The Greatest Gift Part Six
Meeting the KingHome, Fan Fiction, The Greatest Gift, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13
The Greatest Gift
A Voltron Adaptation by MoiraOriginal story by Philip Van Doren Stern
Story adaptation for the big screen by Frank Capra
Further adapted by me, borrowing from both the authors’ classic tails.
This is a stand alone tale, not pertaining to any other story I have done.Legal Stuff
Voltron, Defender of the Universe and its characters property of World Events Productions, Ltd. ‘The Greatest Gift’ originally written by Philip Van Doren Stern. Story adapted for the big screen by Frank Capra.
This story is for entertainment purposes only. Original characters and storyline are property of the author, please do not use, reproduce, or repost without permission.Rating NC17
The NC17 rating due to sexual situations, violence, drug use, and strong language.
So, if you don’t care for that kind of stuff, stop now! You’ve been warned.
And yes, even with all that, is really is a Christmas tale.So, if you dare, grab a fresh box of Kleenex, a cup of cider, dim the lights, and dive in.
The Greatest Gift
A Voltron Christmas Tale
Part Six
Meeting the KingKeith, mind still swimming from drink, and his guardian angel, … Guardian angel… he still chuckles at that, pause before reentering the arena. “So, tell me, Al…” A smile coming to his lips. ”I see you wear a sword at your hip, but I’ve never heard of a sword wielding angel. Do you know how to use it or is it just decorative?”
Al grins at Keith. “Do you think your guardian angel wouldn’t know his way around a sword? Come now Captain, give us some credit.”
“So you will fight?”
“If it means I get to cross swords with some Doom scum. Well, I think you’d have a hard time stopping me!” Al laughs.
“You sure you’re an Angel?”
“We don’t all play harps, if that’s what you mean.” He pats Keith on the shoulder. “Come, lets go in.”
Keith and Al enter the ring as the audience above is just beginning to file in. Keith looks around. It is exactly like the arena on Doom. “You said Zarkon built this?”
“Yes.” Al gestures, taking in the expanse of the ring. “He thought it was the least he could do for his Son. He is very proud of him.”
Keith turns to face Al. “Zarkon? Proud of Lotor? You’re joking?”
“No. His son is a legend. Word of his accomplishments has grown across the galaxies. He has even been able to gain a truce with the Drule Empire, something his father could never do.” Keith shakes his head bewildered. Lotor? They are quickly approached by an arena beast. Al leans over and whispers into Keith’s ear. “Remember your part, Keith. You are just like Lotor.” A smile soon tugs at Keith’s lips.
The creature stands a good two feet taller than them looking more like a mountain than a man, a beast-man. His red leather-like skin is clad in armor and he carries in his hand an axe. The man-beast laughs, a laugh that Keith feels more than hears. “What are a couple of puny humans doing here? Oh, this shouldn’t take long. Yurak! These two are mine!”
Yurak approaches laughing. “They’re all yours, then. You’ll be up second.”
Keith starts to chuckle. “Now, do you really think that’s fair?” Yurak and the warrior turn to him staring. Keith smiles. “I mean really, there are two of us and only one of you. Do you have any friends you could call on for help?”
Al steps up beside Keith. “My lord, would you like me to take the first round? You could wait until the real opponents show up.”
Keith turns to Al, ignoring the other two men. “Well, yes that’s a thought. You wouldn’t mind such an easy bout?”
“No, my lord. I’ve been wanting to practice a new attack. Better to practice such a thing on an easy target first.”
Yurak loudly clears his throat but Keith continues to ignore him. “Do you think they’re all going to be like this fellow? All brawn, no…” He taps his forehead.
“That does it human!” Yurak fumes. “Lord or not, you insult us without even proving your skill. Today’s combat, instead of elimination rounds, will be a mêlée. Last man standing wins. And I will suggest to all the combatants that they target the two of you!”
Keith slowly turns to Yurak grinning from ear to ear and purrs. “That sounds perfect!”
