Chapter 1: The Princess

"Farm boy?" Allura swept into the barn. A gentle breeze chased her, sweet from the afal orchard, and danced with the tails of her long, snowy tresses.

"Oh – hi," he called over his shoulder, pink dusting the tips of his stunted ears. "I'll be right with you."

She leant against the wall, bit her bottom lip to stifle her amusement, but her eyes told of mischief. He had a name. She just liked the way he blushed when she called him farm boy.

He hauled the last bale on top of the others, then wiped his brow with the back of his hand.

"Did you need something, Princess?"

She lifted her eyebrows, allowing a hint of merriment to escape. "I've asked you not to call me that."

He smiled, walking the line between friendliness and formality. "And I've asked you not to call me 'farm boy'."

"Yes, but you are a farm boy. I am not a princess," she insisted logically.

He huffed a quiet laugh to himself, gaze lowered.

She eyed him suspiciously, but let the matter settle between them. Was he a boy or man where he came from? He was certainly as tall as a man, but it was difficult to judge on that alone, for there was an air of hope about him that only survived adolescence in the rarest of people. His work clothes hung loose over pale skin and slim muscles; neat, basic things, passed down by a previous farm hand she supposed. Her eyes drifted, as they often did, to the cheekbones where his markings would have been, were he Altean.

There were many aliens living and working in the Quabyssian colonies, none of which bore markings. It was strange she kept being taken by his lack of them.

"Forgive me. I will remember, next time," he promised.

The quiet, wistful words sent a jolt through her and she met his eye a little too quickly. "Do you have trouble remembering...things?" she faltered. Her gaze lingered on his delicate tilted lids shielding eyes the colour of a clear sky in the quiet time between midnight and pre-dawn, and singular pupils as dark and infinite as the depths of space. Was it possible…?

"Sometimes," the small, pleasant smile was back, this time offered to the bales with a tiny shrug. "If I'm distracted."

"Of course," and she remembered she hadn't merely turned up to watch him blush and catalogue their differences. He was talking about something else. "I need you to polish my saddle and ready my ceffyl now. I'm taking my ride early today."

He gave her a nod and another pretty half-smile.

"As you wish."

He pushed off the bales, brushed his hands off on his drab, green-grey work trousers, and left to see to her demand. Just like that.

Allura frowned as she watched him go, then returned to the house for lunch, her mind still on the quandary. Perhaps humans were traditionally subservient? It was said they knew little of the stars before the Galra brought order and civility to their sector of the universe. He completed his duties quickly, efficiently, without needless question or complaint - but with enough autonomy to make the right call on his own when required. He spoke with respect and kindness, friendliness even. He let her tease him and call him 'boy', and his smiles were always so soft and real and…then he would return to work, and leave her wanting.

She squirmed as she sat at the round table set for one by the window overlooking the orchard. She stared at the centrepiece; a lone aeron flower in a tiny white vase, and watched as one of the petals drooped and clicked off, drifting to rest; a fragile yellow bell-shape on the lace tablecloth.

Glancing down to her meal in haste, she suddenly felt uncomfortable by the way she ordered him about, and resolved to try call him by his name and say please and thank you, next time she saw him.

True to form, her ceffyl, Kara, was ready and her saddle gleamed, catching the midday sun as Allura approached the holding yard.

Joy welled within her and she bit her bottom lip lest it burst out as a laugh, eyes tracking him as he led her tall, black mare by the bridle around the warm-up pen. The pair cut an impressive figure. His hair was as dark and thick as the mare's coat with that too-long forelock flopped over his forehead, half obscuring his eyes, just like the ceffyl's was. She followed the shapes made by his mouth as it moved, but distance kept his noises from her ears.

Allura drew closer but he saw her, and for a tick their eyes met and his shoulders tensed – then his cheeks and ears turned that familiar pink, and he looked down and chuckled to his boots, caught out.

