Chapter 1: The True Legend Untold: Love Lost Within A Sea Of Time
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Comet soaring through the skies
Cleaving through black space and white time
Flashing and falling before our very eyes
Colors flashing and flickering, so regal and sublime.
Eruptions of light across the sky send shockwaves and quakes through land
Embers of fire fly into the air, smoke coils into clouds, inside a crater lies a fallen star
Surface as dark as eventide’s sky, and fissures of silver-blue light curl round it in strands.
Comet of black and white, what secrets do you hide, passing through realities near and far?
Theories of realities now proven true, left behind by the comet’s hue of black and white
Two soon to be Paladins meet one another’s eyes, fated to be, as all realities do decree.
An Alchemist and the other an Emperor, one as bright as day and the other as dark as night.
Two star-crossed lovers fated for one another, as mighty as the waves of time and its sea.
A King studies, round and round swirls the lines of light, he peers at the cosmic core
While his top Alchemist bides her time in studying the left behind reality rift.
The King peers deep into the comets surface, pondering what creations he could conceive with the ore.
When something inside of him calls out to him, and the darkness of unknowing begins to shift.
A sound reached deep inside of him, something fierce and proud.
The King reached back and began to craft the framework of his wildest dreams.
With his ingenuity he knew that peace across all Universes and Realities they’d soon be endowed.
His creation began to take life, and it was bursting nearly at its seams.
On the opposite end of the spectrum, the Alchemist has found what she believes the meaning to all.
As well as she has found love where she never dreamed it to be.
With a powerful Emperor and his people, and she falls more and more as he stands ever tall.
She has found the meaning of love as well as life itself, now if only she could make them all see.
Many Deca-phoebs roll by, and the Alchemist and the Emperor have been bound by love’s everlasting oath.
While the King of the Alchemist’s people has also been bless by an heir to his throne.
Time marches on and their planets flourish, each new discovery of the comet and rift brings about growth.
Yet misgivings grew within her people’s King, when he would not leave voicing concerns well enough alone.
A rush, a bending of reality and the universe, and something inside fractured and began to flow.
The rift had grown deeper, wider, larger and something inside of it was unleashed.
Creatures, unlike anything they’d ever seen, hovering about to and fro, high above and down below.
Hungry, searching, seeking every dobosh their ravenousness increased.
The King and the Alchemist surrounded them with their hold, to keep them contained and at bay.
Every movement that barrier began to grow weaker and weaker.
The Emperor stood side by side with his beloved, their planet dying from within, they could not delay.
The barrier would not hold, the creatures desperation fueled their desires, and things became bleaker.
They had but one hope, the King of the Alchemist’s people and his dream.
Deep down in his chambers, five warriors descended, and they arrived within the den of lions.
Six marvelous machines, magnificent and mighty, proud, born through that star fallen long ago, they were agleam.
Created from the King’s hopes and dreams, perfect creations of alloy, wires, tech and ions.
Soon they were more than what they appeared, for they had souls of their own, sentience burned into their framework.
A blessed gift of life from the comet of black and white, all but one ready to fight.
For the very first would not listen, her temper flared and she had gone berserk.
Not even the King could soothe her, and so they left her behind, the Lion of pure starlight white.
Out onto the field of battle, from out of the Castle of Lions, the first Paladins did rise.
Upon the bridge did the Alchemist watch as her Emperor and the rest ride off into the horizon.
The vile creatures from an unknown reality had broken free, and they reached upwards to the crimson skies.
“Lions, into formation, fly with me!” Commanded the Emperor shrouded in black, as their bonds between their beasts ties in.
The birth of a new warrior is a sight to behold, together as one, the Lions stand against their foe.
The battle wages on, the creatures do not tire, but Voltron holds fast, steady and proud, and tall.
But the creatures keep coming, Voltron is wavering, it’s not enough they cannot take another blow!
Their loss looks imminent, the creatures push them back, their lions roar out, and Voltron is pinned back against a wall!
When all hope seems lost, deep from somewhere inside the Alchemist, there is something stirring within.
A roar resounds inside her soul, but it is not up there in the air, but down below.
“Be still my child, for this is not the end.” Like a cub she followed the lionesses call, “For without you, the Legend cannot yet begin.”
No, this will not be their end, they will not fall this day and not to this foe.
Soaring through the skies, out from the Castle, the White Lion sails like hope on the wind!
The Lions are six once again, and like an Angel from above, a halo of protection is formed and it sprouts Voltron its wings.
Now Voltron is whole, the defender of all Universes and Realities, all Paladins perfectly in mind.
Powered by warriors, of an Alchemist, an Emperor and the hopes of the King’s-
With sword, shield, and wings at the ready, the creatures before them are struck swift and true.
Blade cuts into cosmic flesh and cleaves the creature apart, and light pours out from within and it’s gone with a flash.
Cheers reign through the Paladins, and the birth of the Legend of Voltron has broken through.
For there were not Five Lions, but Six, and while they all celebrated not knew, the White Lion’s legacy would burn out to ash.
For her Paladin could not give up her life’s work, she needed more time, she was as stubborn as the White Lion and its pride.
Her love agreed, for without the rift, the birth of Voltron would be all for naught.
They could keep the creatures at bay, closing the rift need not be, Voltron was now on their side.
