Note: there's a bit of whaddya call canon divergence in this. Namely, the castle-ship is still intact. Also, for full effect, put on "Monsters" by Katie Sky when reading.

She's been having his nightmares for nearly a full movement.

Some nights are better than others— just memories of his home and his family, but they're tinged with an undeniable sadness, something she recognizes all too well as homesickness. Other nights… they're hazy, not much more than clouded images that shift both too fast and not nearly fast enough. She knows enough, though, to realize that the time he spent as a prisoner is coming back to him, whether he wants it to or not. The way he reacts when he's awake to what few memories he has hardly compares to his dreams; although still foggy, they're more intense than he lets on.

When she sees his worst nightmare yet —his family being endangered by his former captors— she wakes with a loud gasp, bolting upright in her bed. Allura takes a deep breath to steady herself. She lays a hand over her chest; her heart is pounding.

Ever since she returned Shiro's spirit to his body, she's noticed a newfound connection, almost empathic in nature, between his mind and her own. Whether it runs in both directions —if he can see her dreams as well— she's unsure. If that is the case, he hasn't said as much. Then again, she hasn't brought it up to him either. It feels terribly like a violation of his privacy, and the last thing she wants is to feel like an imposition to him.

But this… She can't sit by and let him suffer alone anymore.

She won't.

Not when she can just as easily do something about it.

With a sudden burst of courage, she gets out of bed and starts to make her way down the corridor.

—

Her confidence wavers when she gets to his room. If being able to see Shiro's dreams was invading his privacy, going into his quarters feels like a crime. But she reminds herself of those awful visions and allows herself to imagine how they must make him feel. The few glimpses she's seen in her sleep are enough to make her nauseous; she can't bear to think what it's like to carry it around all the time.

She steels herself with a nod and knocks gently on the door.

"Shiro?" she calls, her voice soft but sure.

There's no reply for several long ticks, and for a moment she considers going back to her room. Then the doors slide open, and she cautiously pokes her head in. Before her vision can adjust to the darkness, she hears his breathing, heavy and shaking.

"May I come in?" she works up the nerve to ask.

Again, she's met with silence. Finally, he responds, his voice just as shaky as his breath, "Yeah."

Even with his permission, she's reluctant to enter. But after what feels like an eternity, she finds herself standing beside his bed, just barely making out his trembling silhouette in the dark. It suddenly occurs to her that she has no idea what to say to him. How would she introduce a topic like this? Should she even attempt to? Or should she just offer some vague (but sincere) words of comfort?

Before she can come to a decision, he quietly says, "You saw that, huh?"

Her stomach drops. She feels guilty that he knows she's in his head, even though it can't be helped. Still, she answers, "I'm so sorry, Shiro… I didn't mean to—"

"It's alright," he replies, and she believes him. He seems to hesitate before he goes on, "I wish my dreams could be as pleasant as yours," and she can swear she hears him smile (or smirk?) when he says it.

Allura blushes. So he can see what she's dreaming. It's nothing she wouldn't want him to see, thankfully, but she can't help feeling mildly embarrassed by the revelation.

And honestly, she wishes the same. Most nights, she dreams of Altea— of her father and grand parties and the friends she once knew. Although the thoughts make her heart ache while she's waking, to see them in her sleep and for them to feel so real gives her a sense of comfort that she hasn't known in a long time.

But right now, this isn't about her. This is about something much more present. More real.

Again, she takes a deep breath. She looks at Shiro, really looks at him: his fingers raked into his silvery hair; the empty space where his Galra arm used to be; the sorrow in his eyes, visible to her even with what little light there is.

She reaches out a hand to him. "Come with me," she offers.

He looks up at her, seeming mildly confused. (She can't blame him— right now she wonders what she's thinking, too.) But he takes her hand and stands up, allowing her to walk him out into the hallway.

—

He freezes in the doorway of her bedroom. She nods toward herself, urging him to continue following her, but it's as if his feet are glued to the spot. This is… not what he was expecting, to say the very least.

He swallows the lump in his throat and starts to speak. "Um… Princess…"

She flashes a kind smile. "Don't overthink it," she replies gently, getting back into her bed. "I just want you close by in case you have another nightmare." And then, finally, she lets herself say what she's really thinking: "I want to be there for you."

He feels the heat that was rising into his face just moments ago start to die down. What that feeling is replaced with —gratefulness or something more— he isn't certain. What he is certain of is that, try as he might, he just can't say no to her. So he smiles back and steps into her room. "Thank you, Princess."

Her heart swells at the softness in his voice. "You're welcome." She fights the blush creeping its way back to her face and pushes back the blanket as he approaches her bed.

The moment he sits down, he feels himself relax. "This is a lot more comfortable than my bed," he says, his tone almost jealous.

She shrugs. "What can I say? I got first pick." He laughs at this, and it makes her laugh, too. She hasn't felt so at ease around him in a long time. It's something, she realizes now, that she's missed terribly. She watches him lay down beside her, his smile still lingering as he closes his eyes.

It doesn't occur to her that she's been staring at him until she notices his features soften and his breathing even out. He seems peaceful, which, she's sad to admit to herself, is rather uncommon. She's almost ashamed to have him fighting this war with her, but she knows he wouldn't let her feel that way.

And if she's being honest, she's thankful to have him by her side again.

With a fond look, she brushes his bangs away from his face and makes herself comfortable next to him. "Goodnight, Shiro," she whispers before dozing off herself.

Both of their dreams are pleasant for the rest of the night.