Sven Voltron - Blog Posts

Svidge Week - Day 3: Space Hospital + Light Angst

(Also a potential scene in “Golden Madness”??? Y’all are getting all the spoilers!)

===

His entire body felt heavy.

As if made by lead. He knew he needed to get up, to wake. But his body wasn’t having it.

Then he heard a voice.

“Jesus, still out cold huh?” It sounded familiar, that voice. But Sven’s head hurt too much to even place it at the moment.

A hand pressed against his forehead.

A small, comforting weight against his skin. Not exactly soft, but it was warm and welcoming. Sven stirred.

Finally opening his eyes.

The world was instantly too bright, the room so pure white it hurt his eyes. But the warm hand against head soon disappeared. Sven’s eyes eventually adjusting to the harsh light.

An angel standing before him.

Long, amber-colored hair that hung to her waist. Curling at the ends in odd, choppy ways. Pale, freckled skin that seemed to glow in the room’s bright light. Big golden eyes with long lashes looked up at him, surprised.

He couldn’t breathe.

“O-Oh…hey. Um…Sven, is it? How are you feeling?” With the way she looked at him, one would think that she felt he had all the answers.

But Sven didn’t even know the questions.

“I-I am Sven. Yes, I am the good.” I am the good? Stars above, Sven wanted to smack his head in frustration. The beautiful girl before him only raised an eyebrow in confusion.

“Well…that’s great. I’m Pidge, and you’re in a, sort of, hospital. Do you remember anything from yesterday?” She moved to his side, a white lab coat clinging to her slight, slender frame. A pale green sweater and black tights peaking out from underneath. Sven swallowed.

His throat dry.

“Yes, I think so. Slav, my partner, and I were investigating a strange ship and-“ A thought suddenly surfaced in Sven’s mind. Like a drowning man breaking over the surface of the water.

“You! You’re that-“

“The one who kinda hit you in the face with a grappling hook…” Pidge’s gold eyes fluttered away from him awkwardly, pink lips pursing. But when she looked back at him her eyes were soft, apologetic.

Sad in a way Sven couldn’t figure out.

“Sorry.” By now, Sven’s headache had eased somewhat. Recognizing that he was, indeed, in an infirmary of sorts. Wearing clothes that fit him eerily well.

Perhaps they were someone else’s?

Sven tried moving. Tried to sit up from his laying-down position on a narrow medical cot. But the tick he got so much as an elbow underneath himself-

Pain exploded within his chest.

“AGH!” Those warm, small hands were on him once more. Gently guiding him back down on the cot.

Gold eyes filled with worry.

“Woah! Woah, easy there Sven. Easy.” Had he not been in so much pain, he would’ve melted into such gentleness. But Pidge seemed to ready for this. Leaving his side for  only a tick to pick out two white pills and a glass of water.

“Here, it’ll help with your injury. But be sure to tell me if anything else hurts ok? You got shot in chest, you can’t just move around like that after something so dangerous! Jeez, the healing pods didn’t even know where to begin with you, it was so bad.” She was rambling. Sounding angry with him, but those eyes...Golden and lovely.

Soft with worry.

He took the pills and washed them down, with Pidge’s assistance. Unable to answer her in the face of such genuine worry. Laying him back to rest, she lingered by his side for a few more heart beats. Sven’s own heart thumping against his chest for the pretty, kind girl who threw a grappling hook at his face.

Completely enamored.

“What you did was crazy…but you saved Lance.” She let out a small, huffing laugh. Amber curls swaying unto his arm. Sven having half a mind to reach up and run his hand through that soft mass of curls. To touch that soft cheek dotted with freckles in such a way that they put the stars to shame.

Pidge smiled.

“So thank you.” She had such a lovely smile, and Sven could only respond with one of his own. Albeit a little breathlessly.

“Y-Yes, you are welcome Pidge.” Giving him one last, warm look, Pidge turned to leave. All while Sven could only stare at her small, retreating figure.

“Just call me if you need anything and try to get some rest.” She called over her shoulder, warm curls of hair streaming behind her. Sven watching her from his cot, the pills taking affect. Making his eyelids heavy, not with pain this time, but rather just welcoming sleep. But still Sven made an effort to watch Pidge walk out of the infirmary.

His heart in tow.

Svidge Week - Day 2: Sven’s Reality + Angst

(Might also be a scene in “Golden Madness”??? So???)

===

Sven was nervous.

I mean, sure, he was willing to risk his life for the Guns of Gamora…but this?

This was madness.

Here he was, just an adverage member, on his way to meet THE HEADS of the Guns of Gamora themselves. The fabled Prince and his brilliant wife. The lakers of this great rebellion wanted to personally meet him.

And Slav.

