Lotor may have split the Law of Cycles in two, but Allura still has memories telling her the world is not supposed to be this way.
So, this is an old fic that was originally meant for Day Seven: Magic/Miracles of @allurashipweek all the way back in 2017. I stumbled upon it in my Google Docs, and I decided to finish it. Ships are one-sided Lotura as well as pre-romantic Shallurat. Contains very mild body horror.
AO3
FFN
“We have a new transfer student,” Mr. Iverson said. He turned his head towards the door. “You can come in.”
As he turned to the board to write down the student's name, a girl with pale hair tied up in a bun with a blue ribbon walked in. Her blue eyes scanned the room.
Blue? Why blue?
“Hi,” the girl said. “My name is Allura Brooks, and I transferred here from Arus. I lived there for ten years, but my father’s job transferred us back to Altea.”
You've never been to Arus; you've lived here your whole life.
Allura blinked. Ever since arriving back in Altea, she'd been getting feelings that something about the city was wrong. However, the feelings of wrongness hadn't been so strong outside the classroom. “I, um, I hope you will accept me as your classmate!” She shuffled to her seat, face burning.
At the end of the first class, a boy with long white hair kept in a ponytail by a pink ribbon approached her. He wore a triangle-shaped earring on his right ear. “Allura, right? I'm Lotor. You didn't look that great earlier. Do you want me to take you to the nurse?”
You already know the -
Lotor softly snapped his fingers at his side.
“Yes, please,” Allura said. She got up out of her seat and followed him.
With every step she took, the feelings of wrongness increased.
Why is he leading you?
Why are you a transfer student?
Why you?
Why?
“I don't belong here,” Allura said, gazing out the large windows of Altea Middle School. As Lotor turned to look at her, her long hair escaped its blue ribbon.
“I should be somewhere else,” she said as her eyes turned pink. Starlight spiralled out of her and into the surrounding area. “But where?”
Lotor ran to her, pulling the ribbon out of his hair. “Allura, what do you think is more important? Your own happiness or that of everyone else?”
Allura blinked; her eyes returned to blue as the hallway returned to normal. “If we're talking about everyone everyone, then everyone else, of course.”
Lotor handed her the ribbon. “If you really think that, then we will always be enemies.” He turned and began to walk away. “Keep the ribbon. It suits you better.”
”There's been a lot of transfer students lately,” a boy from the class next door said to Shiro, who sat a few seats away from Allura. She was pretty sure his name was Matt.
He doesn't go to school.
Allura shook her head slightly as she ate another bite of the food her stepdad had prepared for her. She loved Coran, but she wouldn't be surprised if his cooking was messing with her head.
“A guy transferred to my sister's class the other day,” Matt continued.
His entire family is dead.
Allura stood up, grabbed her lunch, and walked outside of the classroom. Maybe fresh air would help clear her head.
“Quiznak, do you think she heard me?” Matt asked. Shiro pinched his brow with his right hand.
He lost it years ago in an accident.
That was crazy. Impossible. Allura’s hands tightened into fists. What the quiznak was going on?
“Um, Allura?” Matt called out before school the next day. She turned to look at him. “I’m sorry for gossiping about you.”
He never would have apologized before. Shiro is a good influence on him.
“Would you be apologizing if I hadn't overheard your conversation? That being said, we’re even because I was eavesdropping on you,” she replied.
Matt looked surprised for a second, but then smiled. “Glad you think that way. I'm Matt. You want to sit with Shiro and I?”
It had been a week since Allura had transferred - returned? - to Altea. Since then, she had developed fast friendships with Shiro and Matt. She wondered if she had met either of them prior to moving to Arus, because her relationship with the two of them felt like she was picking up the pieces right where she had left them, or at least had met them in a dream.
Lotor felt very similar, but a sense of foreboding came with him. She twisted the pink ribbon in her fingers. Across the street from the trio, a group of odd-looking goth girls threw tomatoes at a tortured-looking cat. Others beat it with baseball bats, chanting in German.
Allura got up from the bench, fists clenched.
“Whoa, what’s wrong?” Matt asked. Allura turned to her friends.
“What's wrong? Can't you see what those girls are doing to that poor thing?” Her hands accidentally brushed along theirs.
“What girls,” Shiro started, but then his eyes widened. “Matt, Princess, we need to run.”
