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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

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[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.]

[ Once again, she averts her gaze, left and down at some spot on her bed, fighting back embarrassment as she crouches in front of him, trying to think of ways how she could have better expressed it -- the attraction towards the weapon entombed in the castle.

Of course, Shiro had not been drawn here, and he most certainly had not come here of his own will. She had said it herself: he is meant to be her executioner, and they are meant to destroy each other.

Allura sighs, squeezing the towel with a fraction more force than necessary, before meeting his gaze again. Was that a shadow of a smile, though? Or a trick of the light? The vision catches her off-guard for just a moment, until she finds her words again. ]

A ship in the form of an animal. A lion, to be exact. One-fifth of the weapon I had mentioned earlier. I will give it its power, and you will pilot it.

[ Ten thousand years. Several civilizations would have already come and gone by then. Nobody knows Voltron anymore. It has been reduced to a children's tale, a myth. But Allura knows Voltron to be real and true, even if all she has is a broken artifact buried in an old, conquered castle. She steels herself -- truth is not something to be embarrassed about. ]

Ever since you have arrived here, by any chance, have you heard growling or rumbling?

[ Voltron is a myth for others, but for her, and for everyone else who wants to fight, it is a symbol of hope. She mentally prepares herself for laughter, for incredulity -- for an attack, even. While she knows her life still has some semblance of value, she knows in her heart of hearts that she is ready to die for this truth, if it means keeping hope alive. ]

No.

[He answers it immediately, without flinch or hesitation, voice calm and utterly flat.

He answers it too fast.

And he realizes it too late, after the word is already out. His jaw locks but he doesn't try to avoid her eyes, where she's kneeling between his knees, looking up at him and expecting - ]

I don't hear anything.

[He can lie without a sign - but this isn't a lie. She says 'lion' and he thinks that's a strange thing to create a ship to look like. It's even stranger, less sane maybe, to expect it to actually sound like a lion. He's heard her voice and his screams and that's all.

His hand uncurls where it had fisted against his thigh again. And he exhales. It shakes, just a little. Leaning down, close to her, he sets the glass on the tray that's holding the water for her. And his eyes are very dark and very ancient when they meet hers.]

I feel restless. I want to taste the stars again. I've always felt that way, even as a child. But its worse here. I've never felt it this bad. It's too strong. It's my longing - but its not mine.

[ Soon as the word is out, Allura feels all the blood drain from her face. She has played the games of diplomacy and politics for so long that it has become easy for her to spot a lie. She is -- or at least, so far in her own judgment -- an effective liar herself, and lies have kept her alive and those under her wing for so long.

The others have felt it, even if some stronger than others.

Allura wants to prod and pry, but she has no no doubt she had been direct with her question. She had asked as clearly as she could. But when Shiro says "I don't hear anything...", she does not see an inkling of a lie in his eyes, so much that she chooses not to say anything anymore about it.

The plans will proceed. They have time -- they are buying time. If she has to prove herself to the creature sleeping underneath the castle so that she can fly it herself, then so be it...

But before she even dwells in reformulating her plans, she pays Shiro attention. He is revealing something of himself to her for the first time, something that she did not ask him for, and it feels precious to her, somehow. She sees the longing in his eyes, a hunger that can never be placated by simpler and more fleeting pleasures. When once she had seen pain and terror, she sees, under the exhaustion and frustration, fortitude. ]

You will. [ Allura realizes a little too late that her gaze had wandered to Shiro's lips, perhaps wanting to see that smile once more, but she catches herself, looking into his eyes again. ] You will see the stars again, Shiro. This isn't over. I have come so far and I am not giving up now.

[ He is close. Too close. She can't be looking into his eyes like this when she is simply too aware of what she has to do to him. Self-consciously, she pulls back. ]

I missed a spot on your face. Hold on. I'm almost done.

[ She moves her hand to dab the towel on his cheek. It feels awkward now, awfully intimate. It would have been better if she had done this while he had been unconscious. But she will finish her work because she is stubborn that way. ]

[When she makes her promise, when she says he'll see the stars again -

that ancient presence in his eyes is satisfied, sinking and disappearing until its only Shiro again, watching her through the darkness of his eyes, unaware there was anything else there to start. And Shiro knows better than to believe promises. Even the ones given in good faith are all too often lost in the maelstrom of life. She can mean her words with all her heart, that doesn't mean he should rely on them.

Except - something inside him reaches out and clutches her promise close to its chest even knowing better. He should hope - but

to feel the power of engines in the soles of his boots, the perfect touch of controls in his hands. To see the stars and feel the thin, fine vibrations of motion through the ship and his own body... The Galra clipped his wings when they captured him. He's never gotten over that loss.

But he's felt that longing before. And he knows what he told her is true. The ache for the stars inside of him is too strong. He's not just feeling it for himself. And that frightens him. Because what if its something the Galra did to him? What if its something the Druids did? He's learned to shut off so much of his mind to outside touch. What if he missed a spot? What if what he's feeling is a trap?

