Chapter Text
The first thought that popped into Allura’s head was: “Perhaps that date with Bandor was not so bad after all.” Which was an absolutely ridiculous thing to be considering, but when she looked above her head and saw the ceiling begin to crumble and the walls collapse around her, it was all she could think about.
Coran gripped her arm more tightly, trying to pull her away, and then the second thought came, which she cried out loud: “Where are my parents?!” She scanned the room around her, panicking, looking for the chairs in which they’d been sitting, but they were gone, as if they were never there in the first place. The entire room in fact was unrecognizable, and she couldn’t see her mother and father anywhere.
Allura tried to pull free from Coran. “Let me go!” she screamed. “I need to find them!”
“You can’t!” he protested.
“I have to, Coran! They’re my parents!”
He turned her around and gripped her shoulders, shaking her and forcing her to look at him. “I know, Allura, I know!” She could see the sweat and tears on his face, making streaks through the chalky-white dust and golden blood, and she figured she looked the same. “I want to find them, too, and I will! I promise! But your life matters too much to be put at risk!”
“Stop it, Coran!” she cursed at him, and her voice cracked, on the verge of desperate tears. “Let me go at once―” She wrenched free from him, but then was immediately seized by an Altean sentry, its vice-like grip impossible to escape from.
“Get her out of here!” Coran ordered the sentry. “Now!”
“Command confirmed,” it acknowledged, and without waiting it dragged Allura along, its metal arm wrapped firmly around her waist.
“I order you to release me!” she told it, but it did not obey.
“Protecting the princess is priority number one,” was all it said, and it did not speak again.
Over heaps of debris and past screaming people the sentry navigated. Allura wanted to stop and help them somehow, but instead she was getting tossed around like a rag doll and she felt so guilty and sorry for being completely useless. At one point she felt something hit her on the head, but she didn’t even register it because she was in so much shock. The fires were still raging, and the doors to City Hall, now destroyed, allowed in oxygen and only added more fuel to the fire.
Desperately, Allura craned her neck to look back and see any sign of her parents, but all she saw were people pushing past to escape, more smoke and falling debris, and to her horror… bodies that lay on the ground or across the destroyed oval table, unmoving and lifeless.
The sentry continued to haul her away, past the doors, down the steps, and towards the streets where rubble from the building had fallen and terrified onlookers gasped and screamed at the destruction happening around them. Altean authorities were arriving at the scene, keeping citizens back and working to get people out and extinguish the fires.
Surrounding Allura were other terrified survivors, wreckage from the explosion, and the smoke and dust that continued to spread. Out of the corner of her eye Allura thought she might have seen familiar blue and gray armor close by, but her mind abruptly flashed back to what she saw inside, on the floor… the dead bodies―
Oh gods, she was going to be sick―
“Let me go,” she said hoarsely, feeling a violent force in her stomach making its way up. Saliva gathered in her mouth, and the way the sentry still had its arm tightly coiled around her midriff certainly wasn’t helping. When it did not budge, she yelled, “Unhand me, you infernal machine, I’m not going anywhere!” At last the robot released her and she stumbled away from it, bending over and nearly falling forward as she vomited. She braced herself against a large hunk of rubble, gasping and wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.
“Princess, are you alright?”
She turned and saw a paramedic. Like the dozen other emergency workers who were continuously arriving at the scene, she wore a white and light blue uniform.
“Let’s get you to safety, Your Highness. There’s a vehicle ready to take you straight to the hospital.”
Allura’s anger faded and all she felt was fatigued at that point. It would be useless to yell at this woman who was only doing her job. She released a shuddering breath and swallowed, recoiling at the bitter taste in her mouth. Still leaning against the rubble, she looked the woman in the eye and said as calmly as she could, “Madam, I would prefer to stay here until it is confirmed that my parents are alive. Don’t―” She held up her hand when the woman tried to protest. “Don’t you dare try to stop me. You have no right.” She marched past her, still keeping a fair distance away from the building lest the sentry try to manhandle her again. To her frustration the paramedic followed her.
“Then may I at least tend to your wounds, Princess?” the woman asked meekly.
Before Allura could register what she said, her attention was drawn to the destroyed entrance of City Hall, where three familiar faces emerged.
“Oh, thank the gods!” she cried out, running to her parents and Coran. Fortunately the sentry didn’t chase after her.
As she approached them her eyes widened when she saw that her father was severely wounded. There was a large piece of sharp metal lodged into the left side of his abdomen, his regal clothing was caked in gold blood, and he appeared to be in so much pain that Melenor and Coran had to take each of his arms to help him walk.
