(From Ashes) Chapter 23

         Pride: From Ashes
            Chapter 23
            Another Approach

There were more books hidden within her father’s belongings than Allura had originally thought. It was far more than just the lion tales he'd collected. Most of the books seemed to focus on deals, agreements, treaties, and other matters of business, but a few seemed to hold promise. She was hoping there might be some old lore that had been overlooked as too cryptic, something fresh to look at now that they had new information.

It was just finding which ones might help.

The latest chest she was digging in was a huge one, and had mostly old land petitions in it. It was good, she supposed, that so many records had been preserved through the attack… though she wondered how relevant any of it would be as Arus rebuilt. It certainly wasn't relevant now. She had only emptied this chest out to see if something might be hidden at the bottom; it had a certain rune on the lock that sometimes meant secrets were hidden. But all she saw at the bottom of the chest was bare polished wood.

Sighing, she tipped the chest back with a disgusted grumble… and immediately changed her entire mood as a dull thump came from somewhere within it.

It was very faint, but in this empty part of the caves, the sound of the echo was a bit louder. Looking over the chest again, she noted how thick the sides seemed to be, the disparity between the underside and the bottom of the interior. Considering the ornate decorations, it wouldn't have been unusual in itself, but now… Allura carefully turned it over and started looking over the engravings. Something there would surely hold the trick to removing a possible false bottom. Sometimes it could be a button, a press of the bottom itself, or in this case… a tiny hole, just enough for a fingertip to ease the false panel loose.

Behind the panel was a soft, glossy fabric; it looked very old. But what was wrapped up in it was what seized Allura's interest. It seemed that in the past, the fabric had held some books snugly in place. A combination of time and the chest's last, desperate move had dislodged things, allowing that faint sound to draw her notice.

Five books. They were large, each bound in the colors of one of the Great Lions, each one bearing a lion's symbol. A note was tucked in between two of the ornate tomes; a caution signed by her great grandfather, King Symus, that the books seemed to be warded somehow. Her father had added to the note at some point, detailing his own unsuccessful search for some way to open them.

Curiously, she picked up the book marked for the Lion of Storms. It was bound in what seemed to be heavy black leather, ornately embossed, with a large metallic clasp locking it closed. With a frown, she slid her fingers along the latch, looking for the mechanism that would open it.

A sharp, stinging pain flashed through her skull, across her cheeks, and down her spine. Dropping the book into her lap with a slight gasp, it faded swiftly… she found herself staring at the book in mild confusion. Things were foggy. Why would she want to open—

—No. She shook off the fog with a surge of determination, touching the latch again. An uncomfortable sensation of static crawled up her arm, but she didn't try to open it, and the pain didn't return.

She'd felt this before.

"Just like the pendant," she muttered, taking a long breath.

Letting her fingers feel over the embossing—jagged lightning patterns, a rearing lion, other symbols she wasn't quite clear on—she steadied herself and focused her thoughts. This book has Black Lion's symbol. No mysterious pain or haze in her mind would be allowed to turn her from this question.

Directing her thoughts and voice to the Great Lion, she murmured, "Black? Would you know anything about this book? Its lock seems to behave in the same way as the pendant which hid your key."

She heard a low rumble, like distant thunder, Black Lion purring in her mind. Again his presence felt stronger than before, especially at a distance.

"No, royal cub," he answered after a few moments. "Of this book, I remember nothing, but I recognize my energy within it. Very curious."

"Indeed." Curious was the word. Curious seemed to be the word very often. "And there are four other similar books, with the others' symbols on them. They were hidden very carefully."

Black growled softly. "Many things have been lost, by ourselves and by mortals. But you believe these are important."

"They might be." Surely they must be. She looked over them again, taking in the symbols of the lions. The sharp-edged sigils bore little resemblance to the runes of the old tongue; it seemed unlikely they could mean anything else. "Keith was able to open the pendant, perhaps he can unlock this book as well." Already she was transferring some old ledgers from a large serakht-hide bag, freeing it up for a more important task.

"Perhaps, yes. And likewise the other books?"

"Yes." Allura blushed a little at the lion's prodding. It wasn't that she didn't appreciate the others as well. But it was the Lion of Storms, their leader, who had undergone most of her father's investigations… and captured most of her imagination, from the moment she'd first learned of him. It was only natural that her mind would go to him and his pilot first, surely. Still, she had already been carefully placing all five books in the bag. "They seem to line up perfectly with the five of you. I will see to it they're all placed in the proper hands, and hope the pilots are the ones who can open them."

Again Black purred. "That may be wise."

"I'm sure they must be important." She finished wrapping them in the bag and looked up, as if she could look at who she was speaking to… which, sadly, was not how it worked. "My great grandfather secured these himself, and my father ensured they escaped the attacks. And the team will need every bit of information they can get."

The sensation of agreement touched the edges of her mind. "And what more can you do to help them?"

"Oh, I wish it could be more." A moment's frustration flickered across her face as she stood and slung the bag over her shoulder. "But it seems hunting through these notes from the past is the best I can do for now."

"Are you sure of that, Daughter of Arus?" For a moment his voice seemed to waver—Allura felt a flush in her cheeks, a twinge of discomfort crawling over her skin, and it faded. "More may be asked of you. I heard your words to those underground."

"And I meant them." Another flicker of frustration. "I will fight for Arus' freedom beside you and them, as best I can." Bringing the team old books she couldn't even open herself was hardly the most satisfying way to do that, it was simply what she had right now. Wasn't it?

Static crept down her spine. "Good. Tell me, how far are you willing to go?"

…An excellent question, she decided, resting a hand on the rough stone wall of the chamber. The easy answer was as far as I must, but she knew well that the Lion of Storms was not impressed by easy answers. And the situation was more complex. No matter what she might be willing to give, herself, she had a duty to her people.

And yet…

"I am willing to place my life on the line," she said finally, quietly. The people didn't merely need a living ruler. They needed a leader. Someone willing to fight for their world. "My crown is meaningless if I must cower behind others."

That brief feeling of distortion came again. There was something familiar about it, too, she thought… the lessening of presence that had usually heralded Black Lion fading from conversation entirely. But once again, this time he pushed through it. Had the revelation of Voltron awakened something more?

Hopefully so. It could only be a good sign.

"There are those who will say that is what you are doing now," the lion cautioned. "Trusting those we called to bond, to do the fighting for you."

…Yes. Allura sighed, lowering her eyes for a moment. She'd been keeping an ear out since yesterday's speech; it was about what she'd expected, so far. Wary hope and optimism, tempered by questions of trusting their fate to new strangers and old myths. "I can see how some might think that. But what were we to do, not accept their aid? You called to them."

"We did," Black agreed. "It is something you may face, Daughter of Arus. A careful line to be walked. Are you prepared for it?"

Nod. The lion wasn't questioning her trust himself, she knew that. "I am. I've seen no reason to think that your trust in these offworlders was misplaced. They placed us above their mission, and even their Alliance. They may not be of Arus, but they've fought for us as fiercely as they would their own home."

If she had to stand against such doubts and questions to see her planet freed, so be it. At least it was something more she could do.

"Indeed." The lion gave a low, knowing purr. "I shall retreat for now. Carry on with the task you have taken up."

Smiling, she looked at the bag on her shoulder and nodded. "Rest well, Lion of Storms." With that, she headed off to find the team.

Luckily, she had a pretty good idea of where to find them just now.

