There was the crackle of static in the air, a loud hiss of noise that should have proved unbearable. That hum of noise was oriented at the corner of the room, a view screen that had gone hay wire, the center of the glass bearing a round spiral indent, as though someone had smashed their fist against it. Whatever image had been on the screen was lost in the ensuing damage, leaving a grainy sort of rain in it’s place.
It couldn’t dim the light from the screen, a soft white glow that flickered, giving brief illumination to the room’s surroundings. There wasn’t much to see, at least, beyond the massive damage to the room’s furniture. Chairs were overturned, their legs snapped off, one being embedded into the floor. A table had been cleaved in half, the sides laying haphazardly on the floor, it’s contents spilled all around it. A dresser was lopsided, drawers hanging out as it tilted forward, catching items inside them as they fell off the top surface.
Bottles were everywhere, overturned and empty save for a few drops of dark red liquid. Another was dropped onto the floor, the carpet cushioning it, keeping it from breaking into shards. The only thing that outnumbered the bottles, were the magazines, numerous piles of paper, their covers glossy but badly wrinkled from how many times they had been handled. If one was to hazard a guess, one could almost imagine how hard fingers had clutched at their covers.
And amidst the wreckage, and the heady smell of booze, sat a man brooding. His face cast in shadows, though his eyes could be seen, gold and cat like and angry. His lips were pursed tightly together so that not even a flash of pearl white could be seen. His clothes were rumpled, looking worn, and bore a few wet stains, no doubt remnants of his messy drink.
He was unmoving, now that he had dropped his drink, his breath hissing out of him as he stared at the magazine on his lap. It was open to the middle of the book, his eyes roaming over text, lips quivering as though he fought to control some sort of snarl. Splashed next to the words were all manners of pictures, of a couple holding hands, smiling for the camera.
He snorted in disgust, turning the page, seeing a full sized picture of the smiling female, clad in a pink sunflower dress. A ring was on her finger, gold with a lone diamond, small and simple as though that was all her fiancee could afford. ~I could have given you so much better, Allura.~ The man thought, thinking not just of the diamonds, but of the pearls and the sapphires, rubies and emeralds, all the jewels he had been ready to shower her with. They lay useless in his vault now, an unwanted reminder of the love that had escaped him.
He tore his eyes away from the picture, now reading the words on the page opposite it. It spoke of the great love match between the princess of Arus and the captain of the Voltron Force. Love! Now he gave in to the sneer, hearing a growl escape him as he stared at the page. ~Can you love her like I can? Can you show her devotion that is even half as strong as mine?~
The Voltron Force’s captain just stared back at him, a shy smile on his face, his dark eyes serious. Those eyes mocked him, seemed so smug with the knowledge that he had been the one to take the princess off the market. It made the man want to reach into the picture, and close his fingers around the captain’s neck. To hear the satisfying crunch as his wind pipe caved in.
~Soon.~ He thought, trying to soothe himself with thoughts of revenge. He turned the page, feeling the paper slice into his finger, a small cut that had him wincing. It was not enough that their words, their pictures sought to hurt him, but even the magazine itself turned against him!
Mood even blacker, he read the words, sentences he had practically memorized from how often he had gazed upon them. The princess herself had been interviewed, and by all reports was glowing, happiness radiating off her as she spoke of her joy and her hopes for this union. Details were given, of the hows and whys of when the captain had first proposed marriage to her.
It had apparently been soon after an attack by Doom, though the princess wouldn’t specify which one. No one questioned her, after all, Doom often attacked her planet, to the point all the raids blurred together as one. But he knew, knew without a doubt which one had been the catalyst to her accepting the captain’s proposal. ~You’re a coward Allura. Running from your own feelings, running from me.~
He could still picture that day, how beautiful she had looked in her form fitting pilot’s uniform. How nervous she had been around him, backing up against a wall, eyes flitting about for a way to escape him. He had pressed against her, speaking softly to her, his hands behaving in that they kept to her arms and to her face. He had whispered of surrender to her, urging her to give in to her desires, practically revealing how she had the power to enslave him with her love. And then, staring into those pools of blue she had for eyes, he had touched his lips to her, in a sweet kiss that was meant to be savored.
It was the princess who had turned it into something more, he could remember her ragged moan, and the way she pressed against him. Her arms had lifted, winding about him, fingers clutching at his hair as she urged him to kiss her harder, deeper. It shook them both down to their knees, hearts staggered back at the passion in which she displayed, the princess eager, tongue moving against his, body trying to mold together with him into one being.