“Here, let me,” Allura said, offering to take the burden from her mother. She glanced at her. “Are you hurt?”
“I am fine, dear,” Melenor assured her in a shaky voice. There were tear streaks on her face. “But Allura, your head―”
“Your Majesty!” Paramedics rushed forward as they made their way towards the street. The citizens cried out in relief to see that their king had survived. They were led towards an emergency vehicle.
“Your Majesty, Your Highness, sir,” one of the paramedics said, addressing Melenor, Allura, and Coran. “We will take him to the hospital right away if you would like to ride in the back with us.”
They agreed, and climbed into the rear entrance of the vehicle. Alfor was slowly losing consciousness from the blood loss. The vehicle came to life, rocking slightly as it rose off of the ground, and sped through the city. As one paramedic drove, the other tended to Alfor. Melenor was at his side, holding his hand and crying. Allura and Coran sat next to each other in silence. Allura was beginning to feel a little woozy and her right eye stung from the blood that occasionally dripped into it, but she didn’t care. The only thing that mattered was that her father lived. If he didn’t―
She swallowed a lump in her throat and blinked several times. She could not break down at a moment like this. She had to be strong for her parents, just as they needed her to be. Reaching up, she tugged on her necklace, trying to look anywhere but at the sickening wound in her father’s stomach.
The ride to the hospital seemed to take an eternity, but at last they arrived. The paramedics quickly removed Alfor and escorted him on a hovering gurney with Melenor following closely behind. A surgeon rushed out to meet them, telling her staff to prepare for surgery.
“Surgery?” Melenor repeated, eyes widening. “Will he survive? You must know.”
The surgeon hesitated. “I will do everything I can, Your Majesty. Please, visit the relief center and the doctors will tend to your injuries.”
But Melenor didn’t go to the relief center, so neither did Allura. There was no doubt that they, as the royal family, would be given highest priority, but despite the throbbing pain in Allura’s head and the occasional bouts of nausea, she didn’t feel that it was too serious, so she was more than willing to wait while others who had suffered more during the explosion were taken care of first.
It was hours until they heard anything. Meanwhile the queen, the princess, and the royal advisor sat out in the white hall as they waited. Sentries guarded them, standing in every doorway that led to other parts of the hospital. Melenor and Coran sat in provided chairs, but Allura couldn’t relax. She paced back and forth, pulling on her necklace, her eyes stuck to the ground. Her legs ached and her head felt like it was about to explode, but she worried that if she didn’t stop walking, if she sat down for even a second, her body would cease to work and she wouldn’t be able to get back up. A part of her wanted to comfort her mother, a part of her wanted to be comforted, but she couldn’t handle any more feelings of vulnerability; it was already too much.
The doors to the operating room finally hissed open and the surgeon walked out. Allura and Coran approached her while Melenor remained seated, looking at her anxiously. The woman nodded and smiled.
“The surgery went well,” she assured them. “His Majesty will need several days of rest, but he is going to be fine.”
Melenor let out a sob and buried her face in her hands. Allura sighed in relief, looked at Coran and placed a hand on his shoulder for support. She felt incredibly dizzy, but perhaps it was because of all the stress from the day.
“Go get yourself patched up, Allura,” he urged her gently. “Then take some time to sleep, you need it.”
“I think we all need it,” she returned.
He smiled sadly, then hesitated. “And Allura, about what happened with the sentry―”
She shook her head. “It is alright, Coran. I am glad we all made it back safely. We need not speak of it any further.”
He nodded uneasily, then walked over to Melenor and offered to escort her to the royal hospital suite with the sentries. Allura gave them one last glance before making her way towards the relief center, putting a hand up to her pounding head as another sentry trailed behind her.
The place was in pandemonium. Medical staff rushed by, sprinting to get to patients in critical need. One nurse led Allura to one of the many white beds which were laid out in rows throughout the large area, and most of which were occupied by the wounded. Allura knew she could have gone with her mother to the royal suite, but she wanted to be among the people, to see for herself how serious the results of the bombings were. Many, both Altean and others, had received terrible blows from falling debris, or second and third-degree burns from the fire. She swallowed. It was awful. How could this have happened? Who could have done this?
“Your Highness, can you hear me?”
“Huh?” she slowly blinked up at a doctor who was standing in front of her as she sat on the side of the bed.
The doctor frowned and gently touched the sides of her head, turning it from side to side. “Please look forward,” he directed, and briefly shone a light in her eyes. She blinked rapidly when he put it away, seeing sunspots. “Have you been experiencing headaches, grogginess, nausea?”
“Yes.”