*****

With the reasonable expectation of more Drule attacks sooner rather than later, the Falcon had been stashed in a more permanent hiding spot: a small facility cut into the cliffs north of Thunder Ridge. It had once been a patrol base for the Bright Angels, the Arusian aerospace forces. Now it was mostly a runway that happened to be inside a mountain. It had long ago been picked clean of any useful supplies, but it was just spacious enough to get the sleek Xaela into without difficulty.

The Bolt wouldn't have had a chance. So there was that.

What few possessions the team had, they'd transferred to their rooms in the castle. Most of them had even remembered where those rooms were without help—they'd been a nice gesture before, but mostly just that. Now things were different.

Things kept being like that.

There were two spare rooms in the same hallway. One they'd used to dump some miscellaneous things from the Falcon that might be useful eventually—for example, all of the cooking utensils. And the toaster, even though they had neither power to run it nor bread to toast.

The other empty room had been declared their makeshift conference room. And that was where the five lion pilots had gathered to discuss a training schedule.

"I think we need to get back in the air with the lions as soon as possible," Keith said. "We have a whole new range of things to practice now. But we also need to be sure we don't run ourselves or the lions down too much."

Lance was already fighting a yawn. He wanted to fly, even if drills hardly counted as real flying. But talking about drills was not nearly as fun. "I'm all for getting in the air."

"Shocking," Sven said dryly. He wouldn't have minded a little more time to enjoy having his own room again—even if there wasn't much to it—but he knew they did need to work on some things. Okay, a lot of things.

"That's just my kickass moves," Lance smirked. "Shockingly awesome." The navigator rolled his eyes affectionately.

Ignoring them, Pidge turned to Keith and nodded. "The lions are patched, but the armor assimilation was still running on some when we checked in earlier. It's not the fastest process. Green says flying them while it's active shouldn't hurt anything," technically she'd said she was certain within reason, "but power levels will be lower."

The engineers had explained this 'armor assimilation process' after Allura's speech in the shelter, but it had been a kind of quick gloss of the situation. Lance shook his head slowly. "I'm still not sure I buy that's a thing."

"Wait'll ya see it, bro." Hunk snorted. "Then you really won't believe it's a thing."

"They're sentient robot lions who communicate with us telepathically," Sven pointed out, "there's very little I won't believe at this point." He didn't even need to bring up their ability to combine into a giant robot with laser eyes on its foot to get the sentiment across; the others exchanged sheepish chuckles. It was true.

"Yeah, point. Saying something sounds weird just means it's normal now."

Keith shook his head, amused, and turned his focus back to Pidge. "At least we know we can repair them. Let's give it a little longer; I think we want them as close to full power as possible. We're going to need to get some practice in with Voltron, see what we can really do with it."

"Kick ass, obviously, boss."

"Totally."

That was also true, so far as it went. Keith sighed anyway, then shrugged. "I would expect longer training sessions, in any case. Is there anything anyone else wants to work on, specifically?"

"…Everything?" Pidge muttered under his breath. He'd actually been pleased with his showing last battle, for about the first twenty seconds.

"What he said," Hunk agreed with a grimace.

"How to fly an arm?" Lance suggested, drawing a raised eyebrow from Sven.

"Is it really flying the arm? Or is it just moving the arm?"

"Viking, dude. If it's me doing it, it's flying."

Chuckling, Keith waved for silence. "Alright. We'll do a lot of work, then." Have to work on the fundamentals before specifics. Before he could ask anything else, footsteps approaching from the hallway drew his attention.

Pidge had also heard the footsteps, but apparently they were the only two. The others startled a little—or in Hunk's case, a lot—as Allura appeared in the doorway.

"Princess! Good morning."

She'd been a little flustered; leaving the private royal section of the tunnels had resulted in several people trying to snag her for several things that were not important right now. It wasn't even Nanny. Certain members of the Council, faced with the sudden revelation of important offworlders on the planet, had fallen back into old patterns.

Like I need a reminder of protocols for the tenth time.

Shaking it off, she smiled in response to Keith's greeting. "I hope I'm not interrupting, but I might have found something of interest to your team." As she spoke, she stepped into the room and carefully eased the black book from her bag.

Immediately she had everyone's full attention. "What is that?" Keith and Lance asked it at the same moment, then looked at each other. Something felt very significant about the book… and just the fact that it was a book was enough to get Sven and Pidge interested. Hunk leaned forward slightly, feeling similarly confident that anything that brought the princess to them was probably going to be important.

As she freed the book fully, they could see Black Lion's symbol on the cover. Yes, this was going to be something.

"I found these books that were originally located by my great grandfather. He was the first to start seeking to rediscover the secrets of the Great Lions." As the team moved aside for her, she set the black book on their makeshift conference table—actually the room's empty bed frame—and started to remove the others. "And each of the books has one of the lions' markings."

…Not to mention being bound in the colors of the lions, but it was the sigils that made it certain.

Lance zeroed in on the red book as she removed it, feeling the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. "What's in them?"

"I don't know." She looked from him to the commander. "Keith… the pendant your key was hidden in. I couldn't open it, before it was buried with my father. The locks on these books seem to behave similarly to the pendant, so I wonder… it's possible that only you can open them."

For all that he wanted to get his hands on the red book, Lance wasn't about to let that go by. "Yeah, Keith. Maybe you've got the magic touch."

Keith glared, Allura blushed, and Lance gave a smug smirk.

"We can try it," the commander agreed once he finished glaring. "Might be the least bizarre thing to happen so far." Accepting the black book, he felt the sensation of static on his fingers, and frowned thoughtfully.

As Allura handed him the red book, Lance fumbled for thank you in Arusian. "Narrow nah?" Lady Hys' booklets had tried to give the phonetics, but some were a little ambiguous.

He hadn't quite nailed the pronunciation of naroehna, but it was a close effort, and the princess smiled in appreciation. Returning the smile, he looked at the book in his hands and felt immediately drawn in by it.

Definitely something.

Sven shivered a little as he took his, feeling a chill. Interesting. He could feel Blue was interested too, and curious—which was intriguing in its own right.

"More reading?" Hunk asked, chuckling as she handed him the yellow book. "Could be fun."

"Too much to hope for these to be technical manuals, kir sa tye?" Pidge traced over Green's sigil on the cover of his book; if the lions did have technical manuals, it felt like such ornate, slightly ominous books would be about right.

"Be some next level tech manuals." Hunk poked the heavy mechanism keeping his book closed; much like the ninja, he did feel like that would be appropriate, but wasn't going to get his hopes up.

Running his fingers down the binding, over what looked like an embossing of a sword, Lance smirked again. "Viking is probably hoping for maps."

"I miss maps," Sven agreed immediately. "Math. Finding the best route to a known set of navigational coordinates."

"Like with the lake?"

If it had been anyone but Pidge who'd asked that, Sven would've known it was sarcasm and responded accordingly. With the ninja it was still hard to tell, so he just sighed. "Yes, Pidge. Like with the lake."

Lance couldn't tell if it had been snark either, so he decided not to risk congratulating it. "God, I hope it's not calculus."

"Don't worry, Lance, the universe isn't fond enough of me for that."

The others were testing the locks on the books as they bantered, but nobody had found any hint as to how they opened. Keith wasn't even sure they were locks—maybe just complicated latches—he certainly didn't see a keyhole. Then again, these were also presumably alien locks. Black, anything you can tell me to help?

"No, Stormsoul. But it is connected to me, as the Daughter of Arus suspects."

Hmm. Well, he did have one key connected to Black Lion. He pulled the metal disc from his pocket and placed it on top of the lock, waiting and hoping for something to happen. But nothing did, and after holding it for a minute or so, he shook his head. "Worth a shot, I suppose."