There was more to uncover here, in order to bring peace to all, boundaries needed broken.
Voltron was simply not enough, there has to be more for them to find.
A King’s pleas fell on deaf ears, tension ran high between the Paladin of Black and Paladin of Red, and harsh words were spoken.
The work would be continued, the King failed to sway, and something shattered was left behind.
Bonds between the Black and White Paladins with the others began to flicker and wane.
Despite the new rift now forming inside, they continued to keep the creatures imprisoned and peace still spread across the stars.
Until everything fell apart, the very collapse of Voltron, as the White Paladin believed she had unlocked the mysteries of life, but failed to see an approaching bane.
Unheeding of the King’s warnings, the Black and White Paladins turned their backs, blind to the future they would bring, victory or death, dooming all to their wars.
An Emperor’s sorrow would bring forth festering desperate deceit, he would lead the Paladins to the rift.
Not to seal it away, but to expand it, for the Black Paladin to save his beloved White Paladin.
They formed Voltron and left White behind, they would make do without, and as soon as they were inside The Black Paladin gathered his wife and out into the field of Quintessence did they drift.
Realization sinking in, King took command, they had to save their friends from their folly and their sin.
They had to save them, and get out now, to seal the rift!
But Voltron would not respond, for there was no one at the helm, and hope seemed lost.
Suddenly, a roar familiar and true, sang like an Angel responding to their plight.
The White Lion had sensed the dwindling of her Paladin’s life, so she arrived but it would come at a heavy cost.
The creatures returned with full vengeance, and in order to hold them off, she would give her wings to the Black Lion and allow the Paladins the means and time to escape, leaving behind the Lion of White.
White’s sacrifice would be of vain, for her White Paladin and the Black Paladin had passed away.
If only that had been the end of it all, then perhaps White’s selfless sacrifice would not have been tainted.
But rise again did the Black and White Paladin, poisoned and led astray.
Upon learning that their home was razed away, they declared vengeance on Voltron on its allies, and succumbed to hatred.
And so did the King’s Kingdom of Altea did fall to burning light, he lost his beloved, but not his heir to the smoldering ash.
Daibazaal and Altea both lost now, forevermore.
And so too was the White Lion, buried in the remnants of the Kingdom and Empire's ash, lost for all time...
Or so it would seem.
For the White Lion, she sent out a roaring chime, through the rift, through the white sea waves to the black shores to another two lives and of another time.
Notes:
Thank you for reading this first chapter, even if it is just a poem prose! I hope you enjoy this story! If you loved this chapter, please bookmark, kudos and maybe leave a comment!
Anything is appreciated. You don't have to comment, of course. But I would be as pleased as Coran on Nunvill!
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Chapter 2: Season0 Ep1 - The True Legend Begins Part1: A Comet Of Black And White
Summary:
"They could have never known that, that very night the fate of the Universe would be changed forever."
Notes:
Welcome one and all, to the Legend of Voltron, reimagined. This marks the official opening to my love letter to the Voltron, Sheith, and Allurance fandom. I hope that I can give you all the S8 experience you all deserved. But first, we must take a trip to the past, to see the true Legend of Voltron unfold. Buckle in cadets, it's going to be a wild ride!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Underneath a black sea illuminated only with the white light of a slew of shimmering stars, merriment and mirth echoed like a song through the dining hall of Daibazaal. Within the formidable walls of the planet’s castle there sat a merry band of scoundrels.
The imposing Emperor, of the aforementioned planet Daibazaal, Zarkon. As revered by his subjects as he was feared by any enemies that threatened Universal peace. Often described as lionhearted, with an unbreakable fighting spirit.
Then, there was the ever regal and mighty King of planet Altea, Alfor. A prodigy in the field of Altean Alchemy, and protector to all his subjects, a beacon of peace. Described as someone with immeasurable intellect, and overflowing with charm.
Beside King Alfor was his Queen, Melenor. She was a bold and free-spirit, and a devoted wife. Her white hair flowing like cascading waterfalls over her shoulders, like a stream of starlight. She was as beautiful on the inside as she was on the outside.
Just behind the two of them, standing ever loyal was their most faithful royal advisor. Coran Hieronymus Wimbleton Smythe, or “Coran Coran, the gorgeous man” which is how he’d refer to himself, that is if anyone were to personally ask of him to do so. Short, sweet, simple and to the point.
It sounded pretty good, well that is, to Coran at least.
Sat off to the side of them was Gyrgan, a warrior that only fought battles for self-defense, he came from planet Rygnirath. One of the many planets that had joined in the allyship for the quest of peace. He was as robust as he was gluttonous, though his stomach was big, his heart was even more so.
As Alfor and Coran burst out into bouts of laughter over something or rather, Gyrgan all but inhaled a mass of deep-fried meat clean off its bone in one gulp.
Whereas on the opposite end of the spectrum, and the table, was Trigel from the Dalterion Belt. Gracefully she rose her chalice and took a dainty sip. She was a well-known leader amongst her species, and her sharp-wit and mind could nearly keep pace with Alfor’s own.
And last, but not least at her side was Blaytz, hailing from the planet Nalquod. A well beloved leader within his world’s bureaucracy, adored by many, viewed as a free spirit. Someone that went with the flow, someone who was unashamed to be himself.
