#illyere

I forgot to post this??? Like a dumbass???

Chapters: 37/37 Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Shiro/Coran Characters: Coran (Voltron), Shiro (Voltron), Allura (Voltron), Original Characters, Pidge | Katie Holt, spoiler characters Additional Tags: Fluff and Angst, Awkward Crush, Illnesses, Scars, Nightmares, War, Spies & Secret Agents Series: Part 1 of Bandage-Bound Summary:

They bond over shared history. Old soldiers share scars, after all. Then other feelings begin complicating matters. (chapters written on request at tumblr and altered according to place in timeline; shares worldbuilding with Mission Logs, but does not take place in the same timeline.)

Hey.

Hey @notllorstel

Ooh, fun! Let’s see...

- Zarkon - weapons no, wait, that’s boring. Pretty rocks with quintessence in them. he sleeps on the pile to recharge himself.

- Alfor - Small items from all his friends and family. Preserved flowers from Allura, handmade dolls from Illyere, notes from Coran, etc.

- Dracha - A pool full of water plants from a bunch of different planets.

- Joitree - Unfinished projects and bits of tech gleaned from god knows where all piled up for her to burrow into and sleep.

- Mirje - A smokeroom full of meat from her own kills and a massive pile of bottled spices.

- Coran - Little souvenir type things from all the planets he and his cohorts have been to. The tackier, the better.

- Illyere - Scrolls, maps, sculptures, recipes, especially from her father’s homeworld. Helps with the times she feels homesick for the desert.

- Allura - Artifacts of Altean culture, carefully collected and kept safe. Would inherit her mother’s hoard as well.

- Keith - KNIVES no, I’m kidding. Hmmm... maps. Lots and lots of maps. And conspiracy boards.

- Hunk - A mixed collection of tech bits and kitchen utensils, meticulously organized and hung up in pretty patterns around the cave walls.

- Shiro - Pillows of all shapes, sizes, and softnesses. Let the boi sleep.

- Lance - A series of pools and tunnels he can dive and swim in as much as he pleases.

- Pidge - Sleeps in a nest of cables, wires, fibers, and other such bits from different alien tech.

You’re a sweetheart. <3

---

Though the hall’s auto-filters had switched on quickly enough to handle most of the cloud that had exploded from the capsule that had landed at his lieges’ feet, Coran still felt dizzy. It would have been nice to have assistance from Illyere, but she was busy crouched over her unconscious husband, a sleeve covering her nose and her healing gift working overtime to keep them both alive.

His jaw clenched at the sight and he turned to face the would-be assassin. It wasn’t entirely surprising to find he was an Adoyen. Their Khagan hadn’t been at all subtle about his desires to annex Altea into the terraforming project he had begun a decade before.

“Tai’jhe!” his opponent snarled, lunging forward with a stab of a spear that was undoubtedly also poisoned.

Coran dodged to the side, the spear glancing off his particle shield, then he made a noise of alarm when he realized he hadn’t been the primary target of the Adoyen’s charge. Using his own momentum, he whipped around and cracked the assassin across the back of the skull with the edge of his shield before the spear could reach Illyere,

The thud of a body hitting the ground was more than a little satisfying, and Coran crouched to make sure the assassin was good and out cold before producing a pair of binding cuffs to make sure he stayed down. “How bad is it?” he asked as he looked up at the king and queen.

“I almost have him clear,” Illyere said, her voice wavering tiredly.

“Good.” He tapped his comm and sent out a request for medical assistance. “Once you’re done, you’re going to the infirmary for rest.”

She must have been truly exhausted, because she didn’t make even a peep of protest.

Y’all let me be so indulgent most of the time that I really had to think for this one. But the one AU I’ve never gotten to play with is Immortal Empress, so let’s reunite some old friends, shall we?

—

Shiro was finding that keeping pace with the leader of the Galra Nation was getting increasingly difficult. On his other side, Honerva was practically having to run. 

“Just what is so vitally important about the survivors of this ship?” she asked between gasps, voicing the question that had been circling in his mind as well.

Zarkon stopped short and the two of them nearly tripped into him. 

“Sir?” Shiro asked cautiously, the tension in the hall making the hair on the back of his neck prickle.

Finally, Zarkon took a deep breath and turned to them. “What do you know about the Empress’ birth?” he asked, looking down at Honerva.

“Er- well, it’s commonly taught as part of the curricular for those of us who work for her that she was a scientific birth. Surrogacy via King Alfor’s genetic donation.”

“That’s an awful lot of words to say she was a test tube baby,” Shiro said, then winced at the glare the shorter scientist leveled at him. 

“Don’t be so crass. It was a great leap in the technology of family procreation,” she snipped, then turned her attention back to Zarkon.

“What if I told you that all of it was a lie?” Zarkon asked softly. “That in truth the Altean Empress had a biological mother?”

Honerva stiffened, her mouth falling open for a moment before she recovered. “You- you can’t possibly know-”

Zarkon turned on his heel and resumed his brisk walk to the hanger, and they both ran to catch back up. “I can, and I do,” he said, his voice carefully neutral as he reached out to punch the command key for the door.

The cryo tubes were being lifted from the retrieval ship by droids with crane-like arms. Shiro tried to ignore the way his stomach clenched at how many of them had the red pattern of lights that indicated the resident was deceased. Maybe they were on the other side, but they were still people. And surely not all of them had-

“Hold,” Zarkon barked, raising a hand, and the droid carrying one of the green-lit chambers froze, then lowered its burden to the floor. 