None of it shows. He's so used to fears and not trusting his own mind that this is just one more brick in the pile he carries on his back. He won't let it break him any more than any of the others have. Not now. Not when he finally has a mission. Or... something like maybe a mission...

He wants so badly to be able to put his faith in something again. He wants so badly to be able to put his faith in the woman crouched so close with fire in her eyes and the gentleness to heal him after she's hurt him. He just can't risk having that faith broken. He doesn't know if he'd make it out of something like that whole.

But he still leans down a little more into her hands, close enough to smell the flowers on her skin, when she says she's missed a spot on his face, shutting his eyes and trusting her. Her touch is soothing and all he really wants to do is curl up somewhere and sleep. But inside his chest there's a burning ember that he can't quite seem to tamp out and so he qietly asks:]

When can I see it?

[ She shouldn't have looked him in the eye. She shouldn't have looked any of them in the eye, because what she sees is what propels her to kindness. Perhaps if Allura had killed her heart, if she had just let herself be pushed and pulled along by Zarkon's machinations where his lies would eventually become truth for her, things would be easier. She wouldn't have to agonize over having to torture someone for her own gains. She wouldn't have to care if they live or die as they would just be another piece to her gilded cage, until she gives Zarkon the heir he wants and she can join her father in the afterlife. What chance does she stand against a being who has lived and ruled for ten thousand years?

But she looks Shiro in the eye and studies his face as she finishes up with her cleaning. She uses what she sees to remind her of what she is fighting for and that she is spurred not just by revenge.

He had told her there are ways to make him comply quicker to what she needed to be done. Even then, her stubborn nature will have her try with all her might to not have to break him, while toeing all the lines of her lies and play acting. But Allura also respects Shiro's choice -- she asked, and he answered. She will just have to play the role of both torturer and healer, for him and for herself.

Finally, she takes the towel and the basin back to her dresser, cleans her hands and takes to tending to her forehead in front of the mirror. That bruise isn't going away any time soon. She'll have to wear her hair differently and opt for a tiara for a while, if she is to invite a modicum of respect in the throne room and not to have to attract unwanted questions. ]

I don't know. Maybe later. We'll see.

[ In fact, she does know. She has exclusive access to the lion, but with eyes on her at all times once she leaves her room, her physically visiting the place would invite more questions, much more with a slave in tow. Regardless of what mystical rumblings she had been hearing, her better senses tell her to delay. There is too much Galra tech in her presence right now, glancing at Shiro's arm through her mirror. She bites the inside of her lip, inwardly reprimanding herself for her impulsiveness. She fixes her hair in an attempt to hide the injury, in the same manner that she will try to hide whatever tracks she has laid out so far. ]

I will need to check in with Zarkon within the day. I still need to call and thank him for his gift. [ Sharp, and curt. And the last part is said with all the insincerity her entire being could muster. ] Like you said, I will have to put the bindings back on you. He will most likely ask to see you so I'll need to-- hurt you again. Pain isn't something you can playact with him.

[ She applies some salve over the open wound, then returns to Shiro and places a hand on his shoulder. ]

But I will do all I can to keep you alive and well.

[ She then proceeds to apply the salve on worse of the burns. ]

Edited (Had to change something up there :x) 2016-12-13 13:46 (UTC)

[She says 'maybe later' and he hears 'I've changed my mind about letting you pilot'. It seizes up panic inside of him, as if he hadn't just told himself not to believe in promises and had anyway and he's tempted to blurt that 'sure, of course he hears whatever sounds she wants him to hear' because not hearing them is obviously a vote against him.

He needs to fly. He needs the stars again after all this long, lonely time in the dark.

Except - he doesn't. He knows he doesn't. That panic - it's too strong. It's that same dual cord, something that's his but something that's louder than just his. The skin around his eyes flinches and he swallows it down, shuts it off, seals it away. Whatever he's feeling, that's not him. It's him. But its not him. He can live without the stars. He can live a crippled bird. He's done it for over a year now. He's adjusted.

It's dangerous to let yourself want anything, when everything is a weapon that can be used against you.

He watches her through the mirror's reflection, watches her fuss with her hair and - it really doesn't look so much like the witch's. Her is - vibrant. Full of life.

Her face is much nicer too...

He doesn't regret the bruise though. Zarkon will be looking.

His lips tighten though when she starts talking and he focuses on the fact that at least she's telling him what's going on over the fact that the thought of having to go through that again makes his knees feel like they're full of water. He'd do anything to avoid that pain. Except - he wouldn't. Not yet. He'll still take the pain over some things. But he knows that, if it goes on long enough, he'll stop choosing them over avoiding the pain.]

Contact him after you've used the bracelet. He likes seeing me broken.

[He has to swallow but its the truth and if it will help her buy time, even if it just confuses or amuses Zarkon, than its worth it. It still steals the coolness from the salve on his burns and the clean scent for the air as the memories bubble up and he shuts his eyes and focuses on breathing techniques to force them down again. Something in the back of his mind seems to nudge and the memories dissolve easier than usual. He opens his eyes. Looks up for opal colors immediately, just to make sure she's really still there.]