“Just relax Sven, the Prince and his Princess in this reality are known to be 78% more merciful than in any other reality.” Sadly, even Slav’s universal probabilities did nothing to soothe Sven’s frazzled nerves as they walked through the last door to their meeting place.

Thus began the wait.

And no amount of shifting his weight or fidgeting did anything to ease the nervousness spinning in Sven’s stomach. Had they done something wrong? Was the Prince displeased with their performance? Were they g-

“Sorry for the wait!” Sven perked up at the sound of a voice, female but gruff. And a daintier, happier sound. Bells and bangles, he supposed.

Then he saw her.

And she made Sven’s knees go weak. He wanted to collapse onto the floor, but he was so taken by her appearance, Sven couldn’t look away. She simultaneously made him weak in the legs and heart pound in ways nothing ever had before.

She was gorgeous.

Small and pale and freckles all over her soft skin. A slender, toned frame that a pure white catsuit clung to. A laboratory official’s uniform, Sven dimly recognized. The only difference being the small, pale green shawl wrapped around her delicate shoulders. Everything about her seemed so…small and pale.

Except her presence.

She descended from the high staircase with the greatest amount of dignity and grace Sven had ever seen. Her gait posed and purposeful in every way. Seeming to radiate authority.

Gold, belled anklets ringing with every step.

Shining, golden bangles sparking on her wrists.

Her face came into clearer view, and Sven nearly started at it. Make no mistake, her features were as lovely as the rest of her.

But horribly scarred.

Her right eyelid appeared to have been sliced mercilessly, but it had, miraculously, healed enough to where it only left very harsh scars along her freckled skin.

Her eye, however, was another matter.

It had been removed completely in favor for a cybernetic one that appeared to operate just like the other eye. Sven, though, was no stranger to scars. But on her…they seemed almost cruel.

And she seemed proud of them.

Wearing the slashes along her right eye like badges of honor. As if a testament to her life. And it suddenly made this small woman seem larger than life.

Her hair the color of fire.

No wait…maybe? Not quite fire, but not quite orange either. A color Sven had never seen before. So warm and startling against the pale colors of skin and clothes, it was nearly as jarring as the slashes across her face.

But it looked so soft.

Long and curling to her slim waist. Pitch-black eyelashes, on both eyes, fluttered over to him to meet his eyes.

Sven nearly jolting.

Her remaining, human eye was the same bright gold as her bangles and anklets. Bright and warm and sharp with intelligence and purpose. Red lips curled up invitingly against the soft green markings under her eyes.

Pointed ears adored with long earrings.

“You must be Sven, it’s nice to finally meet you.” And there she was, standing right in front of him. One of the most beautiful Alteans he had ever seen. Sven had been right.

She was short.

Even with the heels.

But still, he grasped her outreached hand as respectfully as he could. Trying not to think about the callouses on the tips of her fingers or the softness of her skin.

Or the sweat coating his palms.

Their hands parted from each other in a way that almost hurt. He must’ve continued to stare at her, despite his best efforts. Face flushing red. But how could he not? It was impossible not to gaze upon such a bright little creature like her.

A woman who smiled like a defibrillator.

“L-Likewise Ms…?”

“Oh! It’s Pidge. Just Pidge is fine.” Pidge laughed, waving those small hands of her’s in front of her as if to swat away any formalities. Sven rolled the name off his mouth.

Pidge.

He liked it.

“So do you know why you were called here Sven?” Her tone now serious, her gold eye boring into his gray ones. Sven stood up straighter. Right. He was meeting the Guns of Garmora’s Prince and Princess. 

"No ma'am." Her red lips gave a little twitch at the title, but she turned away from him all the same. Breaking that entrancing eye contact.

Looking towards Slav.

“But I'm guessing you have an idea as to why?" Slav didn’t even wait a tick. Closing two pairs of his arms and puffin out his chest proudly. 

"Of course! For instance there is a 28% percent chance that in this reality you are here to kill us."

“Only 28%? I must be getting soft in the other realities then!“ Good Stars above that teasing smile on her face would be the death of him. Slav, however, took to comment as a grave offense. His large eyes narrowing in a near comical way. Shrieking his protest. 

“Yes! ‘Only 28%’, are you doupting me?”

“Are you threatening my mate?”

Sven looked towards the new voice.

From the top pf the staircase was none other than the Prince himself. Founder and leader of the Guns of Gamora. One of the last Galrans alive.

Prince Lotor.

He truly was as fearsome as they said. Purple skin with yellow-azure eyes. Short silver hair trimmed just above his neck. Red markings, like bloodied cuts on his cheeks. With face full of sharp, chiseled angels that made him all the more intimidating.

Earrings dangling from his pointed ears.