"Couldn't hurt."

"I mean, it's a key, yeah?"

"Yeah." The feeling of static was stronger. On instinct, Keith rested his hand on the lock, closing his eyes. It felt almost comfortable as he adjusted to it…

Lance frowned, fiddling with his own book's lock again. He felt the familiar curl of warmth, but couldn't tell where it was coming from—from Red, or the book itself? Any ideas?

"Trust your instincts, Firestriker."

Why do I feel like that's you saying you don't know? But fine, instincts it was. Last time he'd been told to do that, he'd followed the warmth… he tried it again.

Pidge had found a few tiny seams within the latching mechanism, but couldn't get them open. He was debating where he might find some lockpicking tools—was he really going to have to go ninja on a book?

"I do not think it is so drastic, Windseeker. …Nor do I think it would work."

He frowned, but a faint breeze had accompanied the words; he tried concentrating on that instead. This is magic lion stuff, understood.

Sven's mind was still on the rush of cold when he'd first touched the book; it still felt slightly chilly to the touch. Blue?

"Trust in our bond."

"Must you be so vague?" he muttered under his breath; Lance snorted.

"I think they took a class."

"Our original mission was less vague than they are." Frowning, he fell silent, considering the words. Trust in our bond. Vague, but maybe… he tried to mentally reach out to the book, the way he had with the lake, feeling slightly silly but not having any better ideas.

Hunk was also trying to make sense of the locking mechanism. The book felt heavy, and he didn't think it was all because the book was heavy, exactly. What was so important that it needed to be locked up like this? This isn't your operator's manual, is it?

"I remember… and yet do not."

That was unhelpful even for the lions. Remember what? Tugging the latch again, he felt a faint tremor. It wasn't unlike that time he'd talked to rocks…

Allura had stepped back slightly as the team investigated the books. None of them seemed to be making much progress—at least to their own minds. She could feel a swirling of powerful energies in the room as they focused themselves. Black Lion's storm… but also the others, feelings that lurked just beyond her ability to truly grasp, but clearly present.

Five soft clicks ran through the room.

"That actually worked?"

"What the hell just happened?" Lance looked around at the others, none of whom seemed quite able to explain what they'd just done.

"The bonds," Red growled softly. "You used our bond to open the seal."

…Now he really wanted to know what was in these things. He slid a finger down and opened the latch, still slightly surprised when the book fell open easily in his hands, revealing… well. "That's not English."

Not that he'd expected English, but a page of symbols he couldn't read seemed to call for some comment.

"Well it's not math," Sven sighed as he opened his. He couldn't read it either, but it was clearly block text.

"Not math, not English, this is the worst textbook." Something was tugging at Hunk's mind as he looked over the first page, but he couldn't fully place it.

Keith was just studying his book quietly, curiously. But Pidge had frozen. Because he knew what he thought he was seeing—but he couldn't pin it down, and what he could pin down didn't make any sense.

"I've… I've seen some of these characters before."

"Wait, what?" Hunk looked at the ninja, looked back at his book, and it hit him all at once. He'd seen some of these before, too—but he'd been able to read them then. "It's the same language as the lion consoles, yeah?"

"Yeah, but…" Trailing off, Pidge shook his head in frustration. He could remember seeing lines of similar text clearly in his mind, but he couldn't place where. What he was certain of was that it hadn't just been in his lion. Though thinking back, he was pretty sure Hunk was right about the lions, too.

Lance thought so also, and tried to concentrate on the alien words. If Red could help him read the consoles, then maybe… he felt another rush of warmth, and the world took on that familiar crimson tint. And suddenly the words made sense.

We choose to write these words for the legacy of the Defender. For those who shall follow. May the glories of the Red Lion be known to all who read this Book of Flame.

Blinking, he looked up from the page; the others hadn't gotten there yet. "Go into highlighter mode."

"Highlighter mode?" Keith echoed, then looked up and saw Lance's eyes glowing red. "Oh."

"Yeah, I should've said make like a glowstick."

The others followed suit—with more or less difficulty. Sven could hardly believe he was voluntarily trying to make his eyes glow, but could hardly argue with the results as the words became clear. "Having a translator in my mind is one of the most useful things ever."

Blue purred.

Though Allura desperately wanted to see what the pilots were seeing, she didn't want to stick her nose too far into it. Certainly not while they were still trying to figure it out themselves. But Pidge moved closer to her, holding his book up. "Princess, is this an Arusian language?"

She tilted her head, studying the symbols. They were thoroughly alien: horizontal lines with complex sets of dots and jagged dashes extending beneath them. "No. Not any Arusian I've ever seen." How would that have come about, though?

Truthfully he hadn't thought so, but it was worth a try. But it had drawn Hunk's attention, and he peeked over Pidge's shoulder out of idle curiosity. Which almost instantly became much less idle.

"Uh, I kinda hate to have to say this, but…" He looked between the yellow and green books. "These don't even look close to the same."

"Huh?" Lance had already been engrossed in his—the first entry of what seemed very much like a journal had been signed with the name Flamebearer. Now he looked up again and took a peek at Sven's book. "Huh. Yeah, that's different than mine."

Looking at the red book, Sven nodded his agreement. "These are definitely not the same language."

"Huh." Lance felt like he'd said that a lot, but really…

Keith walked over and examined both their books; he wasn't surprised by what he found. "Mine is different from both of these." As Pidge and Hunk approached, all six people in the room already had a pretty good idea of what they'd say.

Sure enough. "None of these are the same."

"And I can't translate Lance's, at least," Sven reported, taking a closer look at the red book as his eyes glowed blue. The pilot raised an eyebrow and returned the gesture, shaking his head; even in full glowstick mode, all he saw was some graceful-looking gobbledygook.

"More mysteries." Keith shook his head, too. "Will it end?"

"Unlikely," Pidge muttered.

"But the consoles are the same language! The same as my book, anyway…" Lance trailed off as the full implications of that sank in. "How is that? What is that? Fucking Voltron."

"All different languages…" Allura tapped her chin thoughtfully. Not being in Arusian was one thing; not all being the same was another entirely. "None of this seems to make sense."

"Welcome to the party, sister." Hunk gave her a sympathetic shrug, then thought about what Romelle had told them before. Voltron isn't where it's supposed to be. "You said you had old legends about all of the lions, yeah?"

It was occurring to him that he'd just assumed the lion consoles must be in Altean.

Allura nodded. "My father sought to find all the old tales that he could, and Coran helped him search. Though the only thing that ever mentioned the name Voltron was a single partly-destroyed page."

"Because of the war right now?" Keith asked, surprised; she shook her head.

"No. It was damaged long ago."

That sounded much more in keeping with everything else about the lions.

Hunk closed his book and leaned back against the wall. Reading could come later. "Did any of 'em, uh… say where the lions came from in the first place?"

"Yeah, do tell…" Lance saw where this train of thought was going, and took another shot at Arusian. "Zale nickta?" He felt more confident about his pronunciation of please than thank you. Fewer vowels.

He had, indeed, gotten zalnycta down correctly, and the princess gave him another small smile. Then, looking between him and Hunk, she thought for a few moments before shaking her head slowly. "No. The Great Lions were understood to have always been part of Arus. Unless there was some arrival that occurred before the stories were written down."

Keith was remembering the same thing Hunk had. "Didn't Romelle say they didn't belong on Arus, though?"

