in front of Haggar she would be less likely to lie to him, “ pure quintessence, liquid scaultrite, the blood of loved ones, tears of those who hate you… and a kiss. You can’t just swig the potion either; he has to have one spoon full at a time, he must swallow every drop of the last before he can have the next dose… he has to drink the whole thing. Someone has to stay with him and keep his temperature up as he’s taking it, he can’t stop until the bottle is finished”

It took a while to collect the ingredients but in about a week it all came together, minus the blood and kiss. There was a thirty minute debate about whether or not they were close enough to give the blood and Haggar was no help, the bickering continued until Lance fell out of the healing chamber screaming and writhing in agony as his ears stretched to about twice their original size and black marks spread from the deep scars on his cheeks. Shiro dug his cybernetic arm under Lance and stuck out his flesh arm, “Coran, we don’t have time to get blood from his family, we’ll have to do,” Shiro hissed after kissing Lance’s temple,” he’s burning up, hunk, go fill the largest bowl you can find with cold water and ice, pidge, there are cloths we can use as compresses in my room, go get those, Keith, Matt, make sure Haggar doesn’t use the chaos to escape, Allura, infuse the potion with quintessence”

Lance began thrashing around like a fish out of water and screamed in Spanish, loud enough for the whole ship to hear, “ LO SIENTO MADRE, NO PUEDO TOCAR LAS ESTRELLAS PARA TI, ESTOY CAYENDO. AYÚDAME MADRE!”

Everyone’s blood made it into the potion and a spoonful was given to Lance, the results were not what they expected by any means…. His fever dropped drastically, but he started gagging, and his hair was starting to turn white at the roots. Shiro couldn’t help but cry as he helplessly shoved spoonful after spoonful of the concoction into Lance.

The 19 year old was a coughing shivering mess, once again trying to squirm away from the 26 year old.

“ C'mon buddy, just a few more spoonfuls, okay? You can do this, please don’t make me.explain to both your mom and Blue why you aren’t coming back…. Tell you what, if you can get better, we’ll go back home to Earth, we’ll see family, have a fiesta, how does that sound?” Shiro cooed and pleaded with Lance. Lance opened his mouth a couple more times before he mumbled out a faint,”Salve María llena de gracia, el Señor es contigo, bendita eres entre las mujeres y bendito es el fruto de tu vientre Jesús. Santa madre de Dios ora por nosotros pecadores, ahora y en la hora de la muerte amén” After finishing the prayer he managed to find the strength to open his eyes” Por qué … ¿por qué es tan brillante? Está haciendo que me duela la cabeza. Alguien por favor, apague el sol” Hunk shifted so he blocked most of the light hitting Lance’s face. “ Muchas Gracias, amigo… waiiittt” Lance moaned bleary swiveling his head unsure of his surroundings now that he had finished the bottle of straight up nastiness” Estoy con los vaqueros del espacio” Hunk snickered at the nickname, Kalteneker was somewhere around the castle, they would have to take a picture with her now, dressed up like cowboys, on top of their Paladin Armour.

“You going to be okay, Lance? Let’s go ahead and put you to bed, we can go home when you wake up…” As Shiro rose from the floor with Lance in his arms Pidge took polaroid after Polaroid.

When Shiro was about to leave Lance all rolled up in blankets like a burrito, Lance reached out and dragged him into his bed with him

“Stay… please… I’m afraid of not waking up again.” Shiro nodded and cradled his head. Both he and Lance has been strong enough for the whole team for too long.

When Lance woke up Shiro was snuggled into his chest, listening to his heart beat with his flesh hand resting on his collar bone, double checking Lances pulse. Lance kissed the metal arm he was clinging to for dear life. “ Thank you, I thought for a while that the safety I feel around you was the dream, and I was going to wake up alone at any moment”

Matt shoved his head through the door,” yo, lovers! I mean, losers! Wait, no I don't… nevermind… listen, we have to try to explain what happened to the Garrison before we can go anywhere..”

Before they entered Earth’s atmosphere, Keith tried to take a moment with Lance, “ Hey, if you ever need to talk about, well lineage, I guess.. I’m here for you… if you need to talk” Lance started to almost panic. “ Keith I get what you are trying to do, I really do. But we come from different backgrounds, you knew for a while that your mom, who you hardly knew, was Galra. Your dad explicitly said that your mom was ‘ simply out of this world’ where else could you take that, especially after finding out that you’re Galra?! I knew every aspect of my family, not one of them has done or said anything remotely Altean… for all I know I could be adopted… all I know for sure now is that my life so far has been a lie. I don’t even know if any of my siblings are my real siblings, or my parents” Lance fell to his knees and sobbed unconsolably for 20 minutes. He stopped when they landed in the Garrison launch pad.

Once the awkward, “ yes, we fly giant space lions and ended an intergalactic war that’s been going on for the past 10,000 years without you having a clue.” Speech was concluded, there was a brief momentary address to the president, lead by Lance.” Mr President, we have seen the worst there is in space, I nearly died about three times in the span of a week, and so, I have lost all sense of censorship or formalities and I’ve come to say this to you, right here, right now…. fuck you, you egotistical dickwad” the president hung up the video call, remembering that the whole conversation was televised. Lance dabbed. “ I’ve been wanting to say that ever since he got elected, no sexist racist pig is going to live and not get an earful from me!” , Lance somehow managed to say between giggles and high fiving Pidge.

Eventually they made their way to Lance’s home in the pampas, Lance sitting in the backseat, teaching coran and allura the lyrics to don’t cry for me Argentina, grabbing a desert Rose on the way.

“ I’M HOME!” Lance called out. Hunk dragged everyone about six steps back as a swarm of young kids enveloped him. Hunk did a headcount and paled, “ shit! They shipped in the extended family! Everybody back!” then Lance was bombarded with aunts and uncles and sisters and brothers and cousins. The assembly completely blocked the door until his mother walked through the parting crowd.” Mi precioso hijo, qué te han hecho … nunca debiste haber ido a ese maldito lugar, oré por ti todos los días … ¿sentías mis oraciones?” Hunk fawned over the stocky woman’s words from a distance, Lance teared up when she placed her hands on his face, fingers in his mostly white hair with brown tips, and thumbs over his scars. “ Sí Mamá, sentí tus oraciones, me salvaron la vida mientras estaba tocando una estrella para ti mamá. Y mira, por todos mis problemas, la estrella me tocó de nuevo. Ja, ja, tengo amigos ahora mama. Conoces a Hunk y Pidge, conoce a Shiro, Keith, Matt, Sam, Cora-” Lance’s mom interupts his introductions by throwing her arms around Allura and Coran. The real shocker came when she began to shift form.

She had much darker skin, long flowing blue hair, and was incredibly tall.

“ Mum, you were here on Earth this whole time? I thought you died on Altea, decaphebes ago… wait, you came here to earth and joined a new family, did you ever think about us?”, Allura asked hurt by her eyes which betrayed her, spilling tears she never meant anyone else to see.

“ Oh, darling… I thought about you every day, I had to start this family to keep myself and Akatanine alive here on Earth, we lived with her human mate and child for a while, until the government came around looking for us. We had to leave them, she was crushed. Then, I met Antonio and he really helped me get over the loss of Altea, and Akatanine’s family and sanity. I never once stopped thinking about you, your father was a fool, prompting fighting between Zarkhan and Dossantos. It cost us all so many dear friends… “ a face appeared in the attic window, the Asian-hispanic woman looked like she had just been woken from a cat nap by all the commotion. Lance tapped his mother on the shoulder and took Allura by the arm to face her,

“ ¡Espera … quieres decirme que he coqueteado con mi hermanastra! ¿Quién es este Akatanine? Es que Rosita Flora Pequeña? La loca borracha que vive en el ático? ¡Quién salta por la ventana, Dios mío!” Lance screamed as Rosita jumped out of the window and stuck the superhero landing, turning purple and furry as she ran to embrace Keith. “ You know what, now all the drinking and the crying and the babbling at small purple things makes sense”, Pidge mumbled as Akatanine nuzzled her face into Keith’s hair. Poor Keith was stunned, the half Galra teen couldn’t move a muscle.

“ Mother used ‘cuddle’. It was effective.”, Shiro snickered.

Lance walked into the house with his family and almost screamed again seeing all the prayer candles lit in the living room/ common bedroom. Each candle had either Jesus, Guardian Angels, or the Virgin Mother; as well as Lance’s name and picture taped to them. Shiro smiled when he looked at some of the low, lit candles. The ones his mother had lit all had different baby pictures.

Lance only now got a good look at whom he had thought his mother was. Her long light blue hair reached her back, her skin was about three shades darker than normal, and her arms legs and cheeks were more defined and adorned by dark blue marks, much like his were adorned by black and white marks.” Let’s see, hunk is clearly Yellow’s new Paladin, Green must have chosen Miss Pidge over there, cuddly over there looks like a red Paladin, tall, strong and posterboy must be the leader here… and my lance doesn’t belong to any of them but Blue… How accurate am I, spot on, right? I was the Blue Paladin first, so I know our ladies fairly well!”, Lance and Allura’s mom elbowed Shiro in the ribs lightly.

“Actually we kinda switched up after Shiro disappeared, I was the Black Paladin for a time and lance piloted Red for me and Allura took Blue on the rare occasion we needed her to form Voltron.”, Keith spoke up from the swarm of Lance’s sisters and occasional brother who were all cuddling him,” It was kind of scary, his bayard went from a gun to a huge battle axe, we had no idea how calculated his every move was until he abandoned that to be the impulsive instinctual Paladin Red needs.” Mama looked like she was about to cry,” That was a mistake, Allura should have taken Red, Blue Takes the most empathetic and strategic Paladin… That’s what kept Lance in America while all of us were deported.. He was a strategic genius.”

“Well he was really brash when we got here, too! He even told off the president on live television. See,” Pidge sat in front of Mama and opened the video

“ Mr President, we have seen the worst there is in space, I nearly died about three times in the span of a week, and so, I have lost all sense of censorship or formalities and I’ve come to say this to you, right here, right now…. fuck you, you egotistical dickwad” the president hung up the video call, remembering that the whole conversation was televised. Lance dabbed. ‘ mmmm whatchasaaaayy’ played behind Lance’s smile as someone dropped the deal with it shades on his smirking face” Mama’s hand rose and was promptly filled with a flip-flop from one of Lance’s brothers. “ Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaggggggh, la chancla !!!!!!!!!” Lance yelled as he ran to the far side of the house, the rest of the family, including the Paladins almost died laughing.

Marina; Lance’s older sister, who had perpetually red hair, due to being full Altean, as it was later revealed, felt it was necessary to embarrass her brother further and took a large cardboard box full of junk by the couch, his full length Kerberos Mission™ poster strategically placed so that Shiro’s face encircled with red lipstick was visible to the pilots on the couch.

“Hey, guys, I’m burning Trash, anything you want to get rid of?”

Lance lunged for the poster, knocking it into Shiro’s hands.” Not that, Space Baby.” Lance deadpanned. Shiro unfurled the long glossy paper, careful to not smudge the lipstick that formed a heart around his face.

“ I forgot that the Garrison made these! Oh God, this is adorable… is it okay if i keep this?”, Shiro asked in between chuckles,” So… lance, ummm, there’s a feminism march going on tomorrow at the capitol building, I was going to… ask… You to uhhh… maybe… iffff yoouu wantedtoo maybe? Hopefully? “, Shiro covered his eyes, he was struggling with one of the easiest things in the world” GOOUTWITHMETOIT,LIKEONADATE! dear god that was a disaster.” there are no words in the room. Shiro, fearless leader, just got so flustered he almost screwed up asking out lance… oh yeah and he just asked out lance! “Sure, why not?” lance chirped nonchalantly, trying to hide the circles his head was running in.

Oh, my God. the whole thing was a glorious disaster. Shiro had painted white streaks everywhere Lance had black and white streaks. Lance had his mother and his sister hoisted onto his shoulders, Shiro supported Pidge and Allura as they stood in the palms of his hands, the show off. Everyone in the rally aside from the Paladins and family wore blue shirts, sweaters, binders , and sports bras with the caption “ Fuck you, you egotistical dickwad” inscribed in black curly letters. Lance wore a black “I’m with the gay space ranger “ crop top showing off every dash of sharp contrast on his skin. Shiro wore a blue, get this, mesh tank… remember the 90’s? Now you do. With “ I kissed a hero” hand embroidered onto it; Keith suspected Galra arm use. Pidge wore a “ Kick Ass, Go to Space, Piss People Off Because I’m Aro/Ace” sweatshirt, it’s freezing out here, dammit, Lance. Keith rode piggyback on Hunk, not cuz he’s gay or anything though, no, no ,no, it’s just… his legs are too short, there it’s been said… he wears an unironic “ I want to believe “ shirt. Hunk is wearing a cute red Magic School Bus tank top, that came right out of his closet. Sophia wore a Carrie Fisher tee shirt and Marina wore a “ Don’t Make me overthrow the feudal system that you call government” dress. Allura wore a dress that Lance had knitted for her all in one night and looked like she could snap a man in half and they would thank her. Coran wore a denim jacket with “space uncle” and a moustache on it’s back. “

“And that is how the most favorable outcome of this situation plays out”, Slav says as he closes the hologram projection of the best possible reality. “ I cuss out the president…” Lance said with a worrying amount of glee. “ Dude, you almost die, like three times in the best scenario… that doesn’t phase you?” Keith probes, quite concerned. “ Nah, I almost die every time I walk out of my bedroom… that stopped phasing me after I got blown up… I’ve accepted the fact that not even death wants me… but that asshole deported my family before the Kerberos mission… I’d love to cuss him out! I actually have been plotting with Shiro and Matt so things might work out in our favor if we stick to the script… C'mon buddy, let’s go train so I can be a badass.” Keith wouldn’t tell anyone just how terrified he was… of seeing Shiro in the blue mesh tank again.