Can I - can I have a few hours of sleep first? Just - before the bracelet again.

[ In the moments that Allura hadn't been looking at him, she backtracks in her mind what she should be doing now. She had been treating Shiro no different from the previous gifts until she had been able to arrange for their escape. Except that none of them had a way to force her hand into torturing them to the same extent as she is doing with Shiro. She knows how much of an impact of any hit from her has on an average human body by now. Obviously, Shiro is way above "average".

She concludes that what she had done in the past is no longer enough. If she is to have repairs on the Black Lion completed to make a successful escape and get the machine of her rebellion started, then she will have to play Zarkon's game, even if it means killing off pieces of her heart. What is her heart anyway compared to the fate of countless lives to be saved and spared from Galra rule?

The end justifies the means, Zarkon is fond of saying. Her father never truly agreed, and neither does she. What means and to what end, really?

Allura feels that if she is to have this... collaboration with Shiro, then she will have to start guarding her heart much more than she already has. She has revealed too much when she should have known, ever since the envoy stepped in, that this is different. She feels she can trust Shiro -- but she doesn't trust the arm attached to him, nor the bracelet locked around her wrist.

She feels his gaze more than she sees it, feels that he is seeking. She nods at that fact about Zarkon -- a broken man grasping for anything that would keep him alive, a broken Paladin, leading a broken Empire. Voice laced with bitterness, she says -- ]

He likes everything and everyone broken.

[ Instinctively, she meets his eyes and mentally notes that she will have to stop looking into them so much, if she is to play the part of Zarkon's little puppet princess effectively. Looking into Shiro's eyes stirs both fear and compassion, pulling her heart into polar directions. She needs to focus. Giving him a gentle smile -- ]

Yes you may. Follow me, I will show you to your quarters.

[ Of course, she will allow him rest, if she wants him to endure and to stretch the time that she will be buying. Setting the jar of salve aside, she gets up from the bed to lead him back out into the receiving room. She turns right and places her hand on a hidden console, and the wall opens to a near exact replica of the receiving room -- save for a palette of pale gold and lavender, and enough pillows in different sizes to cover the entire carpeted floor. To the side is a smaller arched opening that gives access to baths, while the wall panels simulate the view of the garden outside of it. A small bubbling fountain surrounded by twelve crystal goblets stand at the center. It is apparently meant to hold several occupants at a time.

There is no visible hand print console on the other side. There are small vents, but no real windows. A fancy prison.

Allura stands aside so as to allow Shiro to pass. ]

You have the whole space to yourself. [ There's a fleeting look of shyness in her fece. ] Contrary to popular belief, I'm not fond of the idea of having a personal harem.

Settle in. I'll see you in a few hours.

[ Allura lingers for a few counts, enough so as Shiro can get her attention if he had any immediate need. If there isn't anything urgent, then she will be leaving him to rest. ]

[He rises to his feet smoothly and its only after he's standing that he remembers how much taller than her he is. Seated, with her moving around him, he hadn't felt it. She'd seemed... larger. As if she takes up more space in an area than just her physical form. It's her personality, her presence. He wonders, abstractly, if that's part of being royalty or if its just her.

He follows her through the receiving room, pauses at her shoulder and a little behind to watch as she opens a hidden wall. When she seals it again - no one will know its there. He suspects its sound proof. She could forget him in there, wall up alive, and no one would ever know... It makes his throat go tight, makes his chest feel tight and he simply scans the room from over her shoulder, not moving to enter. It's -

for the first time a completely unguarded and human expression moves over his face and its a 'you've got to be kidding me'. Because the room looks like something out of Arabian Nights and - you've got to be kidding him. Pillows? On the floor? The room doesn't have as many tassels as he'd expect but still -

His eyes slide sideways to her without turning his head and - she looks serious. A harem room. He looks back at it again, still not moving. A second look steals the dry bemusement though. Harem room or not - its a prison cell. He recognizes it once he's past the giant bed and the opulence. The room is nothing more than a pretty prison cell. For him.

It's not so amusing then.

He thinks he could resist her if she tried to force him in. Her hit was strong but - he thinks he's stronger. And he knows he's a better fighter thanks to the Arena. He could refuse... until she used the bracelet. It's hard to breathe again and he measures the in and out of his inhales and exhales through his nose to steady himself. Inhale, hold it, exhale, pause. Inhale, hold it, exhale, pause. She wants him to walk into a prison cell and let himself be sealed away and forgotten.

What's his alternative? Fight? She's already given him a better opportunity and more kindness than anyone else in this nightmare. If he helps - he might get more.

And a small, quiet part of him hasn't, despite himself, forgotten her promise of a ship and the stars...

A hard swallow and he steps even with her. Exhales through his teeth, eyes never leaving the room.]

Food. I should eat soon. If I eat - I shouldn't eat just before you use the bracelet.

Yes. I will have food sent over in a few minutes.

