Status Quo
Chapter Nineteen: Provocation
by Kyence
Disclaimer: All Voltron characters are property of World Events Productions.
‘’ denote character thoughts.
“Lotor, you’re killing me over here!”
A pacing Lotor momentarily stopped to glare ominously at Saoche, who apparently found the repitition obnoxious. “Keep pushing me, bird, and I will show you how I kill,” he threatened.
The gray-feathered avian hopped off the console she had been perched upon, using the artificially generated air currents courtesy of the Castle’s climate control system to float in the room. “Izzat so? After I’ve done for you and bring your *girlfriend * here? Thou art quite the bastard, aren’t you?” she teased, intent on emphasizing girlfriend and bastard with a mocking tone. She winked as he continued to grimace. “Aw, what’s the matter? Suddenly got cold feet?” she further goaded his temper. Flapping over to his shoulder, she sat plump and grabbed a hefty chunk of his cheek in her digits as she provoked, “Awww, you’re shyyyyy!”
Lotor slapped her off of him, which did no damage to his tormentor. Saoche landed at a safe distance, her feet daintily greeting the metal flooring. “Just talk to her already! Jeez, one would THINK you would be fawning over her incessantly now that she’s here, yet THIS is the time you exhibit some backbone?!” She rubbed her feather crest as she shook her head. “Damn you are an enigma. One minute you’re loving her, next minute you’re killing her, the third minute you’re pondering your sexuality…”
Lotor nearly squealed from the insinuation. “I do not! Contemplate my sexuality, that is…” he clarified. “Would you like to talk to my harem for confirmation?” he leered over her, grinning devilishly.
Saoche tapped her lower jaw. “Ah, so that’s what you’ve been doing! Way to go buddy, I underestimated ya!” She punched him lightly in the calf muscle. “Get out all of your sexual frustrations BEFORE you meet Allura, so you are thinking with the head above your waist!” She clapped furiously in deliberately overdramatic acclaim, with her words leading to Lotor blushing like a twentieth century schoolgirl. She used her telekinesis to push Lotor towards the doorway. “Well, time’s a wastin.’ Go talk to her before your refractory period’s up.”
Lotor’s body was stiff and his toes pointing up in the air as his heels skid across the floor not of his own will. “I never thought female birds were nymphomaniacs, but you proved me wrong, Saoche, you proved me wrong.” The busy castle corridor was interrupted by a telekinetically thrown Prince of Dhm. He felt his body fall into something tough and smooth, but with little bumps at an angle. Pulling his buried face out, Lotor saw a golden-tinged green scale chest with beads come into focus. “Now why does that look so familiar?” he wondered aloud.
An angry grunt from above was followed by the seizing of his right ear. He was slowly encouraged to get up on his feet. He managed to look upwards and soon knew why his landing place looked like he knew it. ‘Better try the old charm this time.’ Flashing his brightest and sexiest smile, he crooned, “Sorry about that Jepaya.”
Jepaya sniffed imperiously. ‘I do not know what this fool is trying to say, but from the looks of his teeth, I would not doubt he is trying to dissuade me.’ “Allura…now,” she spoke gutturally, straining the muscles in her throat to generate the words.
“That’s actually where I was going to head off, so there is no need for you to escort me…OUCH!” Lotor began to explain, gambling with the chance that she may understand some Standard English after all before she tugged impatiently on his ear as she led the way.
* * *
He stood next to Blue Lion. Despite his immense stature, he was dwarfed by its size. King Zarkon had found himself walking back and forth past the hangar where it was kept several times, often making excuses to check the ships and available weapons and defenses. Other times he was calling security images on the various terminals he found himself at. Now he was a step away from the machine, and he had no idea how he had brought himself there.