So much so that his name was well spread across the Universe, and he had many admirers. Though in spite of his popularity, he did not let his head swell up and bloat with all the attention, well – most of the time, that is. The mirth around the grand table was momentarily disrupted as a Galran servant from the empire came up Blaytz side, they had just returned from filling up his chalice, and the offered it to him with a sheepish smile.
Blaytz returned a smile of his own, warm and welcoming as he reached out to pluck the chalice off the surface of the tray, “Mhn. Pull up a bench and enjoy the feast!” He saw no reasons as to why this servant should not be allowed to merry-make with them, though he knew what would come next, that Zarkon would voice his lofty objections at him extending his invitation to someone of the ‘servant class’ as the Emperor put it.
Still, Blaytz startled when Zarkon abruptly cleared his throat at the end of the table and gave him a pointed stare. He could feel burn into the back of his cranium, and it sent shivers down his spine as he flicked his gaze over to the Emperor. There was a barely contained frustration that fell over the Garlan’s face.
Holding out his chalice to be refilled, Zarkon announced his rebuke with an eerie calm, even if his expression was sour with a silent storm of discontent, that looked as though it would burst at any moment: “You know that fraternizing with the servant class is not permitted.” He paused for a single tick, before adding on: “It erodes discipline.”
“Well, perhaps a little bit of discipline erosion,” came King Alfor’s voice, floating teasingly across the table, commanding the full attention of the Galran Emperor, “-would do you good, Zarkon.” The Altean remained composed, but there was the faintest hints of a barely stifled laugh that still yet lingered on his lips as he regarded his dear friend. His smile just one curve shy of a full-on smirk.
“Something I will consider, the next time you are surrounded by Lambonite scavengers.” Zarkon deflected, deadpan and unamused. However, if one knew Zarkon well enough and how to look, they would take notice that his stormy stare was shifting. Giving way to the dimmest light of fondness, hidden just underneath the surface of his eyes for the King.
“I was handling myself.” Alfor fired back with a good-natured but defensive reproach, leaning forward and placing his elbow down onto the table, his expression appearing miffed, but the whimsical air around him betrayed his amusement.
That was until Gyrgan leaned himself over, a devious glint in his eyes, and a smirk to match interjected into the flow of conversation with a brazen: “You mean wetting yourself?”
Which sent a flurry of fury over the King’s face, as he slowly shrunk down, suppressing a groan. He wanted to vanish as Blaytz about choked on his drink, ejecting it out of his mouth, with a strangled laugh and strained cackle. Everyone followed suit, joining the rolling wave of amusement that washed over the dining hall.
Disloyal, all of them- Alfor decided. Even his dearest wife betrayed him, as she giggled into her hand. Oh, the tragedy of it all, how shall he ever being to recover from this lethal blow?
Unsurprisingly, the only one that remained seemingly unaffected was Zarkon, who merely shook his head, and silently reclaimed his newly filled and returned chalice and sat it down at his side. He refused to take a knee and allow himself to be drawn into such antics, he was a study pillar, an Emperor. For the Empire’s sake, Zarkon was not one of his court Jesters! He had no business in debasing himself. It would be most unbecoming for someone of his status. Though, without voicing it aloud, he did give entertainment to the thought of having his cheerful comrades put their GAC where their mouths were and putting on a show just for his amusement.
Then again, perhaps King Alfor had a point, maybe he did need to lighten up and enjoy himself. Something heavy fell over Zarkon, as he realized that he honestly couldn’t recall the last time he had actually felt joy. Nowadays he merely felt the vast and oppressive weight of being the Emperor to his people coupled with the daunting duty of spreading diplomacy and peace around the cosmos. While saving lives along the way, of course.
Just when was it when he last felt some bliss? The more he dove deeper into his thoughts, the darker and more clouded his mind became. Until he couldn’t see, much less think. He tried to coax out any memories, but nothing came all safe for one soft whisper.
Perhaps it was before King Alfor and Queen Melenor had been wed...?
Zarkon ruminated on Alfor’s words, staring down into his chalice at his reflection, as though it held the answer to all of life's mysterious itself.
“Why I ever joined up with this band of scoundrels, I'll never know.” Alfor cut into the laughter around him interrupting Zarkon’s thoughts, The King’s intonation was filled to the brim and near bursting with exasperation, but it was just as well laced with a deep fondness for his fellow companions.
“Because we're the only 'band of scoundrels' that would have you.” Trigel replied with a muted rumble of mirth, she was not one to usually let loose like this, being far more reserved than most sitting at this table, almost a match for Zarkon himself in this regard. Yet even she was unable to deny herself participation in tonight’s revelry, especially after their ever-growing string of success to spread peace, as of late. Rising straight and tall from her chair, Trigel lifted her chalice, and held it up towards the open eventide sky above them, its canvas glittering with scattered stars and dotted with distant planets of various shapes, sizes and colors. With pride, that could be comparable to that of a mother praising her children, she proclaimed loud and clear: “To us!”
Then, without warning, the ground beneath them began to rumble. It was slow, steady at first, coming at smooth intervals- before it rapidly spiraled and picked up pace. A dazzling light from above flooded the chamber, causing Trigel to gasp.
All present inside the hall jolted up from their chairs and cast their gazes towards the open skylight, trailing the pathway of a colossal comet entering Daibazaal’s atmosphere. Silence descended upon them, as they stared in awe at the colors streaming behind the comet in its wake.