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avidbeader · 7 years

Text

Have more of the Sheith soulmates AU

Voltron fanfic. Probably rated T for mild language when it’s done. Definitely Shiro x Keith. Situational names/pronouns for Pidge/Katie. Feedback is always welcome. Still pondering titles.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

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She left the details to her Druids. They could punish the guards that permitted themselves to be taken down. They could search for the traitorous Ulaz.

She had bigger things to do.

The second Haggar had removed Champion’s ruined hand, she had encased the mangled flesh in a unit designed to measure quintessence. The first step was successful: the wreck of a hand, magically preserved in a still-living state, showed the presence and fluctuations of the mysterious quintessence, allowing her a permanent barometer of Champion’s link with the other without having to physically watch him.

It also gave her unlimited access for further analyzing the quintessence. It took almost a full lunar cycle, but she was finally able to separate and identify the two separate halves of the meld, keeping them apart for brief moments before they coalesced again.

And if it were just another experiment, just another study of a random alien’s quintessence, she would have scrapped it. One of the two halves showed Galra characteristics.

Somehow the flesh had been tainted by a Galra. She didn’t know how—she was the only one who handled the destroyed limb between the body and the unit and she did so with full shields in place. While Champion had taken numerous injuries from Galra fighters in the arena—including the nasty head wound that had turned a shock of his hair white—their medical protocol was sound enough for cleansing such wounds. And the second quintessence was overwhelmingly similar to Champion’s, suggesting that the other was the same species, in a sector that the Galra had only just begun scouting.

But in spite of the Galra contamination, the device worked as she wished it. She could let Champion perform for Zarkon, who was toying with the idea of trying to brainwash the alien and test him on the Red Lion. There had been a few sessions with Zarkon’s pet team of persuaders. Those had actually been helpful to Haggar, allowing her to see that the quintessence meld responded to mental and emotional attacks in an identical manner to physical assault.

But for now, her device served a new purpose. The flesh called to itself. The quintessence sought its origin. She would be able to track Champion’s location as soon as the pod he was in dropped out of hyperdrive.

<> <> <> <> <>

The autopilot was driving him stir-crazy.

He was in a spacecraft, in the pilot’s seat, for the first time in nearly a year, and he couldn’t fly it. It was like being back in early training, next to an instructor, watching but not allowed to touch, not allowed to take control.

But he didn’t dare change any of Ulaz’s settings. His rescuer had entered the coordinates for Terra and programmed something called a hyperdrive that allowed for incredibly fast interstellar travel. Shiro had to settle for studying the control panels intently, learning the layout of the craft as it compared to a Garrison ship.

But Keith was with him, urging him on.

Shiro leaned back for a few minutes, closing his eyes to try and ward off a headache that was building. And suddenly he was seeing through Keith’s eyes as Keith prepared. His soulmate knew he was coming and was doing everything he could to get ready. Shiro was a bit astonished, watching and wondering where the slightly adrift boy he met in a combat class had gone. This Keith moved with purpose and surety, focused on his goal. This Keith no longer felt too young for him.

He would see this Keith soon.

Sensing his presence, Keith sent back affection and anticipation.

The ship jerked and shifted from hyperdrive into normal space. Shiro instinctively reached for the controls, then looked up through the viewscreen.

His eyes widened as he realized that the ship was already inside Terra’s atmosphere and coming in way too fast. He had to try and slow the descent!

His hands flew across the strange controls, searching for any way to decelerate. A screen turned red and he felt a shudder through the transport—it felt like a turbine had stopped, if he were in a jet. Velocity dipped, but now the ship veered sharply to the left, to the north of the landing coordinates.

And then he hit earth. He got his arms up to protect his face and head as he slammed into the control panel, but was flung back in the whiplash, his head striking the hard side of the pilot’s seat. He sent one last desperate call to Keith as he lost consciousness.

<> <> <> <> <>

Shiro woke and realized two things. The first was that Keith had not found him yet—he was coming but having to improvise for not being the first one there.

The second was that he was strapped down to a table.

The flashback overwhelmed him, the pain of the torture sessions, the agony of the procedure that had taken his hand and replaced it with the weapon. He clenched his teeth to hold in the screams.

“He’s awake!”

Figures in Terran hazmat suits leaned over him, waving scanners across his body.

Ulaz. Blue Lion. Voltron.

Keith was closer. He had done something that should get everyone’s attention soon and was moving in.

Someone moved to put a tourniquet on his left arm.

“Hey! What are you doing?”

“Calm down, Shiro. We just need to keep you quarantined until we run some tests.”

“No, you don’t understand! Aliens are coming! They’re after a weapon that was hidden here! We have to find Voltron!”

One of the medtechs recoiled from his right side. “Look at this! His arm! It’s been replaced with a cyborg prosthetic!”

“Put him under! We don’t know what that thing can do!”

“No! NO! Don’t put me under! You have to listen to me!” Shiro thrashed against the straps in a panic but one of the medtechs seized his head and another pressed an injector to his neck.

Keith! Help me!

<> <> <> <> <>

Pidge finished throwing laptops and equipment into his backpack and slid down the hill after Lance and Hunk. The minute he’d pointed out the person coming in on the hoverbike, Lance had gone competitive and insisted that he would be the one to rescue his idol.

Pidge would never understand Lance. Did it really matter who got credit for the rescue as long as they got a chance to speak to Shiro?

His emotions swung from hope that Shiro might actually be able to share what had happened to the rest of the crew and anger that Iverson’s people hadn’t even considered asking Shiro about them before knocking him out. He was obviously trying to communicate a warning, a major one, and they ignored it. All Iverson cared about was keeping his lies going.

Good thing Pidge Gunderson wasn’t interested in the Garrison as a career.

<> <> <> <> <>

In three swift moves, the medtechs went down. Keith leaped over the third as he fell and ran to the gurney. White hair spilled across the captive’s forehead and for one instant he felt despair. This was supposed to be Shiro…

Keith reached out to the man’s face and turned it toward him.

Their bond surged at his touch, making him sway. It was Shiro.

Shiro with a patch of white hair and a deep scar across his face. Shiro with a body hardened by months of being forced to fight for his life. Shiro with a smooth metal limb replacing his right hand.

But it was Shiro.

Keith sliced the straps with his dagger and heaved his soulmate up. The bond throbbed everywhere their skin touched. He was starting to worry that they wouldn’t be able to move fast enough when a voice interrupted.

“No, no, no you don’t! I’m saving Shiro!”

A boy that looked to be Keith’s age stalked through the door and took Shiro’s other arm, sharing the weight. Two others who would have fit perfectly on a flashcard teaching big and small stood in the door, watching with wide eyes.

Keith didn’t bother to reply. They were a godsend—they could help get Shiro to the hoverbike and then he and his soulmate would be off.

Except that the Garrison team was coming back much sooner than he had hoped and they all had to ride a hoverbike that wasn’t designed to hold five.

<> <> <> <> <>

One merry chase and one successful cliff dive later, they made it to the cabin. The big guy helped Keith move Shiro onto the bed in the bunker. Keith checked Shiro’s pulse and pupils while the short kid described how the medtechs had sedated him—he would be out for a while yet. Keith tucked a blanket around him and firmly told himself that he could leave for a few minutes. There was nowhere else for the other three to go and he needed to settle them in the cabin.

He directed the others into the main room, waving at the futon in indifferent invitation. He grabbed a cold water from the fridge and drank, getting the dust from the trip out of his throat.

The three of them looked at him and he looked back. Obviously there were questions that they all had, but no one was sure where to start. Then the big guy’s stomach growled loudly.

The other two broke into giggles and Keith snorted a little. He waved to the corner that served as a kitchen. “Help yourselves.”

The big guy moved toward him first, holding out a hand. “Thanks, man. My name’s Hunk.”

He shook. “Keith.”

Suddenly he had the short one’s attention. “Wait a minute, that’s how you knew to come after Shiro! You’re Keith Kogane!”

“Uh…yeah?”

“My mom and the Shiroganes, we’ve been worried sick!”

“Okay…”

“Sorry, sorry. I’m Katie Holt, Matt’s sister.”

That put a couple of puzzle pieces in place, but the reaction of the other two kept Keith off balance.

“Wait, what? Pidge? You’re a girl?” The thin one was clearly stunned.

“Huh. Okay, that explains a few things. Why were you in the Garrison under another name?” Hunk asked.

“Long story. Short version is I got banned from the Garrison for hacking into Iverson’s computer and had to find another way in.”

Keith grinned at that. “Good for you.”

The thin one was clearly still at sea. “Okay, Pidge is a girl and you two know each other. Any more surprises?”

Pidge…Katie…adjusted her glasses. “Oh, no. Not like that, Lance. I just know who he is. He’s Shiro’s soulmate.”

Hunk had his mouth full of granola bar but his expression showed interest as Lance began talking again.

“Soulmate, huh? Yeah, I remember that getting mentioned a few times around campus. Wacky shit. We had a case in our neighborhood, some woman who lived alone and must have been forty and one year at Halloween she was giving out candy like everyone else but when she handed some M&Ms to this one kid who had moved to the neighborhood that summer…wham! He was like, eight. Awk-ward! They got that shit broken by Christmas, you’d better believe it!”

He paused, clearly expecting someone to reply. He was not expecting to see Keith’s face drain of color or the concerned reactions of the other two.

Katie moved forward. “Keith, are you all right?”

Hunk also stepped up. “Dude, you’re not gonna pass out, are you?”

Keith swallowed hard. “No…no, I’m fine.”

“You are not fine! You look like you saw a ghost!” Lance flapped his arms, unsettled at Keith’s reaction.

“Sorry. It’s just that…they tried, at the Garrison. They tried to break the soul bond between Shiro and me.”

Katie’s eyes widened. “That was you! That night in the faculty building!”

“What?”

“Three men were dragging you somewhere, and then you started yelling. That was the night I broke into Iverson’s computer. I set off the security alarms to give you a chance to get away. You were screaming at them.”

Keith ran a hand over his face, fighting the memories. “Yeah, that was me. Thank you.”

“And thank you! They were so busy going after you that I was able to pull the video files that proved Shiro didn’t crash. That’s when my mom and I decided I needed to infiltrate the Garrison as Pidge Gunderson.” She stepped up to Keith and wrapped her arms around him. “Seriously, I’m glad they didn’t succeed. I’ve read about broken soul bonds…it’s not pretty, what it does to you.”

Lance shifted from one foot to the other. “Sorry I brought it up.”

Keith shrugged, returning Katie’s hug awkwardly. It had been a very long time since anyone had touched him in a caring way. “It’s okay. You didn’t know.” He moved away as Katie loosened her grip. “I’m going to sit with Shiro until he wakes up. You guys can hang out here.”

<> <> <> <> <>

Where am I?

The first thing Shiro noticed as his awareness returned was that he was warm. It had never been warm enough on the ships or in the cells or in the arena.

The second thing was that his bond with Keith was practically vibrating, it was so intense. His first impulse was to worry. The Garrison had found him. Are they going to try and break the bond again? Is Keith safe?

The third thing was someone holding his left hand.

He tightened his grip instinctively and heard someone draw in an anxious breath.

“Shiro?”

He squeezed his eyes shut. If he kept his eyes shut, he could stay in this dream where he was warm and Keith was holding his hand.

It got better. Keith was smoothing his hair back with the other hand, sending sizzles across his skin.

“Shiro?”

The dream wasn’t fading. It was getting more tangible, more real. His essence sang at every touch.

“Keith?”

The weight in his flesh hand shifted and he heard someone move, sitting next to him. The fingers interlocked with his and a second hand wrapped around their joined hands. Their bond pulsed with power.

“I’m here, Shiro. You’re home.”

Shiro drew a deep, shuddering breath, steeling himself for the disappointment, and opened his eyes.

Soft yellow light shone from above. Not the never-ending purple of the Galra and not the harsh white of the Garrison containment unit. He blinked and focused, seeing the person sitting beside him.

The dark hair that used to just brush his collar now spilled down to his shoulders. The graceful jawline and cheekbones were sharper, as if he had lost weight. But the eyes were the same deep indigo that had caught his attention as they took their first hesitant steps into the bond.

“Keith…” Shiro breathed, his voice barely audible.

Keith leaned forward and pressed his lips to Shiro’s forehead. The bond intensified further, stronger than anything they had felt before. Shiro pulled his hand from Keith’s grip so he could embrace him fully.

