Between Two Evils - Chapter 1
Mar. 30th, 2008 11:32 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
botiasWARNINGS: This is un-betaed, will eventually include explicit acts with blue alien overlords, and instead of avoiding cliches I have rolled in them like catnip, nibbling at their fragrant leaves...
Allura watched unbelieving as the shining crescent of her planet became one more bright speck among the stars. She looked down at her bound hands. There was no need to look at her captor; she could feel the heat of his big body alongside hers for all that she was as far from him as the cramped quarters would allow. He'd come so close to abducting her so many times. Often enough and close enough that she recognized the faint scent of him in the small cabin. She'd started to think he would never succeed.
Beginning to be truly afraid, she looked over without turning her head or moving. She could just see his hand resting on his knee. He held a brightly colored oval, small in his gauntleted fingers, his thumb rubbing absently over the gold crown in the center. She stifled an impulse to reach for the place on her flight suit where it belonged. It was just an old-fashioned key, archaic really, but it was also nothing less than her people's survival.
Turning away from him a little more, she pressed her face to the cold glass to watch for signs of pursuit.
She watched in vain. Lotor's ship reached his home port without incident. Allura shuddered as they flew over the scarred, dead world and landed in a docking bay of his father's fortress.
A sense that some sort of line would be crossed from which she could not return made her struggle when Lotor pulled her from the cockpit and threw her over his shoulder. It served only to amuse him—until she got in a lucky blow with the tip of her boot. Then he snarled something in a language she didn't understand and pinned her legs with his arm.
Feeling vaguely nauseous and more than a little stunned, Allura watched the smooth dark floor pass swiftly beneath her gaze. She stumbled a little when Lotor dropped her onto her feet without warning and walked past her as if she didn't exist. “Everyone. Out.”
Allura looked around. She was in some sort of surveillance room.
Not waiting to see if he would be obeyed, Lotor strode forward and pressed a button on the console. One of many smaller images expanded to fill most of the huge viewscreen.
Allura stared transfixed, ignoring the alien soldiers hurrying past her. There in front of her was her home, the castle she loved so much. The moons were rising behind it, creating a picture of fantastic beauty. They probably hadn't even noticed she was gone...
“Your planet is conquered, Allura,” Lotor said, still looking at the viewscreen.
“No!” At his words Allura stumbled closer, searching the images for signs of invasion, destruction. She saw nothing but peace.
“You know as well as I do that Voltron was the only thing that stood between my father and victory.”
Allura swallowed down her fear. It was true, all of it. Her gaze moved from one image to the next; they were all so beautiful to her. How soon before they were images of smoke and death?
“My offers of wealth and power have failed to move you, so now I offer you a choice instead. My father has lost a great deal of face in his attempts to subdue Arus. He will raze it, and I will share in the spoils.” He turned his arrogant head and met her gaze for a moment, leaving her in no doubt as to what his share would include, before turning back to the images before him. If their beauty moved him, he didn't show it.
Shivering, Allura stepped closer to the images of her home, careful not to get any closer to Lotor as she did so. They were so perfect; it looked as if she could walk right into them and be home again.
“And my 'choice'?”
“Share in your planet's fate, or spare your people and take it only upon yourself.”
When he went on his voice was softer than she had ever heard it. “Surrender yourself to me willingly, Allura, and I will do my best to preserve your planet from my father's wrath. Father will have his victory, your people will remain free, and I will have what I want: you as my wife.”
Allura balked just outside the entrance to Zarkon's throne room. “No! I can't... He killed my father...”
Lotor gave her an impatient look. “He killed my mother. We can cry about it together later.”
He swept off his helm with a practiced motion, holding it in the crook of his arm, and pulled her into the vast chamber. “Say nothing,” he growled under his breath.
Allura wasn't sure she could have spoken if she'd wanted to. The huge figure seated on the throne atop a towering dais held her transfixed. A figure from her nightmares, waking and sleeping.
Lotor pushed her forward so that she cried out and fell painfully to her knees. “Father,” he said, in a carrying voice. “I have done as I promised: Voltron is no more. Blue Lion is so much molten metal, and its pilot is mine!”
Allura gasped at the fate of her lion. She'd barely begun to register the implications when King Zarkon spoke, his voice grotesquely jovial. “That is great news indeed, my son! I was beginning to think you were completely incompetent, but it seems I was wrong!”
“I would have you marry us now, Father.”
“What's the hurry? Or need I ask?”
“I had the planet Medea in my sights when those disturbing rumors reached me of your many defeats on Arus. I wish to return and claim Medea's vast wealth for myself—and for your empire, Father. I will make certain that you receive the choicest spoils.”