White, black, red, green, blue and yellow.
Never before had they been blessed with such breath-taking beauty.
“By Willow!” Gyrgan bellowed out, shattering and breaking the silence.
There was a few more ticks of silence, then a resounding reverberation rose up into the air, carrying for miles. Followed up with a blinding bright light, that swallowed up the sky as though it had chased away the night, stars and the dark orb, and brought back the day and bright orb to Daibazaal’s sky.The collision of the comet against the planet’s surface sent fierce quakes rippling through the castle, it knocked Blaytz off of his feet, and he nearly went down. Fortunately for him, Gyrgan leapt over the table and caught him by the collar before he hit the floor.
“What in the name of the Altean Gods was that?” Coran breathed out, blinking furiously as the blazing light dissipated. He was just as stock-still as everyone else in the dining hall. For what seemed a long time, no one dared to even breathe.
Much less make a move.
The residual energy from the comet flaring around them in arches, leaving them frozen where they stood. No one moved, no one uttered a single sound, as each soul in the hall tried to comprehend what had just happened.
The overwhelming and all-consuming trance they were all under was broken by Zarkon’s voice, somehow sturdy and unshaken. It echoed through the thick and tense energy permeating the air.
“I know not, but it appeared to be a comet of sorts, unlike any I’ve ever seen.”
Without hesitation Zarkon abandoned his unfinished meal, not even bothering to push his table back into its proper place, and he marched towards the archway of the dining hall that would lead him outside the castle walls.
Only halting briefly to turn himself back towards his companions, “Come let us away, and do make haste. It is our duty as defenders of the Universe, to investigate unknown phenomenon. As well as it is my duty as Emperor of my planet to keep my people safe from any threats. For all we know, we could be in for grave tidings.”
“Oh, do lighten up, you’re so serious my dear friend,” Alfor rose to his feet, his voice cool with a sense of calm, though edged with a prick of provocation. He flashed his brother-in-arms one of his famous smiles, of which would make the majority of the population of Altea swoon.
If Zarkon hadn’t already built up his defenses against Alfor’s debonair whimsy, he would have found himself weak at the knees. "Allow me a moment to find something with which to contain my joy." He huffed, crossing his arms, the edges of his lips twitching.
“You are always leaping like a rabid rabbiloom at the worst possible scenario.” Alfor chuckled and then turned away from Zarkon and to his wife Melenor. He reached out and then cradled her hand in the palms of his own and pressed a kiss to her knuckles, “worry not, my dearest Juniberry, continue to enjoy your meal. We shall be back momentarily, as soon as we show Emperor doom and gloom that there’s nothing to fear from what is most assuredly nothing but a mere fallen star.”
Melenor leaned over and planted a kiss to one of his Altean markings in reciprocation, “My hero.” She quipped, before pulling away and slipping her hand out from Alfor’s hold. “Still, Zarkon is not all wrong, one should always have a healthy dose of caution. Be careful, dearest.”
“I always am.” Alfor assured, “Coran, please remain here with my wife until we return.” He whirled around on his heels and then made up the distance between himself and Zarkon, who was giving him a heated glower. He merely reached out and gave him a quick clap to the shoulder, “Well now, do lead the way my fearless fellow.”
Zarkon inhaled sharply, sucking in a deep breath, he let it build there for a few fleeting ticks and then released it. He shook his head, and Alfor swore he saw the Emperor roll his eyes, before he returned a phantom of a smile.
“Oh, it would be my deepest pleasure, King Alfor.” And without another word Zarkon, Alfor, Trigel, Gyrgan, and Blaytz filed a line, and they marched out of the Castle, to seek out the fallen comet.
Unknowing that they would soon give life to a Legend.
“By the name of the Ancient Altean Gods.” Alfor felt as though all the breath had been stole out of his lungs, as he came to a stop besides Zarkon. The crater left behind by the comet was as deep as it was a mile wide. It was a miracle that it hadn’t caused more destruction, merely it only gave the planet one massive open wound, everything else in the area remained untouched.
The only thing of note was that the temperature around them was searing, and embers flickered and floated upwards towards the stars around the edges of said crater. The embers were an array of colors, white, black, red, green, blue and yellow, it corresponded to the colors they’d seen in the sky.
However, the comet itself, nestled at the epicenter of the impact site was merely black and white. There were no other colors to its surface to account for the red, green, blue or yellow. Yet, even still, despite the lack of coloration the comet was...
“It’s beautiful.”
Zarkon whispered, his voice uncharacteristically fragile, as if he was overcome with a flood of emotions from the mere sight of the comet.
“It is, indeed.” Alfor responded, finding that he couldn’t pry his gaze away, as his eyes trailed over the white fractures across the comet’s obsidian surface. He could have stared at it for an eternity, but from somewhere he heard a whirlwind of whispers.
Alfor’s gaze flickered to-and-fro, as he tried to gauge where the sound had originated from. However, he could not locate the direction in which the whispers were coming. But he swore he could hear his name being called from somewhere beyond his reach.
“Alfor! Alfor! King Alfor!”
Alfor’s senses returned to him, as he recognized the one calling his name was Trigel and he came to realize his feet had moved on its own, and he was slowly descending down into the crater, using the slanted spirals left in the surface to make his way. He also concluded that he had actually gotten rather far into the crater, as in nearly halfway down, that is.