He nodded in confirmation. “You must have been hit on the head during the explosion, Princess, hence the wound and the heavy bleeding, and as result you have a concussion. A nurse will be by shortly to clean the wound, and then I would like you to remain at the hospital overnight to make sure your symptoms do not worsen.”
Allura nodded slowly and the doctor left. A nurse, as promised, came over and began applying an antiseptic to the wound on the edge of her hairline. She hissed from the sting, but kept silent and didn’t complain. After the nurse applied a bandage and left her alone, Allura finally looked down at herself. Her hands were scraped and the knuckles bleeding, her dress had a few tears and she was covered in grime and dust. Her nose stung and her vision blurred, and it didn’t have anything to do with the concussion.
At last in this moment of peace and quiet, the princess was left alone with her thoughts, and the reality of everything that had happened hit her in full force. The day had started out so well for the most part. She had been so excited to attend the Universal Coalition meeting, and then it all changed in an instant. There was no way to reverse the damage that had been done. Her father was hurt, all of these people in the hospital were hurt, her planet and her city had been attacked, and she wondered how far along the authorities were in clearing out the wreckage, if they had removed all of the dead bodies…
She swallowed thickly. The white sheets, walls and floors, and cyan lights around her were grating on her senses. She felt sick again, the nausea building up in her stomach once more as her face twisted and her eyes burned. A piercing pain shot through her head in an effort not to cry. No, she couldn’t break down, not here, not now―
“Come any closer and I’ll break your arm!” a woman’s deep voice roared.
Allura’s thoughts came to a halt. She lifted her head and looked over her shoulder, rapidly wiping her eyes. Only three beds away from her own were the Galra. One of the generals, the largest of them all, sat on the bed with her back turned to Allura. The armor around her right arm had been removed, revealing a nasty burn, and she was vehemently resisting medical help from one of the nurses, who looked absolutely terrified out of his wits. Lotor and the other three women were standing around the bed, watching over her, while passing Altean staff shot them dirty looks.
“Zethrid, stop resisting and let him treat you,” Lotor said with a tired sigh, his voice sounding gravelly with exhaustion. His eyes were closed and he was pinching the bridge of his nose in irritation.
“No way,” Zethrid, the woman who sat on the bed, protested bluntly. “I won’t have any more Alteans coming near me!”
“Should we knock her out?” another general suggested. She had colorful, red skin and a long, tail-like appendage that sprouted from the top of her head.
“Ezor…” a woman, who had pale turquoise skin and small horns growing from her midnight hair, scolded her half-heartedly.
“What?” Ezor said with a shrug. “Look, Narti’s willing to help me.” She gestured to the last general, whose face was mostly shrouded by a hood, but even from a distance Allura could see that she had no eyes. A slender, dark gray cat sat on her right shoulder, its tail swishing back and forth, clearly feeling the tension in the room. Narti rubbed her knuckles together and nodded.
“Don’t you dare,” Zethrid warned.
“Zethrid, if you do not sit still and let him help you, the burn on your arm will become infected,” Lotor finally snapped, his patience clearly wearing thin. “And not only that, but I swear I will leave you on this planet if you do not comply.”
That convinced her. “Fine,” she said. “But only because getting stranded on Altea is a fate worse than death.” She turned to the nurse. “Watch yourself, Altean,” she growled. The poor man swallowed, nodded, and proceeded to treat the burn.
Allura forgot all about her woes and watched the scene with interest. Despite the bickering between the five Galra, they clearly cared for one another, and their serious expressions showed that they were concerned for the wellbeing of their comrade. That wasn’t possible; the Galra were violent barbarians. They couldn’t possibly be capable of or have the desire to form meaningful relationships with others.
Or at least… that was what Allura had always been taught.
Her eyes drifted towards Lotor. There were a few cuts, a sheen of sweat, and a serious expression on his face, a concentrated crease in the middle of his brow as his sharp eyes observed the nurse with wary scrutiny. Allura’s gaze traveled over the rest of him. His strong arms were crossed in front of his broad chest, and a layer of grime and soot dusted his body like everyone else who had endured the attack only hours before. He appeared to be favoring his left leg, but otherwise seemed alright, and his powerful, dominating stance did not go unnoticed by the nurse, who continued his nervous work under the emperor’s watchful eye. The Galra looked so stern, intimidating, and…
He really was beautiful.
Lotor noticed Allura watching him, and his eyes flickered over her form. She had no idea what she looked like to him, but likely it wasn’t anything good. She imagined her hair was messy, that there was dust and blood on her face and that she looked like death. Probably not a very pretty sight―not that she should care what he thought of her.