Lance shrugged; he felt like there was an easy enough way to at least get a partial answer here. "Are any of the books written in Arusian?"

Before Allura could even start looking around, Sven offered his book up. "…Maybe? They look similar, at least." None quite the same as any Arusian he yet recognized, but close enough to feel significant.

Studying the pages he had open, Allura drew a shallow breath. Yes, she knew this one; it was easily the best-preserved example of the old tongue she'd ever seen. "It's a very old dialect. Not many pieces written in this style have survived." No doubt about what the next question would be. "Many of the lion tales were among them."

"How old is this?" Lance mumbled, almost to himself.

"Whoever wrote this… it reads almost like a diary." Sven ran his fingers up the blue leather binding; the books were not small. The time covered probably wasn't small either.

"Yeah, mine is like a journal, too."

"How long ago was this the common language?"

Frown. "Not since the War of Golden Revival. It's been a few centuries."

Pidge's head snapped up. That war again. It felt like they already knew that—that the lions being hidden must have predated that war. Romelle hadn't known about it, after all. But the way Green Lion snarled in the back of his mind every time it came up made him uneasy.

"Holy fuck," Lance whispered, and Hunk gave a low whistle.

"That's, uh…"

"Ancient," Keith murmured, looking at his own book. "They do look like journals. Handwritten, even." The concept was promising. "Maybe we'll finally learn something solid from these."

"This much to read, I'd hope so," Pidge snorted. He'd finally used the bond to read the first page of his book, and it wasn't quite what he'd have described as a journal—or at least, the first line was about submitting the following reports. But that could also be useful.

"Can we get started?" Lance's earlier impatience to get out and fly was nearly forgotten. Not that he wouldn't have been very happy to take Red to the skies right now, but the book was dangling the tantalizing prospect of answers in front of him. In front of all of them. Why were they just standing around talking about things they might learn?

"Totally," Hunk agreed. "I for one am ready to do some more homework."

Keith chuckled. "Alright. You all know we do need to focus on learning to fly these lions better." It was a higher priority even than answers to all the infuriating mysteries, he was pretty sure. "But we were going to give the repair process a little longer. Go ahead and do some reading, and we'll get together for training about noon."

"You got it, boss."

"Fuck yeah."

Grinning, Keith turned to Allura and gave a grateful nod. "Thank you for these, Princess."

"Yeah, uh, naroehna!" Hunk hit the pronunciation perfectly.

Smiling, Allura tilted her head in acknowledgment. "You're welcome. I hope they'll be useful to you." She left the room with the others, considering all that she'd just heard.

There is so much more…

She was very much starting to understand why the offworlders complained about weirdness so often.

*****

Daniel was decorating. A questionable premise, really; there were only two pieces of furniture in the room. But he could at least put those two in an acceptable spot… which for the moment meant pushing the bed frame into the corner, because only boring adults who had their lives together put their bed in the middle of the room.

The other piece of furniture was a rather battered dresser. The state of it didn't matter, really; wasn't like his scavenged clothes from the Falcon filled more than maybe half a drawer. Maybe. But it was here, and he was decorating, so he was going to move it. On principle.

And also because the more he concentrated on that, the less he worried about questions he couldn't answer. But anyway.

"What should I do with that thing?" All four of his salalizards just stared back at him; none seemed to have strong opinions on dresser relocation. Shrugging, he started moving them to the bed, getting a nip from Kermi for his trouble. "Ow! Unnecessary."

Someone chuckled.

Turning to see who was intruding on his very important work, he drew up short as he saw… no one. The doorway was empty. Looking back at the salalizards, he narrowed his eyes. "Did you guys just laugh at me?"

Toast burped.

"Don't get embers on my bed!" He quickly brushed them off and just as quickly regretted it. "Ow, hot—I just got this thing! Can we wait at least a week before we ruin it?"

Admittedly, the mattress and blanket were from the Falcon; bossman had refused to take anything like that from the Arusians when they had their own. But a new bed frame was a new bed. It was, again, the principle of the thing.

It didn't seem like Toast was overly impressed by his principles, but at least he didn't burp again. Crouton hopped off the bed to eat the previous batch of embers, and Daniel sighed.

"That is disgusting. Stop it." As he went to pick the salalizard up, he heard the chuckle again.

And then a gruff, warm voice rang out in the back of his mind. "My familiars are quite fond of you, cub."

Crouton and his appetite for embers were forgotten in an instant. "WHAT THE FUCK?!"

Something like a questioning growl came through loud and clear. In his brain. "Perhaps you will tell me what a fuck is?"

"I—" Daniel frantically whipped his head around the room. But nobody else was there, which he'd already known, and the abrupt shock of what the fuck was giving way to realization. "Wait. Yooooo…" The voice in his head. The fact that it had called him cub. "…Are you Red Lion?"

"I am." Another growl. "I have been waiting for the time we could become acquainted."

"Yeah? Me too." All the questions Daniel had been resolutely ignoring all morning came flooding back at once, and he decided to start with the main one. "What the fuck, bro? What the hell is going on?"

The lion gave another bemused chuckle. "I know you have questions…"

"How are you connected to me? Why did I feel heat when Lance bonded? And when I saw him fly you for the first time? Why connect to a second person at all, you already have a pilot, what do you need me for?"

"…Ah, yes. Many questions. The bonds are unstable, and like Firestriker, you are linked to the flame."

Daniel kept right on going as if the lion hadn't spoken at all. He had too much to ask to stop now—and frankly, none of that had been an answer. "What was that feeling I felt when you were part of Voltron? It wasn't heat or warmth, it was different."

"There are many things I cannot answer now."

Well that lined up with his reputation. "And you called the salalizards your… familiars? Why? What's a familiar—like, why do you have them at all? What's their purpose? Does it have to do with why they follow me around everywhere?"

The lion sounded amused. "As I said, they are fond of you."

"Right." That told him nothing either. "And why do they connect to me more than Lance? Except Kermi, but she's kind of an ass so I'm getting more and more okay with her being Lance's."

Now Red chuckled outright, again. "You've befriended them. Perhaps you should ask yourself, why might that be?"

Oh no he didn't. "I'm asking you the questions here, Pyro-Cat."

To his surprise, the lion didn't object. "Have you asked all that you seek?"

"…I think so." He'd kind of lost track of what he had and hadn't asked. But it felt like he'd gotten a good number of them out at least. "You gonna answer anything?"

"Answers are not always clear."

"None of your answers have been clear."

"A complaint I have heard before."

And even the clear answers weren't helpful, apparently. Daniel had things to say to Lance after this. Things about how his lion was talking to him… and was also kind of annoying.

"Firestriker will commiserate with that, cub."

"Wh—HEY." He blushed. "Reading people's thoughts is totally rude, dude."

"Ah, but I am in your head."

"Well that's…" The lion did have a point there. "I don't…" An annoying point. "We are totally going to have a talk about brain privacy."

He was pretty certain the answer to that was a purr. Which seemed like maybe not the best sign for that talk, but they would be having it nonetheless.

For the moment, though, he was going through the answers he'd received and trying to find some semblance of actual information in them. And there was a bit of that. "Okay, you said the bonds are unstable. What does that mean?"

"The bonding is incomplete."

That was something remarkably like a straight answer, yet it still didn't tell him anything. "How do you complete it?"

"That is what has led me to you, cub."

…Was that information? It felt like information. But it also felt like something he'd known, or suspected, just without understanding why. Glancing over at his salalizards for support, he frowned deeper. "So you wanna 'bond' with me? Just like you did with Lance?"