The royal box sits high at one side of the ring, more a place to be seen than to see. As for as its regal occupant is concerned, that’s all he is there for. He knows the importance of being seen by his people so as his usual ritual he regards his people who have all risen to their feet to greet their King. He raises his goblet to them in his customary fashion and drinks a toast to them. His face beaming out at them as they cheer. He then moves to his throne at the back of the box, dropping into it, now obscured in the shadows by the canopy over his head, his facade dropping as well. King Lotor is bored, He is a true master of turning on and off the fake charm and doesn’t force it one moment longer than he has to. Every week the same thing, an arena battle to find worthy warriors. He never got a taste for watching these contests. No, that was his father’s love. Yes, it was just like his father, ever willing to watch but never willing to fight himself. No, he is not his father. Lotor wants to be in the thick of it, not up here in the royal box as a spectator. And that is how he has lived his life. He sees it, he wants it, and he, himself, goes and gets it. No, he is not his father, his lazy, pathetic, leach of a father. Yet, he knows the necessity of being here. The morale of his people demands his presence.
Everything has always come easily to Lotor, everything he has ever set his sights on became his. At least for a little while. He glances over to the shadowy figures hidden behind a translucent black screen off to the side of the royal box. He downs the rest of his drink, slamming the goblet down beside him, his eyes seeking out one particular silhouette. Finding it, a foul taste comes to his mouth. “More wine!” A scrambling of servants quickly refills his goblet while also producing a tray full of delicacies.
“Your Highness.” Yurak enters, bowing before his king. “I have arranged a special treat for you today.”
Lotor grumbles, fidgeting in his seat. “You always say that Yurak and it’s always the same.”
“This morning is different. There are two human upstarts fighting today, I know how much you love to toy with their kind.”
Lotor just grumbles and waves him off. Finding the refilled goblet at his hand, he drains it and slams it down. “Let’s get this over with.”
Yurak turns to the Arena. “Set the stage!” He bellows. The crowd cheers as the floor starts to shift and a jungle gym of obstacles grows from the floor. Various raised platforms with ropes, planks, and ramps interconnecting them all appear. “Combatants, you have fifteen minutes to prepare.” Yurak turns as the many servants rush about tending to Lotor’s entourage in the royal box. “They are a pair of cocky humans and should prove to put on a good show for the people. Well, for as long as they last anyway. And you will be happy to know that instead of our usual bouts there is only going to be one round today. Last one standing wins.”
“Good, this shouldn’t take long then.” Lotor picks up his refreshed goblet raising it to the black screen. “Princess? Did you hear? Yurak’s got some more of your kin for you to watch. I’m sure that should please you.” A shadowy figure turns away from behind the drape. Lotor just laughs. “Ah memories, eh Princess?” Taking a sip.
Behind the screen a wisp of a woman clenches every muscle in her slight frame. He never can resist twisting that knife whenever he can. Reminding her at every opportunity of how her actions brought about the needless torture of her people. Those who refused to assimilate were either thrown into the ring with his gladiators for sport or tossed into his Pit of Sculls to die in their own time. She swallows hard at the thought of two more about to meet their end as she again is being forced to watch. Her eyes begin to scan the arena looking for a pair of underground resistance fighters, those who had fled into the wild to eek out an existence on the land living a life more wild than civilized. Animal men, Lotor calls them. What her eyes find is nothing like what she expected to. They are not the wild men of the mountains, with wild untamed hair clad in the skins of the beasts that Lotor has released upon her plains to “naturally” take care of the underground population. These men are different. Noble in stature, offworlders? She focuses on one of them. Clad in blue with a red cape and a sword at his hip, his brown shoulder length hair flopping around his head in the slight morning breeze. She can’t take her eyes off him, something about him is so familiar. He is too far away to see his face closely. Silently thankful as deep in her gut she knows she knows this man and she would rather not be able to put a name to the face, considering the fate that awaits him. She forces her gaze from him landing on the other man. He does not have any sense of familiarity about him. But there is something, something