His foot froze mid-air, and he whipped his head back to stare up into the assorted mix of expressions upon the faces of his teammates. Confusion had colored Zarkon’s face, but there were traces of worry to be found, what with the way his forehead had creased.
Then there was Trigel, her alarm was as clear as a Balmera’s crystal. And standing side by side, Gyrgan and Blaytz stared down at him with equal mixes of bewilderment and apprehension.
Alfor blinked once, then twice, and then once more for good measure. His mind felt like it was filled with sky puffs, and he furiously shook it to clear them away and regain clarity over his own thoughts.
“Ah, my sincerest apologies, my feet seem to have grown minds of their very own.”
“Stay there and make no movements, brother Alfor.” Zarkon’s voice flooded down through the crater and curled in echoes around its edges. “We are coming down to back you up, let us not have a near repeat of the Lambonite scavenger ambush that were after your head. Keep your guard up, we know not of this comet, nor what it means for us.”
“Yes, please do wait for us, we will be right with you!” Trigel’s voice joined Zarkon’s echo, and it was then followed up by Gyrgan and Blaytz as well, sharing much the same sentiments with the other two.
The whispers came again, but this time Alfor held steadfast and remained rooted, “Yes, The Gods forbid we have a replay of one of my less than finer moments. Understood- I will remain still and await your arrival.”
Zarkon was the first to take the plunge as he began moving down the slopes of the spiral, Trigel was right behind him falling into a steady pace, and Gyrgan and Blaytz brought up the rear of the formation. As they made their way down the slopes, the ground underneath them began to tremor, as aftershocks rippled through the crater.
“Oh, by Willow!” Gyrgan yelped, as the suddenness of the quakes caused him to stumble and veer to the side. He could feel one of his feet meet the air, and he began to falter on the side of the sloped trail.
“I got you!” And in a reversal of what happened in the dining hall earlier, Blaytz lunged forward and yanked Gyrgan away from the edge by the fabric of the tunic that was covering his chest, to keep him from falling this time around. “Careful big man, don’t want to end up scrambled like a jellyark egg, yeah?”
“Right, many thanks my friend from the water!” Gyrgan flashed him a toothy grin and patted the tops of his hands letting out a deep bellied chuckle more due to nerves than anything else, “you have saved my very life, I am eternally grateful.”
Blaytz pulled his hands away as if he’d been burned, and sputtered his cheeks turning a deep dark blue, “Uh, yeah – I don’t know about all of that! But uhm... you’re welcome, I think?”
“Stow it, you two!” Zarkon shouted over his shoulder, “Keep in line now and let’s all preferably get to Alfor all in one piece.”
“Sir yes sir!” Blaytz shot back, grateful for the distraction so he didn’t have to think on why his face was now hotter than the air around him. It probably had to do with how close they’d gotten to the comet, yes, that’s it.
It didn’t take them too terribly long to reunite with king Alfor, and true to his word, he hadn’t moved from his spot. “Ah, there you lot are, I was wondering if I’d have to send out a search party for you.”
Zarkon snorted at the notion, “You and what servants, my brother?”
Alfor chuckled and merely shrugged his shoulders, “Well, now that you’re down here, it’s time to check out that comet, yes?” He gestured down to the last set of spirals and stepped slightly to the side as if presenting Zarkon a most gracious gift, “Forge our path, brother dear.”
“Very well, if you so insist.” Zarkon retorted, with a barely disguised huff of a laugh. He pulled ahead of the pack and continued down the spirals, keeping his wits about him. He paid acute attention to anything that could spell danger for them and acted accordingly.
Even saving Alfor at one point from having his head lobbed clean off from a large boulder that was dislodged from one of the edges of the crater in another aftershock. Only to be rewarded with Alfor making a morbid joke about how maybe he’d finally get some rest from his numerous stalkers if he lost his devastatingly handsome and irresistible face.
Zarkon could only let out a sullen sigh at that.
And then, they were there.
Standing directly before the comet of black and white. No one moved at first, merely they took in the sight of the comet. Now that they were this close that they could walk right over and touch it, the word beautiful was ill-fitted to describe its majesty.
There was only one word of which Alfor believed could come even close to characterizing it.
“It’s divine.” The King of Altea tentatively took a step forward, testing the limit and boundaries as if calculating just how close he could get, before something of significance happened.
When nothing happened upon his first step, he took another, and another, and then another. Alfor slowly closed the distance, his eyes ever vigilant to his surroundings and the comet himself, he wasn’t about to have his head bashed in by a boulder, after narrowly evading it beforehand.
The heat radiating around the comet was dissipating, allowing Alfor to move in even closer. The whirlwind of whispers picked up again, and step by step, he edged against the threshold of his caution and the comet. He blinked, and then he was there, right next to the comet.
The heat was gone entirely, and the atmosphere around the crater began to rapidly cool, so much so that it was as if he and the others had fallen into cavern of solid ice.
Alfor inhaled deeply, feeling the ice collect in his lungs, and he cleared his throat. He stared down at the comet, the white light spilling out of the cracks seemed to be where the whispers had been coming from all along.
Alfor was so close, that he could lean down and touch the comet.
And that’s just what he did. He lowered himself down, took a knee, reached out and he touched the comet.
