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The Scheherazade / Harem Shipping Meme

Straight out of the Arabian Nights, or any variety of the spin-offs and spoofs since, in a beautiful and fantastical realm of magic and djinn. You may be the great ruler, prince, or sultana of the realm, or you may be the tribute, captive, or arranged marriage spouse brought before that ruler.

Scenarios:

1. Arranged Marriage - You’re both royals or nobles of some variety, but one of you has been sent far from home to be wedded to a stranger in a foreign land.
2. Ambition - You’re just one beauty in a harem of dozens—or hundreds—but you’re determined to stand out, to earn the exclusive attention of the ruler, and to take your place by their side as the ruler of this land.
3. Scheherazade - One night with the king (or queen). Perhaps your one-night spouse had their heart broken, like in the story. Perhaps they’re simply a monster, or they have other motives. They may kill you in the morning, unless you can convince them to delay, by at least one more day.
4. Tribute - Perhaps your land was conquered, or perhaps you’ve been sent here to secure an alliance. Either way, this wasn’t your idea, and you aren’t particularly happy about it.
5. Within the Harem - Both characters are residents of the harem. You hardly see the ruler, and they don’t matter. What does matter is the friendship—or love—that you have found within the harem, and, possibly, your plans for escape.
6. Outside the Harem - You’ve fallen in love with someone you shouldn’t. A guard, a servant, or someone outside the palace entirely. But in order to be with them, you’re going to have to break all the rules.
7. Arabian Nights - Wildcard scenario, play any elements from the Arabian Nights that you please. Magic carpets, powerful djinn, curses and treasure!

How to play:

-Post with your character, preferred role (ruler, harem, other), and any other relevant info
-Reply to others. Use RNG or choose your favourite scenario!

--

originally posted by marlowe_tops

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only | Expand All

{ ooc: I am partial to Allura being the ruler, but still open to her being on the other side of the equation as well (chatting with fellow harem-mates, perhaps?) Open to any scenario, but would rather keep things m/f and smut-free. Let's talk! :D }

[The 'gift' is, like all things from the overlords, a feint. The Galra Empire, in its ravenous expansion across the universe, still understood the importance of certain key planets and so Altea, through no small sacrifice on the part of its people and its ruling class, had been allowed to remain, a small planet alone in a galaxy that had slowly grown into a dark place full of dead stars and the ever present inverted purple of the Galra Empire. There was no doubt though, in the shadows and growing darkness, who truly held the fate of Altea and its people in their clawed hands though and only a very delicate, very masterful dance of being necessary and being non-threatening had allowed the Altean world, and its rulers, to continue its precarious existence. The looming shadow was better than the crushing boot heel but, perhaps, only by a very thin thread. Altea held the tomb of the Black Lion, the last remaining piece of what was once the greatest weapon in the universe and, if that machine had been dead and unresponsive for ten thousand years even to its former Paladin, it was still a mystery of science and engineering that the Galra had never been able to duplicate. Altea fed its secrets back to the masters that held its chains a little at a time, knowing that when they'd given enough that the Galra could create the lions again itself, the Empire would have no more use for their little fragile planet or the millions of lives on it. Only the careful diplomatic dance of its leaders kept the Galra at bay, giving just enough, making promises, relying on old ties and past memories. And when Alfor, the great king, was finally allowed by the Empire to die, a withered husk, struggling to the last, kept alive by Druid magic and foul bindings, the Empire had opened the sealed room and finally freed his daughter from the cryogenic prison they'd sealed her in lifetimes before to take his place. Her choices were simple, lead her people and submit - or lose everything.

And if she managed the subtle balance of power competently - well, she was not her father and Zarkon knew she hid fire inside of her. A cat with a trapped mouse has all the time in the world to play though and this 'gift' was just another in a long line to test her. If it killed her... well, that wasn't the Empire's fault. Accidents happened. There was always someone loyal to the Empire that could be found to replace her. The castle was full of spies.

Which was how Shiro, breathing hard through his clenched teeth behind the muzzle that covered the entire lower half of his face, had ended up on his knees in the middle of the throne room in front of her. He was shirtless, the Galra liked showing off the scars that mauled his body, evidence of his time in the Arena and his arms, both the metal Galra one and his own flesh and blood, were bound painfully behind him, cords that ran across his chest keeping them close against the hollow of his back. There was a leather collar around his neck and the ambassador delivering him held the chain that connected to it but that wasn't what controlled him. What controlled him was the device that was being presented, on its own little pillow no less, to the current ruler of Altea, a simple looking bracelet that was linked to his embedded arm and could cripple him with electric shock before he managed to take two steps.

Shiro could do a great deal in two steps. And his narrowed, dark, feral eyes watched the movement of the pillow and its bracelet with unwavering attention as the diplomat on the other end of his chain droned on about the 'honor' she was being given in receiving the Champion as a gift for her pleasure and enjoyment. How the Galra Empire would be paying attention to make sure he was used properly. How fondly Zarkon cared for his 'old friend's' daughter and wanted to let her indulge herself. How much Zarkon looked forward to the day she would have a child to let him raise in proper Galra fashion to take the kingdom's responsibly from her when they were old enough and she was ready to let it go.

And Shiro's tight muscles trembled almost imperceptibly as his narrow eyes never left the bracelet.

((ooc. hey you. I hope this isn't too dark. I'll change things up if it is, just say the word. And I am good with smut-free, possibly just being straight up action/adventure as it unfolds.))

[ "So long as there is an Altean in this castle, there is hope."