Without thinking, her grip on the bed sheets of the cot beneath her tightened, her fists clenching around the white linen as the two of them were caught in another intense moment of regard. Allura wasn’t sure if it was the palpable magnetism between them or something else, but she found that she had to force her gaze away from him and break the tension.
Turning back around, she slid off of the bed and left to go find a place to wash up and rest, and as always the sentry was right behind her. She lifted her chin loftily, regaining her proud composure, for perhaps it was only her imagination, but she could have sworn she still felt the emperor’s eyes on her as she walked away.
Allura was escorted to a private, high-security suite. On the bed was a set of hospital clothes for her to wear, sitting on the nightstand were glutinous caplets to help with the headaches, and on the other side was a bathroom for her own personal use. She sighed, both out of relief and exhaustion. Her head still hurt and she felt dizzy and nauseous whenever she moved around, but more than anything she wanted to get out of these dirty clothes, take a hot shower, and go to sleep.
She turned on the water and began stripping as she waited for the temperature to warm. She carefully removed her earrings and tiara, placing them next to the sink, but when she reached behind her back to unzip her dress, she felt an agonizing pain around her midriff and let out a soft cry. Wincing, she managed to step out of her dress, now in her undergarments, then walked up to the mirror to look at her reflection. Her face was indeed covered in dust and blood, and her eyes were puffy and swollen, but what caught her attention were the bruises. She stood up as straight as she could, eyes widening as she saw yellow and dark purple welts forming a line around her torso. They were extremely tender to the touch and at first she couldn’t figure out how she’d gotten them. Then she remembered.
“Blast, that sentry nearly squeezed the living daylight out of me,” she muttered, cursing under her breath. No doubt she was going to be sore for a few days.
After a steaming shower she felt refreshed and a bit like herself again. She pulled on the hospital gown, which consisted of a loose shirt and pants, stumbled towards the bed and huddled underneath the covers. As she lay in bed, her cheek pressed to the pillow, the events of the day all started rushing back, but she was so worn out and fatigued that she didn’t even have a second to cry. Rather, she instantly fell asleep, and thanked the Mother of the Universe that she didn’t dream.
The excitement slowly began to die down over the next few days, though the fear and apprehensions of what had occurred remained, hanging in the air like a bad smell. Everywhere Allura went she saw constant reminders of the attack: the wreckage of City Hall which was steadily getting cleaned up by city workers, the grim expressions of those who mourned the loss of their loved ones or the devastation on their planet, the exhausted faces of medical staff as they raced from room to room in the hospital performing their duties, and the scared and worn down patients who waited restlessly in their beds while they healed from their injuries.
Despite objections from both Coran and the doctors that she shouldn’t move about or engage in any strenuous activity, Allura almost spitefully ignored their disapproval and did everything she could during that time to make herself useful. She could not wait around for her concussion or the bruises on her body to fully heal, could not sit in impatient silence for news of her father’s awakening from surgery. Instead, she made it a priority to visit with each and every patient, checking in on them personally and offering to keep them company and comfort them during their stay. She also oversaw the activity of the Altean relief team and tasked them with delivering food and supplies to the delegates and their adjutants, whose ships were stationed on the outskirts of the city.
No news of the consequences of the attack nor a body count was yet reported by the police, but Allura did know for certain that three of members of the High Council were killed: Queen Luxia of Atlantea, Admiral Kythylian Mu of the Karthulian System, and King Lubos of Olkarion.
This came as a shock to Allura. Besides her grandfather, all throughout her life she had never known anyone who had died, had very little experience with death, and it was difficult to come to terms with. Only days ago she’d seen the council members walking up the steps to City Hall and speaking in front of people from all over the universe. Now they were gone forever, along with many other guests and Altean citizens present during the tragic event.
“Have you heard the rumors about the bombings?” Coran asked Allura.
The two of them walked side by side in between rows of giant ships from all throughout space as the princess checked off an inventory on a holographic tablet which she held in her hands. Allura had changed into her white flight suit, her thick hair pulled back into a bun.
“People are saying it was a terrorist attack,” her friend went on. “Either that or a gas leak,” he added doubtfully.
“Rumors travel fast, apparently,” Allura acknowledged with a sigh, her eyes glued to the tablet. “I do not want to jump to conclusions, Coran, nor rely on mere whispers, at least not until the police have found something.” She glanced at him with an optimistic smile. “I am hopeful we will hear from them soon.”
Coran returned her smile, then was about to answer when his attention was drawn elsewhere. Up ahead, three Alteans from the relief team were gathered around a hovercraft loaded with provisions, arguing with one another.
“Someone has to do it.”
“Well, I’m not going.”
“And disobey orders? You’ll get sacked for that.”
“I would rather lose my job than be in the presence of―Princess Allura!”
