Hey, Lightning! Do you know any good BoM!Lotor fics?
Hi, anon! Thanks for the note! I know the Keitor fandom has BOM!Lotor stories. If that ship is agreeable to you, then you can search for “Blade of Marmora Lotor” on AO3 and find several fics! As far as Lotura fandom goes, I’ve not yet stumbled across a BOM!Lotor. Although I did start a BOM!Lotor fic myself a long time ago and just haven’t done more with it. I’ll copy in what I have here in hopes that you might like it!
The Awakening – a BOM!Lotor story
Princess Allura of Altea stared out the window of the Blade of Marmora central command. The battle station was situated on the edge of a black hole, safely tucked away from the radar of enemy fleets. But she shivered as she stood there, knowing she wore an ornate dress that was now 800 years out of fashion.
“Who should I thank,” she asked, her alto voice soft and halted, “for saving me and my advisor from the forever sleep?”
Behind her, the leader of the battle station and of the entire resistance stood at attention. His large, furred hands were clasped behind his back. He was Galran—tall and battle-hardened. But his yellow eyes were kind. “The alpha unit located your castle on planet Arus. The main architect of the mission, and your successful removal from cryostasis, was one of our lead scientists and warriors.”
The beautiful princess struggled to look away from the bright line of the event horizon of the black hole. She swallowed hard, then forcibly turned, managing a weak smile that stretched her dark cheeks and her pink markings. “I am most grateful to this alpha unit and your lead scientist. Were Altea still standing, I…I would have offered a great reward.” She looked down, her voice straining. “And your care to keep the Voltron lions hidden as well from Emperor Zarkon is a great testimony as to your character, and the character of this organization. Truly, in my day, no one could stand against Zarkon. But it pleases me to see that in the 800 years I’ve lost, you have built a successful resistance.”
“We operate in the shadows,” the leader clarified, voice even. His name was Kolivan, the princess recalled. “Our success relies on our discretion. Even if we desired to use the Voltron lions, it would cause...catastrophic consequences for our larger organization. Anything you do with the lions, which belong to you, will have to remain separate from the Blade of Marmora. It is well-known that Zarkon still covets the Black Lion.”
“Understood.” The princess’s white curls slid down her shoulder as she eyed him curiously. “It is most disturbing to hear that in such time, the emperor still reigns.”
“Quintessence confers many advantages to its users.” Kolivan’s face remained unreadable. “We of the Blades use it as well, for healing and extended life. It is in part how we have managed to maintain a large force against the emperor.”
Princess Allura’s blue and purple eyes narrowed in concern. “Do you not fear its effects? Emperor Zarkon was once a dear friend to my father. But quintessence drove him mad.” Her voice raised with increasing worry. “He murdered my father—then he murdered his wife and newborn son. Surely, you must know how volatile such a power source is.”
“Our lead scientist is highly aware of such effects and performs extended dilution techniques to stave away such consequences.”
“Pray tell,” she pleaded again. “Tell me who this lead scientist is? I’ve many questions about this—” she waved her hand in a confusion—”this strange new world I’ve awoken to.” She blinked her eyes several times. They were beginning to burn with emotion. “Everything is different—I can’t even understand the symbols you use on the doors here, to open and close them. And I worry for my advisor, whom I have not yet seen.”
Kolivan sensed the princess’s increasing distress and raised his hand. “My last known communication from the infirmary stated that your advisor was still awakening from cryostasis. It took you four vargas to wake up completely, and you are young and healthy for an Altean. Your advisor is older and may require more time to transition.”
Her breath hitched. She somewhat awkwardly tried to wipe her eyes. “Please forgive my emotions and questions. I am grateful for all your organization has done, truly.”
He tilted his head, his long, white braid slipping against dark blue armor. “Cryostasis unbalances many things. If you must cry, I will leave you to it.”
That seemed to panic her even more. She raised her hand. “No, please, do not leave me here. The silence of space is quite…alarming to me.” Her elfin ears flicked back in pain. “I should like to see my advisor, even if he still sleeps. Would that be possible?”
Kolivan hesitated, then nodded. “Yes, but our lead scientist does not like to be disturbed in his work. He may request that you not enter the infirmary.”
The princess scurried forward, her purple and blue skirts flickering against the floor. “I, um, surely can speak to him. This lead scientist. I’m quite good at convincing people of things. Can you tell me what this scientist’s name is?”
The leader turned away and began to open the doors, his clawed finger hitting a button. “His name is Lotor.”
Princess Allura’s brows ticked at that. “Lotor? That’s a rather…Altean name.” Her heart skipped a beat, and she raised a hand to her chest in hope. “Is he Altean as well? Are there more of us who survived the great massacres?”
“He is part-Altean, yes.” Kolivan turned and offered her his great palm.
She hesitated, then tentatively placed her small hand in his, allowing herself to be guided through the ship by him. “And—and you said that he found me all by himself? After 800 years?”
“He is very intelligent.” For the first time, a string of pride entered Kolivan’s voice, raising it out of his usual monotone. “Lotor is one of our brightest. He could more accurately describe his process for locating the Castle of Lions than I could.”
