#alluran

Every other paladin's story gets told. Every other paladin gets to grow old.

Sheeva died in the battle for Altea. He died distracting Zarkon long enough for Alfor to get the final blow in.

His father died in the battle as well. Alfor knew that Zarkon wouldn’t stop until he was dead and he was right. With his last dying breath; Zarkon stabbed him straight through the heart. Then there was nothing.

There were no screams.

No fanfare.

Only silence for miles.

The soldiers took away their killed and wounded. They delivered the news to their families as soon as possible.

Lance didn’t find out about Sheeva’s death until months later. There was no indication where he was buried, whether he was in a mass grave, where his belongings were, or if he had any final wishes. It was as if they had simply forgotten him.

It was true that Shiro wasn’t as well liked as some of the other soldiers. He was opinionated, he had questions about every decision that was made by his higher-ups. People thought that he was taking advantage of being a future paladin and thought that he was better than regular soldiers.

It wasn’t true. It was never true. If they truly knew Sheeva, they would know and they would be ashamed to even think that.

Every other paladin received the highest honours, their war stories shared across the galaxy but not Sheeva. Why? Why didn’t they give him the credit he deserved? Even if Sheeva had a say in the processing, he wouldn’t have pressed for his name to be remembered. He just wanted to make a difference and he was shunned for it; by both the military and the civilians.

But when you're gone, who remembers your name? Who keeps your flame? Who tells your story? Who tells your story?

Alluran

I put myself back in the narrative.

He couldn’t let Altea forget Sheeva. There was so much that they just didn’t understand, that they didn’t ever consider.

They never looked past their own egos. They didn’t see that he was helping them. That he wanted to make their lives better but because he wanted to change things he wasn’t worth listening to.

I stop wasting time on tears. I live another fifty years. It's not enough.

There was a time and a place for grief. That time had passed. He gave his fair share of tears, he spent his fair share of nights awake, aching for his love. He let himself fall apart and cry himself to sleep each night. But he knew that he was the only one that would fight for Sheeva’s memory, he was the only one that wouldn’t forget about him so easily.

I interview every soldier who fought by your side. I tell their story.

He talked to whoever he could. Anyone that had any contact with Sheeva, he wanted to know. He found Sheeva’s closest friends, they mourned alongside him. They told him all the good things Sheeva wanted to accomplish after the war was won.

They shared stories of the war, told everyone that would listen about the sacrifices that were made.

I try to make sense of your thousands of pages of writings. You really do write like you're running out of time.

Sheeva always wrote down everything, his arguments to commands, what he thought should change, who he thought should change. No matter what it was, he wrote it down.

His arguments made people question his loyalty, his notes made people think twice. He had everything from current events that he believed needed to change for the better, for future projects that would have revolutionized the planet.

I rely on Allura. While she’s alive, we tell your story. She is buried in the Castle gardens near you. When I needed her most, she was right on time.

He would never be able to thank Allura enough. She was patient and understanding. It nearly broke him when he lost her as well. A virus they said and she fought for so long but it wasn’t enough.

He had her buried in the Castle’s gardens, where he had Sheeva’s memorial placed.

She helped him whenever he needed, she never turned him away.

And I'm still not through I ask myself, "What would you do if you had more time?"

Whenever he thought about his progress, he thought of Sheeva and what he would have been fighting for if only he were alive. It always felt like more to Alluran, like he couldn’t do nearly as much as Sheeva would accomplish. It never mattered though, as long as he was continuing his fight, he was doing more than most after the war.

If only he had been given more time, just a little bit more and he would have changed the world. Maybe even the universe if he was given the opportunity. There wasn’t anything Sheeva couldn’t do if he put his mind to it and he believed in his own abilities.

It was always Alluran’s favourite thing about him; he never hesitated as long as he was confident in his ideas.

The Lord, in his kindness. He gives me what you always wanted. He gives me more time.

He’s lasted far longer than any of his friends, he lost his sister, his mother wasn’t going to be here much longer. He wasn’t going to waste the gift he was given though; he still had so much more to do.

He would fight in Sheeva’s place. Help him accomplish what he wasn’t able to in his lifetime. He would be the soldier this time.

I raise funds in the Capital for Father’s monument. I tell his story.

Sheeva always admired King Alfor. He wanted to learn everything about him, wanted to always be by his side. There wasn’t a soldier in the Altean army that was more loyal. If he had known that Alfor perished in the battle, he would never let anyone forget his sacrifice.

The council wanted to forget about the war completely; write off the entire thing like it was a tragic accident so they wouldn’t have such a stain on their history. Instead, Lance fought for a monument to commemorate the soldiers that fought valiantly for their planet. To give them the credit they were due.

He gained the favour of the public and the planning started.

It’s not enough.

I speak out against slavery. You could have done so much more if you only had time.