King Alfor's final words were constant hum in the back of Allura's mind. It was the first thing she recited to herself upon waking, and the last thing that she utters in her litanies of wisdom at night -- words of wisdom from her father, his guidelines for diplomacy, and no less the bedrock of what kept her and her people alive for so long and was still serving them well. But Queen Allura, indeed, was not King Alfor. Zarkon might as well have spat on her face by taking her hostage and not even allowing her to say her proper goodbyes to him. Further insult the injury was the banishing of Coran to the most far-flung asteroid mining camp and only the gods know whether he was alive or dead. And as if to drive the final nail further into the proverbial coffin, she had awoken to find Voltron gone. She was told that the four lions had been "lost", while the Black Lion was as good as "dead", buried in the deepest parts of the castle.

"The Galra lie."

Armed with the truth that she knew, she joined the deceptive and dangerous dance that is diplomatic relations with the Galra, and part of the dance involved the exchange and acceptance of "gifts" -- tributes from peoples conquered, trinkets from lands defiled. What Zarkon assumed of her "appetites" could not be further from the truth. She lead him to believe that she either grew tired of her gifts easily, or that she enjoyed them too much to break them, acting the part of a spoiled little princess. With one of them, Allura said she did not like girls. The next one was too easily afraid. Another was too talkative and probably not broken enough. While another had too much fire in him. Now this one...

Allura could not stand out more in the darkened throne room, lit by the eerie purple of Galra crystals. While her dress was that of the traditional whites and blues of her people, the gems that adorn her circlet and her necklace were of a deep purple. She received Zarkon's latest gift: Shiro from the planet Earth (the fifth from that planet she had encountered, she noted) but oh, this one was different. He was the Arena's Champion, surely a perfect match for the Queen's abundant energy. Her smile was that of measured girlish innocence, and her attention that of practiced courtesy, telling the Galran envoy how much she appreciated her Lord Emperor's attentions and that he would think so fondly of her, knowing what she liked so well. She expressed her dearest wish to see him and to thank him personally as this gift was the best one yet and that she will take good care of him.

She knew where his eyes were trained, and soon, the bracelet was clasped around her left wrist. She met his eyes -- the same way that she looked at her previous "gifts" -- and she knew that her courtesies were pleasantries in truth, as she was much a prisoner of the Galra as he was. Yet this time, there was something different, and she could not quite tell whether the feline growl she heard came from him, or from somewhere deeper.

Or perhaps it was just a figment of her imagination. There were no cats in the castle -- none that were living, she knew too well.

Shiro's retainers waste no time, and they lead him to the royal chambers. His back to the door, they set him down on his knees once more and Allura entered the room. She reached with her right hand to trace her fingers from the tip of the Galra prosthetic, up his shoulder, and up to where the leather collar met skin. She leaned over to have her lips ghost against the side of his face and his ear, and a happy little noise escaped her lips as she pressed a kiss to his temple.

And she stopped, suddenly, as if realizing just then that they were not alone. ]

Last I checked you lot weren't part of my gift. [ The girlish tone was gone to give way to that of authority and thinly veiled annoyance, as she addressed Shiro's retainers. ] Get out.

[ Said lot marched out in order, careful to close the door behind them. Allura did not let go of Shiro just yet, and after a few breaths, her tone changes once more -- authority, mixed with a plea. ] If you want to live you will do as I say, do you understand? Nod once for yes, twice for no.

{ ooc: Hey you yourself :D! I am very okay with this setting, and I think it's GENIUS so THANK YOU ♥. If sexy things have to happen for the sake of storytelling, I am seriously okay with it. Likewise, hit me up via PM if there's anything you find confusing, if there's something you really want to happen, or if I need to change anything. LET'S DO THIS. }

[Shiro is used to being on his knees. He sees so much of his world from that height these days. But he's learned that being on his knees is simply a good launching position for an attack and he refuses to give that mindset up, even when he's being restrained. He does hold himself still in his position though, letting his rage form a closed circuit inside of him. One that keeps away the fear. And the humiliation. He's been through worse. He'll go through worse. All he has to do is hold in this moment and not break. That's all. He can do that.

His arm still twitches though, when her finger crosses the line where metal is joined to bare skin, a small jerk as the muscles jump in revulsion, at the forced intimacy. That's all he gives though, holding still as she moves to that thick leather collar around his neck. Behind the leather of his muzzle he can't smell her when she leans in, the mask holds the scent of blood and leather and sweat too strongly for that but he imagines saffron and smoke because her white hair reminds him of someone else's white hair and its all he can do to clamp down on the realization as soon as it comes so that he locks in place instead of turning into a gibbering mess. A slender white haired woman with thin hands and complete power over him. Who would have ever thought his terror could get so specific - or end up applying to more than one person. His eyes narrow at the brush of her lips but he locks his jaw and doesn't move for that either. Endure. He can endure. He has to endure whatever comes next. Because he can't die and that means he has no alternative.

He barely hears her dismiss his escort, blood pounding in his ears, fighting so hard to keep the terror of whatever comes next from taking over, feeding the rage so that it won't give room to any of his other emotions. He needs to get loose. He needs to get the bracelet. He can face goals. He can focus on those. Her fingers haven't left his collar. Right hand. He needs her left.

He knows better than to ignore something that's addressed to him though. No matter how deeply he's focusing inward to hold it together, he knows better than to make that mistake. Not all the scars on him are from the Arena. Narrow, fury dark eyes lift under the fall of his own white hair, fix on her eyes and at least they're not yellow candle points and her face isn't lean and shadow purple.

He nods. Once.]

[ The nanoticks that pass between her question and Shiro's affirmation feels like an eternity, because she honestly does not know what to do if he had said "no." The first gift had been a subtle warning over how disposable they are -- and ultimately, how disposable she is; and with each test, she learns -- and she had to learn fast. Allura releases a shaky breath that felt like she had held it in for too long once she gets his answer. Her blue eyes flick once more to her door, before looking into Shiro's eyes, and setting herself on her knees. ]

I will not hurt you, I promise. I am releasing you from these bindings, and --

[ She looks to the left and down briefly, both to remember what had succeeded before, and to determine how the bracelet plays into the equation. It is the first time she had been given such a device. The others had either only come with chains, or a remote device she can hold -- not one she is forced to wear. She looks to his eyes once more, her own gaze pleading. ]

I will get you out of here. So please help me.