[ Shiro will need something filling and nutritious, she notes. In the awkward pauses and silences, it almost feels like a joke -- her taking care of him, just so she can torture him and that she can get what she wants, for that little spark of hope. Allura is fully aware that the room is a gilded cage. In better times, it would be considered an honor and a privilege to be a consort of Altean royalty. Sometimes Allura wonders if King Alfor had sired other children, but whether or not he had, the reality remains that she is both alone and lonely, and no one to immediately run to.

Which is partly why, perhaps, she still welcomes the gifts and treats them with as much kindness as she can, if they could provide her with some little company that is not Galra, or someone who's worshiping Zarkon.

She detects in his body language and position that Shiro has identified the room for what it truly is. ]

I've been told that before the reign of my father, consorts of the Altean monarch were free to come and go as they please and enjoyed many privileges. [ The look she gives him is sad and apologetic. ] Times have changed since then.

[ She looks to the room herself, and for a moment, wonders if she could ever continue the traditions of her predecessors. Allura never developed the taste for it, and as far as she can see, she never will -- not when the now besmirched practice meant for mutual pleasure and enjoyment show in her mind's eye faces of terror, tears, and fury.

After half a breath, she unhooks one of her pink crystal earrings, and reaches out to put it in Shiro's human hand. ]

Here. If you need anything, speak into the crystal. I will hear you. I-- I need to prepare for the call later.

[ Zarkon likes seeing her broken, too -- albeit in a different way. ]

[He glances at her, standing at her shoulder and he almost asks. Except the answer isn't important and she's obviously trying to get him into the room quickly without actually pushing him. The same way he's probably obviously trying to avoid going into the room without flat out refusing. He does look down in surprise, distracted from both his aversion to the room and his curiosity about royal mating practices on her world, when she puts her earring in his palm. It's still warm from her skin. After a moment he closes his fingers around it. Earring communicators, functional, beautiful and something he thinks most people from Earth at least would completely miss. He wonders if they're meant to be overlooked like that.

Again though, he doesn't ask.

Because that was a very obvious dismissal and while he could keep stalling he doesn't want to push like that. Not yet at least. She's giving him free choice - or at least the illusion of free choice and he doesn't want to damage that. So he exhale long and it shakes a little but then his lips firm and his eyebrows come down. He doesn't walk straight into his cell though. instead he turns and walks over to the table he'd left his restraints on, gathering them up before walking back and past her without letting himself hesitate into the room. If someone does come, it wouldn't do to have them see his restraints and know she'd let him loose that completely, bracelet or no. He sets them down on the bed and doesn't turn around. He doesn't want to see the wall drop back into place and seal him away. It takes all his muscle control not to panic or try to bolt, staring at the wall until he hears it shut and he's entombed. Buried in a wall. That's a Poe story, isn't it?

He isn't sure how long he stands that way before he can finally breathe again. He still won't turn around and look at where the wall's closed on him. Instead he distracts himself with the surroundings he can see and eventually lets the lure of the bathroom seduce him. It's - opulent and that's an understatement. Everything is white stone with silver veins and pastel colors. The tub alone might as well be a jacuzzi and its already full of slow moving water that feels sinfully warm when he dips a finger in it.

He resists the urge to groan. When was the last time he had a real bath? Long before Kerberos. He knows he should be sleeping but - as needs go, as bad as his sleep is, cleanliness is a low dull ache. He realizes there are probably monitors in the bathroom but being a Galra slave has striped any modesty from him that the military hadn't already and when he wants to cover up these days its to hide his scars. Shirtless he hasn't even been able to do that. He sets her earring down on a sink counter, finds the towels, finds the soap, finds the toilet, figures out how to work one of the showers, set back behind a half-wall with a illusion of water coursing across its surface. He turns the heat of the water from the shower on too hot, turns the pressure on too hard and does his best to scour his skin clean. The bath is a luxury and he can't take that but he can scrub his skin until its red, ducking his head under the water again and again until his lungs burn for air and maybe, just maybe, it will clean even just an inch of the Galra taint off of him.]

[ As Shiro goes about silently, Allura tries to picture in her mind the life that her father might have meant for her: Coran by her right side, five Paladins at her left, a crew assisting her with the everyday tedium, the castleship humming with quintessence as the lions stand at the ready in their hangars, with stars and planets of all colors, shapes and sizes waiting for them as she looks out of the command center.

It had been her choice to not have a royal retinue tailing her at every turn. She figured that if she did not have Coran, there was no use in having potentially traitorous eyes and lips around her. Paranoia, maybe -- but a well-placed one. Like Zarkon would allow her to have a retinue that isn't colored by him. There is no one she can trust in the castle, no one to protect her, and he knows it.

The silence that follows is truly deafening, and her breath feels caught in her throat. Had she expected Shiro to just happily waltz in? That her words about an era so far away would provide any sort of comfort or incentive for him comply? She would be fooling herself then. When Shiro does step in, Allura wanted to say a "see you later," or that maybe he would turn around so she could smile at him. There were those who expressed their defiance by facing her and looking her in the eye as she closed the door, turning around the last minute to give her a wink, or nodding their head at her like they hadn't an ounce of hard feelings towards her.