Another low purr. "We must forge our own path."

What did that even mean? Daniel revised his earlier opinion; the pyro-cat was not just kind of annoying. Which he did feel like he'd gathered from Lance already. In fact he'd gathered it from more than just Lance… and the thought of other people who were annoyed by their lions, combined with whatever Red had just said, brought the most important question to the front.

"That reminds me." He narrowed his eyes slightly at the salalizards, just trusting the lion to get who was actually being glared at. "Why the fuck am I not a pilot?"

Red Lion gave a strange, knowing growl… and then asked a fucking question. "Does this matter?"

"Does this—you're in my head! You tell me."

"I called Firestriker to be my Knight, and thus he flies me in battle, yes. But this matters to you? Why?"

Really? Daniel huffed. "I get wanting Lance to be your pilot, he's fucking awesome. That's not what I'm…" Something told him asking Red Lion why other rainbow cats had gone with engineers who didn't even want to fly would get him nowhere, even by the standards of this conversation. "I'm a good pilot, okay? I'm a great pilot. I don't understand—" This was stupid. "You know what? No. I don't owe you an explanation on why I need to be a pilot. You haven't actually answered any of my questions, why should I answer yours?"

The lion was quiet for a minute, though somehow Daniel could feel that he was still there. Then, "Perhaps you haven't asked me the question that truly matters."

"No, that's bullshit." Glare. "My questions are totally important… okay maybe not the salalizard ones, but all the others are important!"

"It's there, isn't it? Something about what role you wish to have. You aren't unlike Firestriker. It's all there in your questions, but not quite truly stated."

…Huh?

"What is it you really seek to know?"

Well, for one thing, he didn't even know if he was more confused or more irritated right now. "What does that even mean?" he demanded, pitching his voice into a rough approximation of the lion's growl. "'What is it you really seek to know?' I don't know, maybe everything I just asked you?!" Kermi hissed at him for yelling, and he rolled his eyes. "This is what the team meant, isn't it? When they said you lions were infuriating."

Red gave that short, bemused growl again. "I believe so, yes."

"Oh look at that, a straight answer." And an annoyingly unapologetic one, at that. He was so over this conversation. "Okay, I'm going to need 24 hours before we talk again. Okay? Can I have that? I need to process a lot. Number one being some ancient robotic pyro-cat talking in my head, and not so much the talking but how annoying said talking is." He crossed his arms. "And when I bitch about you to Lance later, I don't want to hear anything from you. At all. Not one word, peep, or growl. Consider yourself on brain silence—it's like radio silence, but in the brain."

His lecture earned him just another enigmatic chuckle, because of course it did. "You do have much to ponder, my cub. We shall find what you seek…"

For fuck's sake. "Yeah whatever."

"Until next time." With a curl of warmth around Daniel's shoulders, the lion's presence retreated.

"…The warmth is pretty cool though," he admitted grudgingly. "Feel free to do that any time." Another curl followed, and he smirked slightly; he supposed that was a decent bonus to have gotten from the conversation.

The conversation with an infuriating magical lion robot.

Holy fuck.

"I've gotta go tell Lance!"

*****

For a while, too much had been happening to really have time to think about things. Larmina would've been just as happy for it to stay that way. But no such luck. The Green Lion, Voltron, the vision in the foothills—they were all being terribly inconvenient about staying out of her thoughts.

It didn't make sense, any of it. The growls she'd heard, the banewolves, King Alfor's belief that she was part of some mystery… something just for her. What had it all amounted to?

Nothing. That was what she wanted to say. Nothing at all, like usual. Of course the misbehaving bastard child didn't have any special role to play.

But there had been something, hadn't there?

So she'd gone back to the forest. Her confidence that she could actually find the shrine again wasn't high, but she sure as the hells wouldn't find it if she didn't even look. It felt like where she needed to be. Something that really was for her, unlike all this lion nonsense.

The name of the goddess was Avira the Lifebinder.

What had her mother known about a Usurper goddess? What was she supposed to know about it? And why couldn't someone just give her a straight answer?

"Do you truly want such answers?"

Larmina jumped, drawing her bow out of reflex, but she knew it wasn't going to help. She recognized that voice. That mysterious, infuriating voice… though she'd never heard it like this before.

"Who's there?" she snapped, eyes darting around the trees.

"Beginning with questions you already know the answer to?" The voice felt stronger, but… disrupted, somehow. Wavering and shifting, as if she were hearing it through a commset with a bad resonance filter. "I am the Green Lion, the Lion of Wind."

…Yes. Yes, she'd known that. But so long as the voice remained on the fringes, she could pretend otherwise.

We are not yet ready.

Now? Guess we're ready. Fine.

"I want some answers." She lowered her bow, eyes narrowing at nothing in particular. "I want to know why you let the sinycka take Arus in the first place! Why you were waiting on offworlders. Weren't we good enough for you?"

The lion was silent for a few moments. "I lack that answer, but—"

"—So you couldn't protect us when we needed you most, and you can't even tell us why. But we're supposed to believe in you now?"

"I would hardly ask you to do so blindly."

"Good. Then you can leave me alone. You have a pilot, go bother him."

Something like a soft growl ran through her, sending a shiver up her spine. Was the lion purring? That seemed like an odd reaction to telling her to fuck off.

"You will understand in time, Daughter of the Forest. All the winds sing as one."

And somehow, though she didn't feel or hear anything different, Larmina knew the lion had departed her mind. …Which was an incredibly irritating thought, and she did not want to dwell on it more. Resolving to just ignore whatever had just happened—yeah, like that'll work—she looked around.

The shrine. She'd come out here to find the shrine. Which… she and Pidge had been guided to last time by a banewolf. One of Green Lion's banewolves.

Dovoyat.

She was not about to ask for help. Hell no. She'd spent plenty of time in this forest before lion voices or mythical wolves had gotten involved, and she could find her way on her own, thank you.

…After an hour of wandering, she sighed and dropped onto an old mossy stump. Okay, maybe she couldn't find her way on her own.

"This is stupid," she grumbled to the forest. "I miss not having to worry about anything but nailing more rolis than Hanso." She kind of envied him and Allendar. They didn't have to worry about any of this… and then she was mad again. Why didn't they have to worry about any of this? They would've made great lion pilots! Probably. Okay, she had no idea if either of them had the first clue how to pilot anything.

Then again, to hear them tell it, half the offworlders didn't either.

A soft yip drew her attention, and she looked up to see the black and white banewolves standing in the underbrush. "Oh, hi." Tempting as it was to snap at them, she couldn't do it. She liked them. Even if they were Green Lion's minions, or whatever… they had saved her life and all.

The black wolf yipped again, and the white one padded up and nuzzled her hand.

"…Okay, okay. You're laying it on a little thick here, lion robot." The white wolf gave a questioning snuffle. "Snuffle at her, not me! She sent you, right? Are you gonna take me to this Usurper shrine?" She reached out and scratched them behind the ears. "Because apparently you're the only ones who know the way."

"They can lead you there." She startled at the lion's voice, then glared into the trees. "Or we can attempt to answer your other question. But I warn you, there is danger in that path."

"Wait, what?" Larmina's glare faded. My other question… "Thought you said you didn't have that answer?"

"I do not."

"That doesn't make any sense." She slung her bow over her back, drawing her staff instead. "And I feel like you're trying to be all agreeable and helpful while talking me out of actually taking you up on it."

"That is not what—"

"—So lead on. I'm sure as the hells not afraid of danger."