[ Allura knows she is taking a great risk at doing what she does, placing her faith on one answer and on the possibility of a common hatred for their enemies. None of her "gifts" could tout that they were from the Arena, but they are particularly brilliant at the things they do. She does not want to have to use the bracelet, and most of all, she does not want to have a life uselessly thrown away, Altean or not.

She knows he is very capable of killing her. Her shapeshifting can only do so much in the face of an experienced warrior -- the best of what the Arena has to offer. She wills her hands not to shake as she brings both of them up to undo the mask on his face. Clasps release upon registering her biometric signature. The leather collar follows, its unnecessarily weighty chain slithering to the floor. Soon her fingers trace the bindings to find their locking points, cords pooling about him, and completely releasing Shiro from their hold. ]

[Putting herself on the same level as him, on her knees in a dress no less, isn't a smart move. He's not sure how strong her skull is but he's fairly sure that he can easily break her nose with a sharp hit from his forehead and, if alien skulls are close enough to human, there's a possibility, if he does it right, he can kill her or at the least incapacitate her which will give him enough time to get the bracelet. It all goes through his mind in a split second, violent and red. Because he doesn't believe for a moment that she won't hurt him or that she has his best interests at heart. He'd nodded to show he understood. Not that he was going to follow her instructions.

Though he would have lied if necessary without a flinch or flicker of conscience.

The moment passes though and he doesn't attack her. It's not that he hasn't long ago gotten over an compunctions about killing a woman. It's that her voice and manner are different from moments ago and -

and everyone in this damned Empire looks like a monster. His throat is tight as he swallows and the muzzle comes off his face, leaving the newly formed scar on his nose raw. He inhales through it, breathes in a deep gulp of air and smells - something... floral. Maybe. But no cloying incense or dusty saffron or blood thick smoke. The gibbering, screaming panic in the back of his mind quiets. A little.

The collar comes next. His eyes narrow and he tips his head a little to watch her as she fumbles with the clasps on the cords that run like dark tracks over his chest and arms. On their knees he's distinctly taller than she is and certainly more bulky. Everyone in this damned Empire looks like a monster. How do you survive in a universe like that?

You learn to look like the monsters.

Or you become one.

The cords fall away, like snakes, leaving red marks across his skin where they were too tight. Where he tested them. And his arms finally come forward, making him hiss through his teeth, blood coming back to them in a painful flow. She's not defenseless. No one in this nightmare is. He's had his body feel like it was being twisted inside out by someone that barely comes up to his chest and looks like a collection of twigs before with nothing but the twist of her hand. He hunches his shoulders. His long fingers flex on the floor, working strength and feeling back into the human one, Galra one whirring softly as it mimics the move perfectly. His chin stays down, protective over his throat and his face doesn't change, all tight angles and hard lines. Dark narrow eyes move to her left wrist - and then come back to look at her eyes from the tops, under low brows.]

[ As the bindings that had held him come loose, she feels her own blood rush, pupils dilating momentarily, her body telling her to run or do all means necessary to stay alive. The gentle perfume of juniberry blossoms adorning parts of her room may have a calming effect, but what keeps her still and overrides the impending mental distress is a distant hum, a purr, she hears in her mind that bids her heart to calm.

With the way he looks at her, a memory flashes in her mind: not too long after her release from the cryopod, Zarkon had taken her to the Arena. It was a match between Myzax, and a newcomer from newly-conquered planet Earth. At first glance, it was clear that it was an uneven match and the larger Myzax easily drew bets in his favor. At the time, she had found herself quietly rooting for the Earthling out of spite, just to be contrary to what the Galra determine to be strong or weak.

Her outward reaction to the outcome of the match had been that of indifference, but when she saw that the "weaker" one had won, it had only served to feed the fire of rebellion kindled in her heart. And perhaps Zarkon had seen that, which is perhaps why she now finds herself face to face with that warrior once dismissed as weak. Zarkon means for the fire not to feed her, but to engulf and to destroy her.

As Shiro recovers, Allura chooses to use the little time she has to make her pitch. She has to convince him that she is on his side, or at least make sure that he is on hers. She brings her left wrist over her heart. ]

Shiro, I need you to listen to me, and please hear me out.

[ In a moment of peace, if you want someone to put their arms down, you do so first. Earn a person's trust. Be truthful and be kind. King Alfor was an idealist, and Allura often finds herself struggling with his ideals, specially in the face of cruelty. But his counter-intuitive wisdom has proven beneficial, specially with regards to her small, mouse-like endeavors.

She sees Shiro guard his throat, and here she is doing the equivalent of baring hers. She holds his gaze as she speaks. ]

I can get you out of here alive. But I will need you to work with me so we can buy time to make a plan. I cannot tell for now exactly how long this will take, but all I ask of you is your patience.

Edited (Added a few clarifying words :x) 2016-12-10 14:44 (UTC)

[He holds his hands in front of him, rubbing the bones of his human wrist, building the circulation back into it again, calloused fingers flexing. His eyes follow her left wrist and the band on it.

But he listens.

He listens because everyone wants something and she'll tell him what it is she wants eventually if he listens for it. He's not above barging services with an enemy if what he gets is worth it. He listens because she freed him, at least in part and that shows either confidence or desperation on her part. He'll take advantage of either but he'd like to know which it is. One is much more dangerous to him than the other. And he listens because -

because she said please...