The group noticed and immediately bowed to Allura, who was frowning as she approached them. “What is going on here? To whom is this cart to be delivered?” she asked.
A young man cleared his throat uncomfortably. “To… the Galra, Your Highness.”
Allura pursed her lips, then scanned through her tablet once more. “According to this roster, they are the only ones who have not yet received supplies.” She looked up sharply. “Care to explain?” When the man exchanged looks with his colleagues again, she added in a clipped voice, “Well?”
“Er, well you see, Your Highness, the Galra are our enemy.”
“Yes, I am aware.”
“So why must we help them?” another worker, a woman, spoke up. “Surely they can take care of themselves; they chose to come here, after all. Besides, if by some misfortune we were the ones staying on Daibazaal, they would never offer us the same courtesy. Your Highness,” she added quickly.
Allura wasn’t sure if it was because it’d been a long day, if she was tired, or if it was her sore body still giving her pain, but she suddenly found her patience waning and her frustration growing, and this group was doing very little to help. She looked over at Coran, who stroked his mustache thoughtfully, then turned back to the Alteans, exhaling through her nose.
“Enemy or not, they are our guests,” she replied grimly. “They require the same fair treatment as everyone else. If lack of reciprocation from the Galra is what you fear, then I suggest you be the bigger person and not stoop to their level.”
They fell silent as her words sank in, yet they did not move the transport. A pang of irritation ran through Allura. She sighed once more and then, holding her head high, she walked past the group and towards the vehicle.
“Your Highness! What are you doing?” one of them protested.
“If you will not take these supplies to the Galra, then I will do it myself.” She pressed a few buttons on a hologram to start up the engine. A gentle whirring noise sounded as it came to life, and the craft lifted off of the ground, filled to the brim with white and cyan crates.
“Princess, I must also object,” Coran spoke uneasily. “It is not safe for you to go alone. This is the Galra we are talking about.”
“Please, let us go in your stead,” another worker pleaded with her.
Allura raised a brow. “Can I trust you three to do your job properly?”
“Y-yes, of course.”
She nodded curtly. “Alright, then I shall accompany you. Coran, you may return to the hospital. I will take it from here.” And she began walking alongside the hovering cart.
Coran and the others knew better than to disobey their princess, though the royal advisor still looked apprehensive as he left. Out of the corner of her eye, Allura saw the Alteans exchange looks of guilt and shame as they followed her.
Allura’s heart was pounding, her stomach churning as she continued marching down the rows where the Galra ship waited at the very end, far away from everyone else. This would be her first time seeing the ship up close, and it would also be her first time coming face-to-face with the Galra since the day of the attack.
She had not seen Emperor Lotor since their silent encounter in the hospital, either, though she presumed he was with his people as all of the other representatives were with their people. She had difficulty wrapping her head around it, but whether he was in her presence or out of sight, she couldn’t seem to calm down. Thinking about him elicited feelings of both curiosity and unrest from deep within her, and she couldn’t figure out why. Needless to say, she was troubled by these new ideas.
The oblong ship from Daibazaal was not a fighter class but rather a smaller transport, probably harboring a crew of less than a hundred, yet it was massive up close. Sentries and soldiers were stationed outside, keeping watch, and upon seeing the princess draw nearer, one soldier, whose gray armor and helmet covered everything except the bottom half of his purple face, tensed and held his rifle tightly in his hands.
“What do you want?” he demanded harshly. Next to him, a sentry stood rigidly at attention.
Allura, refusing to be intimidated, kept her cool. She cleared her throat and clasped her hands in front of her, lifting her chin. “Food and supplies from Altea’s relief effort.” She glanced around the area. There was no sign of the Galra leader anywhere.
The soldier glanced past Allura and peered at the cart before addressing her again. “We don’t need it.”
She was finally starting to reach her limit. She could feel the tension from the other three Alteans behind her. Folding her arms, she said, “Your company planned to be here for no more than a day, yes? It has now been three. No doubt your crew is lacking in provisions”―she narrowed her eyes―”that and evidently manners as well.”
“We don’t accept charity from Alteans,” he barked. “The Galra would never stoop so low. Besides, the food is probably poisoned.”
“You accuse us of trying to poison you?” one of the Alteans snapped. “Of course the Galra would think―”
Allura held up her hand to silence them, though she continued to glare at the soldier. “This is not mere charity, nor is it an attempt at a futile reconciliation. I am extending the same courtesy to everyone else, so you may view this as no more than a disinterested benefaction. Take it or leave it.”
“I will not accept this,” the soldier insisted gruffly. “Not without approval from my emperor.”
“Your emperor? And where is he now, pray tell?”