Alfor’s body was seized with such a shock to his system, that he nearly collapsed. An explosion of fractured images and colors surged through his head, and an aria of voices, no, not voices, they were roars – and they filled his ears, and they were so loud that he was convinced his eardrums would rupture.
Voltron! Voltron! Voltron! VOLTRON! VOLTRON! VOLTRON!
Something erupted out of King Alfor, and he didn’t know if it was a ragged breath or a strangled wail. He threw his head back and his body began to convulse, and his marks glowed so bright that he felt his cheeks begin to burn.
He couldn’t let go of his claim to the comet, instead of one hand curling around it, both of his hands now clutched it. Everything inside of him was on fire, as was it frosted over with ice.
VOLTRON! VOLTRON! VOLTRON!
“ALFOR!” Distantly, Zarkon’s own roar of desperation was able to filter into the spaces in between the chants of Voltron, and Alfor try as he might, could not respond. His mouth was open, but he could not speak.
Alfor could only join in the choir of Voltron, “VOLTRON! VOLTRON! VOLTRON!” He cried out into the chaos around him, over and over, “VOLTRON! VOLTRON! VOLTRON!”
“Just let go, Alfor! You don’t have to fight it anymore! I’m here, brother!”
Zarkon’s hands connected with Alfor’s shoulders, and the Altean felt the Galra’s claws dig deep into his shoulder and yank desperately.
There was a new warmth to his shoulders, and Alfor could only assume it was blood bubbling to the surface of his skin, as Zarkon struggled against whatever omnipotent forces that held him captive.
Then all at once everything just stopped. Alfor’s fingers rapidly uncurled from the rock, and he was wrenched harshly back from the comet. Somewhere between Zarkon pulling him off, and before colliding against Zarkon’s chest, Alfor had heard Zarkon wail in such a way that it struck fear into the marrow of his very bones. Though Alfor didn’t know if Zarkon was merely calling out his name again, or if the struggle to remove Alfor from the comet had caused him pain.
Aflor didn’t have time to ponder it, because his vision had become a cyclone of white, black, red, green, blue and yellow. All of the colors came together and took on a rather peculiar shape, a large and imposing silhouette, it had metallic wings and feathers made of pure starlight.
He was also able to make out a sword and a shield. But none of that was what had truly caught his attention, this thing, it had... eyes. They glowed so intensely that they pierced through the very core of his soul and left him breathless.
If Alfor didn’t know any better, it was as if his heart had stopped entirely.
Then everything went dark, and there was nothing but silence.
Alfor’s breaths came forth in unsteady rasps, and shards of ice floated inside of his lungs, and embers flared through his chest.
“Alfor!” Zarkon’s voice reached him again, as his hearing returned to him slowly but surely. Alfor’s eyes opened, and it was odd, he thought- for he couldn’t recall closing them. Everything was dark, at first. But then colors began to bleed at the corners of the abyss, and melted shapes began to piece themselves back together.
Finally, it all came together to form a clear picture. He was looking back up into Zarkon, Trigel, Gyrgan and Blaytz’s faces, all of which looked drained of color. That was when Alfor realized that he was sprawled out against Zarkon’s chest, his torso and legs resting atop Zarkon’s lap.
“Alfor, thank the first Emperor of Daibazaal!” Zarkon’s voice sounded distant and foreign to Alfor, almost broken in a way. That’s when he saw it, the faintest shimmering of what he could only believe to be tears collecting at the corner of Zarkon’s eyes. But before The King could even grasp what he was seeing, Trigel moved into view, blocking Zarkon’s face from Alfor's line of sight.
“King Alfor, my dear friend! Are you quite alright?”
“I...” Alfor wheezed, and full body shudders seized his frame, and a bout of coughs crawled up his throat and expelled themselves from his parted mouth, “I believe so.”
“Are you certain?” Gyrgan wedged himself next to Trigel and stared down at Alfor his eyes glassy and red as though he’d been sobbing, “For I was all but convinced you had left us for Willow’s warm embrace, my friend!”
Alfor’s coughing fit tapered off, as the burning and freezing feeling that held dominion over his body began to ebb and flow away, leaving behind exhaustion and dull aches. “What, whatever do you mean?”
“Oh, by the Great Pearl-” Blaytz blurted out, his chest heaving, as he scrubbed tears off of his face. “Alfor, you-”
“You died!” The interjection was as sharp as a blade’s edge, and it rumbled through Alfor’s frame, and he only recognized the owner of the voice was Zarkon, because of the vibrations he felt flowing down his spine of which was promptly slotted against the ridges of Zarkon’s ribcage.
Like a coil that had been wound too tight, Alfor promptly jolted up, and his eyes went wide.
“I, what?!” Alfor uttered, his voice rising several octaves, “What do you mean, I died? For how long?”
“For a few doboshes.” Trigel explained, as she let out a shaky breath, wiping at a stray tear that trailed down her cheek. “I cannot give you an accurate timeframe, but my estimate is you weren’t breathing for three doboshes.”
“I...” Alfor’s voice withered away in his vocals, as he felt his mouth and throat dry up. He had to swallow several times, before he was able to continue,” I see, and what of the comet? What happened to it while I...” He tried to deflect anymore discussion on his brief brush in with death.