But getting nothing somehow stings. Then again, it's better that way. Shiro is supposed to be -- is her slave. He is not her lover, not even her friend, but a means to each other's ends. Without another word, Allura firmly places her hand on the secret panel, and the wall slides shut.

Without delay, she makes the calls necessary to have food brought in -- a sizable meal manually prepared from the crops of fertile lands and carefully herded livestock. It is a luxury, compared to machine-dispensed food goo, specially with how food presentation is given attention. A panel positioned waist-high beside the door opens up to slide the large covered tray in, suspended on its own little platform attached tot he wall. The tray is made to keep the food warm until its recipient comes to retrieve it.

Even if her appetite isn't so kindled, Allura knows she also needs her sustenance. Her father would argue that dessert washed with nunvill is not sustenance, but she they are the only things she manages to keep down and keep her sane whenever her call with Zarkon comes up. Those, and the contents of the vials she keeps in a music box by her bed. At least one hour before the call, she reminds herself. She must show herself extremely well-pleased by her gift, that somehow, by this time, she has had her way with him or better yet, she derives pleasure in torturing him to get what she wants.

She has a few hours before then. She takes the time to tidy up her room, and makes the necessary last-minute checks to make sure she is on time for the call and to see if there is anything that requires her immediate attention. Looks like the staff assume that she is busy with her new toy and so no one decides to bother her; which is good. It gives her time to lie down, to center her thoughts, to calm down...

... and to check on the mice doing repairs in the Black Lion's tomb. She sets her alarm for the time she needs to take her potion. ]

[He sleeps with his back to a wall, in a corner of the bedroom, on the floor where he's completely hidden from the door that's not there anymore. He would have liked to have cleaned his clothes, or even better, have new ones, but if Zarkon is going to see him than the fighter garb will have to remain. His shower washed off all the salve but he thinks it maybe did its work all the same. The burns don't hurt the way he knows they should and they look less raw and angry than usual. He knows that won't last past his next bout with the bracelet but while it does...

His body can tuck up amazingly small given his size and the corner he's chosen is dark. He's mostly curled up under a night table of some kind, on the far side of the bed from the door, giving him extra protection. He'd considered the closet but it was too big to feel secure so the corner and the table had to do. The nightmares come. The nightmares always come and his breathing goes fast and strained but his body is far too exhausted, and too well trained, to wake up. Even shallow, haunted sleep is sleep and he needs it.

Her earring is curled up in his closed hand.

He'll wake up when the door opens. There's no reason for him to be up before that. He'll take every break he can get. It's simple survival.]

[ The Black Lion isn't "broken" in the very sense of the word. It had been such a force of nature at its prime with its former Paladin, that it just not moving, sitting like statue, refusing entry or any form of communication makes it as good as dead. Useless. An expensive toy tossed in the basement. As far as her knowledge in Altean technology is concerned and with the ground that the mice she controls can cover, there are no longer any significant repairs that need to be done. Voltron is such an unprecedented and so far unsucceeded wonder of technology, that each unit cannot just stop working because of one tiny wire out of place. The lions have seen far, far worse and they are able to keep on going because of their bond with their Paladin.

All she needs is a Paladin. And if she can trust the rumblings she had been hearing, that would mean the Black Lion is responding to something now -- someone: Shiro. She had wanted to buy time if Shiro does not prove to be the Paladin she had been waiting for. But if he is, then that would put her plans into fast forward. The only way to know is to bring him to the lion the next chance she has.

And it's a gamble, the biggest one she has to play yet. She doesn't know what else his arm can do, aside from being capable of dealing a death sentence at close range, and that she can harm him with it up to a certain range. Allura cannot dismiss the idea that the bracelet can be used against her as well, whether or not Shiro is aware of it. She doesn't know how else more aside from logging its usage, activating the crystal in Shiro's arm, and switched on using her quintessence...

They know.

It is known that the lions are connected to the quintessence of the ruling Altean monarch. Which would explain why they had kept King Alfor alive for so long, why they had not killed her in the first place, and why her producing an heir is somehow important. In the light of Galran politics, she is easily replaced, and it will only be a matter of time until the Altean scientists would have spilled all of the secrets to form a new Voltron.

But knowing what she knows of Zarkon, something digs deeper into him than mere politics. He too will exhaust all means necessary to claim what he believes to be his, such as the Black Lion. Zarkon himself could just father the heir. He would have ways to make her comply. But the Black Lion has rejected him, his blood a curse. Her quintessence and that of the Champion will awaken the Black Lion, get their child as an assurance, and then...

Allura opens her eyes in a snap, and gets up to a sitting position, her lips twitching into a smile. For all of the things closing in on her, the spark of hope seems small, but shines all the brighter. She might be going mad, but she recalls something one of her gifts told her: "If you get too worried about what could go wrong, you might miss a chance to do something great..." Allura speaks softly to nothing, as if in a prayer -- ]

I hope you're doing okay, Katie...

