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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

[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. ]

[He can tell the second she complies and this time its not a cry, its a scream that tears out of him. Before was painful.

This is bone striping.

There's no curling to try to protect himself from this, no trying to mitigate the damage. All he can do is arch as the electric wrecks his muscles and writhe on the floor when it shifts its current enough to drop him there. He tries, God damn but he always tries, to hang on, to fight, but seconds are eternities in hell and his eyes roll back in his head as he goes limp eventually. The current doesn't stop. It's not tuned to his physical body's signs. Instead it continues to jerk and spasm his unconscious body until its run its due course and the jumping inverted purple flickers off. His arm goes dead, falling back into a sleeping metal and black leather, and after a minute or two more, his body stops reflexively twitching. He doesn't hear her flee the room.

He doesn't hear anything. Doesn't see anything. His labored breathing is the only sign he's still alive and it goes one, heard rasp after hard rasp in the silence of the desecrated room for long minutes. Until his eyes finally flicker again.

He doesn't want to wake up. He doesn't want consciousness. The pain of stressed and overly stretched muscle and bone is already a steady lap of waves against his skull. Everything aches. His teeth ache. And all he wants to do is sleep. Sleep and never wake up. God... he's so tired. So tired of fighting...

But his human hand moves, fingers curl, drag toward his body. He's not tied up. That's - a kindness. Panting through his mouth he's always, slowly, made aware that the muzzle isn't back on. It takes horrific effort but he manages to get his knees and arms under him - and then has to stay that way for another full minute, panting through his teeth, muscles quivering. If he could tear off his Galra arm he would. Another long pause as he builds the strength, and the motivation, and he manages to lurch to his feet. The room's empty. She's either gone to get guards - or hiding. He doesn't blame her either way. But, using the furniture of the room as a support, he heads for the only other opening he sees. He should - his foggy brain says he should check on her. Make sure she's all right.

Water would be nice too.

He makes it to the arch, muscles starting to come under his control finally even if he feels as shaky as a new born. One arm lifts, causes him to hiss as it stretches burned skin where he must have been grounded enough for the electric to feed particularly strong and pushes a part of the curtain aside. He probably looks like a nightmare. He should probably just wait in the other room. His eyes narrow and search the room. He'll probably scare her, looming the way he's sure he is. He'll retreat. Just as soon as he makes sure she's all right.]

[ Please be alive, please be alive, please be alive...

Allura's tears eventually stop flowing, but her chest spasms from dry sobs until they eventually subside. Doesn't mean the pain is gone. Doesn't mean that she is resigned to accept that she just actively decided to torture a man fully knowing it might kill him. The rule she knows applies to criminals, to those guilty of heinous crimes. The rule applies to Zarkon and his ilk, and she knows she will gladly look into his yellow eyes until they turn dead gray.

Shiro's suffering is embedded in her mind, and she uses that to fuel her fury and her determination. She cannot let this go to waste. She has lost so much. He has lost so much. Part of her wonders why she cares so much. She knows him as much as he knows her in the hour or two they were presented to each other. But as far as she knows, as the queen of Altea, she is responsible for protecting innocent lives -- a role she is failing that very moment.

The crystal lights in her room are a pale yellow-white, casting soft glows on white, lavender, and pale blue linens and drapes. She cannot see him fully through the gap, but through her own stressed breathing she can hear him. He is alive. Small mercies, but mercies nonetheless.

Allura hears Shiro stir and move. She should probably check on him, but she's frozen in place. She takes off her circlet and absentmindedly sets it on the bed, and covers her eyes with the heels of her hands. She doesn't want to go out into that room, not yet. She can't face him, not after what she just did. She can't face him when she is weak. She doesn't even care for the growing bruise on her forehead -- the pain there is nothing compared to the violation of her heart.

She is startled when she hears the curtain shift, and she looks up at Shiro, eyes reddened from from crying. Her voice comes out in a rasp and squeak -- ]

Water.

[ Her own throat came dry and as if on autopilot of practiced courtesies, she gets up from her sitting and pours them two glasses -- clear water in crystal glasses. Her eyes train over his body as she walks towards him, taking account of the damage she had caused. She hands him his glass -- ]

Drink. Sit on the bed and I'll have a look at you.

[ She downs her glass as if it were a shot of nunville. Heaven knows could certainly do with one -- or thirty -- right now. ]

[She's been crying.

