Been having trouble putting words on paper - digitally speaking. I get writer's inertia: the less I write, the less I am inspired to write. So - I'm writing - anything, random scenes, etc... The wordsmith's equivalent of a "warmup sketch" if you will. Have a snippet that could be an extension of Hades' Covenant.. or something. I do always intend to finish what I've started and hope to have a proper update to something soon, but in the meantime... random scene!
***
A low grumble echoed around the room as the deposed king slowly raised his eyes irritably from the parchment in front of him to the young girl across the room.
"Careful."
Serpentine eyes slid sideways to lock with his son's warning stance.
Lotor's body remained taut, his lips pressed thin and his lethal expression narrowed on his father. To his credit, his palms remained around either end of the unfurled scroll he had open before him and did not reach for his saber at his side - an act that did not go unnoticed by the elder.
"Tch," he snuffed, looking back toward the maps stretched in front of his war table. Lotor's eyes lingered on the old man.
"There!"
Zarkon leaned back abruptly in his chair as the little girl thrust a chubby wrist in front of him, pointing to a place on the map in front of him.
A brief look of concern flashed across his face as he heard his son roll up the map in his hands and stride over. Zarkon scooted back further from the table as wide, brown eyes enshrined in dark amber stared up at him, and he ensured enough distance that his son could not mistake any threat as the little girl leaned closer.
"I want to conquer this!" She looked over as Lotor approached, peering over to see what she had pointed out.
"And why is that," he inquired gently.
"Umm," she withdrew her hand and tucked it under her chin in a manner she had seen her father do many times when regarding maps. Or documents. Or, really anything that didn't involve a battle. Allura had always been better with- "I like the snow." Her words interrupted his train of thought as she pointed out the snow-covered peaks.
"Very good," he praised, paying no mind as Zarkon stood up and stepped away from his war table; once pristine with maps of local and distant threats, potential resources and strategies, now turned into a child's playpen.
"It is?" Her eyes lit up at the praise.
"It's good to know what you want," he confirmed. "So. Do you want the snow that is there?"
"Can I have it?"
Pride swelled in Lotor's chest at the hope and desire that echoed out at him. She was still too young to go out on an actual campaign - something his nervous wife was going to hold him to to the very day she came of age, he was certain - but she was showing all the excitement for planning it well in advance.
"Of course, though it may melt once you bring it back here. It's too warm to stay here."
The young girl continued to consider her spoils of war.
"What about a big box?"
"A cold box?" A snowy eyebrow arched as she bobbed her head up and down. "You would only be able to play with it inside the box," he pointed out.
Zarkon couldn't contain the eyeroll as he pretended to look busy studying the maps hanging on the wall, his back studiously turned to his son and granddaughter.
Still.
Even he of all people had to acknowledge that an unexpected thread of conquest laced her veins, despite her maternal line's counter-inclination toward such activities.
He chanced a regarding glance over his shoulder toward the child. Pointed ears poked from beneath voluminous silver hair, the faintest touch of gold reflecting off the strands in just the right light. Despite the lineage, it was clear the child was Drule and proud; her cheekbones sturdy even in her youth against her mist-colored skin.
And yet - there.
The ceaseless, damnable haunting.
As the girl tilted her head in her grandfather's direction, the unusually rounded chocolate eyes glanced his way once more. Despite their customary place against a honeyed backdrop, her gaze was entirely foreign to the Drule, and Zarkon felt the bones in his body tighten every time she looked his way. Eyes he had only ever seen once before, but he had had the carnal joy to witness the life leave them as he thrust his blade.
And now they watched him. With curiosity, nonetheless, as if the man were taunting him from beyond the grave. Perhaps he was.
Damn you, wretched king - first your daughter to unseat me. Now you watch me.
The sound of Lotor's cough drew his senses back to the present just long enough to realize he was scowling at his granddaughter.
Damnable Arusian women, he thought dryly, turning back to his maps.
"There is a growing presence in the Eastern Front of the Crimson Quadrant," he offered after a moment passed.