[ Sooner than later, her alarm goes off. Not missing a beat, she opens a hidden compartment in her music box containing the vials usually passed among the pleasure workers -- something to make their jobs easier when dealing with their Galra clients, to make them believe that they are desired and that the pleasure they experience is real. It had become a necessary evil for her, when she had to convince Zarkon that she is indeed indulging in her gifts, that she is his spoiled, lonely, pleasure-hungry little queen. Once the drug is taken, she disposes of the vial by dissolving it in water and throwing the liquid in the sink.

The hour passes, and Allura knows whatever her body is experiencing that moment and for the next hour to come is simulated, not real. Her heart is beating faster, her skin warmer, and she opens the harem door with a fraction more force than necessary. She feels as if her eyes are hyper-focused on finding Shiro and her mind goes in a bit of a panic when she doesn't see him right away -- ]

Shiro. Get up. It's time.

[ The words come out clipped, but it's the compromise she has to make if she wants to speak clearly and disguise the fact that she feels breathless just needing to see him. This is fake, this feeling is fake, this will pass, this will pass, save it for your call... She walks over to the bed to take the restraints, and would spot him eventually. She is partly thankful that he does not have to see her at length in that embarrassing state. ]

Edited 2016-12-16 02:38 (UTC)

[He wakes up the second something in his room changes, eyes snapping open, muscles tensing for an attack.

But it still takes his mind a minute to catch up and remember where he is, the nightmares are always so vivid that they throw his sense of reality off. Sometimes, he wonders if maybe the nightmares are his reality. But the soft light and the sound of water from the other room reestablish where he is and the queen's voice, clipped, finishes the snap back to the present.

He honestly debates not moving. But he's not a child trying to avoid school and if she's shown him kindness the least he can do is be helpful. So he rolls out of his corner and onto his knees, almost forgetting her earring is in his hand until he's reaching up to run both hands over his face and then through his hair. He aches. Oh God damn how he aches. Between his position and the twisting abuse his muscles went through during his last bout with the bracelet, everything hurts.

He's had worse.

Rolling his shoulders, stretching his back muscles, he gets to his feet and stands, unfolding tall and lean in the half light. Finishes with a long inhale and exhale to recenter himself. It's time to perform again. He can do this. He finally lets himself focus on the woman in the room with him and his eyes immediately go to the restraints in her dark hands. And then to the bracelet. His stomach churns and his mind tries to back pedal away from reality again. But he forces himself to step forward to stand in front of her, looking down. Is there - something wrong with her eyes... he doesn't remember those streaks of brighter color in them before... Its unconscious when his body shifts the slightest bit, protective of her and he looks over her head to check outside the open door. Searching for something new or out of place that might have changed her. His voice is just a low rumble.]

Is something wrong?

[ A skill that an intergalactic diplomat masters is to be rid of their personal biases in terms of appearances, that no one race is more attractive than the other -- that none of them are particularly attractive. Bonds are forged through deliberate work in the relationship, and not through fleeting emotional and physiological reactions...

But Allura had been staring as she sees Shiro stand and get himself together, and the drug tells her that he is the most desirable thing that her eyes has set upon. When he approaches, she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. I've done this before. This is just like before. I'll be okay. Get the restraints on him, activate the bracelet, get on with the call, retreat... But when she opens them again, seeing Shiro standing in front of her, the breath she releases comes with a small whine, and she takes to holding the restraints in both her hands, on the defense, shifting backward. Don't look at me... She breathes in and-- damn him, if he isn't the sweetest thing that has come under her senses in forever, and Allura finds herself starved. Even the sound of his voice bids her to think things she wouldn't say out loud in polite company. ]

It's nothing. [ Her gaze shifts to the right and down. Her cheek markings take on a warmer hue, and the lines of her eyes look like they trapped drops of sunlight, traits attractive to her own kind. Clock's ticking. There is no one behind her, and nothing apart from the harem room where the call will take place. ] Had a drop too much. Part of the act. Nothing to worry about.

[ She isn't lying. But if she had let the drug talk, no conversation would be taking place at all, and to hell with Zarkon's call. Not my lover, not my friend...

With that mantra in mind, she sets the restraints apart. The cords shimmer with her quintessence, ready to take on her mental command, to work fast in binding him again. The better to have Shiro keep his hands to himself at the least because she does not know what she will do if he touches her. ]

This first.

[ She lifts the bundle of cords in front of her, limp at first; but at her quintessence's command, they will unravel like snakes come to life, made to snap tightly first around Shiro's arms and torso, then snake around to bring his hands behind his back. ]

[He - doesn't believe her. His eyes stay narrow and searching past her for a long minute. He hasn't known her long, but something's different. Something's off. He can almost smell the change in her, something... he can't place it. Something that sets him off, makes him want to protect, makes him want to keep her safe.

Keep her safe. When he's a Galra slave and she's a queen that's just about to send him to hell with a twitch of her wrist.

