Forest’s Notes:
The following songfic (my first and, probably, only) is for Amy (Lord Hador), who requested more Lotor.
Once it was written, I realized it bore a lot of similarity to Todesengel's "I Know", and this morning while brushing my teeth I realized that I probably owe the idea of Lance being hopelessly drawn in is probably at least somewhat due to Taryn's "Downward Spiral." Sorry for any thievery I've committed, it wasn't intentional. Well, except for the part where I stole characters from WEP and lyrics from The The.
The song is "Gravitate to Me" off the Mindbomb album, and that tells you all how old I am. I actually substituted one block of lyrics out and replaced them with lyrics from "August and September" from the same album. I apologize to The The's Matt Johnson, who is a marvelous lyricist and deserves better than to be hacked by me.
You hold your sword almost lazily. It’s a ruse, because I can see the tension in your jaw and in your eyes. Your eyes always give you away, about everything. You lunge quickly, drawing blood.
“What’s the matter, blue boy? Getting slow in your old age?”
Your tongue, on the other hand, reveals nothing. Always taunting, sharp and direct. The jibe I could ignore, but you will pay for drawing my blood. I press the attack, and you match me admirably. I enjoy swordplay with you. Here, you are my equal, unpredictable and dangerous.
“Freeze, Lotor.”
We break apart at the arrival of your Captain, with the rest of the Voltron Force.
“The cavalry arrives. ‘Bout time you guys showed up.”
You tease him, but there is an edge of darkness in your voice and the tension around you has become a palpable thing. I couldn’t agree more. It was time for your black-haired Captain to arrive and rescue you both, to take you and the princess back to Arus. Her I have no permanent use for, and you… you I want to come to me of your own will, a scenario far less likely to occur if one of us kills the other first. The little one who pilots the Green Lion… Pidge? appears and unties the princess, so I snarl some appropriate threat, it doesn’t really matter what, we’ve gone through these motions so many times before. Besides, the others barely matter. For you and me, they are peripheral. Our eyes are filled with each other, and there is danger and death flowing between us.
“Lance! Come on!”
The Captain’s voice pulls at you, I can see the turbulence in your eyes, but you do not go to him. You raise your lowered sword and take a stance. An invitation? I smile.
“Lance! Now is not the time. We’re getting out of here, and that’s an order.”
Your eyes narrow to slits and your mouth hardens, but you take a step back and drop the sword with an angry clatter. You arrogantly turn your back to me, and now I know it was an invitation. You want me to attack, to force an easy finish to this thing between us. I can’t help myself; I laugh as you follow your friends from the room.
I’ve been watching you for ages.
You’re like a boat without a mast,
Struggling with the tide of destiny
Between the future & the past.
Back on Doom, I work off the frustration of you with an eager slave. Eagerness can become so tiresome. Perhaps I should snap his neck, see how eager then next one will be. It is done before I remember I’ve tried this before, it does nothing to dull the fawning adoration of the next slave, or the next one after that. I grow weary of the hunt. I yearn for the sweetness of the kill. But you are a cunning prey, and it is not your death that I seek. In this kind of hunt, one cannot pursue. If you chase, the prey will only run away. But if you lure the prey to you, let it become used to you, its wariness will dull. And sweet Allura, guileless, charming, simple Allura, provides so conveniently bait and decoy both. Even with this understanding, though, I have been mistaken in my handling of you. A mistake I will soon remedy. If a prey smells fear or weakness, the hunter is lost. Weakness takes many forms. Sometimes it even masquerades as strength. I should have known that you, who have tried on all of the masks yourself, would see through this one. Very well. It is time to be done with that safety. I will show you a strength you have not imagined. The strength you would be capable of, if you would let yourself.
I am the lighthouse. I am the sea.
I am the air that you breathe.
Gravitate to me.
I wait several days, to let you slip back into routine, and to give myself time to prepare. I will be coming before you naked, and if I show weakness, I will be torn to shreds. Fortunately, this confidence is not one I need to feign. Now that I know the answer, my victory is assured. Naked I feel, indeed, as my small ship approaches Arus. Not even a fighter, just a one-man skiff. And of course, I am allowed to land, just outside the Castle of Lions, for threats do not come in unarmed ships. I laugh to think of the confusion and chaos inside when I appear. Sure enough, I am not halfway across the bridge before I am met by you, the pilots of the Black, Green and Yellow lions, and several armed guards.
“What do you think you’re doing here, Lotor?” Keith speaks first, his challenging tone not masking his real question.
“I’ve come to speak with Princess Allura.”
“Then you can turn around and go the way you came, because you’re not getting anywhere near her.”
I shrug casually, savoring the uncertainty I feel from all of you. “That would be a mistake. My terms are your terms. Any you apply, I agree to. I am unarmed, unenchanted. And Allura will want to hear what I have to say.” I should not have added that last. I see your eyes narrow, and marvel briefly, again, about that uncanny understanding you have with Truth.
“At least this is a new approach” you drawl with a smirk. “Get bored with losing the old way?”