He hates that the word still means anything to him and perhaps its not the word itself so much as the way she says it. As if he has any sort of power in this situation at all. As if she needs his agreement on anything. She says it as if his disagreement would actually mean something to her. He doesn't look away from her eyes - and he doesn't believe her. Or rather, he believes she wants him alive but he doesn't believe its for anything as simple and basic as his freedom. No. She wants something from him and whatever it is, she wants him willing when he gives it to her. Whether that's simply for a cat and mouse game to amuse herself or something larger, he doesn't know. Yet. But, so far, she's taken the uncomfortable restraints off of him and she's kept her hands to herself and she's said 'please'. His hands shift. If she was smart, she'd really move out of arm's reach of him at least. At the moment she's close enough that he wouldn't even have to straighten an elbow to catch her wrist in his Galra hand and crush it, bracelet and all. But he rests his hands on his thighs, fingers spread. His voice is dry, rasping, almost a deep croak of sound, and it says one thing:]

Why?

[ Never does Allura take her eyes off of Shiro, and it affords her proper observation. It also allows her to paint a clearer picture of what she fears: that this "gift" is poison, and it is meant to be the last. Is she truly so naive to place her faith in the goodness of a person? Her words, sincere as they are, might have worked previously, but will they work on someone who has had to stand up to all kinds of cruelty to survive for as long as he has?

She wanted to believe that he needs her, but perhaps the truth is that she needs him.

The feline growl comes again -- still faint, but louder, unmistakable. It definitely is not coming from Shiro. It tells her both to be cautious and to stand her ground. But how...?

She does not move from her spot, but instead squares her shoulders, and clenches her fists over her lap, as if to mirror Shiro. Speak their language, be it words they use, be it through their body. Allura wills herself to speak with grace, reminding herself that she is queen and not a cowering servant girl. ]

Because I do not want another life lost uselessly. The reason you were sent here is to kill me. Then they will use that as an excuse to execute you by any means necessary.

[ As she speaks, Allura remains aware that he can attack at any chance, but she is determined not to go down so easily. ]

We both live, or we both die.

[ And even if she is the one to end up alive, it is only a matter of time until Zarkon finds another "accident" to blame. ]

[Her first sentence goes past him. Everything he understands about the Galra Empire is based on their belief that the strong are the only ones that deserve to survive. Care for life in general isn't one of their traits.

The woman in front of him, despite her lack of purple skin, is part of the Galra Empire.

-

Until the second sentence. Which, for the first time, has an expression that isn't guarded anger as, for a second, his eyes widen and his eyebrows actually go up. that -

His eyebrows come down a second later but its thought this time. Because yes. He fully intends to kill her if that's what it takes for him to escape. But - that shouldn't be part of anyone's plan but his. The envoy said 'gift', the guards chuckled 'sex slave' and the slaves had whimpered 'breeder'. 'Assassin' hadn't been amoung those words. There's a moment of frustration, something so foreign he almost forgets what its called, something from another lifetime ago when lack of knowledge of a situation would have grated on him for the intellect, not for the life or death threat of it. His eyes leave hers for a moment but its to trace to the side, inward, searching before coming back to her and the frown is firmly in place. She could be lying to him. He accepts that. But - it seems like the truth of it would be more dangerous than a lie spun about it. Unconsciously his body shifts the smallest bit. Matches her posture and position point by point so that her mirror of him is perfect.

She's part of the Galra Empire. He's only seen the inside of the Arena and the holding cells on their ships. That far removed there's been no hint of court intrigue but - is there? She's the queen of this planet. One that serves Zarkon. His voice breaks and he clears his throat with an annoyed frown to rumble a second:]

Why?

[ Small victories come in that at least, they are talking. Well -- Shiro has questions, at the least, and does not have his hands around her neck. She dismisses the creeping thoughts of fear that say that what she is buying are only breaths of air.

His way of mirroring her completely now has her looking up at him, and the Galra envoy's words echo in her mind: "Zarkon looks forward to your siring an heir..." The thought and the implications revolt her, that she is seen as less than a puppet, but reduced to mere livestock to further their oppressive cause. That she has become a mere source of entertainment for them...

But there is no time for tears. She may bow, but she will not break. Doubts be damned. Zarkon be damned.

Shiro has her attention. She is not going to waste that. ]

My people hold the secrets to the most fearsome weapon in the universe, one that Zarkon needs to make his rule and power absolute. Once the secrets are in his hands, Altea will be no more than another casualty in their conquests.

[ She takes a breath. Calm down, Allura. He is a fighter, not a diplomat. And it is her playing at diplomacy that allows her to speak without losing face. ]

That is their ultimate goal. Superficially, they expect me to-- [ Breed? ] be drawn enough to you to produce an offspring with your desirable qualities, and mine.

[ If Zarkon had the complete say over her body, he would have her produce offspring that are a mockery of the lions' quintessence, Galra-raised paladins to wake his version of Voltron. ]

[Shiro studied history. It feels like swimming backward through muddy water to try to remember it now but - he tries. He always loved history. And no empire, for any extended amount of time, didn't end up having people working for their own gains inside of it. Rome comes to mind, faint scraps he knows he could remember more if he had the time and the quiet but - factions. et tu? Military. crossing the Rubicon. He's been seeing the Empire as one solid entity but what she's telling him...

What she's telling him there may be hope. Every Empire falls eventually. Even one that's been ruled by the same man for ten thousand years. Every Empire... and he's on a planet that holds a key to that. Perhaps. He's still aware enough to realize she could be lying but - he can't see the point behind lying about that kind of thing. His head - and his gut - say to believe her in this at least. A weapon. The most fearsome one in the universe. It sounds like a boast but if the rest of what she tells him is true too than it makes sense.

The Champion knows what weapons are for.

The rest filters in slower. Smaller, more personal details and his inward eyes shift to look down at her again. His lips thin and his jaw, already tight, moves. drawn to him? She means he's supposed to service her until she's carrying a child. The Galra have already taken so much of who he is away from him. They've taken who he was before the Arena, taken away his world, his memories, his ability to abide by his core values. Fuck them all right to hell, they've even taken their pound of flesh. Serving as a personal sex toy sounds like yet another violation, yet another piece of himself lost. The air in the room feels thicker than it had moments before and he struggles to keep the inner panic in check. And yet - even as he does - he realizes -

its not the woman in front of him. When he thinks about the Galra forcing him down, strapping him down, forcing their changes on him - he's not thinking of her there. It's - startling. Surprising enough to head off the tightening of his lungs. Something, somewhere in his mind, has decided to segregate her from the overall Enemy. He's not sure that's safe for him.