He looks back down at her as she moves. Is she - glowing? Just a little? Like - fireflies or campfire sparks. What does 'a drop too much' mean? He doesn't like the idea of going back into immobility but he likes it even less when something's changed and he doesn't know what it is. His eyebrows stay low over his eyes.

What if it is a trap? What is he supposed to do about it? Knock her out and run? Where exactly? He can. He's just - not that desperate. Not yet. She's still promised him a ship and the stars. A goal. A mission. He exhales low through his nose and looks back down at her hands and the cords in them.

And he gets on his knees in front of her. Inhale. Exhale through his teeth. He can do this. He holds himself tight and straight. He's done worse. One more roll of his shoulders and he pulls his arms back into the position they'd been in when he'd first been delivered to her, trying to settle them in a way that the current from the bracelet won't dislocate his shoulder if he writhes too hard while tied that way. A hard swallow and he looks up at her, face tight, eyes narrow, brows down. The screaming in the back of his mind has already started and nothing's even been done to him yet. A short, sharp nod. The sooner they start the sooner he can stop.]

All right.

[ It's so much that she glowing in the same manner when she calls upon her quintessence, the effect of the drug amplifying the Altean's subtler physiological reactions to desire. As the drug works through her veins, her hair takes on little gold flecks running down the silver strands, appearing here and there, thus giving the effect of fireflies dancing about her. The scent of her skin starts to lean towards the sweeter side of floral. An Altean partner would note it and know how to respond, and lately, Galrans have learned as well. Allura is not aware of how Earthlings would respond -- and she hopes that however her body is behaving, it would not be something that Shiro would be frightened by.

How it would affect him, however, she does not now.

Her eyes follow his gestures, and she finds herself too aware of how the muscles under his skin move, the sound of his breathing. She closes her eyes again to focus on the matter at hand and not to find too much pleasure over what she is seeing.

Soon as Shiro is on his knees, the restraints slither and snap around his arms and chest like rabid, ravenous snakes, resuming their previous position as if they had never been taken off at all. Allura crouches down, just so she is looking down at him. For the act, for the sake of the act. I am in control, and he is my slave. That's how it's supposed to be...

Allura brings her hand, warm and sweet, to the side of Shiro's face, tracing a thumb over his cheek. He will have very little warning save for a low and quick -- ]

Bite me.

[ -- before her fingers slide to grip at his hair to force his head back to kiss him -- or rather, get her lips and her teeth on whatever part of his face; because he is not supposed to be enjoying this. He said "no". He said he will fight, and here she is insulting his dignity with misplaced, drug-induced desire. ]

[His skin literally shudders under the sudden snake coils of the cords and his eyes narrow to almost slits to fight reacting to it even more than he already is, jaw locking hard. His upper body is immobile in seconds and the screaming in his head gets louder, more desperate. He fights that down too. He knows what's going on. He can handle this. He can.

He has to.

His face is still tight though, fighting revulsion, when she leans down and tips it up and he assumes the muzzle is next. The collar is for show, it's not necessary but the muzzle is and he hates the humiliation of it almost as much as the constant, low-level torture of it rubbing against his new scar. Except -

his eyes go wide. Her - mouth is on him and it takes his brain, caught in preparing for torture a second or two to realize why. It hits him, and hits him hard when it does though and his lips pull back from his teeth in a feral snarl that matches the one that sounds in his throat, quick and angry. Hands behind him he can't hit her or push her away but he's fought with only one arm before. Even on his knees he could move fast enough to swing a leg and knock hers out from under her. But -

bite me.

Apparently the ugly bruise he left on her forehead isn't enough for her interview with Zarkon. There's only one problem. Two. The first is that he doesn't know where to bite her. Her ear or her nose are the obvious targets but either of those would actually do permanent and disfiguring damage. Other than that, there aren't a lot of spots on her smooth face he can sink his teeth. The second problem is - he doesn't want to. He's developed a deep seated nausea at the idea of alien parts in his mouth and if that wasn't enough - damn it all, but that protective need for her is still strong. Almost ridiculously strong. He understands that she's showed him kindness and he wants to repay that, the same way he understands that she's the best thing that's happened to him in a year and needs to be kept safe so he doesn't get shunted off to someone else but -

but the drive to protect her is flaring hard and strong beyond that. Hurting her seems - sacrilegious for some reason.

His hair's trimmed intentionally short, except for the forelock in front, and the reason for that is exactly so an enemy can't get a good hand hold on it. It's not hard at all to wrench his head out of her grip with so little to hang on to. bite me. He doesn't want to hurt her. She'll be hurt more if Zarkon doesn't see what he wants. Shiro clamps his teeth down hard on her jawline and grinds. A fraction more and it would have been her throat. Hopefully its close enough to that missed opportunity to look like it was only luck that saved her and kept him from that vulnerable spot.]

