One With the Light

by JoAnn

Disclaimer: WEPownsVoltron. Bah. Full lyrics and song credits follow the fic.

345 A.F.

High King Alfor died before his time, before an heir was named or found, leaving behind his grief-stricken lifemate, Zarkon, and a daughter promised to the Goddess. Both of them were unable and incapable of seeing, let alone controlling, the power of the Stone that bound Arus together. The same Stone that Alfor had been working with when a backwash of power slew him.

And in his maddened grief, Zarkon, now sole ruler of Arus, turned on every person who carried the bloodlines that granted them the ability to call upon the power of the Stone. He slaughtered families until his warriors couldn’t face the blood on their hands, and turned on him.

In his uncaring hands, the empire of Arus, once peaceful and rich, once envied by distant lands, shattered in spiraling rage and fear. By the time of his death, Arus was no longer one. Lines of entrenched hate split family from family, warrior from mage, farmer from scholar.

Unable to do anything but watch, Allura, daughter of Alfor, Priestess of the Goddess, stood helplessly as her world shattered around her with the death of her father. In grief, she reached deeper than any other priestess before or since, and gave into their keeping a prophecy of hope and despair.

A day will come, when the idea of Arus being one once more seems within our grasp. That day, there will be one who can summon the power of the Stone. Also there will be one with the strength to stand against the full brunt of the dammed power of the Stone. Into these two, the future of Arus rests. Should they stand together, the Stone will claim them for the High throne, and Arus will prosper, rising to greater heights than before. Should they stand divided, the Stone will rage unchecked, and destroy what fragile bonds between Arusians that are left.

~~~

579 A.D. (1257 A.F.)

That none may know
makes her way alone
through the dark green glen

Stealing quietly through the night-dark forest as only he can, Pidge watches warily, testing by sight and sound to be sure that he is not followed, before moving forward. This time, here and now, is a trial, for his ease alone. Written down in the old, moldering books he found in the abbey is a description of how those, with the power inside them, could feel the Stone that anchors this land. All his life, he’s felt a calling, a yearning in just this direction -- toward the Stone of legends.

Once, as a child, he ran away from his minders, and found himself in old ruins, standing before a weathered stone and a vine-covered throne. From the stone, he felt a dark, hungry Power, calling him to free it from its bonds. Frightened, he fled, refusing to touch, remembering the old, old tales his Nanna told, of dark tricksters, enticing people to their death. But ever after, he dreamed of the Stone and the throne and the power trapped inside.

Now, he is here, as an adult, to stand before the presence of the Stone to see if he truly is capable of setting the power free. Because this power, dark as it is, may be the only chance his love has.

She gave her heart
to a man enchanted
with eyes of fire

Slipping into the ruined room where the Stone rests, Pidge quakes before the sheer, wild hunger the Stone radiates. Taking a deep breath, he licks his lips, shaking, pulling up the memory of his love to strengthen him.

Tall and slender, with whipcord strength, his love is a warrior, a fighter -- and born a spellcaster. He has eyes that burn, scorching the world around him, should he let loose his control. For the power in his eyes, he became King. And because of the power of his eyes, he walked alone. All around him trembled with fear in his presence.

But Pidge, whom the greenwood embraces and protects, can meet his love’s fire-eyes without fear of death. Out of curiosity, Pidge sought him out. Out of love, Pidge stayed. And for that love, Pidge will do anything.

Even wake the power locked inside the Stone.

His questions answered, calm now, Pidge slips out, blending into the shadows of the forest.

He stands alone
Many Kings and Warriors
and angry men
approach the stone
Who will rise up
Destined to claim the throne?

Quietly, King Lance watches as dawn spreads its splendor across the morning sky. Holding the moment for as long as he can, he savors the fragile peace he has wrought amongst his fellow royalty.

As the warring tribes twined together in ever enlarging groups, each leader held a larger and larger bit of land. Until now, where there are only five kings to rule what once was the Empire -- the closest to the Empire the land has seen since the fall of High King Alfor. And all, including Lance, dream of resurrecting the Empire under _his_ rule. But before the last wars could break out, Lance threw a desperate gamble. In the lands he holds, rests the Stone of the High King. Ancient prophecy speaks of the Stone naming the next High King. For that chance of bloodless victory, he offered his fellow Kings free passage for themselves and their protection into the heart of his land, to try the Stone at the height of the Goddess’ power. As well, he knows, as does his brothers in power, that should the Stone name no one -- the five of them, and their chosen warriors, will battle to the death.