That's not part of what he meant to happen. But - her eyes and her face - it's obvious she's been crying and he feels a stab of guilt for that. As far as he can tell, if he's been told the truth so far, none of this is her fault. She's as trapped by it as he is. More so because she has the fate of a planet hinging on her decisions and the only one his decisions effect are himself.

She hasn't done anything but exactly what he asked her to. She shouldn't have to cry over that.

But then she makes a sound, startled, squeaking, and he immediately hunches his shoulders inward, trying to make himself seem smaller. Less threatening. Even though, belatedly, that's laughable. She's the one with the bracelet and now they've both seen how effective that is. He's not the dangerous one here.

He's still about to retreat and leave her alone when what she'd said finally registers - and has him hesitating in the archway as she gets up and whirls off in a swirl of pale colors and white. He stops himself from swallowing reflexively at the thought of actual water, and probably clean water too if its from her own personal stock. His throat was barren and dry before. The screaming certainly hasn't done it any good. Water... water sound like heaven right about now.

He does notice that she pours it into two glasses, both from the same container and that she drinks hers first. If she's trying to assure him there's nothing in it, he appreciates the gesture - but she could probably knock him over with a good hard shove at the moment and if there was anything in the water it would be unnecessary overkill. His hand shakes when he reaches for the glass so he simply uses two hands. The first sip is pure torture but he keeps it down. Forces down several more sips until the inside of his throat does burn.

He's let himself be herded to the bed before it really registers, sitting gingerly on the edge of it, feeling - badly out of place, in his Galra dark colors and arm, dirty with travel and sweat, smelling like ozone and burns in a room of pastel and white and flowers and crystal. He keeps working at the water until it finally goes down his throat like a blessing. He hasn't eaten in - who knows and he doesn't want to shock his system with too much water but -

damn. It's the best tasting thing he's ever had to drink. His eyes watch her through it all though, quiet and steady. And when she's close enough he touches her, just once on the back of her forearm with his human finger before wrapping the hand back around his glass again. His voice still holds a bit of a croak and crack to it but its more natural than its been up until that moment. All he says is a quiet:]

Nothing to forgive.

[ She keeps herself busy, moving about her room gathering towels, and vials about her large dresser. Allura pauses when she senses Shiro's touch -- so slight, yet so present. She hears what he says and she wants to say something. That he's wrong, that she should have more power over the situation, that she's a failed queen, and her subjects are all probably better off being ruled by Zarkon so that he get it all over and done with already.

And yet she persists. She fights and endures her own way.

Her lips draw a tight line. She doesn't deserve -- well, if there's nothing to forgive, then she doesn't deserve whatever sentiment it is he is offering her. She has her back to him as she works, putting in drops of plant-smelling salves into a basin of water, fighting tears again which she manages well enough. But she can see him within her peripheral vision through her mirror. She does not see a toy, a plaything. She sees Shiro: a human being who deserves so much better.

Soon, she is by his side, a serving table holding the shallow basin of water that smells of sweet mint and jasmine, and a full pitcher of clear water. She dips the towel into the basin, and takes to dabbing at the burns. It's not expert work, but Allura will offer whatever hospitality she can. The least she can do since she had pulled him into her plans, after all.

Her voice is just as quiet. ]

Tell that to me once we've gotten out of here.

[ Alive. There will no words to speak if they are dead. She nods her head towards the pitcher. She doesn't look him in the eyes, pointedly concentrating on her work. ]

Help yourself.

[The vials make him stiffen and its not her fault at all. Hell, the small glass jars don't even look the same. But the swamp that's become his memories releases snakes the color of old oil and he can almost smell the bitter and sour and sharp scents in a witch's hands as she hovers over him and smiles with teeth like bones.

A sharp inhale and he pulls himself back from that, like a drowning man pulling his head out of the water and he forces his eyes to focus on where he is now. To acknowledge it. To remember who he's with. Because, white hair or not, this woman doesn't laugh when he screams.

The basin she brings over doesn't smell like dust and blood either. He stays still and meek under her touch even if his skin twitches as she works, reaction to the sting on the abrasions and minor burns. His scaring is extensive enough that she's got very few patches of large untouched skin to work with. It still feels good. As much for the softness of water on raw skin as a gentle touch when all he's known for the past year or more has been pain.