She rolled her eyes and strode into the dusty yard, annoyed she might never know if he'd been speaking secrets or singing songs.

"I trust you haven't worn my ceffyl out, farm boy," she took the reigns and palmed him her saddlebag, lifting a calming hand to Kara's nose in greeting.

"It's Takashi," he reminded her, scrunching his nose as he tied the bag to the back of the saddle. "And I haven't – she's just looking forward to running away with you," the corner of his mouth rose and Allura caught mirth in his eyes.

She wondered why her heart thudded so loudly as she returned his gaze. "But Takashi," she made herself say it, because she had promised she would, "I am not running away."

His smile widened and he took a step back. "Perhaps then, she missed you," he offered his right hand.

Allura mused over this newness to their routine, eyes flickering to his fingers. Takashi had readied her ceffyl hundreds of times since she had known him, but he had only begun lingering like this for the past movement.

It was nice, she decided. He was nice. She liked his hands. Help, she liked his help. That's what he was, her helping…hand.

Quiznak.

"May I?" he asked quietly.

She nodded, placed her hand on top of his, then took hold of the saddle and put the toe of her boot in a stirrup.

With an exhilarating whoosh that caught in her throat, Takashi helped her up, other hand steadying her hip as she swung over.

She settled and he stepped back, hands respectfully folded behind him. She fussed with her riding coat as she commanded her cheeks to cool, but the gentle strength lingering beneath those loose, perfunctory work clothes never failed to surprise her.

Lifting her chin, eyes forward, she managed, "Thank you for your assistance," with a nervous swallow.

"No problem," he returned easily.

She clicked her ceffyl into a walk and circled the yard. This was usually where they parted.

As Allura turned Kara about, she caught sight of his wide shoulders hidden under the cream-coloured material, and those strong, gentle hands, fingers curling around the metal lock as he lifted it and opened the gate for her.

Allura glanced down to where her hands gripped the reigns, eyes widening.

She had to leave before she made a fool of herself. Yes he was pretty to look at, particularly when his ears turned pink and his smiles reached his eyes, and yes he was helpful, but he was a member of her staff.

A kind, friendly member of her staff whose company she sought out frequently under the pretence of work.

She found herself circling the yard a second time.

"Do you know of the Glaswelltog wilds to the west, Takashi?" feigning idleness, she kept her eyes on the reigns as she adjusted the strap.

He burst out laughing. "No," he admitted. "No, I've never heard of them."

The unexpected reaction made her look up; her stomach tightened. "Well then," she stammered.

"Sorry – I mean," he offered an apologetic smile. "I'm sure they're great. I don't really get out that much."

"That won't do," she conceded softly, eyes bright with determination. "Do you ride?" she asked, before she could convince herself to just go.

"I can – but there's work to do-"

"There is to be a meteor shower about a varga after sunset," she cut him off. "The view from the Wyvandir plateau should be quite stunning, if you wish to accompany me. Unless you would rather stay here and shovel hay for the mochyn," she challenged with a too-sweet smile.

His eyes widened; teeth caught his bottom lip and she saw his hand tense where it rest on the gate – a tether, holding him in place. He seemed suddenly paler, and Allura knew she had overstepped a boundary, but she wasn't entirely sure why and...

She found she truly wanted him to say yes, wanted to watch it with him; watch his eyes light up with wonder as space dust scattered and burnt out across an indigo sky.

"Ride with you?" he confirmed quietly. "To…to look at the stars?"

She shuffled forward before she could lose her nerve and patted the saddle behind her. "Come with me," she encouraged, ignoring a treasonous lump in her throat. "It seems wrong that you have lived on Quabyss for almost a deca-phoeb but have seen so little of its beauty."

He cleared his throat and released the fence. "I wouldn't say that's exactly true..."

"It is not an order," she watched him approach.

"I know," he met her eyes quickly, smile full of caution, and...hope.

There was that youthful hope again.