I meet your eyes, and have the pleasure of seeing them widen before you drop them to the floor and hunch your shoulders forward. You are so transparent. One of the drawbacks, I suppose, of being enamored with Truth. And another reminder to me, for I have come to speak the truth.
“Lance…” That warning tone is in your Captain’s voice again. I know how you feel, kept on so short a leash. If you loved him less, you’d have snapped it by now. I know how you feel in that as well.
“I will speak with Allura.” My tone makes it neither a request nor a command. You are chafing under his restraint, and cock your head insolently to one side.
“How ‘bout you just give me the message and toddle on home? I’ll be sure to tell the princess you stopped by.”
Keith’s head snaps around to glare at you, but I could swear I saw something akin to panic in his eyes for a moment. That’s worrisome. Could he possibly know? But no. Someone so blinded by his own self-righteousness that he can’t see past his own nose couldn’t possibly see what lies between you and me. I’m imagining things. My need is making me impatient. Being so close to you, unable yet to say the words I came to say, struck by the perfect irony of your impertinent suggestion… no weakness, I remind myself.
Keith looks at me thoughtfully, suspiciously. How odd suspicion looks on his features. “You will submit to all of our terms?”
I ignore the gasps and objections from the others and watch your eyes slide slowly shut. Keeping relief or triumph far from my features, I nod and step forward.
Keith is thorough, I’ll grant him that. But it matters not. I have what I want. Allura sits before me, flanked by her devoted Voltron Force. I do not bother to count the number of people in the room poised to kill me. That doesn’t matter either.
“What do you want, Lotor?” Allura’s voice, while hard, is hopeful. She believes in my human blood, believes a peace between Doom and Arus is possible. Who knows, she may be right.
“To tell you, you need no longer fear. There will be no more abductions. No more threats, no more bargaining. Oh, Doom will continue to attack, of course, but you, personally, are no longer a target.”
You snort, and speak, as I knew you would. “How dumb do you think we are?”
You have spoken, so it’s only natural that I address you. “I no longer need that tactic. I have already won.” My eyes turn to Allura, but slowly, so you will not mistake me. “You are already mine. You will come to me, so there is no longer any need for me to come to you.”
“You’re delusional.” Allura snaps, at the same time as you respond, characteristically sarcastic, “Oh, well then. Okay. Nice to know the Princess can take all the unsupervised moonlight strolls she’d like without you interfering.” But your eyes are afraid. You always recognize Truth, even when it’s spoken by me. There is really no more to say, so I allow these men bristling with weapons and fear to escort me back to my ship, and leave to begin my wait.
Through the ether & the mists of the mind,
You will come to me, to lay by my side.
To stroke my hair, to caress my flesh,
And to quell the torrents in my subterranean depths.
I set up a beacon for you from this little house on a nearby planet and wonder at the mounting anticipation I feel. It is not a sensation I am accustomed to away from the battlefield, our usual place of meeting, and it fills me with a strange energy. I know you are coming. I know your need. It echoes with mine.
This world ain’t strong enough to keep us from each other,
For we are kindred spirits, born to become earthly lovers.
And for a moment, I let myself do what I know I should not. I let my mind roam beyond the conquest. I have won, there is no doubt of that. I know you. Intimately. For you and I are much alike. Only you are more brittle, more fragile, more likely to break. So is that what will happen? I do not like to think of such consequences.
And while my vanity struggles against my integrity,
I find myself thinking... how deep runs my humanity,
when held up against eternity?
Enough. Gritting my teeth, I fill my nose with the scent of victory. The scent of blood. The scent of sweat, and lust, and power. They have marked my life. Can you conjure such aromas? I think not. For you are, after all, despite my need and our similarities and the way you haunt me, the prey. My sensors pick up an approaching ship. Not Red Lion, for you do not want them to know you have come. But you have come. To me. I wait.
I am the lighthouse. I am the sea.
I am your destiny.
Gravitate to me.
You enter the house. Your eyes are wide with fear, anger, and desire. You take three steps in, and then stop. You have come all this way, it’s only fair. I step forward to meet you. Victory has been replaced by another scent, yours. It fills my head as I have never allowed it to before.
There is something within your voice
something behind your eyes,
something inside your heart,
that is beating in time with mine.
Every muscle in your body is tensed, ready to fight or flee. But you will do neither. I take your face in my hands.
You’re mine.
My head tips slightly to one side, as I lean forward and claim your lips with my own.
You’re mine.
You try to break away, but I know you. I move with you. I can feel your breath heaving in your chest.
YOU’RE MINE.
And your arms come up. Grasping me. Roughly pulling me even tighter against you.
YOU’RE MINE!
...
It is some hours later when you slide away, tug on your clothes and leave, without even turning around. I sprawl limp and languid on the bed. Distractedly, I admire the bruises your fingers have dug into my flesh. I savor the spent ache in my loins. And as I taste, for the first time, the salt of my own tears, an involuntary whimper rises from my throat. How could I have misjudged so completely?
I am yours.