different, something about him drawing her to him but what? Whatever it is she has no idea. All she knows is now that her eyes have found him she cannot pry them free. He is tall, that much she can tell and he walks with the grace of a cat. His lithe body clad in red and black, his uniform accentuating his muscular build. His long raven hair and huge black billowing cape flow behind him, a long curved blade at his hip.Suddenly the man spins and is now staring straight at her. Allura recoils as if she was physically struck. Slowly shaking it off she again tries to focus on him. His eyes, even from the distance, somehow seem to be looking right into hers, but how? How can he see her through the cover of the drape? She can feel it feel his eyes burning into her even though he is several hundred feet away. Who are you? She watches as the raven haired man speaks to his companion, both men now looking in her direction, the brown haired man placing a comforting hand on the other’s shoulder, exchanging words. Her brows furrow when the raven-haired stranger drops his gaze from her to the ground, seemingly in defeat. She lets out a sigh of her own, suddenly feeling his sense of utter frustration as if she herself originated it. How? Allura, suddenly overwhelmed with emotion, has to fight back the tears that are now threatening to rain down upon her cheeks. Tears? She hasn’t had any tears for years, long ago crying her last. But, today they suddenly threaten to rain again, but why? She forcibly breaks her gaze away from the man in order to retreat back into her safe cocoon. No, Lotor cannot see me cry.
Keith and Al watch in amazement as the ground beneath the arena begins to shift, doors open and several platforms begin to rise up from the ground. Keith rubs his now stubbing chin. “Well now, that’s new.” Several robots begin shuffling around connecting ropes, ramps, and planks interconnecting the platforms which are now all at different heights. The two men stand off to the side watching the proceedings, studying the setup, and also taking the time to study their opponents. The first is the red beast-man they met earlier. Huge and burly, about eight feet tall and wielding an axe. Then there is a giant green lizard beast the size of an elephant, but so huge there is no way he could traverse the obstacles. Next is there is a blue scaly beast. It stands about twelve feet tall with a long tail which looks like a mace, definitely something to avoid. Last is well, a giant fur ball with legs. Who knows what’s under its long coat of fur? One of the attendants approaches them taking their guns away. They will have to rely on skill and steel alone. And that sounds just fine to the two of them.
Looking around the arena again, Keith suddenly turns rigid. “She’s here!”
“Who’s here?”
“Allur…uh…hm… the princess.”
Al hides his smile, which soon turns into a frown. He’s going to have to divert Keith’s mind form his thoughts of her at least until they’re in Lotor’s inner circle.
Keith spins around to look up to the royal box. “She’s up there, I can feel her. I can feel her!”
Al turns, putting a hand on Keith’s shoulder and following his eyes up to the royal box. “Yes, Allura is here. But, she is not the Allura you knew, just remember that. She never met you. She is not your Allura.” Keith lets out a heavy sigh, his head drooping. Al pats him on the back. “Come now, son, we’ve got work to do!”
Keith’s cocks his head at Al. “Son?” He crosses his arms in front of his chest. “Just how old are you?”
Al ignores the comment. “Looks to me that up there is the place to be.” He points up to the uppermost platform in the center of the arena.
Keith turns, forgetting his question. “Yes, only one ramp up and too narrow for those oversized buffoons to traverse easily.”
Al smiles, his potion seems to be working again, keeping Keith’s mind focused on the task at hand. His continual suggestions for Keith to act like Lotor seem to still be working. Now is not the time for Keith to be his usual compassionate self.
“My Lord, we are ready.” Yurak turns and bows to Lotor who stands and walks forward surveying the crowd.Lotor forces a grin on his face as he gestures to them. Raising his goblet high in the air, he casts his eyes downward into the arena and to the six contestants who now all kneel before him as the crowd loudly cheers. “Rise!” The combatants come to their feet as does everyone watching and everyone in the royal box. “We salute you!” Each person raises their drink to the ring floor. “For the glory of Arus!” Lotor bellows. The crowd chimes it back, all toasting the ring. A few of the combatants let out a roar of appreciation while the two humans just stand staring back at the king. “Die well.” Lotor mutters under his breath so only the closest can hear, bringing a smile from Yurak. The shadowy figure of the princess turns her head away in disgust.