“Princess?” Matt and Allura said in unison. As Lotor started walking towards them, feathers floating around him and an odd looking sword in his hand, Shiro transformed. His bangs turned from black to white, a scar formed across his nose, and he wore black, purple, and white armor with a cape fastened by a glowing gem pendant. His right arm disappeared into light, only for a shining silver-and-black floating prosthetic to form in its place.
“Kurobos! Come forth!” Shiro said, pointing at the dog surrounding the river. A giant black lion dressed like a Roman gladiator flew out on a pair of wings that looked suspiciously like human hands.
Witch.
You must destroy it with your own two -
You don't have that -
Shiro's here but his witch is too.
How?
You need to stop -
You sent it to protect -
Witches only destroy.
Allura barely struggled when Shiro dragged her away from Lotor and the witch, too drowned out by the cacophony of thoughts.
“Shiro, I’d ask you if you're crazy, but either all of this is real or Allura has LSD or something on her,” Matt said, still slightly out of breath after their mad dash from Lotor and Shiro’s hurried explanation of how the world as they knew it was the creation of a demon.
“Excuse me?” Allura glared at the shorter boy.
“It wasn't until you started waving your hands around that we could see those goth girls. Not to mention that there's no way any of this could be real! A goddess torn in two and fallen to Earth, and to top it off me wanting people to believe that, believe that Dad…” Matt shook his head. “No, it can’t be true.”
“Well, it’s not like I…” Allura trailed off.
It’s true.
“I don’t understand what’s going on any more than you do,” Allura said instead. “But I feel like there’s something wrong with Altea. I… I’m pretty sure I’m not a goddess, though, despite what Shiro says.”
Shiro gave them both a sad smile. “I mean, not anymore, and you weren’t originally. Lotor made sure of that.”
“But seriously? Shiro, you know my dad, you know he wouldn’t do that!” Matt shouted. The revelation that his father had killed everyone in the Holt family but Matt was too horrifying to think of.
Shiro stopped smiling, pressing his lips together. “Look, the old world wasn’t a happy one, but this world is wrong. Lotor’s going to come after us, and at best we can hope he’ll just erase our memories.”
“And at worst?” Matt asked.
“Probably nothing good,” Shiro replied, rubbing at where his natural arm ended.
“If I take back the power that Lotor supposedly took from me,” Allura mused, “could I remake the world again, but this time make it both happy and not mess with the laws of reality?”
Shiro shrugged, and Matt smiled at her. It was rather assuring for Allura.
“Okay, so how do we fight Lotor?” Matt said, turning his gaze from Allura to Shiro.
“Well, first we should probably find Kyubey,” Shiro said, “and hope he hasn’t made any contracts.”
“Wait, any wish?” Pidge asked. “Like, you could make me taller? Or make our classmates stop being mean to me? Or -”
“Or you could bring my dad back?” Keith interjected.
Kyubey swished his tail. “Of course! All you’ll have to do is make a contract with me and become magical paladins!”
Breaks down the door almost an entire month late to present day three of Allura Ship Week because I’m WEAK for these beautiful royal females.
I did this for ‘dreams’ because, let’s be real, this is a dream team ny’all. I love women who are royalty, fierce, but sympathetic and willing to admit their flaws. And just really pretty to look at.
Also because I wanted to play with Allura’s shape shifting abilities, I designed her into a mermaid form. +w+ I personally like what I designed but if they ever visit the mermaid planet again and Allura shape shifts to be able to stand the waters, I’d love to see what design she’d have.
(Sighs while hopelessly in love with these fictional beauties.)
Summary:
Allura may not have had a chance to go shopping before, but that won't stop the mice now.
Especially not when they've roped Lance in to help.
My (late) submission for Day 1 of Allura Ship Week.
Can be read as romantic or platonic.
For reference, Platt is the yellow mouse, Chuchule is the pink mouse, Chulatt is the small blue mouse, and Plachu is the green mouse with red eyes
Read on AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/11382411
Allura truly loved Coran with all her heart, but there were moments where it was a bit hard to remember that. For example, this very moment.
“Do you think he’s being a bit overbearing?” she asks the mice, and Chuchule squeaks in agreement.
Chulatt sends a thought - Balmera hurt theirs healed Balmera theirs tired theirs dying - and Platt cuddles closer against her fingers.
A frown sneaks its way onto her lips, and Allura sighs as she puts the mice on her shoulders. “I suppose you’re right,” she says. “I had strained myself. But still, sometimes I would simply like to—”
Plachu scampers down her arm. - theirs want sparkle bright shiny theirs want outside? -
“Yes,” she murmurs. “Sometimes I would like to explore, and find something shiny.”
