[ it's just a reminder of how incredibly stupid he had been to allow allura into that small aspect of his life, but it's too little, too late, now. he remains silent, as allura talks, and answers his unspoken question: what should i do?
naturally, allura wants him to tell the truth, which would be simple in any other circumstance besides this one. and there's an immediate protectiveness, at the notion of someone less tactful sharing anything that cannot be taken back. because while lotor trusts certain members of team voltron to keep their mouths shut, he does not trust others. ]
I meant it, when I said she was dead.
[ it's said remarkably calmly, given the circumstances, before he allows his gaze to lift from the ground to look toward the entrance of the arena. still not meeting allura's eyes, because lotor knows the moment that he does, he's going to have to agree to whatever sanctimonious belief she asks of him regarding his (dead) mother. ]
She was lost when she had me, and had no memory of me. And no one said a word. The only individual who knew was my father, who was less than willing to acknowledge his mad wife was now his most loyal servant. Perhaps it pushed him over the edge, when she fell to insanity. I never bothered to ask.
[ and, from the sound of it, lotor doesn't regret not asking before skewering zarkon into the afterlife. but after letting that hang in the air for a moment, lotor exhales slowly before turning to collect his tea, continuing to speak: ]
Telling her I am her son will only raise more questions, which will only create more lies. And what if she regains her memories, Allura? What little of them she does have, of the future, as the rest of you did. It only delays the inevitable; she wants me, and your friends, dead.
[ he takes a sip. ]
What will we do then, when she turns to madness? Kill her?
[ he's not being argumentative, for once; he's simply stating a fact. weighing out his options, trying to figure out which is the least or most cruel. ]
action
naturally, allura wants him to tell the truth, which would be simple in any other circumstance besides this one. and there's an immediate protectiveness, at the notion of someone less tactful sharing anything that cannot be taken back. because while lotor trusts certain members of team voltron to keep their mouths shut, he does not trust others. ]
I meant it, when I said she was dead.
[ it's said remarkably calmly, given the circumstances, before he allows his gaze to lift from the ground to look toward the entrance of the arena. still not meeting allura's eyes, because lotor knows the moment that he does, he's going to have to agree to whatever sanctimonious belief she asks of him regarding his (dead) mother. ]
She was lost when she had me, and had no memory of me. And no one said a word. The only individual who knew was my father, who was less than willing to acknowledge his mad wife was now his most loyal servant. Perhaps it pushed him over the edge, when she fell to insanity. I never bothered to ask.
[ and, from the sound of it, lotor doesn't regret not asking before skewering zarkon into the afterlife. but after letting that hang in the air for a moment, lotor exhales slowly before turning to collect his tea, continuing to speak: ]
Telling her I am her son will only raise more questions, which will only create more lies. And what if she regains her memories, Allura? What little of them she does have, of the future, as the rest of you did. It only delays the inevitable; she wants me, and your friends, dead.
[ he takes a sip. ]
What will we do then, when she turns to madness? Kill her?
[ he's not being argumentative, for once; he's simply stating a fact. weighing out his options, trying to figure out which is the least or most cruel. ]