Despite the chaos, the confusion and cacophony of sound that had previously inundated every space - to the point where it was all she could hear- it was the princess' sobs afterwards that cut through the heart. It echoed across the place, the sound of her heartbreak reverberating against the walls. Even from the little hidden nook Romelle had shyly emerged from, reasonably far from where they all were, she could make out Allura's trembling shoulders as she pressed her hands against Lotor's prone form.

Lotor, who somehow came back from the depths of the underworld like a nightmare from the other side of the galaxy, an agent of chaos and treachery. He had fought the paladins, then attacked the evil witch that brought him here. He looked her in the eye, Romelle recalled, trembling. He let Haggar get close to him, her spindly fingers caressing his face, and he plunged his hand, clawed, electric, into her chest, her heart in between his fingers out through her back. She crumbled to dusty particles of crystallized quintessence, her final screech a knife to their senses. She wondered, if she hadn't needed a moment to recover from the sound, if she would have heard him cackling even from her hiding spot.

Romelle had always known deep in her bones from a young age, Lotor had always been the most frightening villain of them all. She tightened her grip on her wrist, the pressure an attempt to stop the shivers within in her limbs. The witch might've been formidable, but Lotor never had any loyalty, no limits he wouldn't cross. Everyone could tell that the witch was evil, but nobody seemed to realize that about Lotor. Lotor, who betrayed everyone, who took and took and took while claiming to give.

Lotor, who now seemed to be dying, but the princess wouldn't let him.

Romelle couldn't hear him, his voice perhaps too weak if he indeed had said anything. But his hand slowly, gently pried Allura's hands away from the wound on his side she was trying to heal. His body, infused with raw quintessence, burned Romelle's eyes, like when she stared too hard at the sun. Allura's voice was becoming more frantic, more pained, her glowing hands insistently gliding over him as his extremities seemed like they wanted to disperse, like an illusion, like he was an afterimage left behind, ultraviolet shadows overlayed and shivering on top of each other. Tiny flecks of something like gold dust dripped from the tips of his fingers, slowly dispersing and floating lazily in the air. His wound glowed white gold through the crack in his armor, his white hair had an aura of its own splayed on the floor.

The princess had a plea in her voice, and Romelle felt disgust as Lotor calmly, quietly responded, as he pried her hands away from him once more. Allura had a stricken look on her face, as if he delivered a slap to the face. That monster always relied on his words to break people.

Romelle had heard it all, how Allura had pleaded with him as they fought, bled tears and sweat and blood and energy calling his name. Romelle had heard it all, but couldn't bring herself to get out of her hiding spot to watch the battle unfold, couldn't bear the thought of it. Her fear had reached a depth she never knew as she heard Lotor's voice, his screams, his growls, his presence magnified by the quintessence in his system. It made him seem bigger, sharper in her mind, like her nightly terrors amplified to new heights she had never known before. She had never thought she could be more frightened than the night her brother died.

And now Allura was crying as it seemed that all that power was finally breaking him. Romelle swallowed against the lump in her throat, dared to take a step closer, telling herself that the nightmare was finally over. She looked at all the paladins gathered around him, their facial expressions, most of their gazes averted as Allura's tears streaked down her cheeks, as she tried to heal him. Romelle didn't dare come any closer to the cloud of grief surrounding them, the few steps she took had been leaden.

Heartbeat pounding in her ears, she dared to look at the monster that caused them all such pain. It took her a long while to process the sight of him, the fact that he now seemed to have Altean marks on his cheeks. They glowed just as brightly as his hair, as his eyes, as the quintessence particles coming out as he exhaled. He was looking in Allura's direction but didn't seem to see her, his hand holding hers on his chest, away from his wound, with an air resembling sad, stoic resignation.

Romelle tightened her fists against her sides, a cold wave of hate sweeping over her at the sight. She didn't know if she wanted Allura to remove her hands altogether or deny him his wish.

That cold hate spiked into fear as his blue eyes suddenly turned to her.

Lotor looked so unlike his regular self now. The time spent in the quintessence field seemed to have rattled him more than any other exile, but he still radiated power - raw, more unhinged, but still power. Still unpredictable, if no moreso. Still dangerous. She willed herself to glare at him defiantly, at his prone, shattered form, at his wounds sapping away his strength. To send all her hate and hurt through her eyes, to pierce him through his armor some more, to make him bleed out with her pain.

He looked at her, and it seemed like he stopped breathing right then. He froze at the sight of her, and Romelle did as well for a brief second, wondering if this was it, if she had been the last thing he saw before he died. But he then lowered his lashes with a pinch in his brows, expression torn, and let the air left in his lungs come out in a sigh. The gold dust kept rising all around him and Allura. He opened his shimmering eyes once more towards Romelle, his stare pinning her in place, his Altean marks glowing beautifully, eerily. Still looking at her, his fingers glided over Allura's hand, cupped it in his palm, then gently placed it against his wound. He closed his eyes as the blue light swept across him.