“To your places!” Yurak roars.
Al grins. “Well this is it, my Lord.” They turn and walk to the outer perimeter of the ring, finding their mark. “So tell me Keith, are all your dreams this vivid?”
Keith eyes twinkle as he turns to Al. “Sometimes yeah, but then I’m normally not soused.”
Al grins wider. And still are. He muses to himself and need to stay that way to keep focused. He produces two full glasses from out of nowhere and hands one to Keith keeping one himself. “Why stop now Captain?” He raises his glass to Keith who returns the gesture. “To victory!”
“To victory.” Keith answers, glasses clinking together as they down their drinks, drawing many a glare from the others in the ring.
“Ready!” They hear Yurak bellow from above, exchanging gleeful expressions as the four other contenders all eye the two of them. “Begin!”
The roar of the crowd is deafening as they all charge for the center of the ring, Keith and Al easily reaching it first and gracefully climbing, leaping and swinging to the uppermost platform before anyone else can get close. Once there, they stand back to back both studying their prey.
“I want the red one.” Al points.
“But I wanted him.” Keith protests. “Oh alright, since you called him first. But that green one is mine.”
“Oh yes the green one, excellent choice. Whoever’s done first gets the blue one.”
“You’re on!” Keith grinning draws out his scimitar giving it a flip, feeling its weight. “Looser gets furball!” He flashes Al a smile then charges down the lone ramp heading down from the uppermost platform to a lower one where the large blue beast is cautiously approaching using its tail to balance precariously on the narrow swaying platform. Keith charges the beast which readies its claws but at the last minute Keith dives under the creature coming up to stand right behind it, shoving it hard enough to take it off balance and send the creature crashing to the ground below with a resounding thud. Now before Keith looms the red beast-man which is grinning boldly back at him. Keith smiles. “Sorry, I promised you to another.” He leaps into the air avoiding a swipe of its ax and flips off of the platform grabbing onto a nearby rope with his free hand. Finding his prey, he flips again landing on the ground right in front on the huge green beast. “Hello, lizard breath!” He grins up at the creature readying his sword. “You looking for me?”
The thing stands a good ten feet taller than Keith, with its long claws gleaming in the sunlight. The beast doesn’t hesitate, slashing out with its claws. Keith spins to evade deftly bringing his sword around behind him as if it were a part of him, catching the beasts arm and cutting it deeply. “Aw, did that hurt?” Keith coos, then thrusts the point into its foot. The wail coming from the creature is defining. Pulling his sword free and dodging the good arm of the beast, Keith jumps behind it and slashes the back of one of its calves cutting right through its ligaments with an audible snap, dropping the beast to its knees. Keith moves to the front of the thing and lines up his shot. He lets loose a swift kick to its nose, putting so much force behind it that he knocks the thing out cold.
Keith straightens up, a comical pout on his face. “That’s it?” He pokes the fallen creature with his blade. “Hello?” He soon feels hot breath on the back of his neck and the sound of deep agitated snorting. He waves his hand behind him without turning. “With you in a sec.” He then, feeling the air change, instinctively leaps into the air, landing like a cat onto the fallen beast, just evading a devastating whip of the blue beasts mace-like tail. “I told you. It’s not your turn yet.” The tail comes again only this time from above. Keith waits till the last second before flipping clear. The tail crashing down brutally onto the fallen beast. “Oh, now that wasn’t nice.” Keith tisks. The blue beast draws near bearing its teeth as it crawls over the now corpse of the green beast. As its breath reaches Keith’s face he grimaces, fanning his face. He smiles as he catches a glimpse of Al, kicking the now unconscious red man-beast from the top platform.
Al glances in Keith’s direction. “Oh, now that’s not fair, you beat me!”