As the Prince decended from the stars, Sven suddenly felt small. Dressed in black and metal plates, the Prince left no room to question his authority. Taking away all the oxygen in the room with his mere presence. His long, red-violet cape snapping behind him like a serpent as he glared at Slav.

“I’ll repeat myself one more time, were you threatening my mate?” Curling his lips back, Lotor snarled at Slav. The latter quickly hiding behind Sven. Shaking his head left and right vigorously. The Prince relaxing.

Sven’s heart having long since stopped.

Mate?

He couldn’t…

There was no way…

“Easy Pretty Boy, Easy…” Pidge laughed like the bells on her ankles. Bright and cheerful with that gruff voice of her’s. Walking over to Lotor, slipping her hand in his.

Pulling him down for a kiss.

The Prince’s eyes fluttered shut above Pidge as he reached for the shawl around her shoulders. All his remaining tension disappearing under Pidge’s care. Lips moving together in habitual sync. Slipping the green shawl off her body to reveal bare, smooth shoulders.

A bite mark like scar on one of them.

There was a noise Sven couldn’t place, in his head perhaps? A sort of mournful wailing. Dimly, Sven remembered the lessons about the near-extinct Galran race that the Guns of Gamora’s Generals had taught him, back when he had first enlisted.

“Galrans mate only once…”

They pulled away, the Prince’s eyes dreamy as he stared down at the small, smiling woman with the gold eye and scarred face.

Love in every feature.

“They chose a single mate who they trust to stay by their side…Marking them with a scar.”

“You’ll be the death of me Katherine.” But Lotor smiled as he said this, voice low and purring. Arms moving to wrap around Pidge’s slim waist. But she only rolled her mismatched eyes and smacked his shoulder.

Still smiling.

“Hush! We have work to do, you crazy thing.” She finally, finally looked back at Sven. Love lighting every single one of her beautiful, scarred features. Love.

Love for Lotor.

“They are then bound to each other. Never to leave, never to betray one another…”

“Sorry about that Sven, this guy,” At this, Pidge elbowed Lotor in the side. “He’s a handful.”

Sven couldn’t answer. He was a grown man drowning on dry land. His throat felt like it was stuffed with towels. Tongue dry and heavy in his jaw as he watched the Galran Prince and his wife smile softly at one another.

“Ah…so this is the reality that the Princess is the Galran Prince’s mate…” Slav murmured absentmindedly, coming out from his hiding space behind Sven.

While Sven could only smile.

“It’s alright.”

Like ripping his own heart out.

Svidge Week - Day 1: Soulmates + Angst

===

“Its an alternate reality!”

He couldn’t breathe. How could he? This…small woman before had nearly killed him.

This small woman from his dreams.

Believe him, he knows it sounds crazy, but its true. Sven was born at an Altean rehab center. Meant to house potential ‘workers’ for the Altean Empire. He lived there with his parents until he was 13. His life there had been restrictive and monitored, but he had his family.

He had been happy.

Before his mild-mannered parents were killed for being ‘physically inferior’ and a ‘long-term unreliability’. After that…Sven had nothing.

And then the dreams started.

Blurry and unfocused at first, the dreams were all Sven could cling to. But they were enough.

She was enough.

The dreams seemed to be from another life altogether. Another life more peaceful and wonderful than the only one Sven has ever known. This woman in green had been different though.

Happier.

In Sven’s dreams they had lived somewhere wonderful. With green, lush grass and the sun bright and warm. So much unlike his life before joining arms with the Guns. It had been a simpler life. Where the pair of them had lived side by side. Grew up together.

But in the dreams she had always been smiling. Usually at him. Other times at inventions her nimble fingers often crafted in her spare time. Brilliant in every way. Her expression so carefree and sparkling, Sven could hardly bare to look at her. Sven used to…used to think that they might’ve been together.

Been in love.

Even now, if Sven thought about it, he could almost smell the scent of her hair from that long ago life. Or the feel of her hands, small and callous from typing, around his own. Even the look of her lips, soft and pink, had Sven’s own almost moving in a phantom memory. Memories.

The only thing Sven could cling to.

He had joined the Guns of Gamora with the hope of avenging his parents and the…very fragile hope of meeting the beautiful girl with the golden eyes. And whose to say he couldn’t? Anything was possible.

Right?

Sven had wanted to find that beautiful girl from his dreams and ask her why he couldn’t get her out of his head. Why she haunted him in such a lovely way. Both in that other life and in this one. Memories of her clinging to him like a drug, a ghost. Could they…?

Could they come together once more?

But no, the look in her eyes proved otherwise. The small woman in green before him may have those same burning, brilliant gold eyes. Those same warm, soft strands of hair around her face. Those same sparkling little freckles all over her skin like kisses. This small woman that had nearly taken his head off, may look like his dear love from another life.

But she wasn’t.