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bakerstreet2016-12-07 11:06 am
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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
no subject
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?
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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.
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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.
no subject
[ 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. ]
no subject
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.]
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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.]
apologies for the edits orz there was a detail I missed from your tag
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. ]
lol no worries
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?
:') ♥
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. ]
lol I do it often enought too. it's all good
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.
if this isn't cool, just say the word!
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. ]
no problems for me
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.]
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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. ]
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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.]
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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. ]
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To come face to face with a Galra rover, its singular eye glowing a vivid red-violet. ]
"Have I caught you at a wrong time, Allura?"
[ She recognizes that voice from anywhere, recognizes the smile in it, the blatant familiarity with which he addresses her, regardless of her state of mind. By all respects, Allura is still gathering her shattered thoughts, but it's only habit the keeps her moving like clockwork. She lowers herself to one knee, right fist curled over her heart in formal Galra greeting. ]
Your Excellence. My sincere apologies for showing myself in such an unkempt state.
[ The pause preceding Zarkon's reply tells her that he is scrutinizing the room. She is well aware of the "show" happening behind her, and she only hopes that Zarkon approves. ]
"I had been worried. It pains me to see you hurt, my child. I promised your father that I would take care of you, that you would want for nothing."
[ You know nothing of what I want. Allura raises her eyes, and smiles at the rover as if it has become her source of pleasure and blessing. ]
You know me to be far more resilient, Your Grace. And I am forever in your debt for the benevolence you have shown me. Thank you for giving me the Champion as my gift. You truly spoil me.
[ Zarkon laughs, a low, pleased rumble. Allura feels her skin crawl, but the drug tells her it's excitement, and not revulsion. ]
"I will give you all the treasures the galaxy can offer, child. But would you grant me a favor, for the love that your father has shown me and I, him?"
[ You writhing in those restraints instead of him, and me snapping your neck would be a dream come true... The mere thought of Zarkon dying by her own hand sends jolts of pleasure through her veins, and it's a reaction that Allura welcomes. She bows her head.
]
I am at your service, My Emperor.
[ She is surprised by the relative calm in her voice, but she has had numerous times to practice, which now allows her to operate on autopilot. ]
"It is my heart's desire to see you with an heir. I have not seen any of the Galra lords to be fit for an Altean queen, and I have seen you watch the Champion closely, and how you delight in him...."
[ He knows, he knows... Allura swallows, before raising her head to show Zarkon a look at how touched she is for his attentions. ]
"I had only thought he would be the only one to please you. The Arena's patrons hate me for it, but my affection for you prevails over their ruckus. Will you grant me this favor, my dear?"
[ Even without the drug, Allura could see why Zarkon had been the Black Lion's paladin, why he had become the leader he is now. But she knows better: that under the honey-sweet words lies a lying, vile, and selfish heart. Allura lowers her head once more -- ]
It pleases me to endeavor to grant you this wish, Your Grace.
[ But not for you. Their conversation delves in to brief exchanges about the running of Altea and the Empire -- definitely making use of the ten minutes in which Shiro is knocked out, and a little more. Allura doubts Shiro is conscious enough to hear their conversation, but she feels it better that way.
Soon as their call is over, she "sees" the rover out, and seals her main door shut with more force than necessary. Any stronger, and she would have broken the panel. Not that it would prevent Zarkon entry, but it would prevent any other person from interfering. She needs to recover. She needs to help Shiro recover.
Her dress is a mess and no way she can wear it if she needs to go out. The blood had stopped running from the wound, but it would take time to heal -- a trip to the cryopod, maybe. The drug's effects are also starting to wear off -- just as slow as it had taken to build up, but it is thankfully no longer as invasive, even if her eyes still feel hyperfocused and her skin flushed. Before tending to herself, she goes to fetch the things needed to tend to Shiro's burns. She will mourn for herself later.
Soon as she returns to the harem room, she brings with her a tray holding a pitcher and a crystal glass full of clear water, a separate goblet full of nunvill, the basin with medicinal water, and the jar of salve.
Images and sounds of Shiro's rage is fresh in her mind, however, and she is cautious in approaching him, getting down on one knee at a distance where he would not be able to reach her so easily. ]
I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Shiro.
[ It is all she can manage to say, her voice meek in shame, her own recollection condemning her. Not that she would expect the words to appease him, or to stop him from getting back at her. ]
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He knows it all, acknowledges it. There's no reason to come back.
But he stubbornly claws his way out of the darkness anyway. Not for hope, not for any deception that there is anything better. But because he's stubborn. It's the only thing he has left but damn it, if he doesn't refuse to let that last piece of him be broken and taken away. So he sinks his fingers into the shifting sands of his mind that try to drag him down into forever and he drags himself out. He claws his way back to the pain, and the humiliation and the hopeless future simply because he refuses to stop. He may have nothing - but he can't refuse who he is. And his eyes open and his fingers twitch and he swallows blood.