The lion made a sound that might've been a sigh, and was thankfully otherwise silent as the banewolves started to guide her.

It didn't take very long for her to recognize where they were heading. A deeper sort of darkness swelled beyond the trees, and despite what she'd said about danger, Larmina found herself slowing slightly. With every step she expected to be assaulted by the stinging, blinding pain that had struck her twice before.

She wasn't going to ask. She wasn't going to say a damn word.

"You do not need to, cub."

Oh for—

"Make up your mind, would you? In my head or out of it. I'd rather you go with out, but if you're going to be in it I want some explanations."

Green Lion chuckled. Again, Larmina didn't feel like she'd said anything remotely funny. Then a wave of something washed over her, a chill wind, and the lion's presence went from amused to grimly serious in an instant.

"The thing you now fear is why your people could not fly us."

She froze. "What?" Eyes darting around the trees, Larmina readied her staff, as if she really thought that would be any help. "You know what that… thing that attacked me out here is?"

"No. And thus I lack the answers." The lion growled. "It runs far deeper than the contamination you have faced in my forest. But if you are willing to brave that rot, we may learn something more."

Somehow, she did and didn't like the sound of that. At the same time. "Are you using me as bait?"

Another sigh-growl. "You won't believe me if I say no, will you?"

Which was not her saying no. "Are you?"

"That word is imprecise. You need not agree to this, cub."

"Um, fuck that." She braced herself. "I told you I'm not afraid of danger." And before the lion could respond, she charged ahead towards the darkness.

The pain struck about twenty steps in. But it seemed different… she gasped on a choking wind, and heard the banewolves yipping and snarling beside her. What were they even doing? She couldn't see; spots were swimming in front of her eyes. But her legs were still moving, and she kept forcing herself to go further. One step at a time. It felt like something was blunting the worst of the pain, but there was still plenty of it left…

She wasn't going to stop. Hells no. Maybe it was irrational to think the pride of Arus was all riding on her shoulders right now—but she'd rarely been accused of all that much rationality. And whatever it was that said her people weren't good enough to fly lions, 'contamination' or whatever else, she was going to inform it precisely where it could shove that opinion.

"Cub!" The lion's voice was wavering much more, barely even audible. "You're getting too close to—"

You can shove it too, she snapped in her mind. I'm not doing this for you!

Suddenly, something caught her attention, piercing the painful haze she was charging through. There was a tree… it didn't look any different from the others nearby, but something about it was off. It hurt to look at. She couldn't look away. It was radiating…

Images stabbed into her mind, flashes of shadowy figures and golden flame, and she passed out.

The next thing Larmina knew, she was sprawled in soft moss, with two banewolves nuzzling her with concern.

"Cub?"

Green Lion's voice was very strong now. She jumped and immediately regretted it; everything hurt. Though checking herself over weakly, she didn't think she was actually injured. Just aching. Badly. Except for her shoulder, which felt damp, and when she poked it her fingers came away with a hint of blood.

"I'm afraid one of the wolves may have broken the skin while they were pulling you away."

…Oh. She looked at them; the white wolf gave a whimper that definitely seemed a little sheepish.

Then, continuing to turn her head, Larmina found herself staring at huge metal claws.

"Dovayat pol!"

"You are quite mad, Daughter of the Forest." The lion gazing down at her sounded approving. "Feel free to rest here… and when you are ready, perhaps you'd prefer to use my tunnels to return to your den?"

…Yes. Yes, perhaps she would.

*****

Many things were hidden beneath the Castle of Lions, it seemed. Romelle found herself heading for something more… normal than bomb shelters or lion tunnels. The castle dungeons.

Or rather, the castle's secured accommodation wing. Arusians didn't have dungeons.

Romelle was not worried about the semantics.

"Can I really go through with this?" she muttered to herself in Polluxian. "Why did I make the offer? What was I thinking?"

It had seemed like a good idea at the time. Her knowledge of Drakure could be helpful here—and however wary she might yet be around the Arusians, there was no question their interests aligned. So she'd offered to help with the interrogations of the prisoners from the Radiant Fortress. They were still holding out, but she had one unique card to play.

She'd felt very brave when she'd made the offer. Now, walking into the shadowy depths of the castle, she mostly felt very foolish.

An Arusian woman in a lightly armored bodysuit was waiting for her. Interesting in itself; she couldn't recall seeing anyone dressed like that here before. Steeling herself, she nodded a greeting. "I'm Romelle. I've been sent to speak to one of the prisoners."

"My name is Miralna." She returned the nod. "I will attend to the interrogation—I hope you'll feel safe enough with only one knight?"

Romelle's relief that the guard seemed to know the situation evaporated immediately. "Knight?" she repeated. "You're… one of the Golden Knights?"

"Yes." She tilted her head curiously. "Of the Knights of Light, specifically."

Not that Romelle knew a thing about different groups of knights. But she was flashing back to the arena, to the captured Arusian knights she'd sentenced… guilt washed over her, and she took a moment to swallow it back. "Um. I'm sorry, I was just surprised."

I did what I felt was just at the time… and I will have to live with that. The memory of savage righteousness now just made her skin crawl. But then, something seemed to silence the shivers—a faint ripple, like warm water flowing over her, and a sense of comfort that was just enough to regain her composure.

Mercifully, Miralna made the easy assumption; the stunned reaction hadn't been uncommon among Arusians. "Most are surprised to see any of us left. No need to apologize."

It had been a long time now that she'd been resolutely refusing to consider the full truth; she was the only one of the Knights of Light left. And Radiant Warrior willing, she would continue to not think about that for a good long while yet. There was too much to do.

Romelle lowered her eyes. "Yes, understandable." And I had a hand in it… stop it! You have a job to do for your team, now focus.

"Yes, focusing on the task seems wise."

She froze, crying out in Polluxian. "What was that?!" Her eyes darted up and down the corridor; she didn't see any ghosts, and it hadn't been Miralna's voice. In fact, the knight was giving her an odd look.

"What's wrong?"

"Um… nothing, I'm sorry." She blushed, and could've sworn she heard a soft chuckle. "Should we get started?"

…Not her business, Miralna decided. She didn't know much about Polluxians, maybe it was a cultural thing. And guarding the prisoners wasn't usually her job; she'd been asked to attend to this particular interrogation precisely because the discretion of a knight was what it needed.

Even she had been stunned when she was told of the plan. But if the Princess and Lord Coran spoke for the Polluxian, then the Polluxian was a friend of Arus. And thus, as a Golden Knight, her duty was to render all aid that she could.

So she motioned for the other woman to follow, and led her down a corridor to the left. "The prisoners are still refusing to tell us anything about their on-planet operations. A few have been willing to tell us more general information. Mostly about their force numbers and how sorry we'll be when they hear of what's happened, which is where this one comes in; he had words about how he would be here to watch the Prince and Princess-Consort subjugate us once more. I hope that will serve your needs?"

There it was. "I hope so." That was what she'd suggested, in some fit of temporary madness. She'd been in the public eye enough, back on Korrinoth, that perhaps at least one of these prisoners might have heard of her.

What was I thinking?

"The thought was worthy."

This time Romelle managed not to cry out, but she looked around again. Still no sign of any ghosts. Where was that voice coming from?

"Where do you think?"

What kind of question was that? She tried to force it back. Not the easiest of tasks. The voice was calm, elegant, and really quite pretty; it might have been pleasant if it weren't coming to her from no apparent source. In a dungeon.

"Thank you." A strange rippling purr accompanied the words. "Icehunter has called my voice elegant, as well."