And found himself clinging desperately to Keith who clutched back as their bond pulsed again. They were tossed around in each other’s memories of the year apart, drowning in flashbacks of pain and isolation and misery. The bond had responded to extreme distance and time by growing stronger and now there was nowhere to put the excess, no way to cram the genie back into its bottle. The intensity of the connection was about to engulf them until they would no longer be able to tell which was which…

Then Keith heard the lion’s roar, giving him focus.

Shiro heard the second roar.

<> <> <> <> <>

Half a universe away, a glass case exploded, unable to contain the surging quintessence inside. Haggar shrieked, unable to stop the destruction of the flesh from Champion’s body as it disintegrated. She flew around the lab, scanning readouts from various instruments frantically.

Then she found what she needed.

“Tell Zarkon that the escaped prisoner is in Sector X-9-Y!”

<> <> <> <> <>

The two halves were whole once more, together in body now as well as spirit. As she had anticipated, the intensity of the quintessence-meld threatened to overwhelm them. Her little one reached out blindly for help and she answered. She sent forth her own energy, the soothing, life-giving essence of water, to absorb the worst of the surging forces and sustain the two of them.

Together they rode the wave until it crested and washed back into a more manageable state. The bodies of the two small ones relaxed, still entwined with one another. She sent out one more flow of energy to calm the area around them like the surf smoothing out sand.

And stopped in shock when her essence touched a new presence near them. It sparkled with dappled azure light, calling to her like no other had for thousands of years.

This was her new paladin. It had to be.

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Thank you for the likes, reblogs, and comments!

Part 9

#voltron #voltron legendary defender #sheith #fanfic: voltron #voltron fanfic #quintessential bond by avidbeader

79 notes · View notes

asagimeta · 8 years

Text

Teen Wolf 6x08- “Blitzkrieg”- Observations And Predictions

Hello my little glory swords, guess who's dealing with a headache? ... Again... I'm so glad that we finally have Stiles' name concreted in canon proof, and to know that I've been writing it correctly in fics for so long... that does me good freinds, that does me very good

Man that sequence with the yarn and the tacks was INCREDIBLE, I think it's probably one of the best sequences on the entire show, it's just really amazing ok? I'm impressed, although I have to say... in the best Mufasa voice I can manage, "Everything the string touches, becomes reality again"

Ahhh Scott biting Stiles, this is one of those moments where it actually does show Scott's development, remember in 3B when he not-quite-offered to bite Stiles? Let me set up the parallels: 3B- Stiles is right in front of him, very, very likely dieing of the same illness that killed his mother, Scott somewhat hesitantly only says "We'll do something, I'll do something", but he never makes any outright crystal clear promises, and Stiles notices that, the look on his face always reads to me that he doesn't quite believe Scott, remember at this point Scott has never bitten anyone and is rather fresh into Alphahood, there's probably quite a bit of good reason for Stiles' skeptcicism, however, this scene is drastically different, here we have Scott blatantly saying he'll bite Stiles- no hesitation, no room for misinerpertation, no room for doubt, he says it strongly and with convinction that he'll turn Stiles, and this is with the fact that he doesn't even know if he NEEDS to turn Stiles, he doesn't know if there's another way out, but he isn't going to take a chance, he doesn't even completely remember Stiles (something we had confirmed tonight) but he knows enough to know that Stiles is worth it, I know that there's alot of talk about Scott's questionable actions as a freind but it's times like these where I really feel the Sciles

Ofcourse Scott isn't the only one who's jumping on the wolf!Stiles bandwagon, Peter seems especially enthusiastic about Stiles getting The Bite, wich goes to show that for whatever reason, Peter still wants him as a wolf, he wasn't just messing with Scott and his freinds the first time arund and he wasn't just trying to build up an army of teenage werewolves either, he wanted Sties- SPECIFICALLY Stiles and ESPECIALLY Stiles- and what makes me so impressed and curious is just WHY he wants Stiles even though he's no lnoger an Alpha, without Alpha status, how how much use could wolf1Stiles be to Peter? It's such a curious thing to add in... why does Peter still want Stiles to be a wolf?

And that brings me to the other thing, the possibility of wolf!Stiles it's self (because we have to talk about it) I highly doubt that Teen Wolf will do this, if for no other reason simply because it's too easy, it'd be way too easy to just turn Stiles into a wolf and pull him out and then go back for the others later (although I'm glad that Peter pointed out the "So your plan is to bring Stiles back so he can make a plan" thing) but if it DID happen by some weird force of nature it would be so bittersweet to me, on the one hand, Stiles being ANYTHING is better than Stiles staying human (in my personal taste) and it would certainly make things interesting, especially if they ended 6A like that and left it primarily as something to handled in 6B, there are just so many interesting turns this could take, especially with Scott being his Alpha, and even more especially with the anxiety Stiles is already going through surrounding everyon splitting up next year, add being Scott's beta to that... but honestly I do love werewolf!Stiles, I love werewolf!EVERYONE to be honest with you, so I wouldn't really be that dissappointed.... on the other hand though, man, the wasted potential of magic!Stiles.... that would crush my soul, let me tell you, it would just seem so cheap too as an entirety... I'd still rather it than human!Stiles though

So it is now confirmed in canon that as long as there's even one other non-banshee person left in Beacon Hills, the Hunt can't move on, I'm pretty sure we already knew that but it's now confirmed in canon so I just thought I should point it out

When did all of the other Beacon Hills natives get captured? I mean did I miss something or.. or were most of them there when the episode ended...?

Ok now THIS I legitimately found interesting, when Dug left after Melissa agreed to help him get Parrish, I originally thought he said "Heil Argent" and ofcourse me first thought about THAT is how much it sounded like "Hale Argent", wich I would have had alot to say on, but it turns out according to the meta chat that it was actually "Herr Argent", and according to Google, "Herr" means "Lord" in German- interesting, Lord Argent.... ofcourse I read also that it could just mean Mister wich makes alot more sense and makes this alot less fun so there's that

Poor baby Mason.... just one of the many heartaches from tonight, but I'm glad that they found Corey's phone, even though it begs the question of how, did they just stumble upon it randomly, pick it up, and go "Oh hey look my boyfreind's phone!" or..??

So the question about the rift... is it always there, permenanately, or does it just come and go with the riders? Because it sounds on the one hand like it's a one place sort of deal, what with Lydia saying that since the rift was closed there wouldn't be another chance, but on the other hand it seems very... odd... at the same time, shouldn't the rift open up in different places? Is it always there even when the Hunt isn't? I'm just... very confused about rift-related things in general

I'm really dissappointed that Liam broke the sword to be honest, I mean ... Theo is the kind of gamble that they've won too many times you know? Like how you keep playing the same cycle of scratch-off tickets, eventually your luck will run out, and although he provided *some* information, it really wasn't good enough to warrant the sword being broken in my opinion, especially since, with the way he was gripping the bars of the cell, it looks like he's about to bust out of there at any moment, I do wonder if we'll see the sword getting somehow repaired at any point, maybe that's how Kira will get reintroduced (though if that's the case it won't be until late next season, we know Arden isn't in 6A, we know she isn't in the beginning of 6B either) It just seemed like he gambled way too much for something that he probably could have done without

Everytime we get a new canon species, my heart warms just a little bit more... I love getting new species ok? And a wolf-lion? A freaking wolf-lion? That sounds AWESOME, that means that somewhere out there is just your regular ol' lion shapeshifting species right? I love that there doesn't seem to be a real limit to the mythology in terms of shapeshifters, like if it's an animal it can be a shapeshifter, that's really neat, I do wish though that they would expand a little more on other areas of mythology before the series ends- like the faery realm and such, because otherwise banshees and druids stick out a little more in my opinion (oh who am I kidding? I want an entire beastiary of canon beasties in this show before it ends)

I have to say, the fact that it was, atleast in part, Ghost Rider venom that brought back the chimera kids is really interesting and makes alot of sense, considering the Hunt is using the ghost mythology rather than the faery mythology* it could make sense that they'd have some minor control over the afterlife and states of death vs life, and if it's manipulated and ferminted and combined with other random juices it could easily be a "bring back" serum, I'd just like to know what those other juices *are* and I wonder if anyone will try to recreate them and bring back the dead, in fact, I wonder if that could be a plot point for 6B, someone dies and everyone else tries to recreate the bring back serum to bring them back, and obviously they succeed but with........... side effects ;) Or maybe they try to bring back someone who's been dead for a long time and we get zombies, trouble is I don't really know who that would be, I don't really think they'd put in the effort for anyone but Allison and I can't see Crystal returning to play her for the end of the show, plus she's been dead for quite a wile and that would be... I mean... that'd be more like Walking Dead level undead you know what I mean? It is interesting to think about though, regardless

So Dug really is part Ghost Rider and that ISN'T just because he ate the peneal gland, wich ofcourse brings into question the entire theory behind the gland munching to begin with, if he isn't chomping down glands to become some kind of super hybrid, then why IS he eating them? It seems now that he only killed that Rider to get his weapon and the gland was just a light snack for the road, rather than the gland being the point and the wip being the extra prize at the end, also, is .. is his goal really just a spin off on the "take over the world" concept? That's so inspiringly unoriginal dude.....

I have to admit, I didn't see Melissa going into the next dimension, I figured that Chris would but I wasn't expecting Melissa, I'm guessing this is going to be a prime reason why Scott's "bite and run" plan is going to fail, there's no way he would bite his mom, so that means they'll have to go to a plan B

How are Parrish's eyes green? I thought that was a Ghost Rider Exclusive LED? Or is it that anyone in the Hunt can have them? Wich, I guess that would make sense, but if it IS exclusive to riders then does that mean that Parrish is part rider...?

I'll be very glad to see Corey and Mason reunite honestly, I mean, I wish we could, sadly I feel like we won't, it looks like next week is still going to be in the Real World, we probably won't get to go back to the train station until episode ten, since that's what Dylan shot for last (and wile I'm on the subject, we still have no word on when Teen Wolf will continue filming 6B yet, considering it's well after the holidays now I would say it's safe to consider the possibility that they might not go back to filming until spring)

Now here's an interesting thing, I kept hoping that when one of the hunters dropped his gun we would see Lydia pick it up and shoot him- I mean that's what I would have done- so if hunters get hit with their own weapons... what happens to them? Do they die? Do they get released from the eternal hunt (wich I guess is the same as dieing?)? Do they just .. go back to the train station and have to get another one? Do they revert back to the people they used to be? THAT is an answer I actually would really really love to see play out, I feel like the dropped gun was good foreshadowing that we'll see someone attempt it at some point but I'm not sure when or how or... even if it'll do anything, sadly, I think it'd be neat if they reverted back to the people they used to be though, it'd be a good way to defeat them without "killing" them and disrupting the mythology

And Hayden joins the other side... really saw that one coming I have to say

Sheriff trying to convince Claudia hurts my heart, that entire scene was heart-breaking and I know everyone knows it, but I'm going to take this moment to readdress a question I got earlier about Claudia being a Tulpa and the sheriff's power to create her, because there's something I forgot to mention, not only is Claudia more well developed than Caleb because she isn't glitchy and is able to establish a pretty firm amount of free will, but she's also capable of making him forget the truth, atleast to some degree, she was able to erase the contents of Stiles' room just by stepping inside of it, and I don't think this is something all Tulpas can do, I don't think it's something Caleb could have done, wich just brings me back to this: Either the sheriff manifested one HELL of a Tulpa and is definately Something..... or Claudia isn't a Tulpa at all and we've been riding Lydia's incorrect skirt tails, I could honestly believe either

So a Hellhound can get through the rift, unsurprisingly, but there's something else I took away from this scene.... is it just me, or is Lydia calling Parrish "Jordan" like.... a new thing....? *wispers MARRISH into the wind*

I'm so proud of the sheriff for keeping a relic of Stiles', it does make me wonder though, if he hadn't kept that photo, would he have gone back under Claudia's spell and forgotten Stiles entirely? His story about Claudia's last good day though... man that is one of the most depressing things I've heard in a long, long time.... I'm so proud of him for accepting the truth though, good on you Sheriff, good on you

I noticed that Stiles' room is still behind a wall though, I wonder if his room will go back to normal when Stiles gets back or if they're going to have to nock the wall out and move the room back upstairs.... *cough*

I wonder why the Hunt wanted Scott and Malia dead instead of kidnapped, it can't be that they ran out of room or something considering they took Peter back (boy they must REALLY want Peter) and they DID take Mason, Melissa, Chris, Hayden.. so why did they just want to flat-out KILL Scott and Malia? It can't be anything against werewolves because again- Peter, so what gives?

I'm not at all surprised that the Hunt obeys banshees, I feel like Lydia is definately going to be needed in retreiving everyone from the other side, atleast... she SHOULD be, that might be too easy though I suppose...