He unfolds his hands from the fists they'd become on his legs, forces them both to go lax again. Forces himself to clarify, because it sounds like a two prong issue and he's familiar with two prong attacks.

He hasn't used his voice this much in months and it shows in the rasp and slide of it.]

They expect me to - [fuck you almost comes out and he's not sure why his jaw snaps shut before it can. Why he instinctively tries to shield her. His mind sidesteps. Focuses back on summarizing what he thinks he understands of the situation to make sure he's understanding what she's telling him.] They either want me to give you a child or kill you. If I don't do one, I'll do the other. Either way - they win. And you can't stand in the way of finding out the secrets to your weapon.

One of those options buy me time.

[ The words are out of her mouth soon as Shiro finished speaking. Her situation is such that the bargaining chips she has left to play with is time. Ten thousand years is nothing to sniff at, in terms of what the former King Alfor got to buy, but that does not mean that Allura would be afforded the same luxury.

Time allows her to plan and to set things in motion. Time allows more flames of hope to ignite and to be kindled.

She leans forward, just so she can look at him closer in the eye. ]

And time will allow the both of us to live another day.

[ Short of saying that if it would buy them time, yes, she would fuck him -- or rather, make Zarkon believe that she is indulging in her gifts, when in reality, she is not. She does wonder if she had been found out with her little white lies...

Allura knows she is gambling by not pulling back, but she wants to make her point. She wants to tell him what she is working on, but she also needs to know where his heart lies, if they can connect at some point that would justify to him the value if their working together. The other "gifts" had been easier to talk to... ]

You should know the value of buying time. You have survived this long because you are holding on to some hope, or else you would have already thrown in the towel in your first match in the arena.

[He doesn't shift backward when she leans forward. He's long ago learned that backing down is only inviting more trouble but more than that she's the one putting herself at risk by leaning forward. Unless she has some kind of trick, he's the one with the free hands and the tendency for violence. He expects she has a trick, everything in this nightmare does but still - she's exposing herself by moving even more into his space. It's intentional, he recognizes that. Either to test him or to show him that he has a measure of power in the situation.

His hands stay firmly on his thighs.

But he can't help inhale again, with her this close, filling his lungs with the scent of her and -

it's not magic. It's not old blood and sticky smoke. Her scent is something cleaner, lighter than that.

He - can live with that.

Because that's what she's asking. For his cooperation in whatever she's got planned and that means his playing his part. Concubine. Sex toy.]

I had someone to protect. [He doesn't plan it. The words just come out, a challenge or a denial or just a statement in response to what had driven him for his first match. She must have heard about it. Myzax had been well known. Defeating him had made all the news feeds from what Shiro had come to learn.

It's not a protest against what she's proposing though. Shiro understands that his life is limited and the due date is probably coming soon - but he's not in any hurry to get there. He can't fight the Galra dead.]

What do you need me to do?

[ For a moment, Allura's gaze softens when Shiro says that he had someone to protect. Had -- the past tense implies that either the person is gone, or they have just not seen each other since then. She can live with that. She can work with that. ]

I have my people to protect - Altea and everyone else who want to be set free from the Galra rule.

[ She will place her faith in whatever little thing he can offer, because what else can she hold on to? Fear is an ever-present tendril picking at the fragile strands of hope she had managed to weave, but she does not allow it to take hold. Once she fears, she knows she is lost.

Allura then pulls back to stand. ]

I need information. I need to know your behavior so as we can craft an act to making them believe that we are playing their game. Come.

[ She expects him to follow, at the same time knowing that she leaves herself open once she turns her back to him -- but every waking moment ever since her release had been a gamble for her life. Today is no different.

She speaks as she turns on her heel to head to the inner parts of her chamber; through an arch with partly drawn curtains which gives way to a "receiving room" for private guests: cozy chairs, carpets, and pillows in jewel tones, blue-white crystal lamps seemingly floating from translucent white fabric draped across the ceiling, vases of juniberries and lilybells on side tables of differing heights -- a stark contrast from the dark, purple-washed throne room and halls of earlier. Defiant, undefiled.

Still with her back to him, she brings her left fist up shoulder-level, testing him. ]

Tell me what you know of this device, and of anything like it that you have encountered in the arena.

Edited 2016-12-11 16:36 (UTC)

[Her 'come' has him bristling inwardly. Of course she's a queen and his head knows that she's not used to asking. That her 'please' of earlier was probably rare, especially in this world of power by strength. But even though he's been in Galra custody for over a year at least as far as he can extrapolate - his eyes still narrow at the word that reminds him of dog training.

He's not stupid though. There are far too many battles in this new reality to take them all. This particular one isn't worth picking up. So he pulls a leg under himself and leans down as he stands to catch up the cords that had been holding him, the collar, the muzzle. Touching them brings the tight line back to his lips, stretches the skin across his tight jaw but he coils them efficiently and carries them with him as he follows her path into the next room.

And stops in the arch, eyes suddenly, for just one second, unguarded as he blinks. There's so much... white. It's - like being in a closet for ages and then sudden stepping out. Or - like the way the sky clears so impossibly bright after a rainstorm. He's gotten so used to murky lighting and green and purple that - white and pale blue and riot pink catch him completely off guard even more than a sharp palm to his chest would have.

It's the first breath of fresh air after being trapped with a low oxygen tank underwater for months -

and he feels suddenly, strangely, awkward and out of place. He stays in the archway.