Icehunter? Isn't that… It hit her rather like a chunk of the castle masonry. Am I hearing Sven's lion now?!

This time the purr was accompanied by a soft chuckle. "You've felt my waters before, cub. Now we shall take the next step."

That seemed to be a yes, and frankly Romelle was not prepared to engage with the rest of it. She wasn't even wholly prepared for the conversation she'd been planning to have down here! Um, no offense, but now isn't a very good time? Can this… wait? I have an important job to do.

Blue Lion purred again. "I have an important task to complete as well. I believe we can do them in harmony."

…Oh. Well then. In the span of perhaps a minute, Romelle felt she suddenly understood the others much better.

Okay… Blue. As she followed Miralna around another turn, it seemed clear she wasn't going to have much more time to debate. Let's do this together, then, I guess…

She heard a low growl of agreement, and just in time. One last corner brought them to a long, dimly lit corridor. A faint glow of heat drew her attention to the two people present: one, waiting in a rickety chair at the turn, was an older Arusian man who looked somewhere between dignified and disheveled.

"This is Lord Dalhei," Miralna explained, "one of our remaining diplomats. He's been handling the overall interrogations, and offered to take notes so you can focus on your questioning."

"I won't interfere," the man promised.

"Thank you." Romelle meant it; one less thing to worry about. "I hope I'll be able to help."

Behind the bars at the end of the hallway, the second heat aura resolved itself into a Drule as they approached. His cell had a bench and a thin pillow, and not much else; it looked like it might once have been more comfortable, but whatever amenities had existed had been scavenged by the refugees long ago.

What did the Earthlings call that? Karma?

Miralna took up a station to one side of the door, Lord Dalhei further back on the other. "All yours, Lady Romelle."

Right. Squaring her shoulders and taking a deep breath, Romelle nodded. She wasn't sure about this—less so now that she had an unexpected voice accompanying her thoughts—but she could do it. She had to. For her team.

She stepped up to the bars.

The Drule inside looked up with disinterest; he was probably used to unwanted company. But as his eyes focused on her, he gasped and jumped up from the bench. "What kind of trick is this?!" he barked at the Arusians, baring his fangs.

Miralna didn't understand him, and Lord Dalhei just made a note.

Romelle narrowed her eyes, steeling herself. It seemed to confirm her suspicion, that reaction. She didn't know what story the Drules might have told to explain her disappearance from Korrinoth. But this soldier's news was out of date.

Maybe… maybe this will work…

"On your feet to greet your Crown Prince's a'kuri, good. At least you're still capable of something."

"Wh—how?!" He looked her up and down, his eyes lingering on the gaive'llar she'd made sure to have visible at her side. Then he brightened. "So these stubborn creatures have been brought back in line, then?"

Glare. "You think you are entitled to ask me questions in such a manner?" The Drule flinched. "I will be asking the questions here, and not the other way around! Now, what is your name, soldier?"

He swallowed, then gave a crisp salute. "I am Valok of the Arusian Mechanized Garrison, my lady." He could still hardly believe what he was seeing—Princess Romelle, here? And even more formidable than the gossip sheets had claimed!

"These theatrics seem quite effective, cub. And amusing."

It was all Romelle could do not to jump. Thanks, I think? It was coming a bit more easily than she'd feared. Perhaps because she'd never behaved like this when she was actually on Korrinoth—only afterwards, when the team needed such deception. But can you give some kind of warning before you just… comment? Please? Jumping out of her skin from unexpected lion commentary would not help her maintain the ruse.

Valok was still staring at her in what seemed to be genuine awe, and she decided she didn't like it. "My…" This part was not easy, and she hid the flinch only with great effort. "My sincline," the word felt sour in her mouth, "is quite disappointed by the recent incident at your post. He felt you were unworthy of his presence, so he sent me to investigate instead. Understand that this is not an honor, Valok."

He gulped. "Y-yes, Princess."

"Am I to tell you I'm about to speak, then? Speaking to warn you that I will speak seems redundant."

Oh, she did not need this. I need to get this questioning done—I thought Sven and the others said you all… growl or purr or something?

"You would like me to growl before I speak? My cubs are very odd beings."

Her cubs? Romelle gritted her teeth, trying to keep her focus on the task at hand. It did have the effect of making her look that much more formidable, based on Valok's wince. "Now, you will tell me all you know of what was happening at your post. My scribe here will be taking notes, so that I can brief my sincline." She was more grateful than ever for Lord Dalhei's presence, even if it was unexpected. She wouldn't have trusted herself to give a thorough briefing after all this.

"Of course, Princess!" Valok saluted again, then slowly grimaced. "…We were attacked by giant metal cat monsters."

Blue Lion huffed.

"Go on."

The soldier shrugged helplessly. "Nothing we had could scratch them. Have they been—" He quickly thought better of that; her admonition about questions had stuck. "I mean, I'm certain they were no threat to whatever forces accompanied you, but mere assault tanks were not up to the task."

And how. "Indeed. Who was your commanding officer?"

"Overlord Krask, the force liaison." Frown. "A cooperating Arusian noble had nominal command, but of course we only acted if Krask authenticated his orders."

Out of the corner of her eye, Romelle noticed Lord Dalhei shifting slightly. That was new information. And it put a certain guest they'd brought back in 'protective custody' in a whole new light, didn't it?

"Krask was unworthy of that rank, it seems." She snorted. "Considering rebels were able to overrun the Governor's guards and retake their castle without him knowing about it."

Valok's jaw dropped. "They wh—" Then he stopped, looking suspiciously around his cell, eyes glowing faintly. "Wait a minute, we were brought here by Arusians." He shook his head. The shock of the actual Princess Romelle appearing in front of him had shut down his thought processes for a few minutes, and he was starting to feel like he very much needed them back. "The very Arusians who attacked the fortress. And this looked like their castle."

Oh dear. Romelle thought quickly. "Your injury and incompetence are what brought you to this cell in their castle," she finally said coolly; insulting him had seemed to work so far. And sure enough, he winced. With an unpleasant smirk, she added, "Just what did you think brought you here?"

…If the loss of the castle was news to him, why did he think he was here?

The Drule frowned. "We assumed Governor Tarlok ordered it."

That she had not seen coming. "We? Who are you including in that?"

He gestured broadly. "Everyone at the fortress knew Tarlok and Krask hated each other, Princess."

"Really?" She crossed her arms and smiled. "Tell me more about this hatred."

Blink. "I was merely a turret gunner, Princess." He'd spent his off hours reading old gossip sheets about the royal family, not gossiping about his actual commander. "But Overlord Krask did make it clear that his orders superseded those of a politician sitting in a castle with only token guards." Shrug. "We assumed the cat monsters were occult beasts of some sort, the Governor reasserting his power."

Blue huffed louder.

"Hmm. Interesting." That first part did line up with what the liberated Arusians had reported; the full story would be useful, she hoped. And she wasn't sure she could maintain this any further. "You should know that those cat beasts, as you called them—they are lions, really—have already driven off one attack fleet that came to reclaim this planet."

"They wh…" Valok froze, staring at her. "Then… how did you…" She could see everything falling together in his mind as he looked at the Arusians, then back at her, and finally had the time and will to process it. "Gyau'ret."

Something between a growl, a purr, and a laugh ran through Romelle's mind. "I believe he has finally seen through the ruse, young one."

I do believe he has. She smirked again. "The Arusians are fighting back, Valok… and I am no longer Lotor's a'kuri. But I thank you for your cooperation." Turning on her heel, she nodded to Miralna, and withdrew from the hallway as quickly as she could.