Princess Allura looked up, searching him. It was most curious to see a Galran so proudly declare the name of someone with Altean blood. “You seem to be quite fond of him.”
“I am fond of him,” Kolivan admitted. “I raised him from a pup.”
Her white brows flew up in recognition. “Ah, he is your son, then.”
“Not by blood.” He opened a new set of doors into the main hallway. “But the Blade of Marmora is a family forged by war.”
---
Prior to seeing the lead scientist in person, Princess Allura expected this Lotor would be a heavily muscled, war-scarred man—similar to Kolivan and many other Galra onboard the battle station. But as she stood there at the entryway of the infirmary, her face slacked in surprise.
There, in a cryostasis tube, was her advisor, Coran, still peacefully sleeping away. And above him, resting atop the tube were various papers and a data pad. A tall and lean man—Altean in physique save for long, Galran arms—stood beside the tube. He wore a standard uniform, and he boasted long, white hair and purple skin. And a particularly handsome face.
Princess Allura’s heart paused at the sight of him.
Then, a beautiful, velvet voice resounded from the man. “Computer, kick in adrenal function test zero-dash-two.” He ran a frazzled hand through his hair, unaware he was being watched. “Increase cortisol by seven percent to support wakening functions.” He stuck a pen in his mouth as he shuffled through some papers with several calculations. His voice muffled. “We have to—compensate for his additional size compared to the princess. And—” his voice turned in a mix of worry and humor—“I believe this one may also have an intestinal eel that’s awakening as well.”
“Increasing cortisol,” confirmed a sexless computer voice. “Alert. Infirmary accessed by new users, designation Kolivan and guest.”
Suddenly, the handsome man looked up. And then his sharp face faulted, and then he looked almost stricken. His hand fell away from his papers, and his pen slipped from his lips. His own mouth fell open as his yellow sclerae widened.
He stared at the princess, and she stared at him.
Kolivan greeted, voice even. “Lotor, do you have a moment?”
That broke the man’s gaze. Then Lotor said, voice halted, eyebrows knitting together as he waved his hand, “…What are you both doing here? I explicitly recommended that she wake up in a guest bed as opposed to an infirmary. And yet you have brought her right back to this place, which is in no way fit for a princess of Altea.” His voice took on a slight displeasure and stress. “And I am in the middle of a sensitive processes here; I do not have time for pleasantries. Please excuse me.”
And then he turned away, his face tight as he flipped various switches, then looked down at his papers.
The princess stood there, feeling a strange mix of indignance and shame. “Honorable sir, I simply wished to thank you for your work and to see my advisor, for whom I worry greatly.”
Kolivan raised his voice. “Would it be acceptable for her to watch you wake him from the windows?”
The man named Lotor twisted his face as he looked at Kolivan. “You know I dislike people watching me. It introduces error.” Then his sharp, blue eyes turned to Princess Allura. Oddly, his purple cheeks seemed to carry a flush upon them. He looked back down, his elfin ears flicking back. “Apologies, princess. I promise that your advisor will wake up within the next varga at the latest. As you can see, he still sleeps.”
Princess Allura felt chastised as she watched him, and she pressed her lips together. “Then…after Coran awakens, I would like to speak with you more formally. When you are less occupied.”
“Appointment accepted.” He tossed a few papers to the side, scrunching his white brows. “Now, if you please.”
She pulled her hand away from Kolivan’s to awkwardly clasp her hands behind her back. She did not want to upset him, especially if he were the one who had saved her life. “Of course. I…trust that Coran is in capable hands.”
Blue eyes flickered back to her.
And then, from that particular angle, the Princess Allura felt a chill down her spine. Lotor’s gaze reminded her so terribly of someone that she experienced an odd déjà vu, as if she were seeing a once-familiar face reflected in that of Lotor’s.
And the way his long hair slipped down his cheeks—the arch of his brow and the line of his aristocratic nose—even his slit eyes...
His velvet voice cut into her thoughts. “I fail at nothing,” he told her simply. His cheeks were still flushed. “Though you did not have an intestinal eel like your advisor, so you were a simpler case.”
And the clinical, scientific manner of his words, combined with his beauty, left her feeling even smaller. The princess herself flushed too, her déjà vu over his appearance slipping away in the midst of her own embarrassment, realizing then that awakening someone from cryostasis meant that he likely knew everything about her body.
She pressed her lips together to hide a noise that strangled from the back of her throat. And it was then, with the lilt of his voice in that clinical way, she realized he reminded her a bit of...Honerva of Daibazaal. A scientist. A healer.
Her heart ached as she stared at this Lotor of the Blades, wondering if perhaps he were some distant relative of Honerva’s family. For a brief tick, she dared to think of Honerva, laying ill in bed with her swollen belly, shuddering out a pained breath as she spoke to King Alfor in fear. She had been worried that Zarkon was no longer himself...that quintessence had made him unstable...
And it was then that a cold water stormed down the princess’s back, along with a strange interest. This Lotor of the Blades had Zarkon’s eyes and Honerva’s nose...
And yet, the newborn heir to the throne had been murdered by his own father.
Unless he hadn’t.
