Voltron Final Season REWRITTEN

Episode Fifteen - The Imprisoned Princess

The Dark Reality - Ten Thousand Years Ago

King Alfor looks down at a burning Altea. Tears stream down his face, as he is helpless to do anything else.

"Don't act like you didn't see this coming, Alfor" A voice says from behind. "Your people burn because of your actions."

"You...monster!" Alfor whirls around to face Zarkon.

The pair of them stand on a suspended walkway hanging on the remains of the altean royal palace. The fires cast the pair in angry light.

"I wonder," Zarkon says, "did you weep this much for Diabazaal? Did you even hesitate? Or were you eager to finally have an excuse to remove such a thorn from your side?"

"I did weep for your world, Zarkon! But do not compare my efforts to save the universe with this...this butchery!"

"There it is again. King Alfor, up on his moral high ground. Well in case you haven't noticed, there isn't much ground to stand on anymore." Zarkon nods down to the burning fields that used to be Altea.

"You talk to me like a bitter enemy Zarkon...but you were my friend. A brother to me..." His eyes look very tired then. "But this...this isn't the Zarkon I fought beside. Not the hero I knew. You are a warped shadow wearing the skin of my friend. How could someone like that do this to my people!? To my...my wife...oh stars, my wife." He pauses, staring downward for what seems an eternity. When he looks up, his eyes are hard.

"One way or another..." Alfor summons his bayard, forming it into a longsword. "...this ends now."

"At last, we agree on something." Zarkon materializes his own wickedly curved bayard sword.

The two paladins charge down the walkway at each other.

Alfor's first strike is a thrust for Zarkon's midsection. The large galra turns the strike away and kicks Alfor in the chest. Alfor goes flying backwards across the walkway, only barely managing to land on two feet.

But Zarkon is back upon him almost immediately, unleashing a flurry of strikes. Alfor blocks the series of blows, but the power of each one pushes Alfor back further. Alfor ducks beneath the final swing and shoves his own sword upward, grazing Zarkon on the shoulder.

Snarling, Zarkon knocks aside Alfor's followup and grabs the King by the head. He slams Alfor's face into the walkway's railing, dazing him. As Alfor stumbles back, Zarkon swings again with his sword. The blow is only just blocked but the force throws Alfor down onto his back.

Zarkon jumps up, sword plunging downward to pin Alfor to the walkway. Before he can be skewered Alfor throws up a hand, firing off a blast of blue lighting that blasts Zarkon backwards.

Zarkon lands on his back, much like Alfor.

Both leap to their feet, Zarkon moving in for the sword swing, while Alfor unleashes another blast of lightning.

The lighting strikes Zarkon, wrapping it's glowing tendrils along his body. Zarkon cries out in pain and anger but he does not fall. In spite of the alchemical lightning, he takes a step forward.

"Th-that's your problem...Alfor..."

Another step forward.

"...you have never been..."

Another step."

"...as strong..."

Another.

"...as ME!"

Zarkon swings his blade.

Alfor stumbles back, gripping his gut where the blade struck home. He sways, trying to remain standing. Then, he drops his sword and falls to his knees. He looks up at his former friend, face awash with pain and sorrow.