It had been Lotor who had had to pull away, his breath heavy, staring into her face surprised. She look startled and unsure, a faint blush on her cheeks, her hands still holding him to her. It was no act she put on, she had meant the kiss, meant the emotions behind it, the princess as shocked as he by the dawning realization that she liked it.
There had been no resistance from either one, Lotor moving to kiss her once more. She didn’t wait for him to claim her lips, the princess going up on tip toe to meet him impatiently. Things steadily got out of hand there, hands clutching at clothing, bodies grinding together, voices hoarse with need. She was tired of fighting, that much he could see, her words a shy confession as she told him she wanted an end to the war between them and their planets.
His heart head done cartwheels of joy, Lotor remaining cool and collected on the outside. In between kisses they began to plot out a way to achieve peace, a way that would have been pleasurable for them both. ~So close.~ He thought, eyes unseeing as he stared down at the magazine. ~We had been so close Allura.~
And then HE arrived. Dressed in white and red, her shining knight to a rescue the princess hadn’t wanted. Hadn’t needed. She had been as startled as Lotor, staring at Keith with an odd expression on her face. It wasn’t relief that she felt, it had been annoyance, the princess dropping her hands to her sides as though she had been burned by Lotor’s touch.
He had waited for her to explain that they were negotiating, that they had come to an understanding. That the war was over, her hand ready to unite with Lotor for peace and marriage. But Allura had remained silent, the captain drawing his weapon, a small blaster that packed a powerful punch. There had been no helping it, he had been forced to step away from Allura. All three of them knowing he would not, could not draw his sword on her.
Lotor had watched with an impotent rage as she ran towards the captain’s side, the black haired man never taking his eyes off the prince. Once Allura was secured behind him, he fired off several shots, ignoring the princess’ protests. At least she had cared enough to voice them, Lotor drawing his sword, using it’s lazon blade to deflect the lasers that torpedoed towards him.
They had escaped soon after, and that was the last Lotor had seen of the princess. It wasn’t long before the news broke out on all the channels, reports coming in even as far as Doom. Lotor growled, knowing it should have been he who was to marry her, not the captain!
Lotor knew he didn’t understand much, but he was certain he hadn’t misunderstood her actions aboard his ship. And he knew, without a doubt, that the feelings Allura had shown to him had been enough to leave her running scared. To thrust her into the arms of his mortal enemy.
Growling he turned the page, almost tearing it free from it’s binding when he was greeted with the sight of Allura sharing an innocent kiss with the captain. It lacked the fire she had shared with Lotor, the passion, looking more like the innocent buss one would place on a family member. And still it bothered him, to see the captain lay his hands on Allura’s arms, pulling her close.
His mind was doing a rough comparison of the two kisses, noting every detail and how stiff Allura seemed to be. ~You were relaxed in my arms Allura.~ Lotor’s thoughts hissed out. ~Relaxed and safe, confident of what was happening.~
He thought of her kiss now, of that sweet mouth of hers, with the pouty lips that felt like the softest thing in the world to him. Soft and needy, her mouth making demands of his, the princess pressing them together urgently. It was an urgency he had mirrored, Lotor sure he could get turned on by kissing her alone. With a pained moan, he lifted his fingers to his mouth, pressing them against his lips.
~Why do you torture yourself with these memories?~ His mind asked, Lotor having no answer for it.
With a heavy sigh, he chased away the memory of Allura’s kiss, Lotor proceeding to glare at the magazine and it’s offending words, and disgusting pictorial. There was even a small article that accompanied the larger one, words written about the prince of Doom, and Allura’s feelings for him. For what seemed like the millionth time, he read of her reaction, that of the dimming of her eyes, and the way she had smiled nervously. She hadn’t said much on the topic, but what she did say stung him to the core of his heart.
She had the gall to wish him a peaceful life full of love and happiness! As if Lotor could ever have that without her around. His hands rattled the magazine, the picture of the engaged pair tearing free. Lotor lifted it up, once again turning a critical eye to their embrace. ~Happiness Allura? Is that what you really want for me?~ He demanded of the picture. ~Is that what you think you are giving me by doing this thing?!~
He didn’t FEEL happy at all, he felt angry, thinking of the laughing stock she had made him. His father took special glee in ridiculing him in front of the court, pointing out all the things Lotor had done in the name of love. Of how many times he had botched an attack on Arus because he had been too busy chasing after Allura, too busy trying to get up her skirts, and into her heart.
He could practically hear his father’s voice in his head, mocking him, smug one moment and disdainful the next. The whole court had erupted into boisterous laughter at the King’s insults, Lotor being forced to stand there and take it. “Now do you see son?” Zarkon had said, in between hissed out snickers. “Love is just an illusion. A fleeting fancy that brings us together in one pure moment of unbridled lust.”