He is so damn tired. So God damned tired. His body aches, his chest aches, his heart aches. For a very long time he lays there with his eyes open, seeing nothing, hearing the drone of voices that don't make sense or sound familiar. His eyes shut and when the open again its silent. This time he blinks, tries to focus and his eyes finally show him a pillow... a stupid, gold fringed, pastel blue pillow. It's laying against a chair leg and he thinks he should laugh, its so out of place. Except if he starts laughing he doesn't think he'll ever be able to stop. He's not ready to go mad yet. He knows - and yet he tests the cords around him anyway. They don't give. Footsteps then and he forces his eyes to focus. Fabric of a dress hem, toes of shoes - his eyesight blurs and he lets it for a minute. Exhausted. And then he forces his eyes to focus again, just as she speaks.
She's on a knee, three long steps beyond where he's lying. And she says she's sorry.
So is he.
His eyes are dull when he lifts them to hers and there's no fire and no spark in them. What's he going to be angry at her for, even if he did have the energy for it? She's a slave too, a tool. He closes his eyes and exhales. So... tired of a universe that's full of monsters and victims.]
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With little effort, she slides her arms underneath him to transfer him to the bed. The muzzle is removed first, and the restraints follow. Once again, Allura takes to cleansing the burns first. She gives more attention to the angrier looking marks -- specially the one across Shiro's nose, chafed by the muzzle and the electrocution. Her hands are careful, and her touch almost reverent, as if every contact of her skin with his is an apology and a promise.
Allura remains mindful for any reaction from Shiro though, anything that signals particular discomfort or pain. Taking a moment to look at his face, brushing the forelock aside, she makes a silent and fleeting wish for their story to be written in reverse instead -- that he had never become a slave, that she is with her father again, that Zarkon never happened. ]
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He can't do this many more times. He's got a few left in him. He knows that. Probably more than he would judge at the moment. But its harder this time to work up the energy to care and he knows each time the fight will be harder to find the energy, or the desire, for. He just hopes he can hold out long enough for her to do whatever it is she needs the time to do.
The attention to the bridge of his nose is kind. The scar is still new, the skin over it still young and each time the muzzle goes on it rubs to the point of madness.
It's a good thing he's not vain, he manages to think with broken humor. His face is a long way from the fresh, sharp pictures they took of him lifetimes ago to help promote the space program.
They should have all stayed home. All the promises they thought space held - the universe is nothing but a cruel joke. Except he knows even if the space program had never happened Zarkon and his troops still would have come. He turns his head, rests it against the side of her leg. Keeps his eyes shut. He'll be fine. He knows he needs to stop thinking that way. He will. He'll force the energy back into himself. He just - appreciates not having to move at the moment.]
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She doesn't work right away. With the hand that had brushed his forelock aside, she takes to gently stroking his hair, and she is reminded how a previous gift -- Hunk was his name -- found it easier to be calmed when she stroked his hair. The gesture comes as a stark contrast to how earlier, she had just grabbed whatever she could of his hair to force herself on Shiro. Whether or not the act had been under the influence of a drug, she had been aware of her choice. She had long cleaned off the blood from around his mouth, but what happened is not something that cannot be so easily erased.
Zarkon had been right in his observations: Allura had been following the Champion closely, and truly, he isn't bad to look at. Despite the constant addition of scars, and her bias against small round ears aside, she had always found him easy on the eyes.
For a moment, Allura wonders if she could indulge in touching his lips, but ultimately decides against it. She has had her way with him already, unpleasant as it had been for the both of them. Even touching him in that gentle way is already indulgent, and soon, she mentally kicks herself into getting back to work, applying the salve where they are needed. ]
I'll be back. I'll just patch myself up and I'll be back with your food.
[ She isn't in a hurry to leave him though, her hand finding its way to his hair again. She doesn't get up right away, and remains mindful for anything else Shiro might need before she heads out the door. ]
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His eye cracks open when she talks, looks up at her without having to turn his head and - its not so worn down and dull anymore. There's still lingering pain and he's still so damn tired but he's on his way back. That glance flicks away though, when she mentions being hurt. He knows that's his fault and he's sorry.
But he won't apologize.
Because its something he'd do again, and will probably have to do again or something like it, before his next bout with the bracelet and apologies are hollow if you're just going to repeat the behavior again. He's sorry he hurt her. He doesn't want to do it again. But he won't lie to her either. Instead he presses his forehead a little more to her leg and then starts gathering the energy he needs to sit up.
...except her fingers go back over his hair again and he exhales something that's almost a throaty, low rumbling hum that all but purrs and his eye shuts again as he relaxes.]
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idk if I got the correct arm reference here, but lemme know if I need to change this up!
works for me!
Re: works for me!