“I'm sure you would,” Zarkon growled. “Too bad you're staying here and finishing the job you have begun on Arus. Now that Voltron is taken care of, there is nothing to prevent me from meeting the fleet at Medea!”
“As you wish, Father.”
A hand closed on her arm, hauling her to her feet. It was cowardly she knew, but she kept her gaze fixed on the dark stone between her boots.
“A human, just like your mother.” Zarkon said scornfully. “My grandchildren will be even more pale and puny than you are, Lotor. Are you certain you won't choose another bride?”
“Quite certain, Father.” For the first time, the smooth, respectful tone he had adopted carried a distinct edge.
Zarkon sighed, “Very well.” Then he seemed to have a happy thought. “If they are small, no doubt they will fight twice as dirty!”
Allura remembered almost nothing of the 'ceremony' that she had agreed to, still transfixed by the notion of children. If it came to pass, then she had placed Arus' defeat on their shoulders as well as her own. The thought was dizzying. She made some affirmative when Lotor murmured her name in a warning tone and it was done.
Gauntleted fingers closed on her hair and tipped back her head. Allura stared up at her 'puny' new husband. She was used to looking men in the eye, but she came only to his collarbone, and the breadth of his shoulders was frankly intimidating. His mixed heritage had produced a face of cruel, almost feminine, beauty. His large, wide-set cat's eyes were the deep gold of a harvest moon. They were striking against the pale blue-grey of his skin. His white hair was swept back from his forehead and behind his narrow, pointed ears; from there it fell, thick and unruly, over his back and shoulders in barbaric display. Only the faintest smile lifted the arrogant curve of his mouth, but she could sense the fierce satisfaction in him.
In all of their encounters, she'd kept him from so much as stealing a kiss. Now he had bound not only her hands but her honor. With a suddenness that made her gasp, he dipped his head and covered her mouth with his own.
Lotor scooped her up after she stumbled the second time. To her relief, he carried her like a child this time rather than a conquest. She doubted that losing the contents of her stomach all over the back of his boots would move him to greater mercies. Looking over his shoulder she saw a hunched, hooded figure watching them pass with luminous eyes: Haggar the Witch, who had tried to destroy her and everything she cared about more times than Allura could count.
Was she really to live here among her worst nightmares?
After that she let her head fall against his shoulder, eyes closed. He'd freed her hands as soon as they'd left the throne room and she clasped his shoulders, not caring what he thought. Whatever he intended, she was certain that no amount of holding herself aloof would change it.
“We're here, Allura. Your new home.” He set her gently down.
She should be safe enough here in his quarters.
Lotor frowned, except from Haggar who had no fear of him. He made a mental note to warn her off of Allura as best he could. He'd often felt that Haggar's loyalty to him was greater than her loyalty to his father, but he didn't trust her any more than he did anyone else.
Except for his wife.
He felt a deep sense of satisfaction as he watched her take in her surroundings.
He might scorn Allura's ridiculous sense of honor, but it was a fact as much as the shade of her eyes or the shape of her mouth. Having pledged herself to him, Allura would never slip a dagger between his ribs as he slept. If she'd refused him to the end, he would still have taken her, kept her—his pulse quickened at the thought—but he would never have brought her here.
He'd barely finished the thought before he knew it for a lie; his lips twisted. He might very well have installed her here anyway; there was something about this woman that made him act the fool over and over again.
Now she was his.
Her hair had come loose from its tight coils. He reached out his hand and plucked at the tiny pins that were barely holding it in place. The small sabotage worked, her hair fell down her back, as shining and seductive as new-minted gold.
He grasped her shoulders and turned her to face him. She stood between his hands, eyes modestly lowered, lips parted. He bent and kissed her. She flinched and made a surprised sound, but her lips were warm and pliant under his. He moved his hands to her hair, hissing an impatient curse when the leather of his gauntlets caught in the fine strands.
He yanked them off and plunged bare hands into the cool silk, tipping her face up to his own. He kissed her again, parting her lips. Allura made another stifled sound when he lapped over the curve of her lower lip, and then inside just far enough to brush against the soft tip of her tongue.
The reality of her far surpassed his dreams. He stroked a hand down to the small of her back pressing her tightly against him and tasted her again. When he released her mouth and pressed his cheek hard to hers, he felt her pull in a deep, gasping breath.
“Allura, you are exquisite,” he said, nuzzling into the fall of her hair to find her funny little round ear.
His cheek was cool where it had touched hers. Wet.
Frowning, he pulled back far enough to see her face; his hand tightened in her hair, tugging back her head.