[ Through the drug's haze, having her lips on his skin makes her feel rewarded, and the ticks feel longer than they should. Through the drug's haze the sound of displeasure that Shiro makes is only a plea for more --

And her brain registers pain -- a dangerous kind of pain, and Allura pulls back with a sharp cry. It grounds her some, shaking some as the drug and common sense battle in brain. As her mind registers what's happening, she looks him up, still on his knees and not poised for attack. At least not yet. She had asked him to bite her, and he did. She can't see if there's blood on his mouth, but once she touches the wound on her jaw and feels it wet... ]

Perfect. You get the muzzle for that.

[ Zarkon likes her broken, likes Shiro broken, and they will deliver. Let this be the last time he sees them so. Allura takes the muzzle in one hand, and with the other, she will make a grab for the white forelock in an attempt to keep him still. She activates the muzzle with her quintessence and its straps behave like that of the cords, straps shooting out to wrap around his head and make sure he doesn't use his mouth as a weapon.

... and under the drug's haze, in the pinpricks of clarity, Allura's heart aches. She apologizes to Shiro over and over and over in her mind, and she looks forward to healing the both of them, even if just on the surface. ]

[He's turning his head, gagging, when she makes a grab for his hair again, stomach clenching and rolling at the taste of skin and blood in his mouth and he's only grateful there's nothing in his stomach. He fights her instinctively when she grabs his forelock, rearing back on his knees, trying to spit the taste out of his mouth but the muzzle slaps on him and slithers across his scalp and the sound he makes is fury, eyes dark and snarling as they look at her. He knows she has to do it and he knows that this is something he actually agreed to bear, whether the choice was real or not. But the taste of blood in his mouth stings, sets his instincts into overdrive and if he can't run the only other option is to fight. He's done his best to go along and behave but between the unexpected assault, the taste of violence in his mouth, the muzzle and the praise, as if he were a trained animal as she slaps it on no less, is more than he can quietly accept without protest. More screaming from the back of his brain where the panic is always screaming, always just barely leashed and the anger is the only other option. Anger - or finally, after a year, give in to the hysteria that's never far from cracking his mind in two. He won't crack. He lets the fury out instead.

And even then - he stays on his knees. He doesn't try to attack. He doesn't even really fight to get away the way he could if he wanted to. And after the first roar, he's silent. The rage is there, next to the hot revulsion, but he's not that far gone. Not so far gone that he doesn't remember his part of their bargain. But the hot, dark glare he shots her over the rim of the leather muzzle says that she'd better use that bracelet while the rage is still pumping this heavy through him. Get the pre-game over with and cut to the chase.]

[ Allura has to choose her battles, at least in her mind. She cannot keep on fighting her instincts that scream at her to fight for her life, that she must live, that whether or not she calls all this an act, blood is being spilled for it. She can no longer waste energy when she is to maintain what little control she needs to get through with her talk with Zarkon. She does not need to think that this is most likely the scenario Zarkon is hoping for: she kisses Shiro, he bites her throat out, and he is executed for regicide.

She had to make use of the physical strength unique to her kind to keep Shiro still, and what little amount of self-control she has left as the drug is telling her that what she is seeing is delightful. She bites her lip to keep herself from smiling. This is not good, he is in pain, I am hurting...

The wound stings, and the blood trickles along her neck to stain the once pristine white of her dress. The bestial snarl that comes out of Shiro is enough to trigger her flight reflex, but the reality that she had signed up for this is what kept her feet planted to the floor. Allura summons that vision of hope she had just seen earlier...

She listens to her fight reflex instead. Only minutes might have passed, but she is running out of patience, pushing herself to mental exhaustion. Allura remembers their plan and realigns herself to it. Her bright eyes on Shiro's dark ones, she glows with quintessence, activating the bracelet at full power. ]

[The bolts rip through him but, fueled by the pulsing adrenaline of his rage and fighting instinct he doesn't go down. His scream is pain but its laced with anger and trapped frustration and this - this is the moment he could manage those two steps to reach her if he'd wanted to damage her. If he'd wanted to kill her. He doesn't, curling inward instead as much as he can with his upper body immobilized and the ugly purple electric jumps across his body, sings through his blood and bones, twists and wrenches his muscles until he finally does go down, writhing, cut off, strangled noises forcing their way through the strain of his constricted throat. His eyes squeeze shut and tears well in them, escape the edges and the lightning feeds on the liquid. Still, weakly now, trying to protect himself, he curls but it doesn't make any difference. The leaping electric is gleeful in its invasiveness. He tastes blood in his mouth again but this time he's sure its his and the muzzle and cords are raw against him as his body is jerked hard, twisted, wrenched. His mind loses track of time, loses track of the situation, loses track of who he even is and it goes on and on and on, until there's never been anything else but the pain and there never will be. When his eyes finally roll back in his head and his body goes limp, only jerking and spasming because of the electric currents firing still through his muscles, his skin is already smoking again in spots and, several minutes later when his arm deactivates and the electric stops and his body gives a last few reactive jerks, his breathing is erratic and shivering. But he's still breathing.]

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apologies for the edits orz there was a detail I missed from your tag

lol no worries

:') ♥

lol I do it often enought too. it's all good

if this isn't cool, just say the word!

no problems for me

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