I'm so happy that Mieczyslaw is his name! .. I'll.. have to get used to spelling it that way though because honestly I've been spellin it Mziscislaw all this time... *cough* BUT REGARDLESS IT'S STILL SWORD OF GLORY AND THAT IS ///MAJESTIC/// OK? It's really amazing, I'm so excited that this little bit of fanfiction truth has made it's way into the show, and you know that Mieczyslaw meaning Sword Of Glory HAS to mean something for Stiles as a charector, something... like... him being a savior and magical for example... *cough* Also, as a sidenote here, Mischeif is a REALLY REALLY adorable name for a kid ok? I have a baby name list that's just pages long and that sucker is going right on there... not that I'd really ever use it though because I'm one of those people who fully believe in kids living up to their names and let me promise you that on the list of things I do not need a child who's life goal is to create mischeif is right at the top

And finally, this portally ghost Stiles thingy that broke my soul, atleast it confirms that Scott, Malia, and Lydia don't really remember *STILES* as much as the *IDEA* of Stiles, finally settles that debate, or atleast what they do remember of Stiles as a person is considerablly less than a full memory, someone asked if they would be able to conjure up this new rift because Stiles is magic and remembering him activates that power, and wile I don't personally think this is going to happen I'm certianly not ruling it out, pretty much any Magic!Stiles theory is a freind of mine, I just hope atleast one of them becomes canon

#Teen Wolf #season six speculation

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leonawriter · 8 years

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Let The Lion Carry You On Her Back

Read it on AO3

Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender

Characters: Thace, Keith’s Mother, Keith, assorted other original.

Summary: It's only by chance that Thace finds the Blue Lion before the rest of the Galra Empire. It's only circumstance that he has a son that isn't good at keeping secrets well enough to live the life of an undercover rebel's child. The two do, however, go together incredibly well.

It's a good thing the Blue Lion is most compassionate - as well as the most open to strange suggestions.

...

"Do you think we did the right thing?" It had been a week since the naming ceremony, and they now had a bundle of scrawny Galra youngling sharing their room, claws not yet sharp enough to do anything other than prod and poke, eyes not yet ready to open. "Giving him a soft name. So many nowadays have hard names, for warriors. Galrans who don't live up to that... they tend to stick out."

Which he had learned well enough from his own childhood.

"But Kethe is a warrior's name, Thace. Anyone who knows what it means will know that."

Thace sighed.

"I'll admit, that's another thing I'm worried about." From his place in his crib, Kethe chuffed quietly in his sleep, hopefully from pleasant dreams. His first fur was still growing in, so only his ears were truly visible from beneath the blankets intended to keep him warm even on the coolest night. "Our position is tenuous enough with my line of work. If anyone questions us too closely..."

He closed his eyes and tried to breathe evenly, to ward off the oncoming visions of Zarkon's men storming into his home, taking his life-partner and his child. Execution for one, and indoctrination for the other.

The two of them had been lucky, so far. Lucky to have been able to keep their heads, to not be fooled by the propaganda of Zarkon's empire. Lucky to have stumbled upon the rebel cell - or, to be more exact, to have been approached.

"Hush. They won't. Why would they? Neither of us are anything special. You're just a private in the army, and I'm an accountant back on Galra you hardly even see because you're shipped off-planet so often. And now you'll hardly get to see either of us, not just me."

If the tone she was taking was supposed to make him feel guilty, it was certainly doing its job. He turned back toward her, and leaned his head on her shoulder with a smile he wished was more genuine than it was. He could tell by the way she held him so tightly, however, that she knew exactly how he felt - that she felt it, too, but she was trying not to let the fear overtake her. To keep some kind of hold on hope.

We're just two people. A handful or so, scattered every so often in the known galaxy, whose rebellions are either loud or quiet. It isn't much, but we do what we can.

But Zarkon has been ruling for over ten thousand years by now. Pockets of rebellion aren't ever going to be enough. And the last time anyone tried to create a large-scale army, a few centuries ago... we're still suffering from that defeat, even now.

His heart beat faster as he realised that, yet again, his thoughts had strayed toward a dangerous subject - the idea that perhaps they needed something stronger than any number of rebel cells, stronger than a whole fleet of battleships. The kind of warrior that only legends spoke of... that Zarkon wanted above all else.

...

By the time five cycles had passed, it wasn't Kethe's name that was the problem. The druids had begun to take an interest in their boy, and it was becoming quickly apparent that Kethe didn't have the temperament for working undercover that his parents had.

He wasn't just too young. He was too outspoken, too angry, and just didn't seem to understand when it happened to not be a good time to say something truly dangerous - they'd had to fast talk themselves out of far too many situations that could have turned sour very quickly, and it was starting to give both of Kethe's parents the kind of stress that they were worried their fur would start to grow out grey, one of these days, and they'd be mistaken for a druid themselves.

It's pure luck that Thace lands a recon mission to a blue planet with three other crewmates who also happen to be rebels, or rebel sympathisers. It means he can let his guard down, just a bit - not completely, never completely - but it also means that when they find the carvings, one of them brushing aside old mud to see angular lines that all came together to form an image the likes of which would usually only be talked of with caution, with at least one person wondering if it was even real.

it took them most of a day to clear away the rest of the walls, uncovering the markings and sometimes making wrong turns, never quite sure that they were going in the right direction when there were multiple turnings and never certain that the Lion would even still be there.

It was, however. When they cleared the last turning, there it was - as tall as the ceiling, taller than most multi-storey buildings back home, and on top of that, completely unresponsive. It was almost as though the great Blue Lion were nothing more than a larger-than-life statue, standing guard in front of a mound of mud and stone.

While the others began to talk among themselves, asking each other what they were going to do, how they were going to keep this a secret from Zarkon or even if they should - if another patrol found the Lion, then surely they would be found out if they didn't say anything? - Thace considered his own options.

The great blue particle barrier certainly seemed impenetrable, but if he could just...

He heard a shout from one of the others, but his ability to comprehend the words out of the noise was compromised when, as he touched the barrier-

Curious who are you? Anger. Gone. Hurt, still hurting. Gone. What do you want? Not mine. Not Paladin.

He gasped, at the sudden intrusion into his head, the rush of ideas rather than thoughts that came at him in a matter of ticks. He blinked, just to check that - yes, the barrier was still up.

The same part that was sure that he was going to regret ever coming up with crazy ideas on a gut feeling, was also sure that he would probably end up in hysterics over this later. When he had the time and opportunity. But not now. He didn't have the time now.

"Thace, what're you doing?" he heard from a few feet away, a friend he had fought alongside and probably knew him well enough that his worry was well-founded.

"I... have an idea," he said, claw still touching the barrier, not knowing whether it would change things if he took his hand away. "If this works, then it will go well for all of us. Even if the planet is discovered later and thoroughly examined. But it will require everyone to do their part."

Even the Lion, he thought, and the fur on the nape of his neck stood somewhat on end underneath his armour when he felt curiosity being pushed into his head.

He swallowed, half expecting everyone to reject his plan immediately and call him selfish, but no one did.

...

They sent the report back that the planet was uninhabited save for a few native species of fauna and flora, but was capable of maintaining life. Which would likely have it noticed for entirely different reasons.

Then, the moment he was back on Galra, they began to set the rest of the plan in action.

Thace was charged with the hard task of convincing his family to agree to the treasonous idea, something that would have them all killed if they were found out. He half expected to have it be greeted with a fight, to have his life-partner tell him that there was no way that she would ever agree to such a thing - instead, she allowed him to explain it all, down to the very last detail, and then, after asking if he was being completely serious with her, that this wasn't a joke, collapsed into his arms, tears flowing down her face.

"He'll be safe", he remembered telling her, wanting to convince himself as much as he wanted her to believe it, "but we won't be able to see him again."

Kethe was the hardest to convince.

The boy clung to his mother's leg the moment he realised what was going on, spitting and growling that he didn't want to go, a sight that nearly broke his father before the deed was even done, nearly broke his will to be able to do it at all.

Thace had knelt down, taken his son in his arms, and held him close, wishing that he wouldn't have to let go.

"We love you, Kethe. Never forget that. We love you so much. But we want you to be safe. And this... this is the only way either of us could think of to keep you safe."

The three of them left on what one of their allies had keyed into the databases as a family outing, a holiday of sorts, using a simple shuttle to a known system. They would supposedly have a navigational system malfunction, and end up elsewhere - and on the way back, they would be without their son.

Perhaps if Kethe were older, people might question his disappearance more. But given his young age, and his tendency to rush into things headlong without thinking or talking with others first, no one would suspect it would be anything other than a tragic accident. And their grief, no matter that their son would be actually alive and not dead, would be no less real.

...

Somehow, as long as he'd been able to focus on the fact that he and his mama and papa were going away somewhere together, as long as he tried to forget what was actually going on, Kethe was okay.

At some point, he forgot entirely, and even smiled along with everyone when they congratulated his papa for being such a good soldier that he could get a week off with his family, and he looked up the place they were supposed to be going to on the family communications units, and he eagerly joined in as they packed for the trip, not understanding the way his parents didn't seem quite as excited as he was when no one else was looking.

He didn't know how the shuttle's systems worked well enough yet to understand when they changed course, only that it'd take longer to get there - and then, suddenly, there was a commotion, and the radios shut off entirely.

For a while, he sat nervously in his seat, wondering what had gone wrong, until his father twisted around in the pilot's seat, completely relaxed and at ease, telling him it's okay, Kethe, everything's going to plan. Remember what we told you? You're going somewhere that you'll be safe.

They landed on a planet that was nowhere near as fun as the one they'd told everyone they were going to. On the plus side, though, it was starting to feel like an adventure - the kind of adventure that his Papa told him whenever he was home, of explorations and pretending to be bad while actually being good, and hunting down legends. Especially when they found the first of the engraved markings, still covered in mud and dirt in places.

"It's this way," his father said, as he led them through the tunnels, carefully picking their way so that they didn't trip over vines and roots and slippery stones jutting out of the path.

"We're here," his father whispered, their voices echoing in the vast cavern they had all found themselves in.

Kethe had heard stories about Voltron and its Lions. Some of the other children he'd met and played with had boasted that they would be a pilot good enough to take down Voltron itself, never even mind a single Lion on its own. Looking at the blue mechanical animal in front of him now, however, he wondered about that, and thought that maybe none of them would be able to, and that maybe the ship in front of him would be able to take down anything, even one of the big battle cruisers.

"This is my son," he heard his father say, hand up to the blue particle barrier protecting the lion from anything getting in or out. Kethe wondered why his father was talking to the ship. Most pilots did, but his Papa seemed to be thinking like the ship could talk back. "He's the one I want you to take with you."

For a good long minute nothing happens, and Kethe stares, and worry starts to make him bite his lip. He'd wanted to just go home, but - if this went wrong - what if it did go wrong, and they had to explain everything? He'd have to pretend he'd never seen the Lion at all, that he'd never been here, that he didn't know where 'here' was, and he wasn't good at keeping secrets. He just wasn't.

He starts to sniff, his eyes scrunching up as his mind goes around and around in a spiral of how badly things could go wrong, and not knowing what he wants, and the fact that no matter what happens, he's probably going to lose his parents for good.

He isn't watching the Lion when the barrier comes down. He only knows because his mother kneels down and picks him up, drying his eyes and stroking the longer fur on the top of his head in soothing gestures.

"It'll be okay, Kethe. Go on."

She looked over his head towards his father, who nodded, but even he looked nervous when the Lion started moving, and its head was coming down as though it was about to eat them-

Only to open its mouth, a ramp coming down to let them in.

Wonder overtook him once again, curiosity and amazement winning out over everything else as his father gave him the bag full of provisions and the bag full of other things he might need - clothes, markers, pads, in case he couldn't understand anyone when he got to wherever the Lion took him.

He was put in the pilot's chair, small legs dangling free of the ground and barely able to think about climbing off or getting back up on his own, and then he was being kissed on his forehead, and then there was a touch on his mind that said careful and dangerous for small ones and he was moving.

He turned around, grinning, to tell his father how amazing the view was, how fast they were going, only to realise that he was now alone, that the Lion's presence was the only other thing in here, and that they were now bounding out into the open air, and now they were taking off, and now they were breaking through the atmosphere, the planet's surface getting further and further away as the urge to cry became too much to handle.

"I- I wanna go back," he sobbed out, salty tears making his fur clump up uncomfortably, "I want to go home. Take me back home."

But they didn't slow down, and the stars kept racing past.

Understanding flooded him. Care, miss them, wish we could, trickled through. He cried harder than before.

Protect you came through in waves that felt like they would sweep him off his feet if he wasn't careful. The feeling almost reminded him of his mother holding him tightly. Told to protect you, little cub. Not my Paladin, came more ideas. It wasn't like when he tried explaining himself with words. It was more like what he wished speaking with words was like. He caught an impression of gone, of lost, and then - carry you away safely.

He fell asleep curled up in the chair.

...

The journey might have not taken too long, but it felt like it did, even if it didn't. Kethe could be found having half climbed and half fallen off the seat he'd been sleeping in, looking through the bags that had been stowed away in the corners of the cockpit.

He was careful not to get crumbs on the floor, and if they did fall, he tried his best to pick them up, like his Mama had always told him not to make a mess and not to waste his food, but mainly because he was inside the Lion's head, and it'd be rude to be messy in someone's head.