Tears brimmed in her eyes, covered her cheeks. In the past she'd shown him anger, distrust, outrage, never fear, but he'd seen enough of it to know it for what it was.
“You are safe here, Allura. I will kill anyone who tries to harm you.”
His earnest words only seemed to make her tears come faster. He looked into her beautiful eyes and saw traces of her old defiance return, but mostly despair. Confused, he lifted his hand to brush at her tears and saw her subtle flinching.
He blinked. It was him, he realized. She was afraid of him.
None of their previous fiery encounters, none of his many imaginings had ever involved Allura weeping like a frightened girl. Never had her lips been bloodless and her hands like ice. He felt a fine tremor pass through the body pressed so close to his own. His building arousal found a new outlet in rage.
Nothing!
Nothing in his life had gone the way it should since the moment he'd set eyes upon her!
With a snarl, he picked her up and carried her into his bedchamber.
Yanking back the cover he dumped her into his bed and followed her down. Arched over her on his hands, he saw her swallow hard; her eyes were huge in her pale face.
Seeing her in his bed with her hair loose around her softened his anger. Her fear pleased him too now that he was actually doing something to inspire it, instead of saving her pathetic peasants and honoring her above all others.
But if she lacked the proper enthusiasm, she didn't lack for courage. Even now she didn't attempt to resist him or beg out of the bargain she had made, and that pleased him more than all the rest. He settled his lower body more closely against her; her startled squeak almost made him laugh out loud. He bent his head and stole a lingering kiss. For those few moments he shut out everything except for her sweetness, then he pushed himself away.
He yanked the cover up under her chin more for his own resolve than her comfort. He'd neglected business for pleasure before and paid the price, but this time he didn't dare. He had to go deal with those idiots on Arus before one of them did something embarrassingly unconquered—like fly their lion into his father's throne room.
“I'll be back in an hour,” he said.
“Do not try to hit me over the head when I come in the door,” he added as he turned on his heel and stalked out, “I won't be in the mood.”
Chapter 2
Chapter 1
Allura watched unbelieving as the shining crescent of her planet became one more bright speck among the stars. She looked down at her bound hands. There was no need to look at her captor; she could feel the heat of his big body alongside hers for all that she was as far from him as the cramped quarters would allow. He'd come so close to abducting her so many times. Often enough and close enough that she recognized the faint scent of him in the small cabin. She'd started to think he would never succeed.
Beginning to be truly afraid, she looked over without turning her head or moving. She could just see his hand resting on his knee. He held a brightly colored oval, small in his gauntleted fingers, his thumb rubbing absently over the gold crown in the center. She stifled an impulse to reach for the place on her flight suit where it belonged. It was just an old-fashioned key, archaic really, but it was also nothing less than her people's survival.
Turning away from him a little more, she pressed her face to the cold glass to watch for signs of pursuit.
***
She watched in vain. Lotor's ship reached his home port without incident. Allura shuddered as they flew over the scarred, dead world and landed in a docking bay of his father's fortress.
A sense that some sort of line would be crossed from which she could not return made her struggle when Lotor pulled her from the cockpit and threw her over his shoulder. It served only to amuse him—until she got in a lucky blow with the tip of her boot. Then he snarled something in a language she didn't understand and pinned her legs with his arm.
Feeling vaguely nauseous and more than a little stunned, Allura watched the smooth dark floor pass swiftly beneath her gaze. She stumbled a little when Lotor dropped her onto her feet without warning and walked past her as if she didn't exist. “Everyone. Out.”
Allura looked around. She was in some sort of surveillance room.
Not waiting to see if he would be obeyed, Lotor strode forward and pressed a button on the console. One of many smaller images expanded to fill most of the huge viewscreen.
Allura stared transfixed, ignoring the alien soldiers hurrying past her. There in front of her was her home, the castle she loved so much. The moons were rising behind it, creating a picture of fantastic beauty. They probably hadn't even noticed she was gone...
“Your planet is conquered, Allura,” Lotor said, still looking at the viewscreen.
“No!” At his words Allura stumbled closer, searching the images for signs of invasion, destruction. She saw nothing but peace.
“You know as well as I do that Voltron was the only thing that stood between my father and victory.”
Allura swallowed down her fear. It was true, all of it. Her gaze moved from one image to the next; they were all so beautiful to her. How soon before they were images of smoke and death?
“My offers of wealth and power have failed to move you, so now I offer you a choice instead. My father has lost a great deal of face in his attempts to subdue Arus. He will raze it, and I will share in the spoils.” He turned his arrogant head and met her gaze for a moment, leaving her in no doubt as to what his share would include, before turning back to the images before him. If their beauty moved him, he didn't show it.
