The deaths of Princess Allura of Arus and Prince Lotor of Doom made all the headlines, the news breaking on all channels, reporters eager to wring out every last drop of story from the tragedy. It didn’t matter that they got the details wrong, the sad fact was few if any knew the total truth behind the deaths and what had led to the royal pair’s tragic demise.
The official story coming from Arus, and supported in theory by Doom was that Prince Lotor, so recently jailed for one of a dozen kidnappings of Allura had managed to somehow break free of his cell. He had quickly taken the princess hostage, forcing her on board one of the crafts located inside the castle. The Voltron Force had quickly given pursuit, determined to rescue their ruler and bring the prince to the justice he so deserved.
Justice was delayed when a rescue fleet from Doom arrived, the King anxious to steal back his son from his Arusian jailers. A battle of epic proportions had begun, both sides fighting hard, with the hijacked cruiser caught between them. It had stood little chance, badly battered from all sides as it valiantly tried to flee to safety. Neither side was talking on just who had fired the final shot that brought it crashing to the ground, although both were quick to point the finger of blame at each other.
In the moments following the crash, a rarity had occurred, the two opposing forces calling a temporary cease fire in the vain hopes of rescuing the doomed royals. Pictures had been leaked to the press of the brunt wreck, showing it’s charred metal that was melted in places, leaving little doubt to the fact that there had been no survivors to walk away from the crash.
Troubling was the reports that no attempt had been made to reach the emergency life pods, the papers speculating that Allura and Lotor must have quarreled in their last moments. They must have been too busy fighting to make it to the life pods, making their deaths all the more tragic.
Chaos had reigned in the weeks following the deaths, Doom pulling back it’s invasion forces from Arus. They were needed back on their home world, the King having to fight off an unprecedented amount of challenges to his authority. With no heir to his throne, Zarkon was being pressured, both publicly and privately to choose a new successor, and there was many a noble who turned a greedy eye toward the crown. They went so far as to attack the king, Zarkon having to fight off one assassination attempt after the other in a desperate bid to hold onto his power.
Arus could hardly afford to breathe a sigh of relief in the absence of the invasion force, they were too busy mourning their princess. The succession was also in doubt, for though Allura’s last decrees had been found, there was some who would challenge the validity of her letter, insisting that Orla was unfit for the throne and that Allura had written that under duress and without a lawyer present.
But Queen Orla had had the backing not only of her niece, but of the Voltron Force themselves, the men doing everything to ease her transition into ruler of Arus. She had busied herself in overseeing Allura’s last wishes, getting the orphanages ready in record time. It was a fitting farewell to Arus’ beloved princess, the Queen allowing many of the working class to attend the funeral of her niece.
Of course there was pictures of the funeral, even shots of the closed casket that housed nothing but memories of Allura. It had been draped in two silk cloths, one the purple color of royalty, the other the pure black of death. A wreath of flowers had been placed on the center of the casket, and the Voltron Force themselves, dressed in somber tones carried the casket from the church to the burial site.
Plenty of overhead shots were taken, the reporters hovering in cruisers, having little respect for their sorrow in their haste to get the story. They tried for weeks to unsuccessfully get interviews from the four remaining Voltron force members, the men tightlipped and refusing to speak to reporters. But others talked, servants who wished not to be identified, speaking nervously on Keith’s sorrow in reaction to his beloved fiancees’ death. He blamed himself, they whispered, and for a time it seemed as though he would step down from leader of the Voltorn Force.
The weeks turned into months, and still Keith remained, the Voltron Force testing for candidates to replace the princess as blue lion’s pilot. All too soon Doom and Arus were once again locked in their familiar struggle, battling for control of a world that though fertile seemed ultimately a pointless acquisition for the Doom Empire to make such a fuss over it.
A public relations representative of Zarkon’s broke the king’s silence to issue a statement on his feelings towards the loss of his son. It was a pretty speech that was ultimately cold and without genuine feeling except when he spoke on his thirst for revenge. Zarkon swore if it was the last thing he would do, he would avenge the death of his son and kill each and every member of the Voltron Force as recompense for Lotor’s untimely death.