‘It would figure a robot that draws power from water would hypnotize me,’ he thought with self-deprecation. He crossed his arms as he studied the exterior of the vehicle. He took a step forward. ‘But why a Lion? What does a lion have to do with the element of water? A fish, yeah, a bird, possible if it were one that spent most of its time on the ocean or lake surface…hell, even a frog or a mayfly…but a Lion?!’ he mused. ‘Further evidence of inbreeding in the Arusian royal family,’ he snickered. Sighing with delight, his hand tapped his lips as he felt the urge to touch the Blue Lion. ‘After being denied this opportunity years ago, I may as well find out if it can overpower Grndm’s curse; see if my attacks on Arus were worth the cost.’
He felt the waves of energy coax him nearer and nearer, more powerful than any drug he had ever consumed before. This bordered on a need that called to his elemental soul, or what was left of it. It was maddening, and the decision he had made to make physical contact with the device only made the coveting more potent. He moved his arm forward, thrusting his fingers out at wide arcs as he prepared to touch the Blue Lion’s front leg. In these tiny moments of time, there was no King Zarkon. There were no plans of revenge or destruction. There was only an exiled, deprived, starving water spirit seconds away from being exonerated. Just another slight move of the fingers and the connection would be made.
“Do not taint the Lion, Zarkon!” a voice boomed throughout the hangar.
The water spirit regained its earthbound memories, and Zarkon was once more thinking with a strong calculating mind. He did not bother to look around like a fool. Let the creature who dared command him step forth. As he had expected, the orator did materialize before him, but not in the matter he had figured – it was literal. The apparition of the late King Alfor glittered in front of him, blocking his way to the Blue Lion.
Zarkon stepped back, his eyes narrowing. “And you are?” he regarded the phantom with curiosity and disdain.
“You killed me nine years ago…”
Zarkon clicked his tongue. “I am afraid you will have to be more specific than that. I killed many pathetic cretins nine years ago,” he began plainly.
“Zohar…” the specter warbled.
“Ah, so you are the late King of Arus, the one whom I personally splattered about the Valley of Zohar. May I say you have done a wonderful job of putting yourself back together in the afterlife,” Zarkon bowed regally, mocking fearlessly.
“I warn you, Zarkon,” Alfor moaned. “Do not touch the Lion…”
Zarkon frowned. “And why not?!” he nearly shouted as he threw his hand up. “Why should I heed the words of a dead man? You were not compassionate to my boon a decade ago.”
The spectral visage of Alfor scowled, indicating discontent. “Your demands were unreasonable.”
“Hmmph, and they aren’t now?” Zarkon snarled. “All of this could have been avoided. Arus could have been left alone, happy and under my protection. You would have been king, your happy little wife would have danced with your happy little girl to their heart’s content. The rest of the galaxy would be attained through typically brutal political methods but Arus would be no worse for bear. And all you had to do was disclose the elemental technology. That was all I asked for.”
“In good conscience I could not let you regain what you lost. It was a blessing to the Universe…”
“Really? Did you and your stupid council think I would languish in a dark corner, full of self-pity? Hah! You saw what that stupid logic did for the Denubian; people do not even recall the days where my presence brought forth storms and floods. They think of such things when they think of Hagar. But, that is not what angers me most,” Zarkon spat as his eyes glowed brilliantly livid. His raised hand was now a shaking fist.
“Now you know how it feels to lose someone you love and be powerless to save them,” Alfor observed.
“May your soul be cursed to wander forever until it is ripped apart by Vajel Hiermself!” Zarkon cursed as he lunged forward, trying to pass through Alfor to touch Blue Lion.
“NO!” Alfor cried out as a massive spiritual force flung Zarkon away before he could touch it. He rubbed his head as he groaned and stood up. The apparition faded away into fading strips of mist as Alfor reiterated, “Do not taint the Lion.”
“Very well,” Zarkon replied as he smoothed out the draping fabric he wore. He adjusted his sleeves as he continued, “if you want to keep doing things the painful way,” he tightened the beige cloth covering his head, “then so shall I.”
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