She drew a sharp breath, and that was the moment she realised. She forgot how to exhale, focussed on more pressing, blindingly obvious matters she should have untangled sooner.

It was hope for - for her. But more than hope, it was love. He loved her. He'd told her with everything but the words; with quiet laughs and soft smiles, with kind, shy glances, with unwavering assistance and gentle touches. The love was so plainly writ on him she wondered how it took her so long to understand that the hope in him was fixed and shining on her.

"Mm," she articulated, slipping a boot out of the stirrup so he could use it to climb up.

"Should I just...?" he was beside her, an endearing uncertainty his sudden ally.

Allura nodded, eyes fixed on his fingers as they gripped the curve of the saddle. Soon those hands would hold her as they chased the sun and climbed the purpled plateaus, crossing fields of fragrant meillion blossoms and wild, tangled rhostir.

"Don't make me wait any longer, Takashi," she whispered.

Now she had started calling him by his name, it seemed she couldn't stop.

"As you wish."

And there were those words again, sending a pang of longing through her, and she understood he had told her he loved her, every day when he spoke those words. He must have told her hundreds of times, and she had never understood.

Even more surprising was the acknowledgment that she had feelings for him. She leaned sideways to counter-balance, closing her eyes as the weight of his warmth settled against her back.

Kara snorted in protest, and the sound reminded Allura to open her eyes and act normally. "Whoa, girl," she soothed.

"Um," he said softly, and she could feel his breath by her ear. "Are you sure about this?"

"Kara is strong; she can bear us both," she hesitated in the act of glancing over her shoulder, realising how close to his mouth she would be. Her gaze fell; his hands were on the tops of his thighs, uncertain about where he should put them.

"Here," she found her courage and placed a hand over his, admiring the contrast between dark and light, small and large, as she guided him to hold her. "Otherwise you'll fall," she attempted archness to chase the fluttery feel in her belly away.

He huffed a laugh and lowered his head; warmth brushed her neck as he nodded. He didn't explain his amusement, merely curled his fingers gently around her waist, and confirmed he was ready.

Allura clicked her heels into Kara's flank and started walking her out of the yard, and the knowledge she would be watching the skies with him made her heart, rather unexpectedly, sing.

–

They sat hip-to-hip with her riding coat spread out beneath them, ducking closer and pointing in delight as bright orbs streaked above and left glittering trails in their wake. They ate the meal that had been prepared for her together and shared a cup of spiced gwin for warmth as the air above and land beneath stilled and cooled.

Allura leant back on her elbows, full and content, eyes drifting to Takashi as he gazed at the heavens. He looked so…happy, there was no better word. With a swell of joy, she understood this would be the beginning of something very important to her, if she was brave enough to pursue it.

"Farm boy," she whispered, all jest as she nudged him with her shoulder.

He glanced down to her, his smile warm and eyes teasing. "Yes, Princess?"

Searching for her reason, she nodded to the mug only inches from her hand. "Fetch me my cup?" she asked hopefully. "Please?"

His eyes found the mug, half-full with the sweet, golden gwin, and she saw him still in realisation. "As you wish," he whispered.

Slowly he shifted, putting his weight on one hip and elbow, and Allura's heart raced as he turned to her and lifted the cup, his eyes soft and watchful as he offered it to her.

He held it while she sipped, and she couldn't take her eyes off him. She swallowed her trepidation as the liquid warmed her throat, and he replaced the mug with a wistful smile, and started to turn back to the heavens.

"Wait – Takashi," she fumbled – too quickly.

Perhaps he hadn't meant to turn away at all, or perhaps calling him by his name all evening was too much, for he was facing her again, his hand ghosting her cheek, his eyes on hers as though they had never cared about any other sight. "Allura?" he asked quietly.

"Can I kiss you?" she whispered.

He laughed – little more than a rush of air as he rest his forehead against hers. "As you-"

She pressed her lips to his, suddenly impatient with longing now she understood the meaning of those words between them. His final devotion was lost to a sigh of abject relief as the meteors high above witnessed their first kiss, then spiralled on.