Platt curls against her neck - mice love theirs theirs love mice? - and Allura starts.
“Of course I enjoy your company!” she exclaims, and runs a finger over each of their heads. Plachu shies away, as per usual, but Chuchule preens under the attention. Allura’s voice softens, and she looks at the control board.
“Sometimes, your company is the only reason that the waiting is bearable.”
The mice squeak sadly in unison, and then there are little paws at her cheeks and in her hair.
- love theirs sparkle theirs shine theirs love theirs -
Allura scoops the mice into her hands again, and smiles down at them.
“I love you all as well. Even gems don’t sparkle as brightly as you.”
Chuchule puffs up and Plachu wraps his tail around her pinky, and Allura is content in that moment.
The mice, however?
Not so much.
Lance stares at the mice.
The mice stare back.
“Alright, so you want me to sneak Allura out of the castle and avoid getting in trouble with Coran?”
The mice squeak in unison. They don’t stop with the staring.
Lance crosses his arms, one eyebrow raised. “And what makes you think that I can do that?”
Platt puts his tail over his mouth like he has a mustache, Plachu makes finger gun motions, and is promptly crushed in a hug by Platt.
“I’m not Coran’s favourite.”
Chuchule squeaks as if in judgement, Chulatt turns big soulful eyes on him, and Lance shrugs defensively.
“Okay, so maybe I’m a little bit his favourite.” The mice start a chorus of triumphant squeaks but are silenced by Lance wagging his finger at them. “That doesn’t mean it’ll work!”
The mice exchange glances, before Chulatt scales him and rests on the palm of his hand, and poses.
Lance sighs, but he picks up the rest of the mice and bows his head in defeat, so that’s fine.
“Yeah, I want Allura to be happy.” Then he points finger guns at the mice, and they squeak excitedly.
“Let’s do this.”
Operation Sparkly Things is a go.
When she hears a knock on her door, Allura isn’t completely sure what to expect. It certainly isn’t Lance glancing around nervously while the mice chatter soothingly into his ear.
“Hey princess,” he says in that voice that indicates flirting, and Allura's eyes narrow. It’s more of a habit than actual annoyance at this point.
“What is it Lance?” she says wearily, and he grins sheepishly at her. Chuchule and Plachu move to Allura’s shoulders.
- sparkle theirs sparkle blue sparkle mice outside theirs - they tell her as they nestle in her hair, and Allura blinks twice.
“You… would like to take me shopping?” she asks, and her hands find their way onto her hips as her eyes widen the slightest bit. Human body language did have that as an intimidating, but not unkind gesture if she remembered correctly.
Of course, that inspires Lance to do his “finger guns” motion with a leer.
Allura narrows her eyes again.
The leer drops, but the finger guns stay. Acceptable.
“The mice said you wanted to buy some sparkly things, and you didn’t when we went to the mall.” His shoulders hunch and his hands dropped into his pockets. “So, they figured that we could go?”
He doesn’t look at her face, so he misses the surprise blooming onto her features, the smile that curls up like juniberry petals.
“Lance,” she says, and rests a hand on his arm. He looks up at her, eyes widened with what she thinks is surprise. “I would love to.”
Red rises onto his cheeks, and that’s a human behaviour that Allura is unfamiliar with. But his hands move back into finger guns and his shoulders relax, so she thinks that it must be a positive response.
“I, uh, yeah!” he exclaims, and turns away. He walks stiffly, his movements almost robotic, and Allura’s unsure how to catalogue it.
But she keeps pace with him, and Platt and Chulatt are chirping at Lance encouragingly, so Allura may or may not drop the diplomatic guard a bit and be ready to enjoy herself.
- sparkle theirs blue sparkle theirs explore - the mice chatter, and the smile on Allura’s lips curls out just a little more.
The mission has been successfully commenced.
The mice may or may not be high pawing.
“Juni!” Lance calls from across the mall. “Look at this!”
Some aliens give Allura disgruntled looks, and it perhaps takes every bit of her royal bearing not to burst out into giggles. Pretending to be ordinary Juni and Leyan instead of being Princess Allura and Paladin Lance was surprisingly… Amusing? Freeing?
Either way, Allura was enjoying herself. (Dressing up in space mall fashions was fun, time to time.)