Staring after her in horrified confusion, Valok turned to the Arusian who'd been taking notes, and bared his fangs in resignation. "Write this down too," he grumbled, and let loose with every profanity he could think of.

It made him feel slightly better.

Romelle was not feeling better at all. The adrenaline she'd been running off of was crashing, and just the mention of Lotor's name had her stomach churning. The facade she'd been able to uphold better than expected was collapsing much more quickly than expected, too.

Sinking into the chair where Lord Dalhei had first met them, she leaned over and hugged her knees, trembling and trying to fight back a mixture of sobs and nausea.

Blue growled softly, and she felt that comforting ripple of warm water again. "What brings this on, cub?"

Romelle swallowed back the lump in her throat, or at least tried to. That was just… hard. So much happened on Korrinoth, and with my people, I… even in her mind she couldn't fully explain it.

But perhaps because the lion was in her head, she seemed to understand what wasn't said. "I see. After such a show of tenacity, needing a release is understandable."

Understandable… Romelle scoffed, but she appreciated the words all the same. Almost despite herself. Maybe… you're not as bad as Sven seems to think you are. Thank you.

Blue chuckled. "You are incorrect about one thing. Icehunter adores me."

…Even in her current condition, she had to fight back a laugh; she somehow doubted that was the word Sven would use.

"Lady Romelle!" Miralna was just now catching up, and rushed to the Polluxian with concern. She hadn't understood a word of what had gone on there, but the tone of it had been pretty clear.

Straightening, Romelle found herself at least feeling slightly less ill. "I'm alright," she assured the knight quietly, and felt another pang of guilt. "Just… that was taxing."

Nod. "Can I assist? Or do you need some space?"

"No, thank you." I've done nothing to earn this concern from her. From anyone on Arus. She took a steadying breath. But perhaps I can. "I just need a moment. Lord Dalhei's notes will reach the princess and my team?"

"Yes." Miralna gave her a sad, yet fairly reassuring smile. "Take as long as you need. He or I can show you back to the surface when you're ready."

"Thank you, but I think I remember the way… and I could use the space." She stood slowly, and was surprised when her legs weren't nearly as shaky as they felt. "I need to go find a member of my team, unless you have further need of me?"

Miralna shook her head. "You've done all we could ask for, Lady Romelle. Go on. Thank you."

Nodding, she turned, and did her best not to outright run for the surface.

She might have run just a little.

*****

After getting his room set up, Vince had wandered. Staying in the castle had not felt appealing. Or maybe it was just that he wanted to put the entire castle between himself and the lion in the desert.

"I'm not hiding from anything, thank you very much, creepy voice." It was not the first time in his wandering he'd grumbled that, and probably wouldn't be the last. It was making him feel slightly less freaked out.

Slightly.

He had enough to worry about! Sparking, ghosts, visions—hiding from it? It kind of followed him around! He did not need any additional weirdness. Not lions, not earthiness, certainly not vultures. None of that stuff. Nope.

Some unusual plants out of the corner of his eye stopped his wandering short, and he took a few steps closer. Their little memorial garden looked so… peaceful. And wouldn't that be nice? He looked over each of the plants, but found himself ultimately staring at Flynn's and Jace's, missing them more than ever. The only two he'd really spoken to about all of his… well, all his whatever it was.

He could really use their advice now, that was for sure. No, wrong; he could use Flynn's advice and Jace's swearing along with him. Or, well, swearing on his behalf and trying to convince him to join in.

What are you hiding from?

Shaking his head until the memory went silent, Vince grumbled again. "Darn it—I'm not hiding!"

He just wanted nothing to do with any more of this craziness. Was that so hard to understand?

Was it so much to ask?

If he had to be stuck seeing dead people, why couldn't he at least see somebody friendly, like—

"Are you well?"

Vince yelped and whirled around; the voice was unfamiliar, though even if he'd recognized it, they didn't need to startle him like that. Turning didn't help any; he gave another, louder yelp, and jumped back as he found himself staring at a ghost.

Speak of the… wait.

Blinking, he looked more closely. He'd seen this ghost before. A dignified-looking Arusian man, the one he'd seen after Voltron formed, watching him with a look of some concern.

"It's you," he blurted out before he could stop himself.

It's you? It's you?! Run, you idiot! But he stayed.

"Yes…" The ghost tilted his head in slight confusion. Vince gulped.

Does he know I have no idea what 'it's you' even means?

It seemed like maybe he did, but he didn't address it. "As I said, are you well? You seem distressed about something."

…A ghost is asking if I'm distressed. "Uh." It was ridiculous enough that he still found himself not running. Something about this ghost seemed different, and he didn't even think it was just that he spoke Common. "Um, I've been better, really."

The ghost gave him a nod that seemed sympathetic, then stroked his beard thoughtfully. "Well, it is the custom of Arus for one to be able to ask the High King for aid. If I might help to improve things, please, by all means…"

Vince's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. "High King?!"

"…Though," the ghost continued calmly, "in this state there are fewer things I might be able to do."

A sudden pang of sadness washed over Vince then. To have been the king of Arus, to have seen all that had happened… he thought of the Drules in the desert, the ones the lion had asked them to bury, then forced the thought of the lion out of his mind. "Are you… still here because the war is unfinished?"

It immediately occurred to him that that had been a rather personal question. But the king pondered it as though it were a reasonable one. "More to see the state of things set in motion by my departure. Death in war is always a grim reality. But as my daughter remains, concern for her well-being keeps me near… and to watch her complete the work I could not."

"Oh…" He remembered; Allura had mentioned that, in the tunnels. That her father had died to try to wake the lions. "Well, she's really been nice and helpful…" He cringed inwardly, what kind of statement was that? "My team will help her."

Yep, just my team. Not me. It sounded bad when he thought it like that, but…

King Alfor gave him that same warm, almost knowing smile. "That is good. I know that you and your teammates will do great things for Arus."

"I, um…" Fuzzmuffins. He heard a gravelly rumble in his mind—was the lion purring at him? He didn't need that, he already had a ghost! And he couldn't even glare about the lion, because the ghost might think he was glaring at him… he tried to glare internally. Which probably wasn't a thing, but fine. "I'm not so sure about me, but I know they'll do amazing."

The king chuckled. "Do not underestimate yourself. I think you might have more to offer your team than you know."

Unbidden, Vince's gaze flickered to his hands, then back to the plants. "Not enough," he whispered.

Now it was definitely a knowing look the king gave him, and he was struck by the oddity of the situation. Did ghosts really want to hear about survivor's guilt? Not that he wanted to talk about it, but…

"What you bring to your team may not seem like much to you. But you may find that to others, it means something far more."

Sighing, Vince looked up again. He really wanted to believe that… he wanted to believe a ghost! Everything was weird, as usual. Shaking his head, he remembered his manners; his moms probably hadn't foreseen him talking to dead royalty, but they had raised him right nonetheless. "Thank you, High King." Despite himself he grinned a little. "You're the nicest ghost I've ever met."

The king bowed his head in acknowledgment. "And I thank you, for being part of something incredible."

But I'm not… he shook that off. He'd helped with repairs, maybe that counted. Yeah, that was it. "Uh, you're welcome."

"I must return to my rest now." The ghost's outline wavered, and his glowing form started to fade. "But we may speak again, should you need an ear…"

As he vanished, Vince found himself just staring at the spot where he'd been for what felt like a very long time. Maybe not all ghosts were so bad…

Definitely better than creepy lion voices.