But when they passed yet another planet that they didn't set down on, blue and icy looking and not the kind of place Kethe would want to settle down on anyway, he brought out the pens and the pad, and began to draw.

First, he took out the purple marker, and drew the three of them, two larger purple people, one for his Mama and one for his Papa, and then one smaller one in the middle, naming them all with the letters he'd learned how to use already. Big, and wonky, but definitely readable.

When he'd finished and they weren't stopping anytime soon, he drew one of what he imagined Zarkon looked like on a new page, an angry purple and black scribble coming after the smaller purple Galrans.

At some point, between one planet and the next, he ran out of space in the pad, or forgot to turn the page but just kept carrying on, and now there were blue marks on the otherwise spotless area toward the back of the cockpit, near where he'd come in, and when he felt a presence at the edge of his mind again, like his Mama tapping a claw on his bedroom door, all full of curiosity, he tried to explain.

"I'm drawing you, see? That's your head, and those are your front claws, and those are your back claws, and that's your tail. And that little purple dot right there in your head is me, see? 'Cause next to you, I'm that small."

...

Seeing the planet Blue was hovering over up close was a completely different experience to anything else, to seeing any other planet going by the windows at all. This time, he could practically see the trees, all green, and the water so blue, and land where nothing was growing was so brown.

He barely had time to ask if this was where they were going to hide, before Blue started to bound toward the planet's atmosphere, giving him only ticks to find a good spot to sit and hold on while they went in and down like a meteor.

Stopping, he found, was a lot harder than flying or falling. It was full of bumps and bouncing and, given he wasn't in the chair this time, there wasn't anything soft to cushion the hard jolts.

...

Exploring would take a while longer. First, he had to come to terms with the fact that he couldn't just stay there with the Lion. Because the Lion, Blue, had become the only thing left of where he'd come from other than the food he'd nearly gone all the way through on the journey, and the other provisions that'd been packed for him - including the knife he'd found at the bottom of the bag, the familiar shape of it and his family crest on the hilt a constant reminder of home.

Leaving the Lion meant going out onto a strange planet, not knowing what was safe, not knowing if the aliens would be friendly, or knew about Galrans, and no matter if they did or didn't, Zarkon might be coming for him.

He put it off as long as he could. He knew the Lion was good and friendly - they'd been friends for a while after all, hadn't they? - but he didn't know anything else.

Eventually, though, he made hesitant steps toward the way out.

As he went through the tunnels, he remembered how his parents had found the Lion in the first place, and brushed dirt off the walls to make a clean surface, using his claws as the lines and the now nearly dry markers to colour them in. First he drew Blue again, flying through space, an improvement of the last time he'd drawn her. Then he drew the way that there'd been fire surrounding them so that he'd hardly been able to see anything else, the light burning his sensitive eyes for a while as they came down through the atmosphere. And, lastly, he drew a figure coming out - but by that point, the markers had finally dried up, leaving his last figure without any colour.

There, he thought, if they come looking, they'll be able to find me, now.

...

Humans were strange and scary, at first. They reminded him a lot of what he'd always been taught Alteans looked like, all pink and brown with small ears and no fur except on their heads, and no claws that could really be called claws. They didn't speak Galran at all, either, so Kethe couldn't understand a word they were saying when he listened in on their conversations.

All of which was bad enough, but then it sounded like one of them was coming closer to his hiding spot, and it wasn't easy to keep calm and not panic, like he'd been told to do, because what if they screamed? What if they didn't understand he wasn't dangerous, like he'd heard happened sometimes with alien species, where a Galran would defend themself from a scared youngling that only saw the - to them - dangerous aliens as a threat. And right now, he was that scared youngling.

I have to not be scary, he started thinking to himself. I have to not be scary.

Sometimes back home, he'd been able to pretend he wasn't there, and his parents would spend ages looking for him, to the point where he fell asleep in his hiding place and no one found him until they went to put something on top of him, or walk through him.

That had been fun, usually. Especially once he'd figured out how he was doing it.

This, though - this wasn't fun. His eyes were watering again as he tried to focus, and all he had to focus on was the effort he was putting in to the idea of not being scary and of fitting in.

When the first human came, a human one, first he tensed up, hands going at the ready for a fight, but then he sagged with relief when he realised that her shouting wasn't in anger but it sounded more like his Mama had when she'd finally found him, concern and worry in her voice even though he couldn't understand a word of what she was saying.

When he looked at his hands, he realised that instead of their normal purple, they were now pink - and not just pink, but soft.

...

He was now inside a moving vehicle, the bounces it made on the dry desert reminding him of what it'd been like while Blue was landing. He clutched his bag, the last thing he had that was his, with only his family blade inside it now, close against his chest.

The woman from before talked at him with her strange language.

He blinked at her. She turned to someone else - a man, he thinks - and says something, and they talk for a moment, before she turns back to him, still smiling, still reminding him of his Mama who isn't here.

She says something else, the sound of the words different, but no more understandable.

Kethe holds his bag tighter, wanting to cry but not wanting to do so in front of these strange people.

There's another noise, which makes him look up again, and he finds that she's pointing at herself.

"Eyehm Karen," she says. He blinks. "Karen," she repeats.

Was that supposed to be her name? If it was-

"Kethe! I'm Kethe!"

There's a fast and jubilant chatter from the humans, and he wonders if they'd started to think that he couldn't talk at all, because he can, he just can't talk human.

"Keith, is it? All right, then!"

He blinks again, this time a bit frustrated, because that isn't his name - it's short, and it's harsher, and it doesn't sound like it means the same thing. He points to himself again and repeats his name, rather than the other word.

It doesn't work. The humans keep saying his name wrong, and they still do even when he's started learning enough of their language to try to figure out how to say it's wrong. By that point, they have at least been able to figure out that he doesn't have a family, not anymore, not here, and he needs somewhere to go, and he needs something to eat, because he's hungry.

At some point, he realises that they think his parents are dead. He panics, trying to explain that they aren't - they just aren't here, but it only makes them more set in their idea, which only starts to make him think about what they'd been saying before they left, how dangerous this would be, how if it didn't work then maybe none of them might survive, and it makes him wonder if they might be right.

If they were right, he might never see his parents again. He might never see home again. Home might be dangerous but it was still home.

If they were right, then this was now his home. This planet. These people.

He shivered, feeling the suddenly biting cold, and Karen held out a blanket that he could wrap around himself, the fabric feeling strange against human fingers, but he holds it close all the same.

...

AN: In case it isn't clear - Keith creates the drawings on the walls that he calls 'ancient' in the pilot episode (I'm gonna say that due to desert conditions they only look ancient due to the weathering of 12-13 years) and Blue herself created the ones that actually, y'know, glow. And don't ask how she gets inside that place, I don't even know how most of them get in their hiding places in canon, to be honest.

Also, here in this story Galrans can be trained in how to be a druid, and some can have an aptitude, but you don't necessarily need a druid parent to be a druid or have their capabilities yourself.

On the subject of 'but neither Thace nor Keith are Blue's Paladin, so how do they get inside?' the answer is this - Blue LETS them in. And there's a clear understanding of 'you aren't my Paladin, but you're asking nicely, so I'm doing this of my own free will'. Also - notice that at no point do either Thace or Keith touch the controls. It's ALL Blue's piloting, here.

#Voltron #Galra Keith #voltron stuff #Leona fic

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ginnyzero · 4 years

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Completely Harmless Ch. 47

Completely Harmless An SSO SilverGlade Re-imagining Story (Or Fix it Fan Salt fic) By Ginny O.

When Lily and her friends wanted to buy horses and were directed to the Silverglade Manor and its myriad of problems, they didn’t expect to start a revolution. They were just a bunch a stable girls. Completely harmless. Right?

A/N: Things are only canon if I say they’re canon. Pre-Saving the Moorland Stables compliant for the most part. Posted in its entirety on my website. Posted in 2000 to 4000 word bits here. Rated T for Swearing Word Count 177,577

Chapter Forty-Seven The GREAT Jon Jarl OR Helping the Weeping Widow

They rode south through the Hollow Woods, took the road up past the old Summer House that now made a serviceable stage, and down the hill, and then along the road to the tomb of Jon Jarl near Doyle’s Abbey and Fort Pinta.

They left the three horses outside.

“Do you have the Sun Seal?” Lily asked. “I forgot to,” she rolled her eyes. “Brain,” she gestured over her head like it had gone completely out her head.

“I do,” Linda said and dug it out of her bag. She’d wrapped it in velvet and felt. Unwrapping it she handed it to Lily.

“Okay, so, what do we do?” Lily said.

“No idea,” Linda said.

Lily rolled her eyes. She went over to the door and examined it. There was a slot in the sun. Lily fitted the seal into the slot. The sun sign on the door glowed pink and then the entire door turned pink and disappeared.

Torches puffed to life behind the door and revealed a passage. The three walked into the passage turned a corner and went down a spiraling ramp. At the bottom was another door, this time with a moon symbol and a missing moon shaped hole.

But there was also a deep hole. As they approached, it started to glow with white lines. They crisscrossed the surface of the hole and turned into the symbol for the sun circle. Then white orbs flew upwards. A blue light flickered in the white orbs.

The air turned cold.

The hair on the back of their necks stood up.

The blue light took shape and into a ghost.

“I am Jon Jarl.” It boomed. “Son of Jor and forever guardian of Jorvik and its protectors from beyond the grave. Who is it that opens the first portal to my final resting place?”

Lily raised a brow. “Yeah, I’m sticking with naughty. Jon Jarl, I’m Lily. This is Linda of the Moon Circle and Alex of the Lightning Circle.”

Jon Jarl peered at her.

Their breath puffed in front of their faces as the temperature dropped more.

“What circle are you?” Jon asked. “You didn’t introduce yourself with a circle.”

Lily raised her brows. “Look, the seal wasn’t hidden that well and you’re lucky no one found it before this. So, let’s cut to the chase before worrying what circle I might be, if any. We’re here for the Fragment of Aideen’s Light.”

“The Fragment of Aideen’s Light,” Jon said.

“Yes. We have the Star Fragment, but we have a mission that we need the Sun Fragment. Which, I’m presuming is here.” Lily gestured around. “In this distressingly bare chamber. Would some carvings hurt?”

“You presume correctly. I can give it to you. If you prove your worth and I determine your heart is in the right place. If I’m satisfied with your answers, I’ll give to you a true Fragment of Aideen’s Light.”

“So, if there are true fragments, that means there are also false fragments,” Lily pointed out and flicked a finger in the ghost’s direction.

Jon Jarl didn’t say anything.

“Fine, ask me your questions,” Lily waved her hand expecting him to ask her what she needed it for and why.

“Who do you represent?” Jon Jarl asked.

“Right now, the Weeping Widow in the Forgotten Fields.”

That too Jon Jarl aback.

“Didn’t you have something to do with why she’s a widow in the first place?” Linda asked looking at her nails.

“I did,” Jon Jarl said slowly. “Um, the Keepers of Aideen had a leader, who I assume is still causing trouble today?”

“You mean Elizabeth Sunbeam,” Lily snorted. “Not here on her behalf, request, with her blessing or permission.”

“If I give you what you came for then in principle you’re acting in my name. Therefore I must be sure you know who I am. Which year did I land on Jorvik?”

Lily held up a hand. “Hold up. We’re here for a major artifact and you want to do a pop history quiz. Linda, are those papers still on your clipboard.”

Linda smirked. “They are.” She went and got it and returned.

Lily took out the clipboard. “This is you. This is when you landed. This is you and about your tomb and Governor Gareth.”

Jon Jarl flickered in and out and grumbled. “You’ve done your research.”

Lily rolled her eyes.

Jon puffed himself up. “Is it my greatest wish to protect and serve Jorvik and Aideen?”

Linda answered this one. “Not until the end of your life.”

The ghost disappeared.

“Touchy subject,” Lily said.

Linda stalked over and looked down the well. “You were an idiot and you’ve earned this tomb, Jon Jarl. They bound you here to contemplate upon your misdeeds and beg for forgiveness for your actions that hurt Jorvik and put the balance of power between this world and Pandoria at risk and gave the generals leverage to try and free Garnok.”

“We’re giving you a chance to rectify that mistake in part.” Lily shouted down. “By helping the Weeping Widow connect to her fellow trees. Are you going to hide like a coward, or will you help and commit restitution. Words are nothing by empty air. It’s by your deeds that you’re known. Think of your honor, Jon Jarl son of Jor.”

The ghost flickered back to life and glared at them. He had one more question. “Will you do everything in your power to serve the Keepers of Aideen?”

“No.” Lily said flatly. “I will not give my life in service to a group that I know nothing about. You can’t ask that of me. That’s dishonorable Jon Jarl and you know it. Will I help Jorvik to the best of my ability? Yes. Will I dedicate my life to it? I’m only supposed to be here for a summer, so I can’t commit to that. We are still children, Jon Jarl. Not even Kings required oaths of service until knights were of age. And you’re no king of mine.”

Jon Jarl flickered in and out rapidly, clearly angry and agitated. “I am disinclined to acquiesce to your request.”

“Then your honor can remain stained and dark,” Lily said. “It’s no never mind to me, Jon Jarl.”

“Moon Rider,” Jon Jarl boomed.

