Chapter Six

Tiken looked over his shoulder as the door slid open. He was seated at one of the side control panels and quickly rose to salute his prince.

"At ease, Tiken," Lotor said as he strode into the room with purpose, clearly flustered by something.

"Sire," the captain greeted him as he dropped his hand to his side but remained standing. "We are," he glanced to the control panel. "Twenty-seven hours and thirty-eight minutes from docking." He turned his attention back to his commanding officer before continuing to report in. "I've been showing-" he began.

"That's not enough time," Lotor murmured to himself, cutting Tiken off mid-sentence. He turned in a slow circle, watching the floor as his mind raced. The captain was startled; the prince was rarely as unsettled by something as he was now.

"Sire, what-" Tiken interrupted, trying to get a handle on what was plaguing his mind. The captain was growing a little alarmed at the unusual manic behavior he was displaying.

"It just isn't," Lotor insisted, pausing in his pacing to regard his officer. His brow was furrowed and his eyes searched for a solution to a problem that existed in his mind. "I need more time with her," he continued, shaking his head once. Tiken's heart quickened slightly as the pieces slammed together and the panic exhibited by Lotor made sense.

"Sire, she's-" Tiken grew slightly more agitated himself as he tried to interrupt him again. He could practically read Lotor's mind and knew where the conversation was headed.

"-fragile, I know. But she's just starting to warm up. Can we delay the voyage?"

Tiken's eyes closed as he sighed in defeat. He reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose, frustrated with the lack of restraint on display. He could practically hear the plans shatter on the floor in the silence when a single gasp caught Lotor's attention.

"You would stall the ship to keep me here with you?"

Lotor spun around to see a very tense, horrified princess in the back of the room. She was seated at one of the back control panels, her body twisting around to face the scene in the center of the room. The screen behind her glowed, casting her form into shadows.

"Allura! How long- what are you doing?"

"As I was saying," Tiken said slowly, almost irritably while massaging his temple. "I was showing the princess the different navigation sequences. She was curious and I think a bit restless," he finally uttered the entire sentence he had been trying to tell Lotor since he entered the room.

"I trusted you!" She shook her head once, her skin color changing from white to red as her emotion shifted from fear to fury.

"Allura, I-" He took a step toward her but froze when she stood up abruptly from her seat and backed away. She said nothing, only continued to shake her head at him.

"You're no different, and I'm just a fool for thinking anything to the contrary," she murmured after a moment before backing to the door. "I'm just a fool," she repeated softly, more to herself as if to remind her of her transgression.

"It's not that," he tried to explain before closing the distance between them in frustration.

Allura cried out in alarm as he approached. She spun on heel and bolted to the door. She had the advantage of being near the back of the room – the door was open and the princess was halfway down the hallway before Lotor had even made it to the door.

"Allura, come back!"

"Stay away from me," she called over her shoulder. Her defiance ended with a soft noise of pain. Her side flared as she ran faster, but she only winced and pushed on, determined not to let it slow her down. Lotor was faster and stronger than her, even when she was in peak physical form. Allura knew she needed all she had to put distance between them. She clasped her side with both hands, determined not to falter. The fear-induced adrenaline flooding her bloodstream quickly helped numb the ache.

Lotor cursed loudly and turned and punched the nearest wall in anger. The metal cried out and warped around his fist, leaving a small impact crater in the wall. He was torn between chasing and giving her space. He briefly calculated and weighed out the pros and cons of either course of action. He let his forehead fall against the wall he had just struck and exhaled, his throbbing hand dropping to his side.

Allura sniffled. She had only a vague idea where she ended up; she had just taken turns at random until her lungs burned. The room around her was quiet and dark, like most of the unused parts of the ship. The tiny, simple, steel box housed two cots and an industrial lamp that remained off. A small, metal dresser was in the corner. She presumed it to be a bunk cabin for two crewmen, empty and abandoned for the autopilot course. Perhaps there were clothes more suited to her body size in the dresser. She had never thought to check other rooms and had simply tried to make do with what was left in the captain's quarters. She shook her head once, returning her thoughts to her current situation.

"Anger," she whispered, naming the predominant emotion she was feeling. "I don't usually contend with that one," she murmured softly, almost amused at the sheer impossibility of her situation. She exhaled and let her head fall back to rest against the wall. Her eyes closed, and for a brief moment, her brain was quiet. Silence wrapped a comfortable blanket around her body as she breathed in and out, slowly. With each controlled breath, her heart slowed a little more. Allura sat on the floor beside the door, her back to the wall. Despite being warmer to sit on one of the cots, she preferred to keep her strategic position. Having her back to the same wall with the door somehow made her feel more hidden. Should Lotor open the door suddenly, unless he stuck his head completely into the room and looked all around, she could go undetected.