It was no surprise that Zarkon didn’t believe in love, thinking Lotor a fool for putting so soft a name to the lust he felt. His father had taken a special kind of pleasure in personally delivering the news of Allura’s engagement, watching him like a hawk for his reaction. Lotor had not disappointed, his expressions running the gamut from shocked horror, to disbelief, and ultimately anger.
How many days had it been since Zarkon had delivered the news? Lotor did not know for sure, having spent much of that time locked away in his room with the magazines and the newscast, forgoing food for a liquid diet, rife with hard alcohol. His father kept him well informed, trying to stock the fires of his rage, delivering more articles and reports from their spies, telling of the happy couple and their public displays of affection.
It seemed like every touch, every shared look, every kiss was an arrow meant to stab deeper into his heart, Lotor feeling pained dismay at the reports trickling in. He refused to believe them at first, refused to even think Allura would act like that where others could see. Not until he got the magazine in his lap, the one with the picture of them kissing, proof positive that Allura was playing the part of devoted fiancee to perfection.
~How many times have you kissed him Allura?~ Lotor silently demanded of her picture. ~How many times have you let him hold you in his arms?~ He wondered how far they had gone, knowing Allura had the kind of passion that stayed hidden until it burst free to consume everything in it’s path, Had the captain even one iota of an idea just the type of fiery woman he was about to take as his bride? Would the man even know what to do with that kind of unbridled passion?!
Unwanted, thoughts followed that train of thought, Lotor imagining Keith slowly undressing Allura. Of his tanned hands caressing her body, wandering her curves in an inexpert way. Even worse was the fact that his imaginary Allura was responding to the captain. Soft moans, and whispered endearments, her hands touching him back, pealing him out of clothes. Lotor tried to stop his thoughts from going any further, but it was too late. He saw Keith part Allura’s legs, settling in between them as he pressed his dick against her center.
He saw the forward surge of Keith’s hips, saw Allura toss back her head, a throaty moan of approval escaping her. His vision flashed red, Lotor feeling his rage boil over as he made a fist, crushing the picture of the kissing couple. The paper crinkled loudly, but Lotor was lost to the vision, a horrified fascination at seeing Allura like this, seeing her in the arms of his enemy. It was worse that she enjoyed it, that she moaned for more, alternatively demanding and pleading with Keith to satisfy her.
His teeth ground together, imagining Keith’s response, seeing the captain toss back his head with a howl, emptying his seed into her. The thought proved unbearable, Lotor unable to imagine Allura pregnant, her belly swollem round with his enemy’s child. With a vicious curse, he was on his feet, lashing out with a foot to knock over a pile of magazines. That hardly calmed him down, Lotor casting about for his sword, forgetting for the moment that his father had wisely taken it away from him.
With an angry bellow, he worked himself into a fitful temper, tearing about the room, destroying what little furniture was still intact. A heavy steel bookcase was overturned, books still placed on the shelves. It crashed hard into the floor, just missing his toes and still that wasn’t enough. Lotor snarled and tore at the closet doors, one unhinging in the process.
He stared inside, seeing gown after gown stuffed in next to his suits and uniforms. Beautiful works of fabric, silks and satins, velvet and taffeta, all expensive, all made to fit one and only one woman. The princess of Arus. What use did he have for them now when she was gone from him? She’d never wear this dresses, never model for him, never appear before him so that he could take pleasure in removing them from her body.
A scream tore through him, and he was snatching at the gowns, throwing them on the floor, kicking them aside, and using his long nails to tear them apart. It was like an explosion of color in his room, bits of fabric aloft in the air, and only then did Lotor come down from his rage, panting heavily. He caught sight of his reflection in a mirror, the cracked length of glass split in a way that four Lotors looked back at him, showing his hair rumpled and wild, his eyes narrowed and angry, and his lips curled into a sneer.
“This can’t go on.” Lotor panted, making no move to fix his hair. He had been neglecting his grooming habits, no longer caring if he looked less than perfect. “This marriage will be the ruin of me.” He glanced down at the floor, and amidst the destroyed dresses, lay magazines, one opened to a picture of Allura being embraced from behind by the captain of the Voltorn force. Fate surely had an unkind hand to mock him so openly with this hated relationship. He glared, a scowl on his lips as he walked over to the magazine, kneeling down to pick it up.
Details of the upcoming wedding was mentioned, Lotor going over them for what seemed the millionth time. Words he knew by heart, words that filled him with a cold dread, Lotor flinging the magazine against the wall.