Masks

Allura

Set prior to meeting Matt, but after encountering the Blades of Marmora.

So, you know how the last two chapters have had this kinda feel-good vibe to them?
This one doesn't.

Here is the secret no one knows, that even Allura does not allow herself to know more often than not:

Once upon a time, Allura's best friend was a boy named Tazone, and he was training to be a diplomat. They sat together for lessons on various cultures of the galaxy and passed notes and giggles and got in trouble for sneaking off to see the lions when their paladins were elsewhere. They grew up together, making plans for a future they were vaguely aware of, one where she was queen and he was one of her advisors. They were close, they were so close, they were family, for all they looked similar only when Allura practiced her shape-shifting abilities.

Their schedules drew them apart as they grew older and their training became more specified, but that never seemed to matter during the times they were together again, all the periods between whisking away as though they had never been. She knew how best to make him laugh, he could always find the word she was trying to remember, she knew just where to poke him when he was being annoying...

...he was one of the first to die.

There had been news of unrest on one of the more remote planets Altea was in alliance with. Nothing large, of course, how could there be – the galaxy had been mostly at peace for over a century. So naturally Tazone had been chosen as part of the team to go find out what the trouble was – they were both just past grown at that point, the concept of 'adult' still fresh in their minds, and starting to take on the responsibilities this entailed. It was to be a good learning experience for the young diplomat. He had smiled at her before he left, promised to bring her back something shiny or sharp, depending on what was available. She had laughed.

It was the last thing she truly laughed at for a long, long time.

And it's why she hates Ulaz on sight. Because he is a Galra, because he is the enemy, but, even more than anything else, because he dares to look so much like Tazone. And he is not Tazone. Not even one of his descendants. Her friend died before he had a chance to even fall in love.

She has been dancing on knives until now, letting herself be lost in the strange sensation of falling asleep and waking up in another millennium. And the present is so strange, so surreal... it has been easy to do, to walk but half in this world she has awoken to. But with Ulaz her balance is lost and everything she has held at bay comes crashing down, how much she has lost, how much has been taken from her, how Zarkon may have been ruling for thousands of years, but for her the start of the war is still painfully recent, and the knowledge feels like poison.

Feels like hate.

Unconditional hate.

For Zarkon, for Haggar, for all their twisted, vile race that has torn the universe asunder and stolen her everything. She does not want to see the good in them. She does not want to acknowledge that the Galra are not some hive mind but individuals, each with their own opinions and desires. She wants them to burn, she wants them to die, like Altea, like her people, like Ta-

She doesn't lets herself finish that thought. She doesn't lets herself see how she is losing her perspective on what needs to be done, how she is hurting herself... hurting her red paladin. No, she doesn't lets herself know – not until the evening Coran comes for her, expression serious, and leads her to one of the old rooms for viewing holos.

"Do we really have time for this," she asks, abrupt and annoyed as he holds out a chair for her, "There are things I need to-"

'Hi, 'llura!'