Her question has his attention and he doesn't see any reason not to tell the truth about it. She can always test him to see if he's lying. He'd rather avoid her having to test it. He's already felt it before.]

What the envoy told you is true. If you trigger it, there's an interface in my arm that will tap into the energy crystal there and electrocute me. The voltage is enough to incapacitate me for a good ten minutes or so. [They hadn't taken any chances by risking that what they pumped into his system wouldn't be enough to take him down. When he was enraged, when he was determined, he could push past the usual limits. The Galra had wanted to make sure even that wouldn't help him.] Use it often enough and chances are high there will be permanent damage. It doesn't overload my arm. [A pause and his thumb moves absently over the leather of the muzzle before he decides to add:] If I were Galra, I also would have put a tracking device or some kind of monitor in it to keep an eye on you as well. And perhaps to keep track of how many times it was used or when.

[ When Shiro starts talking, and does not take the chance with her back turned and foolishly exposing the bracelet, gradually she brings her arm back down. In her mind, she checks off what she had already suspected: the bracelet is for her to "protect herself", to get him to "comply", to harm him...

To kill him if he doesn't kill her first.

Her fists clench and her shoulders tense at the last part. Through implications, she figures that Zarkon also sees Shiro as a threat. Being Champion can garner a certain level of influence -- respect -- in the Arena, even if most of the attention is that of animosity. Rising to become Champion, specially coming from a conquered, weaker people does not gain one favors: it is an open act of defiance to the Galran Empire.

Allura shuts her eyes briefly, trying to find an opening. Zarkon might just have found out her little ruse: feign displeasure over her gifts, breaking the electrocution device, faking death and disease with the use of the plants in her garden... ]

How rude of them. [ Her voice comes flat, a failed attempt at humor. ] But you read well. I don't like the idea of being so closely monitored. Can't a lady have a right to her privacy anymore?

[ Privacy. Dignity. Self-worth. Identity.

She turns her head, not quite looking over her shoulder. Not quite willing to face Shiro when her mind is in a panic, when the tendrils of fear pluck at her hopes like the start of a requiem. ]

If I had not spoken to you, if I had forced myself on-- [ No. She cannot even complete that thought. Never can she truly force someone into intimacy, much less when she is implicitly being forced into it by her enemy. ] If I acted the way the diplomat expects me to right off, what would you have done?

[So far, in his entire captivity, this Queen has shown him more kindness and allowed him more humanity than anyone else, even lumped together.

He's not going to attack her when her back is turned. He's not going to make a move for the bracelet. Not yet. He's been here too long, been forced to live this nightmare too long, for him to put aside the fact that he still might need to. That he still might need to kill her, or at the very least, harm her. That she could be lying to him to play a game out of boredom or amusement. But - until that comes up... she's given him kindness. Spoken to him like a human being. Treated him with respect. He doesn't want to repay any of those very expensive and rare gifts with harm.

Even queens aren't allowed privacy though apparently. Not in a universe of hungry monsters.

Shiro's not as far along as her in what his rising to the point of undefeated Champion might mean to the larger universe, or why Zarkon might have decided it was time to take him out of the public eye and perhaps the public's attention. If so, he might have given her a name out of old Earth history. Spartacus. Not that he had any awareness at this point in his life of leading any fight anywhere. Or that when you base your Empire on power by strength, an underdog proving their strength and rising through the ranks to the top, besting the ruling classes favorite fighters in the process, appealed a great deal to anyone that might feel abused by the current rulers. That's a rabbit hole Shiro hasn't even realized is there yet. What he does realize though is - ]

You'll have to use it on me. If not now, later tonight. And ten minutes later, you'll need to make sure you use it again. [Surprisingly gentle, he sets the cords and the restraints on a small table near the arch, the bindings looking ugly and out of place in the softness of the room. He still doesn't leave the archway to enter.] It wouldn't hurt either if you looked bruised. I don't know what protocol is with Zarkon but complaining about me might be in order. Or at least something to indicate you're going to be stubborn about out-stubborning me. [He finally gives in to the discomfort talking about it all is giving him and folds his arms across his chest, shifting on his feet so they're more spread and balanced. Waiting for an attack. His eyes don't leave her though, no matter how much his jaw is aching from the tension.] I fight. I fight until I can't and then I endure. They all know that by now. If anyone visits or monitors your room, you'll need to put the restraints back on me.

[ Allura turns to look at Shiro as he speaks, following the restraints with her eyes as they are placed in her sanctuary, and she feels that they are not just for him, but for her as well. His arm, just like her bracelet. The restraints limiting her power and authority. The leather collar that tells her ultimately where she belongs.

The look on her face speaks volumes over how she does not want to do what he is suggesting. Play acting and little white lies had served her enough before, but there is barely room in this part of the game for pretense. Zarkon wants her to become a monster, or watch with glee as she squirms and fights the urge to become one. He has seen through the spoiled little princess act, and it has become her undoing.

She steps his way and holds out her right hand. They will have to at least hurt each other significantly, convincingly. ]

I will have to count on you to endure, and I will do the same for as long as I can. We give... if--

[ She falters, closing her eyes to calm her rapidly beating heart, cheeks coloring at the implications. Allura knows she is unprepared and practically winging things now, but she has to hold on to that hope...

The feline sound she hears is a purr as if to hush her fears, allowing her to focus, and keep her gaze steady on Shiro. ]

In my current estimation, giving the child Zarkon wants will buy us the most time. A few months. There are the attempts, there can be failed conception, or-- have more than one.

[ Her left hand trembles, and she clutches at her skirts as she realizes that she is thinking out loud. But it clears her mind some, and knowing that Shiro might just be willing to work with her is enough momentary comfort. ]

I will need your clear agreement on this. Or if you have a better idea I want to hear it now.

[He recognizes what her right hand is being offered to him for. At least, he thinks he does. But his shoulders twitch inward a little all the same at it and he doesn't extend his own hand in respond. He's - learned to loathe touch against his skin and not even reciprocal kindness can force him past that barrier for the moment.