The princess drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, letting her head fall forward to rest against them. The last couple of days had been an obscene roller coaster. After eluding death with the aid of her unlikely companions, she had been wary and distrustful. With time and unique opportunity to have very honest conversations with the prince, she had opened up and even dared to hope. In reality, nothing changed. He was as he always had been. Why does that crush your heart? Why are you surprised? She snorted in frustration as her irritating inner voice spoke up.

Did you expect anything to be different? Did you think his gentleness was for anything other than his own gain? In the depths of her mind, she realized she had always expected this. From the bottom of her heart, however, she had wished for otherwise. She genuinely wanted and desired him to mean the things he had said. Why is it so wrong for me to want to trust him? Why can't I hope for peace? For even… friendship? Why is that such a punishable offense? Am I meant to be hardened by this war? Or… worse?

She groaned and just exhaled again, continuing to calm her racing heart, one breath at a time. Allura had been holding back the ache, ignoring the fear in order to foster the hope. Pretending it did not exist only heightened its potency as she restrained it, allowing the gentle kindness to blossom instead. Without the optimistic rational to cling to, she released her grip on her distrust and allowed it to take her. She allowed the pain to leave its mark on her heart and the fear to exhaust itself while the adrenaline ran its course. As they abated, a frosty anger took root in their absence and a coldness settled in her core.

"I'm not even mad at him," she whispered aloud to herself. "I'm mad at myself. He did exactly what he always does. I'm the fool that expected – hoped for – something different."

"You should be mad at him, dearie. He's an idiot," Haggar's voice startled Allura. She glanced up to find the witch sitting across the room on the lower of the two bunks, just watching her. Allura cried out in surprise and tensed with alarm while starting to stand.

"Be still; I'm not coming closer," she explained with a dismissive wave of her hand. At her words, she relaxed back onto the floor, letting her legs drop into a cross-legged position. Allura couldn't articulate why she felt as comfortable as she did around the witch. At the moment, she was pleased that it existed.

"I'm just mad at myself," she repeated quietly, lacking any other response to give the woman.

"And why would that be?"

"I should have known better. I shouldn't have ever believed him in the first place," she said, closing her eyes and shaking her head, crossing her arms over her chest. "I'm a gullible fool."

"Well, what difference would it have made? You'd still be on this ship either way," she commented, shrugging her shoulders casually.

"I wouldn't feel so foolish," she admitted with a blush, ashamed of her vanity.

"I can assure you that he is very much the fool, not yourself, young princess." Her robe rustled as she shifted her weight. Allura just sighed.

"Why are you here, Haggar?"

"To see how you were." Her answer was both so simple and so different from what she anticipated that it struck Allura. She glanced up to regard the older woman carefully, and Haggar continued. "You covered quite the distance. I wanted to be sure it didn't reopen," she nodded to Allura's side.

"I'm afraid I don't understand, but then again that seems to be a running theme for me these past couple days. Everything seems extraordinary," she exhaled.

"What would it take for you to give him another chance?" Haggar shifted the topic, satisfied that her miraculous handiwork didn't go to waste on a stubborn princess.

"I won't," she snapped. "I won't subject myself to that humiliation again. I know where I stand – I know how he thinks. He's like Zarkon and I was a fool to hope anything to the contrary. Selfish, arrogant and destructive," she finished, defeated. Haggar stayed quiet a moment longer before saying anything. A pause the length of three breaths passed between them, and just as Allura was glancing to the sorceress, she spoke again.

"Well, you're not entirely wrong. But you're not entirely correct, either. Prince Lotor is… complicated. More so than you may think. He very much – perhaps subconsciously – wants to be like his father, simply because that is what he's been raised to believe is right. Not unlike you, my dear. You also follow your father out of a sense of righteousness. "

"My father was a great man who did the right thing and put his people first. He protected the people he loved and cherished. He was brave and he was honorable. He defended the weak and spoke for people who had no voice. Of course I would want to be like that," she said. Her passion was rekindled by the comparison between Zarkon and Alfor. "Zarkon is none of those things. To justify Lotor trying to emulate him as being no different than myself…" She trailed off, searching for the word to convey the bitterness the sentiment inspired in her. "It's not the same," she finally uttered, shaking her head once.

