Vrepit Sa (Lotor X Fem!Reader)

I swear

Father always said it was a waste of time to cling to false hope. He viewed emotions as petty, useless flaws that came with life. You couldn't escape them. From a young age, Lotor detested the weak. Above all else, he feared being unworthy of the Galra throne. His birthright. He became obsessed. Scheming, plotting, lying, betraying, using. He did it all. Exhausted every last resource, bent soldiers to his will. For a long time, he shoved his emotions down; somewhere hidden, where no one would find them. He even went so far as to sprinkle a layer of malice and empty promises into his personality; nailing the lid of its coffin closed.

All for nothing.

Because here he was. A broken mess. A shard of his former self. No generals. No ship. No voltron. No empire. No Shadow. A husk of the man he used to be. A doll gambling for a crown he knew deep down he would never wear. An idiot unworthy of the time and affection shown to him by someone he was too weak to protect.

Shoving the thoughts back, Lotor increased his pace. The sharp slap of his worn boots against the packed earth of the corridor, was the only sound to shatter the silence. Grinding his heels with every step, he tried in vain not to think. Multiple times it had grown too painful to remember, and yet, his mind still wondered. Plaguing his consciousness with images he wished to forget.

It has been one and a half deca-phoebs since the incident. Or perhaps it had been the last time Hunk had informed him as such. He did not have much of a baring for time now a days. Regardless, it felt like mere vargas ago. He could still hear the blast ringing in his ear; Pidge screaming at Hunk over the cons. Could still see her smiling brightly at him. One last act of reassurance despite her impending doom. Could still smell the smoke, the blood.

"Vrepit sa, Lotor!" Her voice replayed in his mind like a melody on loop. A sound he might never hear again.

Grimacing, he turned off of the corridor and entered the medical wing. The Minakan at the desk greeted him with a bright smile when he finally pried his eyes from the pile of paperwork before him on the desk. His dull grey eyes were distant as the a prince signed his name on the visitors register to the left of the paper stack.

"Back again Lotor?" He mused with a gentle smile. Now a days he didn't have to look at the Prince's signature to recall his name. Mustering some energy, Lotor somehow managed to offer him a small smile in return.

"You know me," He mused sadly, "can't keep myself away." The Minakan laughed easily as he buzzed the prince in. Eagerly, Lotor stepped through the glass barriers. Pausing, he turned back to the desk. "Any improvements thus far?" The thinning of the Minakan's lips is answer enough.

His heart sank. Muttering his thanks, Lotor continued on down the hallway.

After successfully escaping from the Witch's destroyed cruiser, Pidge and Hunk had scrambled for the nearest remote planet to hide on - from both the remains of Voltron as well as the Galra. Somehow, that planet happened to be the Minakan Moon. 

Now a days, Pidge remained mainly by Lance's side when she wasn't earning her keep among the Minakans by helping to advance their technology. Hunk helped out. A lot. He cooked religiously. Offering Lotor dish after dish of his latest recipes and discoveries. The Prince knew deep down that the acts of kindness were fueled by the yellow paladin's grief, but he couldn't find it in him to care. A warm meal was one of the few luxuries he was allowed these days.

Mind you, thanks to Hanaka he was no prisoner on this moon. However, with the lions gone (Allura summoned them back to the castle under the impression the Paladins were dead) and supplies travelling in and out of the moon limitedly, he sure felt like one. It didn't help that most of the Minakans he passed in the halls knew exactly who he was. He could never quite escape their accusing glares. He didn't miss the way they flinched away from him when he helped with the supply runs. Then again, he didn't blame them. One could not redeem oneself within a varga.