She's asking him to hurt her.

He's surprised to find that he doesn't want to. No. He never wants to hurt people. That's not what surprises him. He's surprised to find that his desire to avoid hurting her is so strong. He swallows, feels sandpaper in his throat. Realizes he's rapidly getting in over his head - but that's what freedom is. Having to manage your own decisions instead of having others manage them for you. He exhales and forces down the burst of sheer panic. She's still talking and it helps - even if what she's talking about doesn't help at all. He's already shaking his head before she finishes and his shoulders curl even more inward.]

No. [She's royalty, probably raised in the truth that royalty is the sacrifice for their people. Probably grew up as a child well aware that her needs came somewhere far behind everyone else's just due to birth, that she was a tool, a vessel, something not birthed so much as created for the sole purpose of serving the greater good. Shiro's own beliefs in regards to himself aren't that far off. But - he wasn't born into nobility. And his view of a child of his own is vastly different.] I won't sacrifice a child. I won't bring someone into this hellhole of a universe.

[Shiro has always been able to see the big picture - but his loyalty has always been to a small, core group. And while he will do everything he can to help the big picture - at the wire, his loyalty will always be to what is close and precious most to him. To the people that rely on him personally. It's been a very long time since he's had either - but he isn't going to change.] It would take you a great deal of time and effort to break me enough to have me willing to simply let that kind of thing happen. It would take a great deal longer if you broke me enough to actually have me willing.

[Shiro would love to believe he could hold out forever against torture, that there are some things he would never do no matter how broken he was... but he also knows that the human mind can only endure so much before it starts to rationalize and, given enough torture and horror, sleeping with a woman just to make it stop, even to create a child he knew was going into the Galra maw, would seem a great deal easier to simply give in to. But it would take months and much more vicious methods than he thought the woman in front of him would ever be capable of imagining, much less using on him.] I can play along. I can tell you how to do what would bend me fastest for show. But I won't intentionally help create a child to give to the Galra. How much longer do you need before your plan is ready? I can possibly buy you some months but nothing I do is going to buy you years.

[A pause, and, for the first time, unaware of it himself, he has someone other than himself that he's including in his small circle of personal protection. Because he adds softer:] If your plan goes wrong, if you need to run, it will be much easier to do if you're not pregnant.

[ By all logic, by all twists and turns of semantics, Allura could consider that Shiro agreed with what she said. But for several breaths, the fact that he had said, "No" stings, and her proffered hand hangs in air awkwardly, until she brings it down.

Perhaps it had been foolish of her to think that in some twisted fashion, things would be better if she could draw out a speck of any kind of positive emotion or thought out of the situation, even if it is the slightest, dirtiest facsimile of it. That getting a willing "yes" from him would make things less horrifying for the both of them, when in the end, the result would be the same -- except that by all practical means, if she is to take him for his word, it would buy her more time. His "yes" would have meant that she would not have to break him. She realizes with horror that she might have just been selfishly trying to make things less burdensome on herself through the use of one single word.

Once more, Allura feels the onset of an adrenaline rush. Shiro said something about needing to run, and by all the stars, she wants to run now. She wants this nightmare to end. She does not know for how long she had stood, staring through a pillow on the floor, as her mind runs through scenarios to try and come up with a rebuttal, ways to turn phrases around so that she can fool herself into thinking that she is in no way willing to resort to torture a person to get them to do what she wants them to do.

... mirror them in body, in speech, and in thought. The rules of diplomacy overlap greatly with that of survival, she finds. Allura had tried to convince herself that she isn't becoming a monster by not being willing to torture a man, and yet she is willing to sacrifice a child's life -- an innocent life, one that would be of her blood. Oh, she is going to do it, except that Shiro would not be complicit to it.

Damn you, Champion.

Her right hand clenches briefly, and on an impulse, she steps forward and swings her arm to slap Shiro across the face. Whether it connects or not, she is not so concerned, her mind preoccupied with cursing him to all hells and back. ]

[It's hardly the first time he's said 'no' to one of his captors. The result isn't usually pretty, and his saying it rarely makes a difference, unless its to make things worse for himself before he's forced into whatever he was resisting in the first place.

But he'll be damned if he's ever going to let himself stop saying it when he feels it needs to be said.

Royalty maybe raised to be pawns and they may realize that any child they have will be one as well but not a child of Shiro's. Not any child but he doesn't have any say in other children's fate. Only a child of his own. And that, only hypothetically. Because she could have him strapped down and he's sure there are plenty of drugs or machines that will force his body to give her what she wants if she doesn't care about the mind behind the body or the physical act of copulation itself. He's not naive. The Druids have already proved they can dance his body like a puppet's. But - no. No, he won't go willingly. No, he won't condemn an innocent to this mad house of a universe. No. He won't give up a life that's half his own to Galra magic and cruelty. Not willingly.

She doesn't like his answer and its just as obvious that she was expecting him to agree. He watches her, face expressionless, wary. She is the one in power. She does have his life in her hand. She can do anything at all she wants to with him and he can fight it - but she has the entire Galra Empire behind her and he has only himself. She can torture him to insanity, strap him down to a chair, drug him out of his mind and have whatever she wants. She doesn't need his 'yes'. But she asked for it. And he won't turn over a child to Zarkon that easily.

He sees the clench and he sees the swing. Slaps take a build up to them that simple punches don't and he's been in the Arena too long not to see the telegraph of it coming light years in advance. His Galra hand clenches - and activates, casting her room out of its soothing tones and into murky twilight shades where he's standing.