Linda crossed her arms. “I know what you did.”

“Lightning Rider,” Jon turned to Alex.

“Uh. No. Don’t try to drag me into this. I’m pretty sure there are lots of tales about trying to cheat death and the cost it brings. You’re lucky you’re just a ghost.”

“You could be Galloper Thompson,” Linda said sweetly.

The ghost vanished again, swirled up and shouted. “Don’t speak that name to me!”

Alex glared at him. “Do you know how many times a lunar cycle I have to go and check the rune stones around here because you were a frickin’ idiot? I’m not in your corner. Give us the Sun Fragment of the Light of Aideen and we’ll go in your name help make restitution for the things you ordered and did.”

Jon Jarl seethed. But he was caught in a trap.

“Or we can spread the truth,” Linda said. “I’m very popular and people believe what I say because they know it will be properly researched, cited, and indexed.”

“Very well,” the ghost grated out. “I will give you the Sun Fragment of the Light of Aideen. It has no power, but the druids will know what needs to be done.”

“Oh, we know already.” Linda held up the Star Fragment, the light seeping around her fingers, swirling and sparkling.

Jon exploded in a burst of blue light and the white light over the well concentrated almost blinding them. It vanished leaving them blinking and wiping tears from their eyes.

Lily reached out and grabbed a floating crystal that was as dull as the star crystal had been. “You know, he seems like a bit of a blowhard.”

The chill in the air dissipated now that the ghost was gone.

“Aliens, Witches, Ghosts,” Lily muttered. She shook her head. They went back up the ramp.

“It will make a great story,” Alex said.

The sun warmed them as they returned outside.

“I need to warm up. Let’s ride back,” Linda said.

Lily stored the fragment in her saddlebag. “Do I want to know about Jon Jarl and Thompson?”

Linda winced. “Um, I mean, I can tell you, but, er.”

“I take it, it was bad.”

Alex snorted. “He blew up a rune stone!”

“Ohkay,” Lily said. “Yes, a very naughty man.”

They rode back slowly soaking up the sun as Linda told the story about how Jon Jarl had cut down all the trees where the Forgotten Fields were for his stables. Lily interrupted to say they should have grown back by now. Linda shrugged continuing the tale about how when they cut down the mate tree of the Weeping Widow, it was like the area became cursed. The people revolted and well, Jon Jarl sent his men.

Lily interrupted again to say that he should have also gone himself. Linda glared at her. She was telling the story!

Well, they had a battle in Devil’s Gap and only Thompson survived. No one knew how. So, Jon Jarl gifted him with lands and honors and gave him a privileged position. In the stables, there was a black horse that only seemed attracted to Thompson. Rumors began that Thompson wasn’t aging. Struck by anger and jealousy, Jon Jarl demanded to know Thompson’s secret.

Thompson lied and told Jon Jarl that he’d gained immortality by breaking a rune stone. So, Jon Jarl broke a runestone. It made things worse, the stables burnt to the ground. Jon beheaded Thompson on the base of the runestone to make restitution. But Thompson picked his head up off the ground, mounted his black stallion that now trailed fire and smoke, and rode off.

“He made a pact with Garnok,” Lily said flatly. “That sounds like a Dark horse of the Dark Riders we saw in the Fields.”

“Well, Jon Jarl supposedly became remorseful after that and dedicated his life to Aideen,” Linda finished her tale.

Both Lily and Alex snorted in unison.

“Protector of Jorvik and its Guardians, my left buttocks,” Alex said.

Both her and Linda’s horses huffed in agreement.

They got under the trees to the Hollow Wood. By then they were warm again and picked up the pace.

They reached the circle of stones quickly enough.

Dismounting, Lily set the crystal in front of the Sun stone. She traced the circle of the sun with her finger. This time it felt warm.

The sun stone slowly flared to life again. The light concentrated and fell on the stone at Lily’s feet.

The crystal flared to life.

Lily picked it up. “It’s like holding a warm candle.” She said and passed it to Linda.

“It is.” Linda said. She cradled it to her chest, joy on her face.

“Now all we need are the Tears of Aideen,” Alex said.

“We have to gather them from the pink flowers in the Hollow Woods at dawn,” Linda said.

“And not be caught by Elizabeth,” Alex added in a low tone.

“There’s a special flask.” Linda tucked hair behind her ear.

Lily looked up past the waterfall to the mountain. “Let’s check back in.” Already the water was running clear. But they knew the damage had been done to the water, plants, and animals. The Running Bulls would have their work cut out for them to help heal the animals, replant the plants, and neutralize the water as much as they could.

They returned to the site and helped take down the Dark Core’s shack with big hammers. It was cathartic.

There were a lot of cheers and they left the wood debris by the place where they were going to do their beach party bonfire. Waste not. Want not.

Lily hadn’t yet mastered the harp. She needed to run down some new gut strings as the one she tried to tune had snapped out of age. She muttered about if it wouldn’t be sacrilege, she’d put tuning pegs in the ancient instrument. So, it required a trip to Jorvik City and a music store. The owner had been shocked to see the instrument, but did have the gut strings she needed.

Leaving Lily to tackle the harp, the rest of the club went and helped the others on what they called ‘the great forage.’ They picked berries and plucked mushrooms. They gathered corn and grains. They delivered wheat to the mills to be ground into flour, and helped gather eggs, and milked cows. A group of girls went together to pick out and buy the beach themed decorations, and crafting supplies they needed.

Cape West, South Hoof, and one of the new clubs went to Eventide, gathered shells on their respective beaches.

The next day food preparations began. The croissants, being laminated pastry, were going to take all day to make. They couldn’t think about filling them until the next day. Watermelon, yogurt, and green apple popsicles had to be layered. The others blended and put into the freezer to freeze. Fruits for the cocktails had to be juiced. The watermelon buckets had to be cut and emptied out so the carver could make them prettier. (She had made lines where it was safe to cut.) Metal buckets had to be painted, some would have snacks, some would hold ice, and others would be decorative and filled with sand and topped with shells. The white paper lanterns had to be painted too in club colors before they could even think about decorating. Though some would remain white for bubbles.

The crawfish would have to be boiled in their special dill, beer, sugar, and salt brine the day before the festivities began.

It was going to take at least three days to get ready between food prep, distribution, and decorating.

The night before the day of decorating, Lily mastered the lyre.

She and Linda snuck out in the early morning up to the Hollow Woods. They met Alex and Melissa who acted as look outs for Elizabeth with their phones and hidden in bushes.

Linda gave Lily a special fluted flask to catch the dew drops off the pink flowers. “And only the pink ones,” she whispered.

They went from flower to flower and Lily carefully only took one dew drop from each flower. It wouldn’t do to make Elizabeth suspicious by having dry flowers and dew covered grass.

By the time their phones buzzed that Elizabeth was coming. They’d gathered enough, they hoped.

They snuck deep into the Hollow Woods snickering like the school girls they were feeling like they’d pulled one over on a beloved teacher.

“Come on, let’s go help the Widow,” Lily said.

Waving at Melissa, who had an entire lake to decorate, they headed west cutting through the Everwind Fields (and weaving around Landon’s sheep) past the race track building. (The skeleton was going up fast.) Starshine met them at the rose arch tunnel. And they went through the quiet and damp rose garden threading it like a needle, past the Riding Arena, through the fjord and all the way across the Forgotten Fields where the Widow slept.

The sun had completely risen over the horizon by the time they got there.

Linda dismounted Meteor. She laid her hands on the Weeping Widow’s trunk. “She’s deeply asleep.” Linda removed her hands.

“Then let’s revitalize her,” Lily said.

Meteor neighed.

“You greedy beast,” Linda rolled his eyes. “The faster we do this, Meteor says, the faster we get to eat.”

They all laughed. Typical Meteor it seemed.

Lily took the stopper out of her flask and carefully dripped the tears onto the roots of the Widow.

The Widow shuddered, her branches swayed back and forth, but she didn’t wake.

Lily emptied her flask. “No. Linda. Keep yours. We might need them again.” She held out her hand.

Linda gave her the Sun Fragment.

Lily held it up in the air. It throbbed warming in her hands and light burst out of it, even brighter than the sunlight above them. The light hit the tree.

Orbs of light slowly drifted out of the tree. The tree shivered and the limbs straightened as if she was stretching. Tiny twigs grew out of the ends and leaves burst out.

The light faded, but the tiny orbs of light remained.

Alex’s mouth gaped.

Linda put her hands on the tree. “Good morning,” she said to it.

The tree waved her branches.

“She says that if we go to the edge of the waters where her roots touch the Golden Bay as it becomes the South Silver Waters, we can make them grow to the other side.” Linda lifted her hands.

Lily passed the Sun Fragment to Alex. “Let’s go then,” she said mounting her horse.

They rode to where they could see the roots. Lily unslung the case of the lyre from her back and took it out.

Linda took out the Star Fragment. “It can’t hurt. The Star Circle is a healing circle.”

“Stay close to me,” Lily said and plucked the melody out on the harp.

“Pretty,” Alex said of the melody that went up the scale.

“It was the first time,” Lily told her. “Now it’s annoying.” Her horse stepped out on the water. And light surrounded them, light that seemed to come out of the water itself. It strengthened in places forming a large circle around them, a circle with a star in the center.

Alex and Linda held the Fragments of the Light of Aideen over their heads.

Lily’s horse walked on top of the water and Linda and Alex made sure to keep Tin Can and Meteor close. Starshine trailed just behind them. Lily played the melody over and over, plucking the strings.

Underneath them, the roots of the Weeping Willow wiggled and then grew, growing larger and longer as they stretched.

“I hope she puts them under the dirt later,” Linda said. “That could be a problem.”

“You can mention it to her,” Lily said as she continued to play. Her fingers knew the notes better than her brain did after two days of playing it straight.

Finally, they reached the other side and the light faded under Lily’s horse just slow enough that Meteor, Tin Can, and Starshine were able to make it to land.

They looked behind them over the water. The Weeping Widow’s roots stretched across it.

“Now to go back the long way and talk to her,” Lily said with a sigh.

Linda’s brow furrowed. “You rode across the water.”

Lily pointed at the harp. “Magic lyre,” she said. She reached around and put it back in the case.

Linda and Alex looked at each other.

“And two magic light fragments,” Lily added.

Alex handed the Sun Fragment back to Linda and Linda wrapped them up. She paused. “Here, Lily, you hold onto them.”

Lily frowned but took them. “Okay,” she said slowly. She strapped the harp case to her back and put the Fragments into her saddlebag.

Alex’s phone buzzed. She frowned. “Sonja got in trouble with a rune stone by the Jarlsson Farm. It zapped her. I better go check it out. I’ll probably be draining energy from them all day.”

“Are rune stones supposed to do that?” Lily asked.

“No,” Alex shook her head. “They radiate Pandoric Energy. I keep an eye on them. If they get too much energy, they could explode.”

“We’ll text you what we find out about Lisa and Anne if we feel it’s safe,” Linda promised.

They split at the Forgotten Fields. Alex to go over the Greydew Mountains to get to Jarlaheim and the Jarlsson Farm on Paddock Island. While Linda and Lily went with Starshine back to the Weeping Widow.

Linda got off Meteor and put her hands on the Weeping Widow’s trunk again. The tree swayed and creaked.

“You may want to bury your roots so you don’t back up the South Silver Waters by inadvertently making a dam,” Linda said. “She thanks us by the way. You’re kindness is something that she isn’t sure she can repay.”

“I didn’t do it for a reward.”

“She says Lisa and Starshine helped her open the portal. There is pandoric energy nearby that she’s also been drawing on to help them. But it’s been weakened since they opened the portal and we scared off the Dark Riders. Lisa has left her area of Pandoria in search of Anne and Concorde. They’re much further in. There have been others trying to stop her.” Linda’s brow furrowed. “The Widow thinks that they are the Dark Riders.”

“Thank you for giving us news of Linda and Alex’s friends, who are now my friends because friends of friends thing.”

The Weeping Willow bowed her branches.

Linda removed her hands. She’s going to bury her roots and then take a nap in order to gather her strength. She wishes that her mate could be restored to her.”

“I don’t know to do that,” Lily said.

“Neither does she.” Linda looked upwards at the branches. “I don’t like the sound of Pandoric energy nearby.”

“Me either. Let’s take a look.”

They rode around in circles, as best they could, each time making the circle a little wider. They found a black scar across the land at the base of the Greydew Mountains. They got off their horses and knelt next to it both taking pictures. Linda put her hand on it.

“It looks volcanic.”

“It’s Pandoric,” Linda shuddered. “This was a rift.”

“Isn’t this the way the Dark Riders came?” Lily turned and looked down towards the Widow.

“It is,” Linda murmured. “This must be the rift they came through and hopefully they shut it behind them.”

“A rift?”

“A crack between our world and Pandoria.”

Lily took out the Star Fragment of Aideen’s Light and held it up. The light strengthened and the black rift rumbled, trembled, and then got smaller and disappeared.

Linda ran her hand over the ground and the grass. “It’s gone.”

“Call it a hunch,” Lily said and put the Star Fragment away.