Shivering, Allura stepped closer to the images of her home, careful not to get any closer to Lotor as she did so. They were so perfect; it looked as if she could walk right into them and be home again.
“And my 'choice'?”
“Share in your planet's fate, or spare your people and take it only upon yourself.”
When he went on his voice was softer than she had ever heard it. “Surrender yourself to me willingly, Allura, and I will do my best to preserve your planet from my father's wrath. Father will have his victory, your people will remain free, and I will have what I want: you as my wife.”
***
Allura balked just outside the entrance to Zarkon's throne room. “No! I can't... He killed my father...”
Lotor gave her an impatient look. “He killed my mother. We can cry about it together later.”
He swept off his helm with a practiced motion, holding it in the crook of his arm, and pulled her into the vast chamber. “Say nothing,” he growled under his breath.
Allura wasn't sure she could have spoken if she'd wanted to. The huge figure seated on the throne atop a towering dais held her transfixed. A figure from her nightmares, waking and sleeping.
Lotor pushed her forward so that she cried out and fell painfully to her knees. “Father,” he said, in a carrying voice. “I have done as I promised: Voltron is no more. Blue Lion is so much molten metal, and its pilot is mine!”
Allura gasped at the fate of her lion. She'd barely begun to register the implications when King Zarkon spoke, his voice grotesquely jovial. “That is great news indeed, my son! I was beginning to think you were completely incompetent, but it seems I was wrong!”
“I would have you marry us now, Father.”
“What's the hurry? Or need I ask?”
“I had the planet Medea in my sights when those disturbing rumors reached me of your many defeats on Arus. I wish to return and claim Medea's vast wealth for myself—and for your empire, Father. I will make certain that you receive the choicest spoils.”
“I'm sure you would,” Zarkon growled. “Too bad you're staying here and finishing the job you have begun on Arus. Now that Voltron is taken care of, there is nothing to prevent me from meeting the fleet at Medea!”
“As you wish, Father.”
A hand closed on her arm, hauling her to her feet. It was cowardly she knew, but she kept her gaze fixed on the dark stone between her boots.
“A human, just like your mother.” Zarkon said scornfully. “My grandchildren will be even more pale and puny than you are, Lotor. Are you certain you won't choose another bride?”
“Quite certain, Father.” For the first time, the smooth, respectful tone he had adopted carried a distinct edge.
Zarkon sighed, “Very well.” Then he seemed to have a happy thought. “If they are small, no doubt they will fight twice as dirty!”
Allura remembered almost nothing of the 'ceremony' that she had agreed to, still transfixed by the notion of children. If it came to pass, then she had placed Arus' defeat on their shoulders as well as her own. The thought was dizzying. She made some affirmative when Lotor murmured her name in a warning tone and it was done.
Gauntleted fingers closed on her hair and tipped back her head. Allura stared up at her 'puny' new husband. She was used to looking men in the eye, but she came only to his collarbone, and the breadth of his shoulders was frankly intimidating. His mixed heritage had produced a face of cruel, almost feminine, beauty. His large, wide-set cat's eyes were the deep gold of a harvest moon. They were striking against the pale blue-grey of his skin. His white hair was swept back from his forehead and behind his narrow, pointed ears; from there it fell, thick and unruly, over his back and shoulders in barbaric display. Only the faintest smile lifted the arrogant curve of his mouth, but she could sense the fierce satisfaction in him.
In all of their encounters, she'd kept him from so much as stealing a kiss. Now he had bound not only her hands but her honor. With a suddenness that made her gasp, he dipped his head and covered her mouth with his own.
***
Lotor scooped her up after she stumbled the second time. To her relief, he carried her like a child this time rather than a conquest. She doubted that losing the contents of her stomach all over the back of his boots would move him to greater mercies. Looking over his shoulder she saw a hunched, hooded figure watching them pass with luminous eyes: Haggar the Witch, who had tried to destroy her and everything she cared about more times than Allura could count.
Was she really to live here among her worst nightmares?
After that she let her head fall against his shoulder, eyes closed. He'd freed her hands as soon as they'd left the throne room and she clasped his shoulders, not caring what he thought. Whatever he intended, she was certain that no amount of holding herself aloof would change it.
***
“We're here, Allura. Your new home.” He set her gently down.
She should be safe enough here in his quarters.
Lotor frowned, except from Haggar who had no fear of him. He made a mental note to warn her off of Allura as best he could. He'd often felt that Haggar's loyalty to him was greater than her loyalty to his father, but he didn't trust her any more than he did anyone else.
Except for his wife.