He doesn't block the swing. Shutting his eyes instead and turning his head a little to take it full across the side of his face. It doesn't knock him over but - she's got a lot of strength behind her blow, a great deal more upper body strength than her slender frame would indicate. He feels it grind his teeth. And then, while the force of her swing should have her off balance, he steps into her and brings his head down. Hard. He's careful in his aim, going for the center of her forehead where her skull should, by laws of survival, be thickest and the least likely to crack or have anything sensitive near the surface. Her thin crown should give her a larger measure of protection there as well. But he brings his forehead down hard and sharp. Because she's going to need that bruise when she deals with him later, whether its in deception or in horrifying reality. And if his human arm hooks around behind her to catch her if the blow is enough to unbalance her, his voice is a throaty growl that threatens worse as he snarls at her:]

Use the bracelet!

[ "You are too impulsive, Allura, so much like your mother. More of the Red Lion than the Black..."

In the split-second that Allura takes the swing, her father's voice rings in her memory. I'm sorry, father. It seems I need more of your wisdom before I can save our people, and this world. But it's too late now. The satisfaction of her slap connecting with skin is short-lived, as she lets out a sharp cry of pain when Shiro's skull connects with hers.

Her vision blanks, and the room spins in her mind. Indeed, she hadn't been thinking all too clearly about what she had done, but she knows too well that she had brought this upon herself, silly little girl raising her hand against the Arena's Champion. Her eyes squeeze shut over the shock even before the pain registers. Through the skin of her eyelids, and through sheer recognition of the sound of Galra tech, she knows that Shiro's enhanced arm is activated and she had seen it at work. It would be so easy for him to chop her head right off if he had wanted to...

Soon as Allura opens her eyes, the floor comes into focus, whites and blues washed with Galra purple. She breathes hard as she instinctively struggles against Shiro's hold. No!, she screams in her mind. Tears sting her eyes -- more out of frustration and rage than pain.

The impact will leave not just bruising, but abrasions from the metal as well. Her arm will also bear the mark of his grip. This is part of her plan, right? This will buy her the time she needs to bring the hope that her father had told her about to life...

Right?

The rasp of Shiro's voice brings her back. Use the bracelet, her mind echoes. Does she have a choice? Can she still talk him out of this? Is there anything she can say to make him reconsider?

A sound caught between a laugh and a sob crosses her lips. That had been her mistake. She had asked, she had pleaded, when all she had to do is to tell him what to do. The kindness had not all been for him, but for her as well. And now she faces its consequences. Allura clenches her teeth, as she her body softly glows with blue-gold quintessence...

I hope that in some future, or in some lifetime, you will find it in your heart to-- ]

... forgive me.

[ and with her innate strength and with full intent, she tugs to get her arm free from Shiro's grip and activates the bracelet at half its power. ]

[He holds her so that she doesn't topple and it would be so easy to send his Galra hand right through her chest and end it.

Instead he cradles her back with his human arm and feels bad for the tears he sees in her opal colored eyes when they open.

He's never seen anyone glow before but the second she does he sees the twitch of her left wrist and she doesn't have to fight to get free of him because he jerks away from her as if she's lightning. Except she's not.

He is.

The purple bolts of it arch out of his Galra arm, snaking forward across his skin in hungry leaps that start at his wrist and race upward and then across to devour the rest of him. It tears the cry out of him, arches his back. And the electric continues to pour out of his cursed arm. His knees buckle and he hits the floor so hard that the crack of that contact can be hear. He curls forward over the arm, as if that, somehow, can mitigate the pain or slow the ripping currents that dance over his bare skin to the point that it starts to smoke, devouring him. And yet -

He grits his teeth, face a tight mask but he's had this happen to him before and he recognizes - ]

More. [The inverted purple jumps across his mouth, across his teeth. It's intentionally looped. She can turn it on but it has to run its full course before it shuts off. There's no turning it off once it starts.] Use the - aagh! - use the full strength.

Edited 2016-12-12 10:59 (UTC)

[ Out of sheer instinct to get herself far from harm, Allura pushes away from Shiro soon as the bracelet's activation registers. She wants to look away, but her lessons come to her mind:

You order a man's death, and so you look him in the eye. The power a monarch holds is so great as to determine whether a person lives or dies. Look them in the eye until the life is gone from them, and remind yourself that this was your decision in taking their life into your hands.

There is a delay before Allura registers what Shiro is saying, transfixed over the amount of damage half the power already dishes out. I can't... I can't... I can't...!! She squeezes her eyes shut and she hunches over, hugging herself, trembling as her quintessence glows stronger, setting the charge to run its full course.

Through tears, she watches him, searing into her mind what her power -- or lack thereof -- is bringing down to this man's life. He had not asked for this, for any of this. There are no words to this lesson, save for the sounds of electrical charges and cries of pain and suffering. Nothing to read but the agony and rage in his eyes. Nothing but the smell of electricity on human skin overpowering the perfumes of the blossoms in her room.

Soon as the allotted time for the charge runs out, Allura's quintessence fades, and she storms to the other side of the room, through another curtained archway that leads to her bedroom. She slumps, sitting at the foot of her bed, buries her face in her hands and allows herself to cry. Ten minutes, he said. ]

I can't do this. I can't do this...

[ ... force Shiro to comply? Torture him until his mind is broken? Break him until she can draw out some agreement and maybe find comfort in that?

But she did find comfort. Even for just a split-second, with how Shiro had held her and chose not to kill her. Could things be different? Could there be a time and place where he can hold her and where she can embrace him and not care how the world is spinning?

Caught up in her own sorrows, trying to find other ways to not make him suffer, Allura barely keeps track of the time, gently rocking herself as she wills the sobs and her shaking to subside. She does have the mind to keep an ear out for Shiro, her eyes trained at the small opening through the thick curtains. ]

Allura | Voltron: Legendary Defender

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loved the feline growl idea

rawr :3♥

and I just figured out the descriptions of her former gifts too and - ilu

ilumore for this au idea :3< I'm v.excited to see this unfold!

ah man, me too! its going to be so much fun! (and possible torture so - fun!)

hurts so good :'D

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