Keith grins back, slowly backing away from the blue beast, flipping his blood drenched sword he yells back. “Maybe next time, my friend.” The blue beast again swings its tail. Keith leaps over it this time releasing a vicious cut as the tail passes beneath him driving the sword so deep it sticks. He holds on tight as the thing swings around roaring in pain and flicking its tail, snapping Keith sword and all free, and sends him into a tumbling roll to absorb the momentum. He comes to rest under the platform that Al is now atop of engaged in battle with the hairy beast. Keith looks at his opponent who is busy nursing its nearly severed tail.
Keith looks back up to the bottom of the platform, to Al, who in obviously toying with his foe. He can hear his taunts as a chunk of fur falls down from above, only able to imagine the scene as Al’s voice continues. “Oh yes, that’s much better and…” There is the swish of steel. “A little more off the sides. Oh yes, much better.” Another chunk of fur falls to the ground as Keith then realizes exactly how much fur is on the ground and how bald the critter must be. Keith lets loose a chuckle as his eyes again land on the blue beast, who is now cautiously approaching. Keith stands up brushing off some fur and then shifts his weight to lean on his sword awaiting his foe. He begins checking his nails in spite of his gloved hands to kill the time. The beast draws nearer and nearer snarling the whole way, but Keith refuses to react. It is so close now, almost in range, when there is a sudden thud snapping Keith’s full attention to the creature. He takes a deep breath his fists finding his hips, his jaw set. There before him lays the blue beast, lying face planted in the dirt, unconscious, with another unconscious bald creature sprawled out atop it.
“Oh sorry.” Al’s smart-aleck voice calls from above. “Did you want that one?”
Keith walks up to the pile inspecting it. “Remind me not to let you near my hair.” Keith chuckles as he scrutinizes the beast’s haircut.
Al is soon down at Keith’s side, not a scratch on him. “So, I win. I got three.”
“Three? No way that one counts, if I hadn’t lured him there…”
“Okay two and a half then.”
Keith wipes his sword clean on the pile. “I disagree, No way a half, maybe a third “
“A third!”
The two are so focused on their debate that they remain oblivious to the roar of the crowd and the unmistakable sound of laughter coming from the royal box as the now standing King Lotor is lost in a roar of laughter. Yurak on the other hand is fuming. After all, those were his best beasts and now…His skin begins turning a more purplish hue with his rage.
“What’s the matter Yurak. Did a couple of puny humans show up your best beasts? Ha ha ha…” Lotor continues to laugh. “They made fools of us all!” Lotor grins. “What did you think of that, dear Princess?”
Allura doesn’t answer for she is transfixed. Since the contest began she hasn’t taken her eyes off him. Something about the dark haired stranger is calling to her and she can’t look away. The way he fought, the way he moved, it was like watching a cat or…a lion. Her adoration is not missed by the king, even through the drape. He follows her gaze back to the two humans. “Yurak! Are you going to let them show us up like that or are you going to do something about it?”
“It would be my pleasure, Majesty.” Yurak sneers as he jumps over the railing of the box, leaping all the way down to the ground below. He strides towards the still bickering pair, drawing his laser sword.
“Twenty-eight sixtieths and that is as much as I’m giving you!”
“Bah!” Al tosses his arms in the air.
Yurak stands before them growling to get their attention.
“One minute.” Keith barks turning his back on Yurak. Enraged, Yurak quickly takes a swing at Keith’s head. But Keith feels it coming and drops to the ground, avoiding the blade. Keith counters, and spin kicks around dropping Yurak onto his rear. Keith eyes are fuming as he stands. “I said…one minute!” Keith turns back to Al. “So, you’re saying you want twenty-nine sixtieths? No, no, no!”
Yurak gets up, completely enraged, his knuckles turning white around the grip of his sword.
Al continues. “My Lord twenty-nine sixtieths is completely reasonable I will accept no less.”
“You steal my opponent and then want twenty-nine sixtieths? I think not!”