“What is it?” she asks, and Lance gives her a toothy grin.
“Close your eyes for a second?” he asks instead, and Allura arches her eyebrow.
Lance pouts in reply.
She tentatively questions the mice, but they tell her nothing except - sparkle theirs sparkles theirs -. Traitors.
“I promise it’ll be good,” he wheedles, and with a showy huff, Allura closes her eyes.
Something smooth and cold slides its way onto her head, and she can hear Chulatt’s excited squeaks as Lance gently puts hands on her shoulders and turns her to face what she thinks is a window.
- sparkle theirs sparkly things - Chuchule tells her as she bounces about, and she can feel Platt move off of Lance and into her hair.
“Open your eyes,” says Lance, with an undertone of excitement like Chulatt, and she does just that.
Allura’s breath catches in her throat for a moment.
She’s wearing a tiara of gems, made to look like a flower crown. There are jewel juniberries interwoven with pale pink allolees and sharp-petaled varishkas and a dozen other flowers that she’d thought she wouldn’t see again.
All thoughts of diplomatic composure sent to the stars, Allura whirls around and envelops Lance in a bruising hug, lifting him off the ground by its strength.
The mice squeak in mild alarm but they make their ways to the top of her head, and Allura thinks that she may be crying just a little bit.
Lance wheezes in front of her, but he doesn’t try to squirm out of the embrace. Instead, he tries to return it, though his attempts might have been a little feeble.
Then, like delivered from a teludav, Allura remembers that humans were more fragile than Alteans and quickly (though gently) puts Lance back onto solid ground.
Her hands remain on his shoulders and his remain on her waist, and they don’t say anything for a bit, until the mice nuzzle the top of her head.
“Thank you, La-Leyan,” Allura breathes, and Lance’s cheeks turn red again. “Thank you.”
That’s when the thought occurs to her that they needed GAC to pay for the tiara, and her hand raises before Lance grabs hold of it and gives her a bright smile. Little dips appear on his cheeks.
“I went diving in the fountain earlier,” he says bashfully. His hand moves to scratch the back of his neck, and Allura can’t help but hug him again.
Though, this one was likely softer.
The hug lasts a few moments, before Plachu tugs on a bit of hair and reminds her that they had to be back in a few dobashes, and Allura lets go.
“Shall we?” she asks, and raises her hand in an offer. She wasn’t exactly sure of what.
The little dips become more pronounced as Lance takes her hand.
“Let’s go princess,” he says with that face that means flirting, but she doesn’t mind this time. Instead, it’s completely, wholly, undoubtedly welcome.
Allura giggles, and they run, in plain clothes and a flower crown of gemstones.
(When they get back, Coran is waiting for them with crossed arms and a suggestion that’s more like an order for them to clear one of the dustier halls until it shines.)
(Still, Allura makes eye contact with Lance and is far beyond certain that it was worth it.)
I had to flip the days around due to lack of inspiration, but I think this turned out wonderfully! Also, I’m now in general a day late. Oops? Ah, nevermind, it’ll get done.
As always, for the lovely @braincoins. This one includes ART!
“Are… are you sure you don’t want to take Coran instead of me?”
Allura sighed to herself. Shiro had been nervous about this diplomatic mission ever since she’d told him about it, and while she could understand it… she also couldn’t. She shook her head.
“The Formorians care greatly about hierarchy. I can’t take Coran, he’s not my equal.”
“I’m technically not your equal either,” Shiro mumbled. “I mean… you’re our commander.”
Allura fixed him with a steely, unimpressed gaze, her eyebrows high. “Don’t be foolish.” She stepped closer to him, placing her hands on his chest, using him as leverage to kiss him. “You are the Head of Voltron, the Black Paladin and my lover. You are most certainly my equal.” Her expression turned mischievous, all bitten lip and sultry eyes. “Especially in bed.”
Shiro’s cheeks turned a brilliant shade of pink and she pulled away, giggling. She yelped when Shiro grabbed her round the waist, pulling her back against him and nipping the tip of her ear.
“You’re a menace.”
“You love it!”
He kissed the side of her neck, and hummed his agreement. She melted into his embrace, reaching back to weave her fingers in his fringe and hold him closer, tilting her head to the side to allow him more room. He continued to scatter kisses over her skin, his hands sliding down her body to settle on her hips.
“We should… we should be preparing…” she breathed, even as she eyed the bed longingly. He hummed again, and the low rumble sent shiver through her. Oh, damn it all.