He felt a deep sense of satisfaction as he watched her take in her surroundings.
He might scorn Allura's ridiculous sense of honor, but it was a fact as much as the shade of her eyes or the shape of her mouth. Having pledged herself to him, Allura would never slip a dagger between his ribs as he slept. If she'd refused him to the end, he would still have taken her, kept her—his pulse quickened at the thought—but he would never have brought her here.
He'd barely finished the thought before he knew it for a lie; his lips twisted. He might very well have installed her here anyway; there was something about this woman that made him act the fool over and over again.
Now she was his.
Her hair had come loose from its tight coils. He reached out his hand and plucked at the tiny pins that were barely holding it in place. The small sabotage worked, her hair fell down her back, as shining and seductive as new-minted gold.
He grasped her shoulders and turned her to face him. She stood between his hands, eyes modestly lowered, lips parted. He bent and kissed her. She flinched and made a surprised sound, but her lips were warm and pliant under his. He moved his hands to her hair, hissing an impatient curse when the leather of his gauntlets caught in the fine strands.
He yanked them off and plunged bare hands into the cool silk, tipping her face up to his own. He kissed her again, parting her lips. Allura made another stifled sound when he lapped over the curve of her lower lip, and then inside just far enough to brush against the soft tip of her tongue.
The reality of her far surpassed his dreams. He stroked a hand down to the small of her back pressing her tightly against him and tasted her again. When he released her mouth and pressed his cheek hard to hers, he felt her pull in a deep, gasping breath.
“Allura, you are exquisite,” he said, nuzzling into the fall of her hair to find her funny little round ear.
His cheek was cool where it had touched hers. Wet.
Frowning, he pulled back far enough to see her face; his hand tightened in her hair, tugging back her head.
Tears brimmed in her eyes, covered her cheeks. In the past she'd shown him anger, distrust, outrage, never fear, but he'd seen enough of it to know it for what it was.
“You are safe here, Allura. I will kill anyone who tries to harm you.”
His earnest words only seemed to make her tears come faster. He looked into her beautiful eyes and saw traces of her old defiance return, but mostly despair. Confused, he lifted his hand to brush at her tears and saw her subtle flinching.
He blinked. It was him, he realized. She was afraid of him.
None of their previous fiery encounters, none of his many imaginings had ever involved Allura weeping like a frightened girl. Never had her lips been bloodless and her hands like ice. He felt a fine tremor pass through the body pressed so close to his own. His building arousal found a new outlet in rage.
Nothing!
Nothing in his life had gone the way it should since the moment he'd set eyes upon her!
With a snarl, he picked her up and carried her into his bedchamber.
Yanking back the cover he dumped her into his bed and followed her down. Arched over her on his hands, he saw her swallow hard; her eyes were huge in her pale face.
Seeing her in his bed with her hair loose around her softened his anger. Her fear pleased him too now that he was actually doing something to inspire it, instead of saving her pathetic peasants and honoring her above all others.
But if she lacked the proper enthusiasm, she didn't lack for courage. Even now she didn't attempt to resist him or beg out of the bargain she had made, and that pleased him more than all the rest. He settled his lower body more closely against her; her startled squeak almost made him laugh out loud. He bent his head and stole a lingering kiss. For those few moments he shut out everything except for her sweetness, then he pushed himself away.
He yanked the cover up under her chin more for his own resolve than her comfort. He'd neglected business for pleasure before and paid the price, but this time he didn't dare. He had to go deal with those idiots on Arus before one of them did something embarrassingly unconquered—like fly their lion into his father's throne room.
“I'll be back in an hour,” he said.
“Do not try to hit me over the head when I come in the door,” he added as he turned on his heel and stalked out, “I won't be in the mood.”
Chapter 2
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2008-04-24 05:08 pm (UTC)Zarkon's dismissive disdain makes Lotor a more sympathetic character, but he's a kidnapper and would be rapist. It doesn't matter that he's wild for his new bride. He revels in his conquest, and hasn't given her a real choice in the matter. It's delicious. Allura's fear and tears just flame his ardour. I loved this: "Her fear pleased him too now that he was actually doing something to inspire it, instead of saving her pathetic peasants and honoring her above all others."
That last matter of fact line made me laugh out loud. Off to 2.
no subject
Date: 2008-04-25 08:48 pm (UTC)So glad I've managed to make him nasty and delicious at the same time. \o/ That makes me so happy.
Her fear pleased him too now that he was actually doing something to inspire it, instead of saving her pathetic peasants and honoring her above all others.
Yes, it kind of sounds like Lotor thinks he's the hero of the piece doesn't it? All the best villains think that way I'm sure.