"Oh?" Lotor's defensive posture straightened as his father resumed his role as war council. "Concern?"
"Not yet. Though a heavy hand might mitigate any issues in the future."
"I will discuss it with Allura," Lotor murmured, considering the option. "Father-" the clipped warning tone practically growled out of his throat at the sound of his father's laugh. "How dare-"
"No, no - How dare you, my son," Zarkon snapped back, his amusement evaporating into annoyance. "If you think her so fragile as to be troubled by my ridicule."
Lotor paused, stunned for a moment. His head cocked to the side as if he hadn't heard the old man clearly.
"…Did you just… complem-"
"Of course not, you damned idiot!"
Zarkon blundered past the shocked king and made his way out of the war room. A moment rolled by in silence before a gentle tug roused him from his stupor.
"…Are you alright, Father?"
Lotor blinked and glanced down to a very concerned daughter, staring up as him, fingers curled around his palm.
"I… I am," he affirmed, leaning over to scoop her up into his arms.
"Is grandfather mad?"
Difficult question - the codger was always angry about something. Justified or not was not important.
"I actually think he's beginning to warm up to your mother," he murmured, finding the statement bewildering as he spoke it. "But let's not tell her that, okay? Our secret."
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Tags: @loturaweek2024 @crystal-rebellion Defenders of the Universe, not sure what to tag this I'd take suggestions ngl
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He had done it.
Lotor had won.
Arus had fallen, its princess captured, its alien defenders shackled in chains and kept in a cell, ready to be slaughtered in the arena, Lotor’s father had even spoken approvingly of him. The Drule had thrown a vast celebration, drinking red juice and cheering his name in the streets.
He’d gotten everything he’d ever wanted.
So why didn’t he feel satisfied?
He prowled down the hallways towards his chambers, something itching and listless scuttling beneath his skin.
Was it disappointment at the thrill of the hunt coming to an end? Did he enjoy the chase more than the prize? No, no, there were any number of times that Voltron had left him miserable and licking his wounds, mocked by his father and his people, scolded and disparaged and resentful. The only thing that had kept him going was the bright and shining, golden goal of Allura. With her rosey pinks and tumbling golden hair, the very prize that now awaited him in his own chambers, his harem girls instructed to prepare her for him.
He should’ve felt elated. He’d dreamt and daydreamed and wistfully longed after this for what felt like millenia, but what could only in truth be a small handful of years.
So why didn’t he feel satisfied?
He won. He had everything that he wanted. He should feel satisfied.
He opened the door to his chambers to Allura, tied by her wrists with stolen silk from a conquered planet, bound to his bed, wearing sheer pinks and soft mauves, golden accents and a look of hatred that should’ve titillated him, should’ve spurred something hot and competitive within him, should’ve made his fangs wet with chase and split him into a grinning fool.
He felt—wrong.
“Lotor,” she spat with a venom unprecedented, and it should’ve excited him, thrilled him, stirred him in every sense of the word. He should’ve delighted at finally having her, having her here, having her his, claiming the victory that he was rightfully owed .
He pulled out a knife, and couldn’t hear the startled cries of protest through the rushing in his ears.
He cut the silk that bound her, both of them staring at the fragments with muted shock as they fluttered to the mattress and the ground below.
“What are you doing?” she asked, venomless, hollow, confused.
“Freeing you,” he said, an answer off his tongue before his mind had the chance to conceive it.
She looked up at him with her big blue eyes, the thin length of her neck exposed by the dress that fell neatly off her shoulders, exposing her collarbone, it should’ve enticed him, should have allured him, but he couldn’t look away from her face. Not when she was looking at him like that.
“Why?” she breathed, confused as he felt.
And her single word forced him to answer both his own question and hers. “Because this isn’t what I wanted.”
My take on this months Mermay DOTU Edition #lotor #allura #dotu #dotura #lotura #myart #brimdraws https://www.instagram.com/p/CAqCHjDAHIQ/?igshid=1ayplleh7bw12
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