Many fear his power to cast a spell
Few could understand

Taking a deep breath, Lance lets it out gently. In his eyes, rests a power, grown by legend and rumor such that, should the Stone name no one, then he will be the first to fall. The other four will join together in fear of him. And even with the full fire of his eyes, he won’t live if all their skill is bent against him.

Walking in a slow measured pace, Lance revels in the details of what is perhaps the last morning of his life. His only wish is for another glimpse of his love, absent from him since yesterday eve.

She says
No magic is stronger than the love we share
growing deep inside
My love and I
have conquered the unforgiving darkness
We’ll shine…..
as one with the light

Cradled within the branches of a spectator tree, Pidge senses their approach as the slow procession winds its way through the forest. His eyes feast upon the slender figure of his love, burning, even from this distance with a contained power than none of the other pale ghosts of Kings have.

Waiting with the patience of a tree growing, Pidge watches as one by one, each Royalty approaches the stone. His way is the way of last resort. Perhaps, the Stone need not be awakened. Perhaps these Kings will see a sign in the world around them, and take that for the Stone’s favor, and settle upon the High King bloodlessly, without the wild, unleashed power of the Stone.

Gauging the restlessness of the warriors and the royalty, Pidge waits. Whatever happens, nothing can tear his love and him apart. Not even the wild magic of the Stone.

The hours pass
Weapons drawn in anger as all heart fail
Will the sword decide?
Confusion reigns
No one hears her pleading, for she alone
can turn the tide
Knowing well the answer she holds inside

As time passes, patience breaks, and breaks again. Until, finally, it is King Hunk who shatters the fragile peace binding them all. With an impatient roar, he draws his blade, turning in that same instant upon Lance. At his battle-cry, the other Kings break as well, and draw steel. Their warriors follow their kings’ lead.

Eyes wide, locked on to Lance’s quicksilver movements, Pidge drops down upon the Stone, speaking without thinking, his whispered plea lost in the crash of battle. “Come to my aid, Stone’s power.” At his touch and his words, the Stone breaks free with a roar only he can hear, made up of both joy and rage.

Suddenly a hush falls upon the throng
She’s sitting down awaking the stone.

Tendrils of dark shadow and bright light spread across the battlefield. Magic a heavy, muffling weight in the air, all stop and turn in helpless thrall toward the stone.

Once facing the stone, all but one are frozen, staring at the small figure caught in a maelstrom of power.

Lance alone cries out, and leaps into the heart of the storm.

She says
No magic is stronger than the love we share
growing deep inside
My love and I
have conquered the unforgiving darkness
We’ll shine…..
as one with the light

Wrapping himself around his love’s small body, Lance reaches out with his mind and his heart. Though power rages unchecked all around him, all he cares for is the spark that turns toward his call, pulled by their bond of love. Wound around that precious spark, Lance holds with all of him, willing his lover to turn away from the wild and dark-bright power that scours Pidge’s mind even as it reaches across the breadth of Arus. And slowly, he feels his love return at his urging, pulling free of the undertow of power, now riding the power rather than immersed in it.

Together, for a moment, all they do is ride. Then, in outrage at the destruction, they cast out fragile lines of control, spun of themselves. The Stone’s power bucks and fights. But they refuse to let go, and spin more and more of themselves out, wrapping the power in a web of their will. For an eternal second, the battle wages. And then, the power bows to their will.

Shaking their heads, clearing their eyes of magic-dazzle, Lance and Pidge look upon a world of wonder.

The air has a strange clear quality to it, fairly singing with magic that is sunk deep into all of Arus.

Where once the unruly forest had taken over the ruins of a castle, there is a soft green-grass carpet, high arching trees, and a throne with the Stone before it -- looking as if it had been an audience chamber grown.

Standing in a daze before them, are the Kings.

King Keith is the first to kneel, sword offered in a silent oath, his warriors falling to their knees behind him. King Sven is a half breath after him, his warriors, also offering their sword-oath along with their liege. A moment to consider, and King Lotor and his fighters kneel as well. Last, with a skeptical, measuring look, is King Hunk. But kneel he does.

A new High King of Arus has been crowned.

~~~

~Owari~

Here’s the song -- and, yeah, I took liberty with gender. ^_^

One With The Light
By Lia Fail