When Alluran first heard the word hoktril, it ran a shiver straight up his spine. The council was presented with the invention and right away were intrigued. But Alluran fought, he argued and defended the rights of his people until his very last breath.

Yes, the council had more power over the royal family but Alluran never gave up. He fought to unite the people, show the cruelty that was involved, showed them their Altean roots.

He won that fight.

The council was replaced.

But it’s not enough.

And when my time is up, have I done enough? Will they tell our story?

He thought about his progress too much. He thought about if was doing enough, if they would finally put Sheeva in the history books alongside his parents and sister. Or even if he was going to be remembered after his death.

Why wasn’t he able to do enough? When does he earn his legacy? When does he earn Sheeva’s legacy?

Will it ever be enough?

Oh. Can I show you what I'm proudest of? I established the first private orphanage in Altea.

Everyone was affected after the war; there wasn’t a single person who hadn’t lost something dear to them. He wanted to do what he could for anybody but the ones he tried to help the most were the children.

Before the war, there weren’t many children that didn’t have parents, or at least some sort of family left. He saw them begging on the streets, just hoping that one day they’d be picked up and taken care of. He couldn’t just leave them alone, they deserved a life.

He planned the entire construction himself, got the public involved, spread awareness of the problem, had volunteers flooding the centre. He stood outside the building, hands on his hips, it was his crowning achievement.

It’s not enough.

I help to raise hundreds of children. I get to see them growing up. In their eyes I see you, Sheeva. I see you every time.

Getting to be a part of their lives made up for the ache in his heart.

Seeing their perspective change because of a small thing he did for them was worth more than anything. Many of them came to his home beaten down, but he saw the hope come back over time.

He found Kei wandering the streets one day, dirty, thin as a stick and glaring at anything that moved towards him. He couldn’t plan him; the public became unkind especially to a child with a Galran parent. Even though he was also half Altean, they didn’t show him any kindness. He approached carefully, drawing his cloak hood down to reveal his face. As he thought he was instantly recognized and the child fell to his knees, shaking, apologies spewing out of his mouth.

“I’m sorry-if I had known p-please don’t h-hurt me,” tears rolled down his cheeks and he kept his eyes firmly on the ground. Alluran frowned and gently pulled his face up to look at him.

“Do you need help little one?” He asked simply. Kei only looked at him in shock before he burst into sobs and nodded his head frantically. Alluran gave him a soft smile and gently picked him up. He weighed practically nothing in his arms

He made a life for himself, he found friends; Pera and Hun. They both lost their parents in the war as well and they became a united front. He would never tell the others but they were secretly his favourites.

And when Kei finally looked up at him like he had found peace in the world that had wronged him, he thought.

‘Have I finally done enough?’

And when my time is up. Have I done enough? Will they tell my story?

He laid on his deathbed. Dozens of the orphans he helped raised surrounded him, some were approaching the middle of their lives; others were just barely children. He made a difference in their lives.

But was it enough?

Would they tell his story to others? Would they tell their families about what he had done?

Will they remember?

It wasn’t nearly as scary as it thought it would be to die. Kei was there, so was Pera, and Hun. More than anything, he didn’t want to leave them alone. They had families now, yes, but it didn’t erase the love he had for them for the last fifty years.

Kei reached out and grabbed his hand, pulling it closer so he could nuzzle it. Tears fell on Alluran’s hand; he wanted so desperately to wipe his tears away, tell him that it was going to be okay but he knew his time was up.

“It’s okay Pa, you can let go,” Kei whispered with a quivering smile.

Oh, I can't wait to see you again. It's only a matter of time.

He remembered the first time he even saw Sheeva. They were both young; he was in basic training and Alluran was doing etiquette lessons in the gardens. He was minding his own business about to take a sip of tea, back straight, fingers on the handle and eyes directed to his cup. But then a regiment jogged past and his eyes snapped to them.

Immediately he met equally wide, cool silver eyes and he was lost. His teacup ended up in his lap and Sheeva tripped over his own feet and slammed into the ground.

Alluran shrieked and hopped away from his chair and danced around the garden trying to cool the hot tea all over his clothes and skin. His governess hadn’t been pleased but there was only so much you could do when your charge was hopping all over the yard.

At least he found him.

Tears slid down his cheeks as he stared up at the ceiling. Kei let out a concerned whine and leaned over him.

“It’s okay Kei,” he whispered reassuringly. “I’m just thinking of him,” Kei nodded in understanding. His breathing started getting shallow and his eyes started to slip shut. His life flashed before his eyes, Sheeva smiling at him from across the courtyard, coming back after a long mission, or sneaking into their bedroom with a bouquet of flowers.

He couldn’t wait to see him again, eventually, he would.

With his last breath, he whispered “We’ll meet again darling,”