She turned in his arms and pulled him into a searing kiss, guiding him back. He chuckled against her lips and fell back onto the bed with her. There would be time to pack later.
The moment they set down with the Black Lion on Formoria, Allura found it hard to breathe. Her chest tightened as the First Elder greeted them, welcoming them to the planet. She closed her eyes, allowing herself a mere tick to compose herself, before smiling warmly and accepting the salutation.
“We are honoured to be here, First Elder,” she said.
She noticed Shiro looking at her, traces of worry in the crease of his brow and the tilt of his lips, and for the first time, she ignored him.
“It’s good we get to share a room,” Shiro said, placing his helmet on the dresser and looking around in admiration. Allura sat on the bed, trying to ignore her surroundings, to quell the rippling memories that lapped at the edge of her mind. It was all too… familiar, and it hurt.
“Allura?”
Shiro’s voice dragged her back into the world, the warmth of his hand on her knee enough to anchor her to reality. She wasn’t entirely sure if she was grateful or not. She smiled, trying for reassuring but only really managing strained. He wasn’t buying it.
“You’ve been distant since we arrived,” he said. He reached up to cup her cheek tenderly, and she felt a swell of deep affection in her chest, the gentleness of his touch waging war with the sense of emptiness inside. “What’s wrong?”
She took a deep breath, pressing her hand against his, leaning into his touch. “Everything’s… everything is fine…”
Shiro sighed. “Everything is not fine. You talk to me about my problems, why can’t I talk to you about yours?”
Allura opened her eyes, meeting Shiro’s grey ones. He was right, of course: she was so used to being strong and unwavering… She let out a long, trembling breath and bent forward, pressing her forehead to his.
“This place is too much like Altea,” she said, her voice quivering as she struggled to keep the wave of emotion from overpowering her. Everywhere she turned, there was something just close enough to home to remind her of what she’d lost, what she could no longer go back to. The clothing, the people’s faces, the architecture, the nature, even the twin suns… it hurt. It hurt to know something like this existed, and wherever she looked, she would see flashes of familiarity, echoes of towering cities of shimmering stone and metal, colourful buntings and flags and banners, the laughter of children, the debates in the College courtyard, the roar of the castleship’s engines as it left for the yearly change of capital…
Shiro wound his arms around her, and she clung to him, her eyes shut tight against the tears. “It’s ok, Allura. It’s ok. You can cry, you can grieve. We have time.”
So she wept. She wept into his neck, her shoulders heaving, her chest bursting with sorrow, with loss, with emptiness. She would never have Altea back. It was lost, lost forever, and throughout the universe there were places which would remind her of home, of what was gone and would never be found again.
She cried for what felt like forever, until all she could feel was exhaustion. She pulled back from his embrace, back straight, head tilted back to stare at the ceiling. Her face was tight with salt from her tears, her eyes ached, her heart hurt. But her hands in Shiro’s kept her grounded, focused. He was there.
She lowered her head to look at him, and smiled, small and weak but sincere. “Your knees must be awfully sore,” she mumbled, reaching up to rub the soreness from her eyes. Shiro chuckled, soft and sweet.
“Yeah, but it’s ok.” He kissed the knuckles of the hand he still held. “It’s ok.”
“We have a banquet to attend tonight,” Allura remembered with a sigh. She allowed herself to look around the room, to take in the architecture, the décor, the fabrics and the materials. It was all slightly different, but still similar, and she found that now it didn’t pain her as much to look at it. She admired it.
Shiro groaned. “Don’t remind me… what the hell am I gonna wear? My armour?”
Allura made a disgusted face. “Certainly not!” She shooed him away and stood, opening one of the two cases she’d made sure they brought. “Here we are!”
Shiro blinked. “That’s… I didn’t even know we had that.”
“Of course you have dress uniforms,” she said, as if the very idea of them not having them was both ludicrous and offensive. “We knew how to do things properly on Altea, you know. Go get ready!”
She threw the tunic at him and turned to her own luggage, knowing exactly what she was going to wear.
She had to take a moment when she finally saw him in full regalia. He always looked handsome, with his broad shoulders and military bearing, but this was the first time she’d seen him in something other than his armour or casual clothing (naked didn’t count) and… she really did need a moment. He’d slicked back his hair, and was adjusting his right sleeve so it didn’t catch in the joints of his prosthesis. The tunic clung to him, emphasising the sharpness of his muscles and the breadth and bulge of his chest. The leggings were also sinfully tight, his legs long and powerful and in all honesty, all she wanted to do was tear it all off him again.