"If you strip away the cultural aspect, it really is," Haggar pressed. Allura's eyes snapped open and stared at the witch warily. "Your culture doesn't agree with our culture. Take away all the aspects of what honor or righteousness mean and you're left with a king that embodies the ideals of his people - whatever those ideals may be – and an heir that is raised an environment that glorifies those ideals. Of course it's the same. But, I digress. You do take after your father, princess. Lotor… does not. Despite his best attempts, he often resembles his mother more."

"His mother?" Allura's anger faded completely at the mention of a person she had never heard spoken of before. Morbidly, she wondered what kind of woman Zarkon would indulge himself in, enough to make a son. "What was she like?"

"Why don't you ask him sometime?" If Allura could see more of the witch's face, she would bet she was smiling at her, at the very least smirking. "He's not all bad, you know. And he truly isn't like Zarkon, as much as he would deny that."

Allura just sighed, finding herself overwhelmed with more information than she could process at a time for the second instance in the last couple days. She vented her frustration aloud to her unlikely confidant. "I don't understand why I'm alive. Wouldn't it just be easier for you both if I had died? No heir to Arus, it would take the boys quite a while to train another pilot for Blue Lion, effectively eliminating Voltron for a while – why did you save me?"

"Do you wish we hadn't?" The witch's glowing eyes quirked in a manner indicative of an eyebrow rise.

"No – I'm… I mean. I'm grateful, I didn't mean for that to sound that way, I just… I'm very confused. This whole situation has been so… surreal. I don't know what to think," she admitted openly.

"Well," Haggar said, rising up from the bed. She glided across the steel floor to the door near Allura, pausing to look down at her on the ground. "I would bet my dark magic that he's just as troubled as you are. He is trying very hard – and admittedly failing at this particular moment in time because he's an idiot – I cannot stress that enough – to do what he thinks is best. For you, that is. That's very new for him. Don't tell him I said that," she said, giving Allura a pat on the head as she opened the door and left her with her thoughts and the stunned sensation of being comforted by the witch Haggar.

"I want my stuff back," she muttered, quickly deciding on a course of action that would leave her feeling slightly less helpless and confused.

She rose to her feet and caught the door before it closed behind the sorceress and peered out into the hallway. Empty. She wondered vaguely where the witch had gone so quickly. Allura began making her way at random down the corridor, wandering until – she hoped – ran into a familiar part of the ship.

It took her thirty minutes to find her way back, but she was unhindered. Allura nudged open the door to the chambers she was currently calling her own. Bracing, she glanced around the room, half expecting Lotor to be waiting for her.

He was not.

She exhaled in relief – or was it disappointment? – as she closed the door behind her. Scooping up her pilot boots from the floor, she marched into the bathroom and sat down on the edge of the bath. She dropped the blood-spattered footwear next to the pile of her stained uniform before turning the hot water on and waited for the bath to fill.

Allura had to admit that it felt good to be back in her flight suit. It had taken the better part of three hours to finish scrubbing and bleaching the stains from her outfit and boots. Another half hour was spent with a scavenged hairdryer in hand to dry them completely, but she stood before the mirror looking – and feeling – more like herself than she had in the past couple days.

Her pink boots were scuffed but otherwise spotless. Her bodysuit was once again bright white. The only marring were the rips around her waist where the shrapnel had pierced her flesh. She touched the opening in the material delicately, reminded how incredible the witch's magic was. She shook her head once, clearing her thoughts.

Allura's boots clicked comfortingly against the floor as she strode over to the dresser and picked up her belt, fastening it around her waist. She holstered her pistol and gingerly picked up the Blue Lion ignition key. Her thumb brushed over the surface gently. He could have taken it. He might not have had the lion, but he could have prevented it from ever being flown again. She sighed, her confusion resurfacing as she replaced the key above her left breast. A similar thought occurred as she checked her pistol and found it was, indeed, still charged with a laser pack. He hadn't disarmed her, either. He had left all of her pilot necessities nearby should she ever need or want them.

Even her pink helmet sat watching her from the dresser top. The left side of the helmet was brutally scraped and the glass visor was cracked. She reached out, her gloved hand touching the top of the protective head wear.

"Well, it did its job, I suppose," she murmured, letting her hand slide off the piece and back to her side. Walking to the mirror, she took the time to brush out her hair and pin it back up in her traditional bun. Shoulders squared, Allura exhaled.