Linda sat back on her heels. “I don’t like the idea that there was a rift.”

“Where there’s one, there could be more,” Lily crossed her arms. “Good news is always tempered by bad. We had good news today. This is the bitter after the sweet.”

Linda grimaced.

“This is only the start of the battle, not the victory.”

Linda stood. “It is. We’ve made good progress. Lisa will make it to Anne and we can find them together protecting each other as friends should.”

Starshine whickered in agreement.

They returned to the Winery in silence. Linda texted Alex in vague terms about their finds.

Tomorrow started the Midsummer Beach Party and they had so much to do to prepare! And setting up the cabanas were surely going to need some power tools.

FOR THE ACCOMPANYING IMAGES PLEASE DO NOT REMOVE MY WATERMARK AND CONTACT INFORMATION. THANK YOU. I get it. Some of you might get excited and want to see this stuff in the game, especially the clothes, tack, and pets. However, the only way I want to see this in the game is if I get paid for it. If I see it in the game and I’m not paid for it, there will be hell to pay. You think I’m salty. I’d be angry. Personally, I’m not going to send this info to SSO. If you do, leave my contact information there! Don’t give them any excuses to steal.

Now, I’ll know you haven’t read this note if you leave me comments about how ‘salty’ I am about the game and if I hate it so much I should do something else. I am doing something else. It’s called Mystic Riders MMORPG Project. Mystic Riders however is a very baby phase game. You can check out our plans on the game dev blog. (Skills, Factions, Professions, Crafting, Mini-Games, 25+ horse breeds!) If you know anyone who would be interested and has money or contacts about game making, direct them to the blog.

#star stable #star stable online #sso #fan fic #jorvik reimagined #star stable salt #completely harmless #silverglade reimagined #it takes prep to get to this stuff #many nods to ruth westside

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paopuofhearts · 8 years

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Alright @hoverboardbandit [and anyone else interested]:

3000 words on my [somewhat lacking] knowledge of Celtic mythos, tied in to Western magic, linking Fae Origins to Harry Potter [and kind of fizzing out with Grindelwald and all this fanon stuff for American Potterland].

Okay so my main idea is that magic comes from Fae.

Now how did Fae get magic? Well, that's a bit of linguistics work. Seelie comes from the term “seleighe” [“happy”], which is derived from the Germanic-ish term “saelig” [“blessing”]. Now what’s interesting is that the Germanic-ish term is incredibly similar to the German term “seele” [which I’m bringing in because it also looks incredible close to the modern term “seelie”]. That term evolved into the term “saiwalo” / “sawol”, which eventually gave way to the word “soul” - a definition that went from “life as existence” to “the substance of a person which thinks, feels, and wills”. So magic becomes an ability to unlock ones life energy and bend it to the way one thinks, feels, and wills. Fae somehow mastered that, and because of that, they can't really be considered human.

But I'm also going to say that there are three main types of Fae - Western and Eastern and African [because Rowling's lack of international school development but acknowledgement of Asian society being "ancient" and the African school apparently just "existing thousand of years before anything" - well, it seems to me to be a divide wherein Potterland is based on Western, and let's not get too into Eastern or African stuff. So fine, I'll go with it, sure].

Anyway, we get into Western Fae - Celtic mythos on Fae. So the basic mythos goes from the Tuatha stuff from Ireland, to the Ulster stuff that was carried from Ireland to Scotland, to Fenian/Ossian stuff [Fenian being the Irish based evolution, Ossian being the Scottish based evolution - as far as I understand it], eventually settling before skipping over to Wales with the Mabinogian, and spreading into England and France with King Arthur.

To start: the Tuatha.

Tuatha dictates that there were demonic beings that inhabited the island, known as Fomorians. They defeated many invaders, but were eventually overrun by Firbolgs. They enslaved the Fomorians, and the Fomorians were stuck until the Dananns came.

These Dananns were magic beings, birthed from the goddess Danu and the god Bel [though Bel can sometimes be wishy washy]. These two had several other magic children - Dagda, Dian, Ogma, Lir, Lugh, and Nuada [there was also Morrigan, but even though Morrigan was the wife of Dagda, I'm under the presumption Morrigan was more on par with Danu and Bel in terms of origin and power]. And then these magic children had magic children - Bridgit, Miach, and Eriu. [I'll refer to them from here on out as Fae].

The Dananns killed off the Firbolgs, and allowed the Fomorians to have a bit of land off to the side. The Fomorians eventually started to intermarry with the Fae children [Fomorian Bres with magic Bridgit being key - sometimes they're said to be the parents of Eriu]. There was lots of war between the Fomorians, and eventually that spread to the Fae.

Then more people came to the island, Milesians. And they ended up conquering the island, giving the Fae a choice. Many Fae chose to retreat Underworld, to another plane / realm. But some decided to stay, hiding among the Milesian humans that took over, alongside the Fomorians. From my understanding, the Fae who stayed became Deities to humans, and the Fomorians became something akin to Prophets [and it evolves into calling them Druids].

Now let's pause a moment and link this to Potterland.

Because bloodlines are marks of high status and importance in wizard society [which kind of mirrors human society, because let's be real, most cultures said that royalty came from the divine, and if Fae are divine, well].

Purebloods could, therefore, derive from the Fae who left the realm. Non-purebloods could be derived from the Fae who stayed and intermingled with humans, and/or the Fomorians who stayed on as helpers. That intermingling would also explain Muggleborns and Squibs - those who have latent magic that skips generations similar to recessive genetics, or whose magic is so intermingled that it lacks fruition.

[Hello, Scourers.]

[And also the Statue Of Secrecy, akin to why Fae left.]

[You could then also “argue” that idea on how Purebloods can harness magic better because their magic tends towards being more powerful (though like most genetic things, while that kind of thing may give greater probability to power, it isn't always guaranteed). And then you could add in that the Hogwarts Founders themselves were descendants of Fae that left to the Underworld, and that's why there's such a hardcore association of personality and aspiration attached to each House. Take Ravenclaw for example, with beyond measure, valuing knowledge - Rowena must be related to Ogma, who was considered by humans (read: Milesians and those who came after) to be a deity of Wisdom.]

But now we're at the Ulster and Fenian / Ossian Cycles.

I feel like I could very well be murdered by people who study this stuff for a living, but I equate both of these epics to being very similar to Homer. To me it was just a bunch of battles and heroics.

To summarize Ulster:

King Conor of Macha, alongside his Red Knights - versus King Ailill and Queen Medb of Connachta. The big Red Knight was Chulainn - son of King Conor's sister Deidre and the Fae Lugh. He tends to be helped out by Fae Morrigan, and the royals on either side are helped out by the Fomorians.

[Chulainn, from what I've seen and how I interpret it, is very much like Achilles].

To summarize Fenian / Ossian:

From my understanding, the Red Knights evolve into this group called Fianna [who are also kind of a tribe unto their own - I'm thinking kind of like Teutonic Knights of Prussia?] Their leader Cumhail is murdered, so his son Finn is hidden away. Finn is apparently a direct relation to the Fomorians because he is from a line of important Druids. Eventually Finn returns and takes over as leader of Fianna, but like the saying goes, "you die a hero or live long enough to become the villain".

[I believe the most apt comparison of other mythos would be Odysseus].

Another pause to link this to Potterland.

Especially if you want to get into the modern ideas of Fae Courts.

I think these wars would bring about a questioning to bloodlines and their importance, which explains why there's so much debate as to the power status actually has in Potterland. After all, these heroes are linked to intermingled relations, so neither Chulainn nor Finn are pureblood - and yet they very obviously have incredibly powerful Fae magic with them, and the Fae very obviously step in to help guide them.

I think it would also prompt a debate as to the point of a Statute Of Secrecy, and whether or not leaving to the Underworld [or hiding, whatever the wizard equivalent might be] was a good choice or not - and if coming back [or staying in close relation to humans] is worthwhile. Especially after looking at how Finn rose and fell.

Which will definitely be influenced by the next one, which I think would put Hogwarts and the Founders into a fascinating perspective.

So. The Mabinogion.

This consists of 4 major stories, and has a bunch of supporting stories. But for the sake of keeping this short [and the fact that Celtic mythos was not my strong point (I was more into Greek stuff), well - I'd rather make things general than try to get detailed]. All of them are related to Fae, but they are heavily intermingled with humans. So, mixed bloodline being brought back in again.

Part One:

We get a glimpse at the Underworld, as we are following the story of Pwyll - a shapeshifting Fae who offends Fae King Arawn of Annwfn ["Land of the Fae"]. So to get back into his good graces, Pwyll has to defeat Awarn's enemy Hafgan. In doing so, Pwyll meets Fae Queen Rhiannon of Annwfn, sister of Fae King Arawn [both related all the way back up to the grandchildren of Danu and Bel - but this is Welsh, not Irish or Scottish, hence the name being unmentioned before]. He marries her and they have a son, who disappears and is eventually recovered. His name is Pryderi.

Part Two:

We follow the life of Branwen, daughter of Fae Lir [who, unlike Rhiannon, is mentioned in Irish and Scottish myth]. She is the sister of King Bran of England and marries King Matholwch of Ireland. We leave the life of Branwen because an issue happens in the marriage and war breaks out between King Bran of England and King Matholwch of Ireland [surprise surprise], and eventually there were very few people left. One of the English warriors left is Manawydan, son of Fae Lir - who happens to be a friend of Pryderi.

Part Three:

So now that Pryderi's been brought up again, we're gonna watch how his friendship with Manawydan. Pryderi does some stupid shit, Manawydan saves his ass. Dramu galore.

Part Four:

Some human guy comes and deceives Pryderi, which results in a war wherein Pryderi dies. There are bird metaphors. The rest of the Fae that had stayed with humans disappear to the Underworld after the war ends. Fae no longer exist alongside humans.

Linking this to Potterland again.

Okay so this is where I feel the Founders broke off and formed Hogwarts, because this is the point in literary history where there's some obvious nationalism being developed, and where the Fae finally completely remove themselves from the human plane / realm.

Have you seen that one post going around analyzing the Sorting Hats song about Houses and their ancestral ties?

Gryffindor, Moor, England. Ravenclaw, Glen, Scotland. Hufflepuff, Valley, Wales. Slytherin, Fen, Ireland.

It also gives way to how the Founders would have had such issues with each other. If they were involved in these wars [in the same way (is it canon or fanon?) that Newt is said to have participated in the Great War - Eastern Front with dragons and all that], then it would become very apparent that Slytherin is pretty much fucked over by the other 3 due to his ancestral allegiance.

Which explains him going off and never being seen from again.

And would also give reason for why the others would stay. After all, wizards inherited Fae magic - if the Fae are gone, who will teach them to harness that kind of power?

What about King Arthur?

Okay so this I need to re-research, because I'm pretty sure Arthurian stuff is considered Potter Canon, and I don't remember much on how Arthurian stuff is handled in Potterland. I have ideas, but I want to see if they align with Potterland things already established.

For the most part, I would presume this: the islands are where Fae magic originate, and then spread out to the rest of the world [which is a perspective that makes sense, given Rowling's apparent stance on Empire and Imperialism - that whole White Americans improperly appropriating Native culture and all that jazz being the most prominent example; terrible, but explanatory, and relatively accurate, since that's something that legit happened to the world].

So from King Arthur, the main spread of magic goes out into France, and from France - well, everywhere else. Of course there were bits and pieces here and there throughout history, but I'm going with Hogwarts being the original school of Western Fae magic.

So what does this mean for American magic?

Well, given American history and what seems to have developed as fanon stuff - wizards came to America to start anew [just like them pilgrims!], fucked up Native American magic [just like White people!], and then decided to be all high and mighty and pull a Fae Underworld type thing while still existing alongside humans [gosh that privilege structure!].

Scourers and Salemers and what have you being ones who want to bring that system down. And Grindelwald, who I would say is one of those Purebloods as a direct descendant of Fae, considerably as close to Fae as you can get by this point - well, I'd see him as one of the Unseelie. Winter or Autumn, I'm not too sure [I guess it depends on if you'd want to make him a sympathetic character or a cruel character].

Which, oh snap, I did not add, so let's rewind.

Alright. I really do like the modern ideas of Fae Courts, even if they aren't necessarily based in actual mythos.

Fae Courts, gosh golly.

Modern literature doesn't actually align them to Seasons, but rather tends to go between Good / Light and Evil / Dark - which is where we get the Seelie and Unseelie dichotomy. But, given the background of Fae and magic, none of it can possibly be clean cut binary, no matter how authors want to spin it.

[Though, to be fair, plenty of them acknowledge that gray area - and then turn it into a metaphor for humanity, go figure].

Anyway, Season symbolism gives a good structure for allowing the generic Yay Nay binary alongside some grayscale in between, so let's go with it.

You've got the Spring Court, the Summer Court, the Autumn Court, and the Winter Court.

If we're tying this back into Celtic mythos and focusing on Western Fae magic [which of course we are, because Potterland is Western]:

I would say the Winter Court are Fae who left to the Underworld in the very beginning during the Tuatha period. They wanted nothing to do with humans. As such, they tend more toward the Evil / Dark aspect. Winter is all about Death, which ties into leaving the human realm / plane - killing off any potential relationship with humans. And as in the Tuatha, these are the Fae who kind of kept others as pets [after all, the Fomorians were treated well, but they were not free - that's why they became Prophets, and later Druids: people tied down to the Fae].