The Galran leader motioned them to follow, and Shiro and Honerva glanced at each other before obeying, stepping up to peer into the frozen chamber.

The woman who slept inside looked… different from all of the other Alteans Shiro had met. Her dark hair was streaked with lighter shades and her markings-

“This isn’t an Altean,” Honerva said with a slight frown. “But… but this can’t be-”

“Can’t be what?” Zarkon pushed, his expression completely blank.

“The Mabarka are extinct, Zarkon. Alfor-”

Zarkon cut her off. “You are partially correct. Until we found her, they very much were.”

Chapters: 36/? Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Shiro/Coran Characters: Coran (Voltron), Shiro (Voltron), Allura (Voltron), Original Characters, Pidge | Katie Holt, spoiler characters Additional Tags: Fluff and Angst, Awkward Crush, Illnesses, Scars, Nightmares, War, Spies & Secret Agents Series: Part 1 of Bandage-Bound Summary:

They bond over shared history. Old soldiers share scars, after all. Then other feelings begin complicating matters. (chapters written on request at tumblr and altered according to place in timeline; shares worldbuilding with Mission Logs, but does not take place in the same timeline.)

Let’s see if we can’t do a little of both, hm?

---

He feels dizzy. 

He feels heavy.

He feels like the stars and sky have opened up for him to fall in and get swallowed whole.

Then a hand is holding his and he sucks in a sharp gasp of air, his body finally recognizing that he had stopped breathing.

It doesn’t stop the feeling like he’s dropping from a great height.

“What is this?” Shiro asks weakly, and it takes far too much effort to turn his head to where Coran and Illyere are sitting at his side, Coran squeezing his hand tightly. “What’s happening?”

“I’m so sorry, Shiro,” Coran says, soft and concerned as Illyere gets up and drapes something cold and sweet-smelling over his forehead. “I should have been faster.”

Shiro blinks at him stupidly. “Huh?” he asks, unable to manage anything more coherent than that.

“You got stuck in a Rorallian meditation chamber,” Illyere says, and another cold sweet thing is wrapped around his throat.

Finally, it feels less like freefall and more like a gentle float. He takes another deep gasp, and it clears his head a tiny bit. A tiny bit. “I’m... I’m guessing that was a bad thing?”

Coran snorts, his worry finally lightening, and Illyere hides a smile. “That’s one way to put it. The crystals down there are attuned for Rorallian physiology only. You might as well have eaten an erukian halomatrical fruit.”

Oh. Oh, he’s heard about those. “Now I know to never try one,” he mutters, and that earns some muffled chuckles.

“I’ll be back with more herbal cloths,” Illyere says.

And then he’s alone with Coran, with the hand around his own keeping him grounded. “Don’t let go?” he asks, not caring how pitiful it sounds.

The humans had tried. 

One by one, with varying degrees of discomfort, they had offered their condolences along with Allura’s crown.

Their efforts had done nothing to alleviate the cold chill of pain that nested in his chest, and, eventually, his frustration at them trying had made him retreat to the depths of the Atlas, hiding alone with his grief.

Alone.

What an awful word to suddenly encompass his entire existence. Finally, there were other Alteans, but they might as well have been another species, as little as he shared with them. And he had made peace with that, comforted by the knowledge that Allura would be the bond between their generations. That she would find a love and have a family again and things would work.

And now all that was gone.

Allura was gone, like her parents and all their friends and family.

And he was alone.

Resting his forehead against his knees, Coran closed his eyes and wished he would never wake again.

—

“Oh, where the fair space winds swell, And the stars in the sky all fell, Where the ships of the Joryu dwell, Are the signal lights of Alpamali…”

Coran blinked sleepily at the familiar words. The familiar voice. The smell of quulin spice filling his nose.

A shadow leaned over him, and he became aware that his head was resting in her lap. “Illyere?” he asked, uncertain and terrified he was wrong.

Long claws gently carded through his hair, and the ghost smiled. “Hello, Red.”

His throat and his eyes both stung, and he reached up with shaking hands to clasp hers. “Am… Have I died?”

“Not yet, old man.”

Oh. Oh, he couldn’t breathe. He forced himself to sit up and there they were.

There they were. 

And in an instant, shame flooded his heart to douse the wonder like a tidal wave snuffing a candle. “Alfor… Illyere. I… I failed. I couldn’t keep my promise. I’m sorry-”

A solid weight slammed into him from behind with enough force to knock the wind from him, and he was still trying to get air back in his lungs when there was a broken sniffle from the thing clinging to him like a snake.”

“I’m sorry,” Allura said, burying her face into his neck. “I’m the one who left, not you.”

“But-… but I-”

“You’re not going to win this one, Klaka. Might as well let her have it.”

The dam broke. Hunching forward, he began to sob as arms tightened around him and hands held his and claws petted his hair. “I can’t do this. I miss you. I miss you all so much.”

“Hmm, and it is most welcome to hear your heartsong again.”

“But it’s not time, buddy.”

“You still have spark in you, yet.”

“And we don’t mind waiting for you to catch up. Wake up, dearheart.”

His eyes snapped open, and he was back in the hold of the Atlas. 

The spice smell still lingered in the air, and when he picked up Allura’s crown from where it had fallen out of his lap, it seemed to shine much brighter than when he had brought it down. 

He bit his lip and clutched it to his chest.

They would wait for him.