The man was about to respond, then his mouth fell open in surprise when he noticed something over her shoulder. He quickly inclined his head and saluted, placing his right fist over his chest.
“Sire,” he greeted.
Arms still tightly crossed, Allura turned slightly to look over her shoulder and saw Emperor Lotor himself approaching from a few paces away. He stood far enough to keep a more than respectable distance from her, but close enough to have heard the conversation. Next to him was one of his generals, the woman with the dark blue hair and horns. They must have come from inside the ship’s bridge, having taken notice of the commotion. His expression was neutral, his arms behind his back, but hers displayed undisguised mistrust, one hand on her hip as she gave the princess a cold once-over.
Lotor briefly glanced at Allura before addressing the soldier. “What appears to be the problem here, Private?” he inquired smoothly.
Allura turned back to the other man, who cleared his throat and stood up straight. “The Alteans claim to bring provisions for the Galra, Your Imperial Majesty. I suspect an ulterior motive.”
Clenching her fists, Allura braced herself for the inevitable coldness from the emperor, the same cruel and mocking behavior she witnessed on the steps of City Hall. If he was going to pick a fight with her, so be it. She would do the same.
She was astonished, then, when she heard him say the exact opposite of what she expected.
“Take it,” Lotor ordered. “If Her Highness has come all this way to bestow upon us her gracious offer, then we would do well to accept with humility and gratitude.”
Allura’s eyes widened a fraction, but she maintained her composure and stood stiffly with her back to him.
The soldier’s mouth set in a grim line. “Yes, Sire,” he obeyed. “Vrepit Sa.” He saluted again and along with the sentry, he stepped forward and navigated the cart towards the ship’s hangar.
“Shall we depart, Your Highness?” one of the Alteans asked meekly.
Allura turned around to look at the team and noticed how nervous and even fearful they appeared in the presence of the emperor. Without thinking her eyes met his once more. She couldn’t think of anything to say to him. What could she say in a situation such as this? Standing only a few feet away from the enemy of her people, a man she hadn’t spoken a word to, and yet couldn’t understand why he plagued her thoughts so… it was surreal.
As if sensing the quandary from her countenance, Lotor too did not speak to her, but instead nodded to her calmly in acknowledgement. His manner compared to a few days ago was vastly different, she realized. In this moment he was courteous―agreeable, even. It was a surprise, to be sure, but not an unwelcome one. Perhaps he was not as cold and cruel as she initially thought, though his sharp eyes were the same as they were when he first saw her. They were piercing, as if he was staring straight into her soul with his luminescent gaze.
She did not trust the man by any means, of course she didn’t. However, the way he was looking at her… she found that it concerned her in a different way, and she wasn’t sure what to make of it.
Allura returned his nod civilly, then motioned for the team to follow her. She did not miss the icy look from the general as she passed.
“He is an unpleasant fellow, that emperor,” one of the Alteans muttered during the short trek back. “There is something about him that is extremely off-putting.”
“Agreed,” another said. “I shudder to think of his kind as part of the Coalition now.”
“You’re telling me. I almost gagged, his Galra stench was so strong. I heard they bathe in the blood of their enemies.”
“I heard they sleep in their own filth. They’re disgusting.”
“Not to mention horrendously ugly.”
They all laughed, but Allura did not.
“I have heard enough,” she interjected, looking over her shoulder and staring at them, unimpressed. They straightened and looked sheepish.
“Yes, of course. Apologies, Your Highness.”
Afterwards Allura dismissed them, then took a personal transport to return to the hospital and look for Coran. She tugged off her helmet as she entered the lobby, tiredly rubbing the back of her neck and barely suppressing a yawn. She could feel the beginnings of a headache coming on. She did not have much time to dwell on the pain, however, for one of the human cadets from Galaxy Garrison marched right up to her without warning.
“Do you guys know who did it?” he demanded. He had shaggy black hair and violet eyes that regarded her fiercely. Allura blinked at him, caught off guard.
“Keith,” Shiro chastised lightly, walking away from the reception desk and towards them. He nodded to Allura. “Princess, we were just in the middle of checking out of the hospital. I’m glad to see you’re well.”
“Likewise, Shiro,” she said with a smile, tucking her helment underneath her arm. The rest of the kids were sitting in sleek white chairs, waiting alongside a dozen other patients getting ready to leave the hospital. All five humans had changed out of their uniforms and into casual Earth clothes.
“What I meant was,” Keith began again, rephrasing. “Everyone is talking about how this was a terrorist attack on Altea. Do you know who’s responsible?”
“It is too soon to tell, but the police are currently investigating the incident,” Allura assured him.