It became business as usual in the Denubian Galaxy, the war between Arus and Doom a highly talked about topic, even with Lotor and his obsessive love for the princess gone from the scene. Several galaxies over, the news was just trickling in, a bland side note that the people of the Regobas Galaxy paid little attention to. What did it matter what Doom did, that another pair of royals had died. Doom and Arus were so far removed from Regobas as to be insignificant, the people going on with their daily lives.
But to one person in Regobas, the news was received eagerly, the woman savoring each and every tidbit like a drop of water in an endless desert. She scoured the newspapers and the magazines, even going so far as to save clippings of articles from the books. It went against her husband’s wishes, the man feeling it proved too great a risk to their happy life. Plus, as he was so often fond of reminding her, it was a morbid hobby.
And still she persisted, saving away the clippings in a binder she kept locked in their safe. On occasion she’d pulled it out, and flip through the pages, remembering things. Such as now, she stood on the balcony of the second floor, leaning against the railing as the sun began it’s slow rise up in the sky. The gardens she overlooked were cast in the soft glow of sunlight, purple morning flowers opening up, blooming for those temporary minutes of morning sunlight.
Blues were mingled in with the purples, setting a pretty pattern when view from up above. On the fringes of that pattern was a color explosion, reds, golds, pinks and yellows, even white daffodils clustering in to frame the purple and blue flowers. She thought with a boast of pride that her garden was surely one of the best on the planet Ramdidia, thinking how it was oddly reminiscent of the garden back on her birth world.
It was these quite moments that she often thought of Arus, thinking back to the last hectic days when she and her husband had made their mad cap escape from the castle. The details were still fresh in her mind, the woman remembering their last moments inside the cruiser. She had been stunned by her husband’s suggestion, barely blinking as she stared at him.
He hadn’t delayed, moving into action to rig the ship’s engines to blow, leaving the ship set on an auto pilot course as he ushered her to the emergency life pods. They had crammed inside one, waiting until there was a suitable distraction of explosions in the sky to eject from the ship. The pod’s cloaking device came into play there, hiding both the presence of their ship and their life signs from detection. In the midst of the chaos in the sky, no one would notice an extra blip on the screen, not with so many being destroyed and replaced by Doom star cutters.
She still shivered to think how close they had cut it, how they had nearly crashed, or could have been caught by one of the lions. They had been lucky, and though she felt a small amount of guilt for the deception they had caused, the woman refused to let it infringe on her happiness. It still pained her to think of the hardships the people of Arus and Doom must be going through in their grief for their dead prince and princess.
Her husband told her not to worry, to stop causing herself distress with those kinds of thoughts. After all, he would say with a laugh, no one will bother to look for a dead man and woman. That much was true, there had been no unwanted trespassers on Ramdidia, no one to ask troublesome questions. Even her husband’s skin color was accepted without question here on Ramdidia, being a mere oddity at best.
She lifted her head up towards the sun, basking in the warmth as she stood clad in dark blue silk. They had only been living on Ramdidia for a few months now, but in that time they had quickly made friends and allies, rising within the social circles to stand toe to toe with the cream of the crop when it came to the ruling of the planet. They had a home, a place that was safe and full of their love, with empty bedrooms just waiting for the chance to be filled. She knew the nursery would soon get an occupant, the woman placing her hands on her slightly rounded belly.
“Fala?” Her husband had roused from his slumber, sleep still heavy in his voice as he called out to her.
“I’m here.” Fala called back, turning towards the open balcony doors. She could see him moving, slowly sitting up so that the sheets of the bed pooled around his waist. Once she would have blushed to see so much of his body revealed, but now she simply admired the strong lines of his body, eyes lingering over the white treasure trail of hair that disappeared under the sheets.