He pours himself another glass of water but nurses it, going slow. And his eyes watch her face.]

Where are we going? [Because getting out of 'here' implies there's a somewhere else to go to and he wasn't aware of anywhere existing that was safe from the Galra.]

[ She works her way down from his shoulder to his human arm. The mixture medicine in the water is meant to soothe burns and welts. She doesn't answer right away, her eyes focusing on some distant point while her hands work -- going through the motions as if she had done this before. She could stick him in a cryopod, but that would rouse too much suspicion. ]

Arus. The farthest planet in the current borders of the Galra Empire.

[ Allura shifts to get on her knees on the bed to work on his back. As she dabs the medicinal water over the fresher burns, she maps the scars on Shiro's back with her eyes, committing them to memory -- just like the freckles on the little girl, the perfect set of teeth on the talkative one, the stretch marks on the arms of the scared but gentle one, and the firelight in the eyes of the last gift before Shiro. ]

Within its star system is an asteroid belt being mined for ores. In terms of singular value, it is cheap, but astro-ores are a staple of Galra technology. But Arus, in Galra's judgment, is insignificant in terms of population, its quintessence low and its star dying. It's mostly ignored, and cargo and patrol ships are infrequent.

[ There is a smile in her voice, as she recalls someone fond. She misses Coran dearly... ]

That was where my father's royal advisor was sent on exile.

[ This is good, being able to voice out her plans. It helps anchor her thoughts and whittles away at the panic. ]

[He listens as she talks, eyebrows down, absorbing the information. He's always been good with tactics, but tactics, past the very basic, rely on reliable intel and he's been sorely lacking in that area since his capture. Not just the world, but the entire universe has changed and he knows practically nothing at all about it. He can't be effective if he's ignorant. What she gives him is the start of building blocks.

His eyes shift to watch her from their edges as she shifts onto the bed and he feels it move under him but he doesn't turn his head. Her touch doesn't send revulsion across his skin. It's... a nice change. She's also surprisingly good at first aid for a Queen. It's not a complaint at all, competence is survival. But he isn't sure if it says more about her or more about her planet and what its queen has been expected to do in the past. He pins the strands she's given him together and makes a guess.]

We're going to go rescue him? And then - bring him back here?

[ Aside from time, Allura's currency comes in the form of information. She is not completely crippled in that regard, but she plays the part, still. She pretends to be ignorant, to be sheltered, easily placated with toys and trinkets.

But she moves ever so carefully. Triple-questioning the loyalties of those who claim to be her friends. An ordinary Altean, even of the ruling class, can be dogged into submission specially if their lives and lifestyles are at stake. ]

No. He has no use here, nor does he have power. Not here.

[ The trickle of water squeezed from the wet towel serve as a pause as she gathers her thoughts. ]

Arus has become a safehouse of sorts. Its native population is small, but the number of those who are enormously discontent with the Galra Empire willingly exile themselves there and other outlying star systems. Ordinary folk and powerful people alike. The Empire has grown so big that the further you are from the heart of the Empire, the easier it is to fly under the radar. After ten thousand years, Zarkon now is more concerned about keeping his Empire's core intact and watching his closest circle.

[ Her hands then move to his sides, down his lower back. She pauses in her work so as to lean in and speak softly, as if afraid of being heard. Where her voice earlier had been hurt and vulnerable, when she voices out her ultimate goal, her tone carries the undercurrent of a long simmering desire for revenge. ]

We go out to Arus. Call some friends. Then choke him.

[ If Allura had known about the fall of the Roman Empire under "barbaric" sieges, then that would be the picture she is painting. ]

[His head does turn when she leans in, chin low so he can looks at her over his shoulder from the edges of his eyes. An Empire grown old and unwieldy. Barbarians at the gates. Corruption within. Younger, hungrier outsiders wanting in. Human history hovers at the edge of his thoughts, whispers. And, for the first time, he feels something inside of his chest growing tight and for a long moment he doesn't realize what the painful feeling is.

Hope.

It's... hope.

He swallows, brows still down, not sure he trusts it. Not sure he wants it. It can't be that easy. It won't. But - a chance to fight in a fight that makes a difference instead of just for repetitive entertainment and survival...

He hears the darkness in her voice over his shoulder, sees the flicker at the edge of his vision of another white haired woman with hunger and darkness in her voice but he doesn't shudder.