“Um, Princess?” another cadet spoke, waving nervously. “Hi, Hunk here, nice to see you again―uh, when would you say we’ll be allowed to leave this planet?”
“I am also curious,” the cadet with glasses added. “After the meeting we were supposed to head straight for Dunamis, and I was really looking forward to that.”
“I agree with Pidge,” Lance said definitively, sighing and resting his arms on the backs of Pidge’s and Hunk’s chairs. “As much as I’ve enjoyed being in the presence of Your Beautifulness”―he grinned at Allura―“I am kinda ready to leave Altea. What’s keeping us here?”
“Yeah, it’s been three days,” Keith added, folding his arms. “What gives?”
“Please, try to be a little more patient,” Allura told them gently. “Thankfully the commotion has died down since the attack, but these things take time. Anyone who attended the meeting, helped plan it, or even looked at City Hall that day must be questioned by the authorities. I understand it has not been easy for all of you.” She smiled sympathetically. “I have been visiting with many guests and the poor things are more homesick than ever. It is not easy to stay in a foreign place surrounded by foreign people.”
“No kidding,” Keith muttered. “Though if anyone’s having the hardest time being stuck here, it’s the Galra.”
“Oh, you’re talking about that Lotor guy?” Hunk asked. “He doesn’t seem so bad.”
Lance raised an eyebrow. “Seriously? He’s a giant purple alien who walks around with his posse scowling at everybody. They’re like the space version of a motorcycle gang. Hey, now that I think about it, you'd fit right in with them, Keith!”
“Shuddup.”
“Say what you will, but every single time I get a feeling in my gut, I always turn out to be right,” Hunk said with a shrug. “Pidge, remember when that shady guy at the mall tried to sell you fake copies of Killbot Phantasm One?”
“They looked so authentic,” Pidge said wistfully.
“And Lance, when I told you about Jenny Shaybon when you tried to ask her out? Or was it that other Jenny…”
Lance flushed, clearly embarrassed and heated. “For the last time, it wasn’t my fault we spent the night in holding! She was the one who took a swing at the security guard when we went to that K-Pop concert, not me!”
“Or Keith, what about the last time we all went with you to the dentist?”
“Those three deaths had nothing to do with me,” Keith answered nonchalantly.
“And what about―”
“Okay, Hunk, we get it,” Lance cut him off, rolling his eyes in annoyance.
“Hey man, don’t knock the feeling in your gut,” Hunk concluded, raising his hands. “My point is: maybe this Lotor guy isn’t so bad.”
“Good or bad, I’m just saying,” Keith interjected, taking a seat next to Pidge, his arms still crossed, “ever since we first got here, I’ve noticed that everyone, especially the Alteans, avoid the emperor and his generals like the plague. What’s the deal between you guys?” he asked Allura.
“Actually, that is something I’ve also been curious about, Princess,” Shiro said as he sat down, then added with a sheepish smile, “We haven’t been part of the Universal Coalition for very long, so we’ve got a lot of history to catch up on.”
Allura bit her lip at the mention of Lotor. No matter where she went she couldn’t seem to be rid of him, could she? She nodded and forced a smile. “Very well, I will tell you.” She took a seat next to Shiro, facing the cadets. “You must understand, this is a feud that goes back many centuries, so grudges are not so easily forgotten. As you may already know, Altea and Daibazaal are part of the same system, about one point five billion kilometers away from each other, and for thousands of years our planets coexisted peacefully.
“One day a Galra murdered an Altean in cold blood. The Galra believe it is the other way around, but they are wrong. Our planets went to war with each other, and it lasted for decades. The Galra and Alteans were quite evenly matched, even so today,” Allura admitted begrudgingly. “So neither side ever came close to winning, and instead the planets ended up suffering. The death count was nearly a billion from both Altea and Daibazaal during those years, it was that bloody.
“Eventually the leaders of both planets agreed to a cease-fire to avoid further loss. However…” She shrugged and shook her head. “There was never an official peace treaty established. Since then we’ve successfully avoided each other and any further conflict, and a few days ago it was the first time both Alteans and Galra were in the same place willingly, but there is still a lot of hatred between our people. Whenever we are in a room together, it gets very tense very quickly.”
“And now that Emperor Lotor has joined the Coalition,” Shiro began thoughtfully. “You guys will be running into each other a lot more often now.”
“Yes, that is correct.”
“Why do you think he wanted to join in the first place?” Pidge asked curiously.