“It remains.” Zarkon replied, voice rough and low, barely even a whisper. “After pulling you off, I realized you weren’t breathing. So, I attempted to destroy it. It fought back.”
“Fought back?” Alfor broached, as he began to regain sensations in his arms and legs. He promptly removed himself from Zarkon’s hold and was assisted into a sit by Trigel, who held him steady.
Zarkon gestured to his right arm with his left hand, and Alfor’s gaze followed his hand.
Alfor’s gaze came to a stop when he took in that Zarkon’s pristine armor had melted away, leaving behind a brutal injury. From his bicep and down to his fingertips, his arm was all but charred black and it had nearly been torn clean off.
Alfor’s breath caught in his throat, “Zarkon, your arm it’s-” how in the promised lands above had Zarkon even been holding him in such a dire state? He could do nothing but stare at the dangling arm and agonize silently over how Zarkon was so unconcerned over it all.
Perhaps the Emperor was merely dissociating due to the massive amount of agony he was surely in?
“Almost dead, yes- I can see that.” A low growl rumbled in Zarkon’s throat, as he tried to shy away from Alfor’s gaze.
“Wait, here, let me-” Aflor straightened himself up and gently bushed Trigel’s hands away from him, before he gingerly cupped his hands around the wrist of Zarkon’s near-dead arm. He closed his eyes and braced himself, as he sent out pulsating waves of healing alchemy from deep within him and let them flow through him and into Zarkon.
Color, life and feeling returned to Zarkon’s arm and the black burns faded, leaving only faint pink scars behind. He inhaled and then exhaled, his body giving off slight shudders, as the warmth of Alfor’s alchemy slowly but surely revived his arm.
Zarkon’s gaze reconnected with Alfor’s own, “I... thank you my brother. Please, do not push yourself any further on my account. We should retreat for the moment and discuss what we should do with the comet later, and you should rest.”
Alfor’s attention was recaptured by the comet, and his head was once flooded with the word Voltron.
What was this Voltron? Was this comet Voltron? But then, what was that massive silhouette in that vision. While one half of Alfor wanted to agree, that they should leave the comet be, but the other half didn’t want to give up now. The mystery of Voltron and this comet was an itch he had to scratch now, or he’d go insane. Also, if they left now, lives could be in danger.
“No I-” Alfor held up his hands in a placating gesture to calm his teammates, “I assure you I am quite alright, tired perhaps- but I am well enough to keep going, and I wish to alleviate your worries, Emperor Zarkon. Clearly, after what has happened to me and to you, we cannot leave this well enough alone. Though my body might ache, my mind is clear. I need to know what this comet is, what this Voltron is.”
No, he couldn’t leave it alone, not when he had momentarily died, but especially because of the fact that it had all but burned Zarkon’s arm into ashes.
Alfor just couldn’t rest knowing that this comet was just lying here, exposed, and that anyone could walk right up to it and possibly get hurt or even perish if they so much as touched it with their fingertips.
"We must come to understand this comet, to ensure everyone’s safety, not just on Daibazaal but the Universe’s as well. If this comet nearly killed me, and almost took your arm Zarkon, then imagine what it might do if it fell into the wrong hands.”
“Oh yeah, Voltron!” Blaytz hopped to his feet, and brushed the dust off of his legs, “While your body was all,” the blue-skinned Nalquodite mimicked Alfor’s convulsions, possibly in a macabre attempt to calm himself down, “you were crying out- Voltron! Voltron! Voltron! Over and over again, like you were possessed!”
“He’s right, I heard that too!” Gyrgan backed his buddy up, while also getting to his feet. Sniffling as he brushed away the last of his tears, so he could look at Alfor without tears obscuring his sight.
“You heard that as well, didn’t you Trigel?” He lightly elbowed her side, which earned him a light smack to the shoulder in return.
“Yes, I heard that as well. Dearest Alfor, did you see something when you touched the comet?” Trigel tried to keep her voice from shaking, but it was obvious that she was still feeling rather distressed over nearly losing one of her closest confidants.
“I did.” Alfor confirmed, mirroring Blaytz and Gyrgan’s movements, as he pushed himself up and to his feet.
“Sorry to say, everything was distorted, and I was unable to get a clear look at it. However, I do know that this Voltron, it is massive. If it were standing in front of us, I estimate that it would be taller than even this crater, but that is not all. This Voltron, it was different colors, at least I believe so, and it had a sword and shield, and its eyes...” He trailed off, remembering the rush of emotions that he’d endured as he stared into the image of those eyes.
“Eyes?” Zarkon rejoined the conversation, prompting Alfor to continue.
“Yes, its eyes. I stared into them, and they stared back into me, and they were so bright I felt like I stopped breathing, or rather I suppose I did, but that’s not what I’m getting at. What I’m trying to say is, it was though I was floating before it, and being drawn into it. As though it were calling out to me.” Alfor wasn’t certain how much of this his teammates were following, but all eyes were on him, so he could only hope that he was explaining it in a way they would all understand.
“So, this, Voltron... what is it?”
Alfor winced, knowing he should have expected Zarkon to ask, but at the same time he was so focused on talking that he’d gotten caught up in his account of what he’d seen.
“I am... unsure of that, Zarkon. But I know this...” he held his hand out for Zarkon to take, offering to help him to his feet.