–

After their night under the stars, Allura stopped calling him 'farm boy'. Takashi stopped hiding his adoration, and Allura fell, hard and fast with eyes wide open. Takashi continued working the orchard and tending the few animals, and Allura took a more active role instead of idling around looking for excuses to bother him - because she no longer needed one to be close to him. Once the work was completed they would ride together, exploring the wonders of the land and stopping to sit under the stars as night fell.

He'd had a life before the refugee colony, and Allura tentatively asked him a little more about it each quintant. He recalled it with such fondness that she often found herself jealous of how accessible his memories were to him, like pages of a book he could flip through as he liked. He was a pilot and astrophysicist, which sounded like the equivalent of an Altean fisegydd; one who could both fly through and navigate space with an understanding of how the cosmos operated, even if his knowledge was theoretical and skills had been constrained to his native sector when he had trained.

He'd been leading a mission to the edge of Earth's solar system when the Galra had found him and his crew of two. He remembered little of the encounter, but when he woke he was on a different ship, and it was landing on Quabyss with a handful of aliens he had never met.

"They told me Earth had destabilised," he sighed at his lap, picking a bit of fluff off his trousers. "We knew it was coming for years – pollution, global warming, ozone depletion, extinction of species crucial to our ecosystem," he pursed his lips, eyes narrowing with ghosts of arguments past. "Anyway. They said it was no longer habitable. The refugees were being distributed amongst the colonies while there was still time to salvage a few species. My team were lucky – we were away when the end began. But I don't know where Matt and Sam ended up, or if friends and family back on Earth survived or…" he trailed off, eyes faraway. "I'm sorry. I try not to think about the past too much."

"Don't be sorry - you are allowed to miss them," Allura assured, slipping her hand into the crook of his elbow, giving his arm a gentle tug. "I'll ask the Prince about them;" she was due for a treatment next movement and he would know about the refugees from Earth.

Takashi gave her that small, gentle smile that made her heart flutter, and lifted his hand to her cheek; the brief despair locked away again. "Thank you," he murmured. "I'd…really appreciate that."

"Don't thank me yet, I haven't done anything," she grinned as he leaned closer.

"As you wish."

She let him kiss her; let him lead and let herself melt into him, focussing on the softness of his lips, the press of his hand as his thumb brushed her cheek marking and his fingers tangled through her hair.

It was difficult to not get caught up in his life, his memories, as they grew ever closer. She knew he grieved and wondered if she might share this with him too, to lighten the weight of it. Her planet had died, but she remembered nothing of her life before.

The hand at her waist, gripping gently then shifting up to urge her closer, brought her back to Quabyss, to the now; to her farm and the only home she knew. His love let her soar and reminded her she was real and whole. What might have happened in their pasts could not rob them what they had found in each other.

—

Allura was certain there was a childhood and other people - parents, surely - in her jumble of memories. Stray flashes would sometimes slip through her mind, bright for an instant then snuff out before she could catch the thread of it, leaving dark void and questions.

When he had revived her, Prince Lotor had assured her memory loss was common amongst those who had survived the destruction of Altea by cryopod, and the toll was greater the longer one slept. If given time to heal, the universe might allow her past to return – or it might not.

They were alike in that regard; he had suffered the same effects when his mother, Empress Honerva, had woken him to watch over and guide the refugee colonies.

The past was on her mind, so she asked the Prince about it again.

"How can you bear not knowing who you are, your highness?" she asked, throat scratchy and tongue thick from the medicine.

He pursed his lips in that pleased, secretive way she had grown used to while under observation; a smile that meant they could not at present talk of such matters. Prince Lotor nodded for the medic to continue the procedure, and Allura made herself stay still as the fourth tiny needle pierced her wrist and injected the final phial of clear, pale blue liquid into her wrist; regenerative serum administered every phoeb since she'd been woken.