“I do not know,” Allura admitted, and the very question had troubled her since the confrontation between the emperor and her father, and now even more so after seeing Lotor again a short while ago. “The primary objective of the Universal Coalition is to preserve the peace, but given the Galra’s history―not only with my people, but with that of the entire universe as well―I can neither determine his reasoning nor his motive. I…”
Her brow furrowed, and she was disturbed at the seed of confliction sprouting within her. She then had the horrible thought that this would not be the last time she would feel this way.
“I have no idea what Emperor Lotor’s endgame is,” she murmured.
The humans were silent as this information sank in, then Hunk spoke up. “Can’t you guys, I dunno, work things out? Like you said, this happened hundreds of years ago, right? Now that Emperor Lotor is here on Altea, maybe you can talk to him and make a peace treaty.”
“Yeah, and maybe we’ll all hold hands and sing ‘Kumbaya’ together,” Lance told him sarcastically. “Come on, Hunk, there’s no way that guy wants to work things out with anybody.”
“Even if he did,” Allura began, smiling wanly. “It is not up to me. As king, my father must listen to his people, but they respect him greatly. If he has no interest in reconciling, what do you suppose they will think? Besides, with everything going on right now, a peace treaty with the Galra will be the furthest thing from anyone’s minds.”
“But you’re the princess,” Keith pointed out. “You must have some kind of influence. What’s your opinion on all of this?”
Allura hesitated. “Well, I―”
“Princess Allura?”
She turned in her seat to see a nurse walking up to her.
“Your father has awoken, Your Highness,” the nurse told her with a smile. “He is asking for you.”
Sprinting all the way to the king’s personal suite, Allura briefly stopped to catch her breath before pushing a button on a console attached to the wall, and the doors hissed open. She burst in and released a huge sigh of relief, her shoulders sagging. The white room was bathed in subtle hues of blue and cyan, and she saw Alfor sitting upright in a hospital bed, speaking with Melenor who sat at his bedside. Coran, who stood next to the other side of the bed, beamed at Allura and moved aside to make room for her.
“Allura,” Alfor called out in surprise. He smiled. “Come here, Daughter.” Allura went to him and took his hand in hers when he reached out for her. “I am so glad to see you are safe. How is your concussion?”
“It’s fine,” she assured him. Tears of relief and joy threatened to spill over, but she blinked rapidly. “Are you in a lot of pain, Father?”
“A bit sore, but I’ll live,” he told her lightly. “What is important is that we are all here together.” He glanced around them. “Right?”
“Of course, my love,” Melenor said. Allura briefly watched her parents as they spoke quietly together. They both looked exhausted, but they were safe. Allura turned to Coran and they exchanged reassured smiles with one another.
Unfortunately the family didn’t get much alone time together, however, before the doors slid open again and in walked an Altean policewoman.
“Chief,” Alfor greeted with a nod. “What news do you bring?”
Chief-of-police Hira bowed and smoothed back her short, magenta hair before speaking. “Glad to see you’re in good health, Your Majesty. We are still in the midst of clearing away all of the wreckage at City Hall, but”―her tone of voice was grim―”we have an official body count of one hundred and thirty-three lives lost, both Altean and others, including the High Council members.”
The atmosphere turned quiet and sober. “Very well,” Alfor agreed. “I shall make plans for a memorial service very soon. What else?”
“Over the past three days we have been interrogating all of the guests and witnesses that were present during the attack. It is slow going, and unfortunately we have no leads. Except for one thing.” Her expression turned grave as she produced something from her person. It was a translucent, sealed bag, inside of which was a small object. “We found this among the ruins this morning.”
Allura stepped forward to accept the bag and she examined the item. Realizing what it was, her mouth went dry. Anyone would recognize the design anywhere―the sharp and sleek shape, the heaviness of it, the purple and black coloring, and the unmistakable symbol stamped onto the surface.
Her heart pounded in her chest, steadily climbing up her throat. To her own shock she felt betrayed, and then immediately felt foolish for feeling betrayed. The person to whom this object belonged to… she hadn’t even exchanged a single word with. They were neither friends nor acquaintances. Far from it, in fact; they were enemies. How could someone feel betrayed by an enemy?
With trembling fingers she returned the bag to the chief.
“That is a Galra explosive,” Allura said slowly.
Shock, disbelief, and most of all―anger―ignited her blood, lighting a fire and burning her very insides. She turned to her father with a stony expression.
“Emperor Lotor is the one who attacked us.”
The rage on Alfor’s face was plain to see. Were he not currently incapacitated, Allura was certain he would’ve sprung from the bed to track down and kill the Galra himself. Instead, he had no choice but to remain where he was, the wrath emanating from him like the solar flares of a sun. He addressed Chief Hira.
“Find him,” he said, his voice low and barely controlled. “You tell him I want to see him.”