There's a time and a place for darkness. Shiro's swallowed enough of it himself to know. His hands still around the glass. She spoke earlier of buying time. Now she sounds much more immediate. Is it his resistance to the first plan that's set the time scale forward? There's no question of whether he'll go or not. All he asks is:]

When?

[ Allura does realize that it sounds easy, but it certainly isn't a plan that she had hatched overnight. She had to court loyalty, seek them out, and buy them if necessary. She hates herself over the thought that she was just seducing captives with kindness and feeding their hatred for the Galra, getting them in on her plan to build her own army of rebels and spies. But it is no longer the fate of just Altea that's at stake. It's the fate of the universe and the future of all its people.

Because war does not start with battleships and canons. They start on the ground.

As Shiro poses his question, her cleaning moves to the shoulder right above the Galra arm, drops of medicinal water slithering over Galra-forged metal. ]

That is where our buying time comes in. We need the final key to start the machine's engines. But that key is broken and it is meticulously being fixed as we speak. Its science is not so simple.

[ Inwardly, Allura appreciates greatly that she does not have to spell things out so explicitly to Shiro. Being able to speak of her plans to remind her of where she is ultimately placing her hope on puts her in a clearer state of mind. She then moves to face Shiro, and finally looks into his eyes; night dark, a perfect canvas for stars. ]

You will also help me fix this key.

[He doesn't need the details. Not right now at least. He just needs her to point him in a direction. He's well aware that he could be trading one tyrant for another, one crushing Empire for another - but he's already tasted the current one and he's willing to do whatever it takes to destroy that.

His people are scattered across the stars and Earth is lonely. What would he pay for cherry blossoms in Kyoto again?

A small measure of kindness buys her more than a year of cruelty has. His eyes meet hers when she stands in front of him and all he asks is:]

How?

[ Zarkon's undoing is his ruling with an iron fist, and had made no qualms and excuses for his thirst for absolute power. He forgets that people respond, and people respond more favorably to kindness than outright cruelty.

When Shiro meets her gaze, Allura does not hear the feline purr or growl, but instead feels in her heart the distinct rumbling of a large cat come to life. ]

It needs to break free, and to fly -- with you. I don't know if you were able to hear it, or sense something that's-- that's drawing you to this castle...

[ It had been a long and arduous gamble. Decoding her father's final words to her, the searching for pieces that were "gone" and trying to revive what had been "dead". Things were coming together, and after a long time, Allura can almost feel her fingers touch victory...

But she brings herself back to the present, suddenly sharply aware that she might have been standing too close to Shiro, said fingers finding their way over his heart. She also realizes that she might have sounded crazy, saying things about flying and sensing and hearing things.

She continues her work, dabbing the cool fragrant towel over Shiro's neck and chest, and working her way down. Burns and scars starkly reminding her where she is, what just happened. She takes a breath and draws a tight line with her lips again. ]

... there's still work to do.

[Up until this point, he's been able to follow all she's said. Whether he's agreed with it or not, whether he's completely understood all the details or not. He's still been able to understand what she's saying and where its coming from. It's been -

he hasn't had anyone talk to him so much or with such an expectation of his intelligence and ability to keep up in over a year.

It's... made him feel human again.

But when she comes back to herself, finding her fingertips over his heart, against the skin of his bare chest and one particularly nasty scar set where something had grabbed him with embedded claws and tried to toss him -

he's looking at her with raised eyebrows and something that says he's a little bit worried that maybe his previous head-butt caused more damage than he realized. Because -

the only thing that 'drew' him here was a Galra ship and the only things he'd sensed on his way here was a muzzle across his jaws like an animal and humiliation. Followed by electrical shocks that had incapacitated him.

His heart might beat under the touch of her fingertips - but its been dead for a long time. There's nothing inside of him to hear or sense anything. More importantly, he's not even sure what she expects him to have heard or sensed.

His eyes follow her when she goes back to work on him and it feels - more intimate, her touch working its way down his chest than it had on his back. He stays still so nothing gives that away.]

A ship? [He guesses it, the only thing he can fasten onto that makes sense in what she'd just said. Because - fly. For just a split second, he can inhale. For just a second he remembers what being a pilot felt like.

For just a second one side of his mouth moves, trying to remember how to smile. But 'break free' doesn't sound like a ship so] An animal?

[He's let other things slip past. His mind latches on to this and refuses.]