"Is she ready?" Prince Lotor asked smoothly.

The medic hmmed, tossing the spent needle into the rubbish. "One more treatment, sire."

Allura lifted her right wrist, turned it gently in her left hand, focussing on a body that felt a little tired and empty and foreign to her. It was always like this straight after the treatments. Every sense but touch blurred. A tightness built in her chest; she felt itchy all over. She reminded herself it was normal.

"Excellent," Prince Lotor approached. "Leave us."

The command was quiet, an idle suggestion, but the Galra medic lowered her head and backed out of the room at once.

"How are you feeling, Allura?"

He was close; her eyes found his, cautious and questioning as she made herself smile. She did not want to seem ungrateful for his attention to her wellbeing. "I am…fine. Thank you, your highness."

"You certainly look well," Prince Lotor smiled and extended his hand. "To answer your question; I can bear the missing pieces because I believe in my mother."

She wanted to avoid the contact, but accepted his aid because she owed him her life and her mind had been playing tricks like this on her since she'd woken.

He guided her from the clean, blue and white examination chamber toward the reception room where the other Altean subjects awaited their various treatments. "She believes it is for the universe to decide what we are too keep, and what is irrelevant to the future of our people."

Allura nodded automatically; he had told her this before. Everybody else in the colony trusted him at his word – most of the Alteans outright worshipped him. But then, all the other Alteans had been born and raised here, not woken from a ten-thousand deca-phoeb nap that had robbed her her past.

"I suppose," she bit her lip, trying to organise thoughts in a brain full of wool, "it is that we are made by our memories. I am…merely curious as to where I came from," she drifted off.

"Altea?" Lotor ducked to catch her eye, turning to face her and take her hands in his. "That is only natural. But I must disagree with the rest; we are as ever defined by our actions today, not our past glories or failures. Tell me Allura, you are happy on Quabyss, are you not?"

She nodded hastily.

"You want for nothing, and tend to of one of the most glorious orchards our people have ever seen," he boasted, as though her achievements were somehow his. "You survived the near extinction of our people," he smiled endearingly. "Once your treatments have finished, the best is yet to come. I should hope your mind would be on your promising future."

"It is," Allura sighed, shaking her head at herself for bringing it up again. "It is just - Takashi talks of his past with such clarity - such…" she searched.

"Takashi…your…farm boy?" Lotor filled the silence, his tone laughing and curious. "You talk with the human?"

Allura nodded, unable to quell her flush; they did a bit more than talk these days. "Sometimes," she tucked a piece of fallen hair behind her ear, and glanced over the inviting reception room beyond the door. "He is a great help to me. I must thank you for assigning such a man to my little farm."

"It brings me nothing but pleasure to be of service to our people," Prince Lotor murmured, his smile thin.

"He does wonder, though, what became of his own kind?" she flickered the Prince a warmer glance. "Might you know what happened to the refugees from Earth, or the crew he was found with?"

Prince Lotor shook his head. "I'm afraid not, my dear. But I shall make a special point of asking my mother, on your behalf."

They talked a little more of idle, day-to-day things; the Prince was always interested in her life. Finally, just before noon, Lotor bid her farewell with a delicate hand on her back.

"Do tell me if you manage to locate any of Takashi's friends?" she reminded him with a small, hopeful smile.

Lotor nodded once. "I certainly will."

—

It did not take long for word of the other humans to arrive; a welcome surprise. Lotor truly did prioritise the wishes of his people, and she respected him a little more for that.

One of his commanders delivered the news two quintants after her treatment: Takashi's crew were living on a moon not far from Galra command at the centre of the universe.

"Prince Lotor understands you are worried about them, given the swift nature of Earth's demise. He extends an offer to deliver you to them," she added with a sideways glance in Allura's direction. "Just for a visit, of course. He does not expect you would wish to give up your place on Quabyss."