His blue skin stood out against the red and black sheets, the man looking very much like a sculpture come to life, perfect in every manner. She peered up at his face, for a second mourning the loss of his long hair, seeing the white ruffled and cut short so that bangs framed the sides of his face. His hand lifted, brushing through his hair in an attempt to smooth it out somewhat.
“Come back to bed.” He held out a hand in invitation to her, and she nodded, smiling.
“All right Sincline.” She paused long enough to lock the balcony doors behind her, then padded barefoot towards the bed. Her husband watched her every move, golden cat’s eyes slitted with approval as he stared at the sway of her hips.
“You’re up early.” He said when she joined him on the bed, Sincline pulling back enough to allow her room to snuggle against his side. “Could you not sleep?”
“Hmm, the baby woke me.” Fala said, watching as he caught one long curl of black hair around his finger. It still jarred her to see black where gold once was, Fala having dyed her hair to better help with her new identity. She was just getting to the point where she no longer thought it was strange to be addressed as anything but Fala, her previous name seeming like a distant memory. She knew it was the same with Sincline, the man having to get used to not only a new name, but a whole new way of life and reactions, no longer earning terrified looks at the mere mention of his name.
“The baby?” His eyes glanced down at her belly, pressing a large hand against it. She thrilled at the caress, smile growing wider even as he questioned her. “Not another bout of morning sickness…?”
His concern was touching, Fala cupping his cheek with her hand. “No.” She told him with a shake of her head. “He’s just kicking extra hard this morning. Guess he’s trying to get comfortable.” She added with a giggle.
Sincline was relieved, resting his hand in place as though he hoped to feel the aforementioned kicks. “But he’s calm now?” He almost seemed disappointed when she nodded. “Next time wake me.” He urged. “I want to feel our son too.”
“All right. I will.” Fala promised. He moved his hand, bringing it to her face to brush back her black curls. He did a playful tug on one, watching it spring back into shape when he let go. “Your hair is getting long again.” She pointed out, seeing it brushed past the nape of his neck.
“I’ll have to get it cut again then.” Sincline said with a sigh. She knew it bothered him that he couldn’t grow it out as long as he wanted, but the man felt it was too big a risk for identification if he allowed it to reach it’s previous length.
“You look fine.” Fala assured him. “Very sexy. An almost rakish look to you.”
“Rakish? I can live with that.” He grinned, pressing against her to steal a kiss from her lips. She wasn’t surprised to feel his interest against her, Fala knowing her husband generally woke up in a randy state. She smiled into the kiss, look coy as she reached down to circle her fingers around his burgeoning erection. It made him gasp, Sincline breaking the kiss even as he thrust his hips into her closing fist.
“Fala!” A moan of her name, the gold of his eyes darkening as he looked at her.
“We have some time.” She said huskily, never breaking eye contact with him as she stroked and teased his member. “It’s hours still before the servants wake up, and we don’t have any appointments until after noon. I think you can indulge me in this whim.”
“Gladly!” He gasped out, reaching for her. For one instant Fala thought to tease him by evading his reach, but then his hands landed on her body, and all such thoughts fled her mind. Such a simple thing, a touch on the sides of her waists, but she reacted, shivering in pleasure as he caressed up and down her sides. It thrilled her how he could turn her on just by a quick stroke that avoided all her hot spots. She reasoned it had to do with the way he made her feel, as though every spot of her was cherished.
Her husband worshipped her, and she in turn worshipped him, the pair having turned their backs on everything to be together. Their past lives as Lotor and Allura seemed more like a dream best forgotten, memories unwanted as Fala found she had little in regrets about turning her back on everything she had ever known. They were happy, happy and free, and living out the kind of life they wanted. Together. And together they would always be, even once their hair turned gray with old age, and their skin wrinkled.
Fala couldn’t have wished for anything more in this moment, and she laughed a triumphant sound as she leaned in to capture her husband’s mouth. Sometimes fate laid out the path for you to take, and other times you had to forge your own. But if you were strong, and brave, and smart, you’d come out richer for the experience. She knew they had, finding not only the perfect ending, but the perfect start to a new life together.