Spring Court, I think, are Fae who eventually filtered out during the Ulster and Fenian / Ossian Cycles. They saw how their offspring with humans became, and how magic was not pure with wizards. It needed to be heavily supported, and even then, it tended to lead to ruin. It was not solely life giving, but could be manipulated. So the Spring Court left, because Spring is about renewal - and life and death are something humans [their wizards] are good at, the constant betterment of magic for a positive use? Not so much [because humans are creatures of their own desires, and desires are not always good, and the wizards that came from such intermarriages were cursed with that same soul - because like I said at the beginning, magic is about harnessing life energy, a la ones soul].

Summer and Autumn Courts would be the ones that lasted the longest - and the two main sides that fought against each other throughout the Mabinogion Cycle. Summer is all about Life, and living to the fullest, and enjoying every opportunity - whereas Autumn is all about Balance, and realizing that good things do not last, and suffering will come but overcoming it will better oneself [because spring is right after winter]. While those two points may not seem absolutely at odds, they do absolutely clash with each other.

And seeing that clash lead to nothing but disaster and stalemate, Summer and Autumn Courts fade away.

But are the Courts usable for Modern Magic in Potterland?

I would go with yes, but it requires a lot. All Fae, no matter where they lie on the spectrum, follow the rule of Fairness: there is a price for power. Refining ones magic to be more like the Fae, to ask to be guided by the Fae when they purposely left to the Underworld - you have to be willing to make sacrifices for that.

I would presume Seelie Courts [Spring/Autumn] would require self sacrifice, because they are more aligned with benevolence and balance towards humans [and, therefore, wizards]. But Unseelie Courts [Summer/Winter] would probably require sacrifice of determination, because they are more aligned with goals and all-encompassing plans [pushing for greatness - and as explored in the Potter series, greatness is neither good nor evil, but power that is manipulated and used as a person dictates].

And like plenty of fic mention, to get back to that Fae magic, you have to go back to Pagan things - rituals, festivals, you name it [Walpurgis Night and The Hunt are always fan favorites to mention, it seems]. The more you let go of the support your magic has, the more wild your magic becomes, and the more Fae styled it becomes [and the style of Fae magic, how it's manipulated and used, tends to be a major boost to magic power, because it's raw instead of filtered].

But back to America.

So Grindelwald comes and uses that repression and oppression that builds, for his own Dark purposes [which is to either rule over humans a la Winter Court, or balance out Fae power by allowing magic to run free a la Autumn Court - cruel vs. sympathetic character development].

And then you have Obscuri, though that seemed to be discussed in decent enough detail with our back and forth thing, so I'll leave this here at that. If some of my ideas have gaps, let me know [because typing it out when I'm thinking of it, my mind might fill in those gaps automatically - so feedback or ideas or "but wait what about this" is awesome].

#potterland #putting all my skimmed interests to use i suppose

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readbookywooks · 8 years

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Yes, yes,' said Rincewind, 'but they're going to sacrifice her, if you must know.' Twoflower looked at him in astonishment. 'What, kill her?' 'Yes.' 'Why?' 'Don't ask me. To make the crops grow or the moon rise or something. Or maybe they're just keen on killing people. That's religion for you.' He became aware of a low humming sound, not so much heard as felt. It seemed to be coming from the stone next to them. Little points of light flickered under its surface, like mica specks. Twoflower was opening and shutting his mouth. 'Can't they just use flowers and berries and things?' he said. 'Sort of symbolic?' 'Nope.' 'Has anyone ever tried?' Rincewind sighed. 'Look,' he said. 'No self-respecting High Priest is going to go through all the business with the trumpets and the processions and the banners and everything, and then shove his knife into a daffodil and a couple of plums. You've got to face it, all this stuff about golden boughs and the cycles of nature and stuff just boils down to sex and violence, usually at the same time.' To his amazement Twoflower's lip was trembling. Twoflower didn't just look at the world through rose-tinted spectacles, Rincewind knew – he looked at it through a rose-tinted brain, too, and heard it through rose-tinted ears. The chant was rising inexorably to a crescendo. The head druid was testing the edge of his sickle and all eyes were turned to the finger of stone on the snowy hills beyond the circle where the moon was due to make a guest appearance. 'It's no use you—' But Rincewind was talking to himself. However, the chilly landscape outside the circle was not entirely devoid of life. For one thing a party of wizards was even now drawing near, alerted by Trymon. But a small and solitary figure was also watching from the cover of a handy fallen stone. One of the Disc's greatest legends watched the events in the stone circle with considerable interest. He saw the druids circle and chant, saw the chief druid I raise his sickle . . .' Heard the voice. 'I say! Excuse me! Can I have a word?' Rincewind looked around desperately for a way of escape. There wasn't one. Twoflower was standing by the altar stone with one finger in the air and an attitude of polite determination. Rincewind remembered one day when Twoflower had thought a passing drover was beating his cattle too hard, and the case he had made for decency towards animals had left Rincewind severely trampled and lightly gored. The druids were looking at Twoflower with the kind of expression normally reserved for mad sheep or the sudden appearance of a rain of frogs. Rincewind couldn't quite hear what Twoflower was saying, but a few phrases like 'ethnic folkways' and 'nuts and flowers' floated across the hushed circle. Then fingers like a bunch of cheese straws clamped over the wizard's mouth and an extremely sharp cutting edge pinked his adams apple and a damp voice right by his ear said, 'Not a shound, or you ish a dead man.' Rincewind's eyes swivelled in their sockets as if trying to find a way out. 'If you don't want me to say anything, how will you know I understand what you just said?' he hissed. 'Shut up and tell me what that other idiot ish doing!' 'No, but look, if I've got to shut up, how can I—' The knife at his throat became a hot streak of pain and Rincewind decided to give logic a miss. 'His name's Twoflower. He isn't from these parts.' 'Doeshn't look like it. Friend of yoursh?' 'We've got this sort of hate-hate relationship, yes.' Rincewind couldn't see his captor, but by the feel of it he had a body made of coathangers. He also smelt strongly of peppermints. 'He hash got guts, I'll give him that. Do exshactly what I shay and it ish just poshible he won't end up with them wrapped around a shtone.' 'Urrr.' 'They're not very ecumenical around here, you shee.' It was at that moment that the moon, in due obedience to the laws of persuasion, rose, although in deference to he laws of computing it wasn't anywhere near where the stones said it should be. But what was there, peeking through ragged clouds, was a glaring red star. It hung exactly over the circle's holiest stone, glittering away like the sparkle in the eyesocket of Death. It was sullen and awful and, Rincewind couldn't help noticing, just a little bit bigger than it was last night. A cry of horror went up from the assembled priests. The crowd on the surrounding banks pressed forward; this looked quite promising. Rincewind felt a knife handle slip into his hand, and the squelchy voice behind him said, 'You ever done this short of thing before?' 'What sort of thing?' 'Rushed into a temple, killed the prieshts, shtolen the gold and reshcued the girl.' 'No, not in so many words.' 'You do it like thish.' Two inches from Rincewind's left ear a voice broke into a sound like a baboon with its foot trapped in an echo canyon, and a small but wiry shape rushed past him. By the light of the torches he saw that it was a very old man, the skinny variety that generally gets called 'spry', with a totally bald head, a beard almost down to his knees, and a pair of matchstick legs on which varicose veins had traced the street map of quite a large city. Despite the snow he wore nothing more than a studded leather holdall and a pair of boots that could have easily accommodated a second pair of feet. The two druids closest to him exchanged glances and hefted their sickles. There was a brief blur and they collapsed into tight balls of agony, making rattling noises. In the excitement that followed Rincewind sidled along towards the altar stone, holding his knife gingerly so as not to attract any unwelcome comment. In fact no-one was paying a great deal of attention to him; the druids that hadn't fled the circle, generally the younger and more muscular ones, had congregated around the old man n order to discuss the whole subject of sacrilege as it pertained to stone circles, but judging by the cackling and sounds of gristle he was carrying the debate. Twoflower was watching the fight with interest. Rincewind grabbed him by the shoulder. 'Let's go,' he said. 'Shouldn't we help?' 'I'm sure we'd only get in the way,' said Rincewind hurriedly. 'You know what it's like to have people looking over your shoulder when you're busy.' 'At least we must rescue the young lady,' said Twoflower firmly. 'All right, but get a move on!' Twoflower took the knife and hurried up to the altar stone. After several inept slashes he managed to cut the ropes that bound the girl, who sat up and burst into tears. 'It's all right—' he began. 'It bloody well isn't!' she snapped, glaring at him through two red-rimmed eyes. Why do people always go and spoil things?' She blew her nose resentfully on the edge of her robe. Twoflower looked up at Rincewind in embarrassment. 'Um,' I don't think you quite understand,' he said. 'I mean, we just saved you from absolutely certain death.' 'It's not easy around here,' she said. 'I mean, keeping yourself—' she blushed, and twisted the hem of her robe wretchedly. 'I mean, staying . . . not letting yourself be . . . not losing your qualifications . . .' 'Qualifications? said Twoflower, earning the Rincewind Cup for the slowest person on the uptake in the entire multiverse. The girl's eyes narrowed. 'I could have been up there with the Moon Goddess by now, drinking mead out of a silver bowl,' she said petulantly. 'Eight years of staying home on Saturday nights right down the drain!' She looked up at Rincewind and scowled. Then he sensed something. Perhaps it was a barely heard footstep behind him, perhaps it was movement reflected n her eyes – but he ducked. Something whistled through the air where his neck had been and glanced off Twoflower's bald head. Rincewind spun round to see the archdruid readying his sickle for another swing and, in the absence of any hope of running away, lashed out desperately with a foot. It caught the druid squarely on the kneecap. As the man screamed and dropped his weapon there was a nasty little fleshy sound and he fell forward. Behind him the little man with the long beard pulled his sword from the body, wiped it with a handful of snow, and said, 'My lumbago is giving me gyp. You can carry the treashure.' 'Treasure?' said Rincewind weakly. 'All the necklashes and shtuff. All the gold collarsh. They've got lotsh of them. Thatsh prieshts for you,' said the old man wetly. 'Nothing but torc, torc, torc. Who'she the girl?' 'She won't let us rescue her,' said Rincewind. The girl looked at the old man defiantly through her smudged eyeshadow. 'Bugger that,' he said, and with one movement picked her up, staggered a little, screamed at his arthritis and fell over. After a moment he said, from his prone position, 'Don't just shtand there, you daft bitcsh – help me up.' Much to Rincewind's amazement, and almost certainly to hers as well, she did so. Rincewind, meanwhile, was trying to rouse Twoflower. There was a graze across his temple which didn't look too deep, but the little man was unconscious with a faintly worried smile plastered across his face. His breathing was shallow and – strange. And he felt light. Not simply underweight, but weightless. The wizard might as well have been holding a shadow. Rincewind remembered that it was said that druids used strange and terrible poisons. Of course, it was often said, usually by the same people, that crooks always had close-set eyes, lightning never struck twice in the same lace and if the gods had wanted men to fly they'd have given them an airline ticket. But something about Twoflower's lightness frightened Rincewind. Frightened him horribly. He looked up at the girl. She had the old man slung over one shoulder, and gave Rincewind an apologetic half-smile. From somewhere around the small of her back a voice said, 'Got everything? Letsh get out of here before they come back.' Rincewind tucked Twoflower under one arm and jogged along after them. It seemed the only thing to do. The old man had a large white horse tethered to a withered tree in a snow-filled gully some way from the circles. It was sleek, glossy and the general effect of a superb battle charger was only very slightly spoiled by the haemorrhoid ring tied to the saddle. 'Okay, put me down. There'sh a bottle of shome linament shtuff in the shaddle bag, if you wouldn't mind . . .' Rincewind propped Twoflower as nicely as possible against the tree, and by moonlight – and, he realised, by the faint red light of the menacing new star – took the first real look at his rescuer. The man had only one eye; the other was covered by a black patch. His thin body was a network of scars and, currently, twanging white-hot with tendonitis. His teeth had obviously decided to quit long ago. 'Who are you?' he said. 'Bethan,' said the girl, rubbing a handful of nasty-smelling green ointment into the old man's back. She wore the air of one who, if asked to consider what sort of events might occur after being rescued from virgin sacrifice by a hero with a white charger, would probably not have mentioned linament, but who, now linament was apparently what did happen to you after all, was determined to be good at it. 'I meant him,' said Rincewind. One star-bright eye looked up at him. 'Cohen ish my name, boy.' Bethan's hands stopped moving. 'Cohen?' she said. 'Cohen the Barbarian?' 'The very shame.' 'Hang on, hang on,' said Rincewind. 'Cohen's a great big chap, neck like a bull, got chest muscles like a sack of footballs. I mean, he's the Disc's greatest warrior, a legend in his own lifetime. I remember my grandad telling me he saw him . . . my grandad telling me he . . . my grandad . . .'

#LightFantastic

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