Takashi was utterly still. "They're safe?" he murmured in quiet shock. "I can…see them?"

Allura's mirth burst out of her; she grinned and threw her arms around his neck. "I am so happy for you, Takashi."

He returned the hug, holding her tight as he sighed into her neck. "I…can't believe it," his words were muffled by her hair and a thickness to his throat. "Thank you."

"A ship destined for the heart of the Empire departs at dawn," the commander continued, unaffected by their tears and embrace. "It will take three movements to reach Galra command-"

"Three…three weeks?" Takashi pulled back, frowning in confusion at the commander.

"Go to them," Allura's eyes shone as she encouraged him to turn to her. "The farm will be here when you return."

He studied her, brushed a stray curl back from her cheek, skimming the tip of her ear as he tucked it in place. With a small laugh, Takashi marvelled, "But I just got you."

"And always will have me," she arched a playful eyebrow at him. "I will be here when you return, too."

And so it was settled. Allura was impressed by the speed of it all, even if the news would take Takashi away for the better part of two phoebs. But he had a past, and no matter what Lotor said, it was precious and she wanted him to have what she could not.

As he would need to leave before midnight to make it to the launch bay by dawn, they spent their final night together watching the stars from the afal orchard. The blooms were starting to fall already, dusting the grass with pink and white.

With an aching twist to her chest, Allura realised they would fruit before she saw him again. She stared at him then, memorising the curve of his jaw and cheekbones. He had already packed; a small bag of meagre possessions and a fine bottle of gwin were to make the journey with him.

The cramp in her chest tightened. She knew little of space travel; anything could happen to him up there. She wanted him to go, she was truly happy his friends were alive, but - she had to consider it. What if she never saw him again?

She couldn't voice her fears; couldn't bear to dampen his hope. "I'll miss you, Takashi," she allowed, sounding stiff to her own ears.

His eyes had been aloft, his expression thoughtful as he gazed at the heavens, but he turned to her now and his depths retained an echo of stars.

He must have caught the form of her worries. "Hey," he shuffled closer to hold her, brushing an errant tear as it fell by her marking. "I will come back to you."

Allura nodded, glancing down to find his other hand and squeeze it.

"I will," he laughed a little.

She glanced through her lashes, uncertainty tugging at her heart as she bit her bottom lip.

"My love, I swear it," he soothed, stroking until his fingers tangled in her silvery hair, placing a kiss to her temple.

"How can you promise that?" she breathed, muted by thick tears threatening to grab hold and shake her.

He drew back far enough to meet her eyes, smiling through tears of his own, yet his hope was as bright and certain as she had ever seen it. "I…I suppose…I believe in us," he pressed his forehead gently to hers. "Allura, I've been caught in your orbit from the moment I met you…I will always, always return to you."

She believed him, but clung to him as she kissed him goodbye, and pleaded with the universe to keep her memories forever, if giving them up would assure her his safe return.

—

Given who she was, and who she would become, it was a rather unreasonable request, but she was not to know at the time.

During her final treatment, four quintants after Takashi's departure, Prince Lotor brought her the news; the ship Takashi had been travelling on had been attacked by the Blade of Marmora.

"I am sorry, Allura," he frowned, his eyes deep with sadness. "They do not take prisoners."

Even the effects of the regenerative medicines couldn't dull her heartbreak as Lotor guided her back to the farm, her body wracked with sobs. Everything about this felt wrong, and her chest and throat and eyes stung with pain and guilt.

"You must look forward, as one of the survivors of our great people," Lotor encouraged as he departed. "You feel his loss now, but I assure you: your future is bright, and the best is yet to come."

But she did not want it to come. She wanted to go back one movement earlier, when she had asked Lotor about Takashi's people and put this horrible course into motion.

She had wasted so much time being blind to his affections, and now she had lost him. The universe was mocking her, surely, and she could no longer find the will to play its games.