Yurak stomps over, grabs Keith’s arm and whips him around, trying to push his sword to Keith’s neck. But Keith again evades twisting in such a way to grabs Yurak’s free arm into an arm lock as he moves behind him and then grabs the other, forcing Yurak’s own sword to its owners neck. “Did you not hear me?” Keith sneers into Yurak’s long pointed ear. “I will be with you in a moment.” He throws Yurak to the ground. “Really!” Keith brushes his hands together.
“My Lord, what about him?” Al gestures to Yurak with his thumb.
“Him?”
“Yes, why don’t you fight that one?”
“That one is not worth the effort!”
“Enough!” Yurak bellows, getting to his feet. “You will fight me, Lord Paladin.”
“Fight you?” Keith laughs. “Come, isn’t there a slave around here that’s more your speed?”
“No, please… I insist.” A new voice chimes in. A voice Keith knows very well.
“Majesty.” Yurak drops to his knees before his king.
Keith and Al exchange a look and then do the same, but not subserviently like Yurak. No, instead they kneel with all the grace and dignity as if they too were kings. Keith stands back up to addresses the king. “King Lotor, I presume?”
Lotor smirks. “And you?”
“I am Lord Paladin.”
“It is truly a pleasure.” Lotor smiles. “Would you mind showing my commander here that a sword is more than a cleaver?”
“As you command, your majesty.” Keith bows his eyes gleefully seeking out Yurak.
Lotor and Al step away giving the men room and watch intently as the two begin to circle one another.
“A puny human will not beat me!” Yurak sneers at Keith as he draws his sword. “Well…human, what are you waiting for? Attack me!”
Keith smiles dashingly back his sword still sheathed. “Oh no, please you first.” He bows slightly to Yurak, gesturing to the ground with a flourish.
“That’s it!” Yurak bellows and charges at Keith, his sword held high above his head ready to strike.
Keith waits till the last moment, sidestepping the obvious attack while drawing his sword and, in the process, slaps Yurak hard on the rear with the flat of his blade with a resounding thwack.
“Ohhhh, that’s gonna leave a mark.” Al laughs.
“My you do have a short fuse, don’t you?” Keith smiles as he flexes his blade in his hands.
Yurak’s face twists into a grimace, his eyes watering from the obvious pain he’s in. “ARRRRRR…” He growls as he charges again, but this time he has a little less spring in his step. “Die human!” Again he goes for the same overhead strike. But this time Keith stands his ground catching the oncoming blade he pushes it away and then quickly counters with a slash to Yurak’s cheek, just deep enough to draw blood. Yurak, enraged, swings at Keith from the side. Keith effortlessly blocks the attack and uses Yurak’s blade to slide his own along it, gliding the point of his sword towards Yurak, then with a sight flick he cleanly cuts his opponent’s wrist. Yurak bellows in pain and clutches his wrist, pulling away as his sword nearly drops from his injured hand.
Keith stands up to his full height and flicks his sword in the air to fling the blood from his blade. “Finished yet?” He smiles.
Yurak it now almost fuchsia, his face burning with anger and pain. He grabs his sword with both hands tightly and charges in again, letting out a blood curding cry. “You will die!” This time he charges in point first.
Keith shakes his head in disbelief as Yurak obviously is too committed to his attack. He extends his own blade out. As Yurak’s arrives, Keith easily glides his point around it, pushing Yurak’s blade aside and slides up it, his own point finally stopping just short of piercing Yurak’s throat. Yurak’s hand, no longer able to hold the blade, drops it to the ground, blood pouring from his wrist. Keith’s eyes pierce into his like daggers. “Majesty? Do you wish to keep this one or do you wish me to dispatch him for you?”
“As gratifying as that sounds, I think I would rather keep him alive if just to remind him of the day he was bested by a human. But if I change my mind, he can always be Robeast bait.” Lotor laughs, Keith and Al joining him.
Yurak, clutching at his bloodied wrist grows even more furious but knows better than to act on, it keeps quiet.
Lotor then extends his arm to Keith. “Come, you must dine with me.”
Keith takes it, each clasping the forearm of the other. “It would be an honor, your Majesty.”
End Of Part Six
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