The White Lion Princess

Changing of the Guard.

The days after our final battle passed like sand through a straw. And word of Zarkon's defeat by the hands of Voltron, spread like wildfire.

Unfortunately, not everyone was excited, instead some of them focused on other things.

Keith was flying the red lion around space, trying to track down Shiro in the mess of Galra ships pieces.

He hasn't found a single trace yet.

He leaned back into his chair and sighed his mind thinking back to our last fight. He remembered the screams of Zarkon as the sword struck him down. He could hear his feet stomp in a frantic run as everyone rushed into the Black Lion.

And he could still feel the sadness weighing him down as he remembered the empty seat in the lion cockpit.

...The lion cockpit... an empty one...

His mind them faded into thoughts of me. Of how pale I was when they found me unconscious in the chair. Tears threatened to prick at his eyes, but he wouldn't let them come.

"There's nothing our here, Coran." Keith said sadly.

"I'm sorry, Keith. Come back to the castle, you need a break."

"Okay, I'm coming home."

Keith turned the red lion around and flew back towards the castle.

The castle of lions was set peacefully on a dark moon. It was a good hiding place for us to recuperate from the previous battle.

Coran walked through the halls and entered Allura's room. He was shocked to see Allura standing in front of the mirror sniffing her dress.

She stopped sniffing and looked up hearing Coran's footsteps, "I'm worried it smells a bit musty." She said worried about her appearance, "It's been a while since I've had to look presentable."

"The Cubserians have just declared independence after a thousand years of oppression, so they probably won't notice." Coran tried to reassure Allura.

Allura turned and faced the mirror, "Then why am I getting all puffed up like a Trufalian meringue?" She asked before turning serious, "This is going to be a serious diplomatic meeting."

Coran bent down and helped straighten out her dress, "Remember, Princess, 70 percent of diplomacy is appearance. Then 29 percent is manners, decorum, formalities and chit-chat. It's really only one percent..." Coran thought for a moment.

"Serious business about fighting for the freedom of the universe?" Allura asked annoyed.

"Yes, that. Oh, and I forgot about hors d'oeuvres. Oh, that's at least two percent. So I'll have ti recalculate my..." Coran scrunched his face as he recalculated what ever it was he was calculating.

Allura faced Coran with a worried expression, "We just freed thses planets. Do you really think they're ready to come to together to fight the Galra?"

Coran stopped his calculating for a moment to answer, "I don't think it's a question of wanting to fight back, but of believing that it's possible. It's up to you to give them that faith."

Allura turned her gaze down in a depressed fashion, "It should be Voltron." She said.

"Well, we can't always put the fate of the universe on the shoulders of a giant weapon. At least, that's what your father believed."

Allura looked back into the mirror and frowned.

"Have there been any changes?" She asked.

"Well, the food has been prepared and the Cubserians are slowly arriving-"