The Prince assigned new hands to the farm; a family of twelve tiny Arusians who between them managed the afal harvest so she wouldn't have to.

Lotor visited Allura each quintant now, encouraging her to eat and sit with him for a few vargas in the sun. She thought nothing of this new attention. For movements, the hollowness of grief consumed her, and the knowledge she had caused his death weighed heavily on her heart.

Phoebs passed, and the frigid gaeaf season blew the orchard bare. The Arusians took to the bottling shed and Allura was invited to stay out the cooler pheobs from Lotor's command ship. The Castle of Lions had also recently been attacked by the Marmoran scourge, and had docked on Quabyss days earlier for repairs.

She saw no reason not to go. It was an honour to be asked. Any other Altean would have been thrilled.

Allura stood in the entry to the ancient, colossal structure, touching the impossibly smooth whiteness of its arched doorway. A flicker of something pulsed through her hand, warm and fluid. Recognition darted through her then scampered away, as her fleeting memories inevitably did. With a dull, mental shrug, she stepped within.

And there she remained, ensconced within the Castle of Lions, even when the days warmed and the gwanwyn festivals cluttered the Quabyssian streets with laughter and colour and the afal trees bloomed once more.

When the Prince suggested she might heal through occupation, for idleness had done her no favours, she quietly agreed. From that quintant, she was brought to Lotor's elegant research station, back-lit by gently flowing blue lights the same colour as her eyes, glimmering like sunlight caught in water. He would sit by her for vargas, asking her opinion of this plan or that circuit configuration, watchful and attentive, searching for signs of - something more than she could bare to interpret.

Slowly, cautious as though he feared she might break from the knowledge, Lotor taught her to tune into the quintessence locked within the ship, so she might redirect it to where it was needed. The Castle had undergone heavy damage and was showing signs of its age, but they put her back together, piece by careful piece. The bright, gentle energy used her as a conduit, warming her veins and bringing moments of pure peace, sometimes tickling Allura's mind with sensation and occasionally, curiosity, as though she was being watched, or witnessing the Castle's eternal dream. Sometimes the quintessence reaching toward her would be playful and send tumbling sparks to tickle her spine, but at other times it felt more erratic, brimming with indignity. Sometimes it left her breathless from its intense, overwhelming vastness, as dark as it was light, asking her questions in a language that was just out of reach.

Over time, the Castle of Lions was repaired, and as she healed, so did Allura. Deca-phoebs passed, and as her sensitivity to the Castle's needs grew ever stronger, so did Lotor's attentions toward her. He did not hide how grateful he was for her assistance, commenting often on how good a team they made, and what wonders they would achieve together.

His confession of devotion and the subsequent offer of marriage did not come as a surprise. While she felt she would never love again, she saw no logical reason to reject him. Once the Castle of Lions was fully repaired, Lotor would take to the stars in her, and Allura wanted to stay with the ship. She felt a closeness to the Castle; a tentative curiosity toward the various entities she sensed slumbering deep within, and if she had to marry Prince Lotor to remain and unlock their secrets, she would.

And so it was that five deca-phoebs after Prince Lotor woke Allura from cryosleep and poisoned her mind so she would forget who she was and where she came from, she returned, on his terms, to be Princess once more.

The universe had little to do with the decision.

A/n: So...I'm a long time Shallura reader, first time Shallura poster, nervous about writing anything for such an active fandom but was working on A Bard's Tale and the plot bunnies helpfully popped in with, why not Princess Bride, but Shallura?

So this thing began, and I'm loving working some of my favourite characters into a scenario reminiscent of one of my favourite movies of all time, figuring out who fits where and how to tilt the VLD universe to fit a TPB plot. It's going to be a bit fantasy, a bit sci-fi, and a bit nostalgia trip. Yes, story title is obvious and cheesy, but I couldn't think of a better one.

Anyone want clarification on anything within, throw me a comment here or gabbicav on Tumblr. Hope you enjoy it!