Zarkon stared at his hand, then up to his face, and back down at his hand again. A fang slipped out of his mouth, and he lightly worried his bottom lip. He furrowed his brows, caught up in a silent debate with himself on which hand he should reach back with. Ultimately, he settled on his right hand.
Despite the ache, it was no worse for wear, and above all else he did not wish to look weak in front of his team. He took Alfor’s hand and all but pushed himself up on his own merit, Alfor’s hand barely doing any heavy lifting.
Zarkon merely used it as a tool to hold onto as he rose to his feet himself, rather that’s what he kept telling himself in his head. It was a struggle to convince a pesky shadow of doubt that cropped up in the corner of his mind’s eye to that that end, however.
“This Voltron, it’s connected with that comet.” Alfor’s hand slipped away from Zarkon’s and the King turned back to the comet, his heart skipping beats in his chest, as his body ached with the memory of his close encounter with death.
“We need to find a way to secure it, so I can take it to Altea and study it with other like-minded alchemists. Once we figure out a way to do that, I implore of you to evacuate any citizens away from the crater and deem it a forbidden site. Even if we do manage to extract the comet, any lingering energy left behind may prove devastating to the lives of your people.”
“Very well” Zarkon fell back into his usual display of rigidity, as though Alfor had merely imagined that wetness to his eyes. He gave him a curt nod of confirmation.
“With our technology, we should be able to find a way transport it. In the interim, I shall lock down this area with a barrier, ensuring the lives of my subjects are secured. I do not want any blood to be spilled over this comet, this Voltron, and I don’t just mean my own people...” He gave Alfor a quick look over, as though he was on the hunt for any signs of wounds that they hadn’t noticed. Once he was confident that Alfor’s body remained unmarred, their eyes met again.
“I mean you too, Alfor. Do not risk your own life in pursuit of this Voltron. Should it come down to knowledge or death, walk away.”
Aflor said nothing, merely he averted his gaze back to the comet, as its whispers caressed the inside of his cranium. His attention was spirited away when Zarkon grabbed him by the shoulders and held him in place, firmly, as though to ground him from floating away into the stars themselves.
“Promise me, Alfor!”
“I...” Alfor stared deep into Zarkon’s eyes, the emotion he found there was so intense that he almost melted underneath it, “I promise.”
Zarkon said nothing more, he merely turned away and made for the sloped path, “Let us reconvene in the dining hall, there’s precious time to waste.”
Without another word, Trigel, Gyrgan and Blaytz followed after Zarkon, leaving Alfor to linger next to the comet.
Alfor stood there, trying to rationalize what had happened to him, and just what this comet was, and what Voltron was. He crossed his arms, and stared at the black surface as if he could his stare could break it in half and reveal its mysteries unto him. Oh, if only it were so simple.
“Alfor!” Trigel’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts, “come along now! You don’t want Zarkon to be the one to explain to your wife that you died, do you?”
Alfor took one last fleeting glance at the comet of black and white, before he rejoined his friends on the slope. “Perhaps we keep my momentary kiss with death a secret, yes? My wife is a rather jealous woman.”
A cross between a growl and a low and tired groan from Zarkon echoed through the crater, and it was followed up by several chortles from their teammates. As they walked back up the slope, Zarkon’s mind was pulled back to when he had held Alfor’s hand to pull himself up. How he and silently mourned the loss of the warmth it had provided him.
Just another fracture to Zarkon's heart.
Another crack in his armor.
It mattered not, he would survive, as he always had. Survival was the Galra's specialty, after all. He would survive, side by side with Alfor and the other members of their band of scoundrels. The haunting image of King Alfor, lying lifeless on the ground rippled through his mind, and then flowed into the white sea of time to be forgotten.
Alfor was here and he was alive.
That’s all that mattered to Zarkon. Whatever the next chapter of his life brought him, Zarkon knew that he wouldn’t be facing it alone. So long as they all had one another, everything was going to be just fine.
On this Zarkon would bet his very life.
Notes:
Oh Zarkon, doomed you are by the narrative. It almost makes me feel bad for you, you were rough around the edges, sure- but you cared deeply for your people and your friends. Also am I sprinkling little hints of Zarkon/Alfor? Perhaps.
I mean, a Black and a Red Paladin, having some type of feelings for one another? Where have we seen that before? Mhnnnn?? **shifty eyes towards Shiro and Keith** You know, I just can't quite put my finger on it. Ah well. I'm sure it's noting profound, or some type of genius parallel that definitely won't come back into play later down the line~
Mhnn, Zarkon nearly losing his right arm, sounds familiar. But I just,,, mnhhh nope. Can't think of why.
Ah, well.
Surely there's no one to compare Zarkon/Alfor to, right? Especially no two star-crossed almost lovers doomed by the narrative, forced to face each other in a battle to the death, due to circumstances beyond their control. Surely not~
Also, I hope I did pre-corrupted Zarkon justice and that him crying over Alfor and his temporary brush woth death and him liking Alfor feels natural and genuine, and not too out of character.
Thank you so much for tuning into the first chapter, Voltron Coalition! We hope you enjoyed this broadcast, there will be more come - so don't tune out just yet! You'll miss out on something great!
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Until next time, Cadets, this is your Captain Crystal speaking. Have a wonderful day, and go and be great~
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LadyMimiko on Chapter 1 Thu 03 Oct 2024 01:22AM UTC
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