Trapped on a ship with Prince Lotor. Potential hostage, definite captive. This feels more normal, she thought as she steeled herself for the battle ahead. There was something comforting about being back in her uniform for the impending conflict. It was natural. There were no traces of tenderness, no acts of confusing kindness. It was her against the prince, locked in their characteristic conflict. The prize for victory was what it always was: her freedom.

She unholstered her firearm and pointed it across the room, measuring the sights on it. She tested her range of motion with her arms and was relieved to find she could aim her weapon properly. After double checking it was only set to stun, she put it back at her side.

A knock sounded on her door, startling her from her mental preparations. She grew still, watching the unlocked door as the knock sounded again. The likelihood of Lotor being patient enough to wait for her was miniscule, but she steeled herself for the brutish prince just the same.

"Enter," she said, weaker than she had hoped. The door opened to reveal Tiken.

"Your Highness," he said, bowing briefly to her before rising. "Prince Lotor is on the bridge, requesting your presence. He asked me to watch your room until you returned. I tried knocking periodically since you returned - are you well? You didn't answer for several hours," he said, studying her closely.

She nodded once, still stunned.

"Yes, I'm fine. I took longer than I expected to… I mean," she stammered, glancing down to her pilot uniform, unable to succinctly explain what she had been doing for the last three hours. Tiken merely nodded politely, unsure how else to respond to the frazzled princess.

"Would you allow me to escort you to the bridge?" He pressed the question. Lotor was clearly impatiently awaiting her presence, but Allura was not terribly keen on acquiescing to him.

"I'd rather not," she murmured dryly, turning away from the Drule. She walked across the floor, the sound of her footfalls on steel reverberating softly through the room. Allura eased herself down onto the side of the bed and cast the captain a wary look. "I don't suppose I have a choice in the matter, do I?"

"Of course you do," he said, surprised. "I'm not going to carry you there if you wish to stay here." Allura noted that Tiken continued to remain outside her room, standing in the doorway politely.

"What will you do if I say no, then?"

"Then I shall return to the bridge and inform Prince Lotor of your decision," he explained simply.

"And he will either yell at you, or storm down here looking for me. Or both," she said, feeling her irritation rise again at the arrogant man.

"He would likely only be cross for a moment out of frustration. I doubt he would leave the bridge, Your Highness," Tiken corrected politely.

"Where are we headed?" Allura changed the subject.

"To Tradesman's Junction."

"How soon will we be there?" Tiken checked his watch at her question. After staring at it a moment, he calculated a precise answer.

"Near twenty-two hours and fifteen minutes."

"Tiken, that's the same course we were on before. How does Lotor propose to delay?"

"He doesn't," he said simply. While his face remained impassive, he found himself inwardly bemused at the dawning surprise on the young woman's face. She quickly collected herself and nodded once.

"I see. Well then, I suppose it would be best if I did go and speak with him," she hedged.

"Would you like an escort or would you prefer to go alone?" His question was polite and gave her the room to request either company or privacy tactfully.

"I'm fine on my own," she said after a second, chewing on her lip. She wasn't sure which she preferred – being alone with the prince or having someone witness whatever was about to unfold. At least if she went alone and broke down in tears, no one else would see it.

"Very well," he nodded, stepping out of her way. She slipped by him and made her way down the hall toward the bridge, her hands balled into fists of conviction, shoulders squared for the anticipated battle ahead. She struck each step into the ground with confidence, determined to face him with unfaltering courage.

Allura rounded the corner and moved out of sight. Tiken sighed and leaned his shoulder against the wall as Haggar materialized next to him.

"If we set those two up on a reality show, we could be famous," she said with a soft cackle. Tiken glanced over his shoulder at the sorceress in surprise, raising a single eyebrow at her claim. He contemplated it a moment and nodded once.

"Yes, you're probably right."

"Are you going to cheat an old woman? I was right, you know. Pay up." Haggar glanced over at the captain. Tiken sighed and placed a coin into the old woman's palm.

"Never bet against a witch," he murmured. "I had such high hopes he wouldn't trip the finish line on this one."

"I didn't. He's too predictable," she muttered. "Though, with a little luck, he may salvage it yet."

"For his sake, I hope so."

Yay! Another Other Approach chapter finished! As always, thank you for making it this far. Please don't hesitate to drop me a note - love it, hate it, think it's hilarious, terribly out of character, what your favorite part was - whatever you think. I'd love to hear it. Thanks!