“Is it ok?” he asked.
“Do you even need to ask?” she said, silently begging the Ancients for strength. Not only was he the handsomest she’d ever seen him, but he was also wearing something Altean, and not for the first time she wished they’d met in a time a which was more carefree, more forgiving.
“Well, I mean, it’s always good to kn-” He stopped mid-sentence, and she raised a curious eyebrow. “Wow,” he breathed.
She twirled, unable to resist, her lilac skirts following her movement like the dancing waters of Western Temzora. “I take it my attire is to your liking?” she teased.
He chuckled. “Do you even need to ask?” he said, and the reverence in his voice was humbling. The way he spoke, the simple breathlessness… it made her still, tuck her hair back, her face flushed, shyer than she could remember even being in front of someone who found her attractive. Shiro always did this to her, his sincere adoration breaking down every ounce of confidence she had and building it up again, even stronger than before.
“We should go,” she mumbled, and he offered her the crook of his arm. It took her a tick to understand what he wanted her to do, but she figured it out, and tucked her arm in his.
“Do you think there’ll be dancing?” he asked. “I’m… not a great dancer.”
“If there is, I’ll lead,” she said breezily. “I don’t really know any dances from this planet anyway, we’re going to look ridiculous whatever we do.”
“Yeah, I’m thinking the band won’t know any waltzes,” he said with a laugh.
“I don’t know what a waltz is, my love,” she replied, and his laughter deepened.
Although the banquet was mostly a discussion of war, Voltron, the Galra and a myriad of other, horrible things, the food was delicious, and Allura could almost lose herself in the laughter and hum of voices in conversation, the soft accompaniment from the musicians, the crystalline chandeliers spilling light through the banquet hall. It was almost like ten thousand years ago, ten Altean lifetimes past when the Castle of Lions would ring with music and mirth, when times were happier.
When she looked to her right, however, whenever she heard his voice or their legs brushed beneath the table, she remembered that ten thousand years ago, there had been no Shiro. It grounded her somewhat, keeping her from chasing memories to where she couldn’t return.
After the banquet, she was invited to dance with the First Elder.
“Do forgive me any clumsiness, I find myself lacking in knowledge of your dances,” she said. The First Elder chuckled courteously.
“Do not worry at all, Princess,” he said. “Our dances are not that difficult.”
Not far from them, Shiro stood with a handful of other Councilmembers, and he would occasionally lose the thread of conversation as he watched her, and their eyes would meet. The First Elder chuckled again, this one with more of a conspiratorial tint.
“He is certainly handsome,” he said. “And the Black Paladin of Voltron. A wise choice for a spouse, Princess.”
She couldn’t help blushing. “I… Thank you, First Elder,” she stammered, unsure of how to respond.
“We are going through a tumultuous time in the history of the universe,” he said wearily. “Allow yourself to build the foundations of happiness that will come after.”
She looked up at him, and for a fleeting instant, she could see a shadow of skin like hers, hair like hers, a pointed beard and eyes that brimmed with wisdom and kindness. She couldn’t look at him for too long.
The music ceased, ready for another, and a throat was cleared beside them. “Mind if I cut in, Sir?”
The First Elder nodded graciously. “Not at all, Black Paladin.”
Shiro took Allura’s hand with a grin, and she smiled back, unable to stop it. The musicians began another piece, sweeter, gentler, and made for lovers. Shiro’s hand curved around her waist, pulling her closer. Allura gathered her skirt, and let him guide – for all his lack of confidence in his dance skills, he wasn’t bad at all. The dance was simple, a one-two-three that required little concentration, and it let her revel in the moment. It was almost too easy to imagine them in the main hall of the Castle of Lions, dancing to Altean music, surrounded by Altean dancers. He would have been extraordinarily attractive with pointed ears and purple markings, she thought, but then cast the thought aside. There was no Altea anymore, but there were other things: there was Voltron, and Coran, and the other Paladins. There was Shiro’s closeness, his strength and warmth, his touch, his scent, his familiarity. There was the music, and the voices, and the dancers, and it was enough. It was enough to still have points of joy and happiness in the middle of war. The man she loved was with her, what more could she have ever wished for?
“You ok?” he asked softly. She looked at him, a smiled spreading over her face.
