Disclaimer: I don't own Voltron or its original Japanese version Golion. I'm just borrowing them for some non-profit entertainment.

The Sindariin

Chapter Five:

Fala was sitting stiff and ridged at breakfast the next morning. Sincline had insisted that she share all her meals with him since she had first arrived on Galra. The first time he had tried eating with her, however, the princess had attacked him with a fork. She had failed, of course, and since then had treated their shared meals with a silent distain that the newly crowned Emperor found very displeasing. Today, however, her mood was excitedly agitated and Sincline knew exactly why.

Last night he had ordered her brought from the banquet hall to the castle's main communications room to speak with her Steward and prove to him that she was indeed unharmed. After which she had been ushered back out of the room without ever knowing what it was that they intended to talk about behind her back. She could guess, however. Fala was no fool as Sincline well knew. She knew precisely the situation both she and her planet were in and knew that there was only one thing her Steward, Raible the Strategist, would be calling for. Altea had surrendered. The Emperor had not broken the news to Fala yet, of course. At the moment all she had were her guesses and her fears. And that more than explained her ridged agitation. She was torn between demanding information and remaining calm and collected to save face.

Sincline wondered how long her self-control would hold as he picked up his spoon. Unfortunately, ever since her little episode with the fork there had not been any sharp or pointy utensils set at his table. Their meals had to all be eaten with hands or spoon. Though, the Emperor was certain that if his lovely Altean princess really wanted to, she would find a way to kill him with a spoon. She was certainly clever enough. He took it as a sign of progress that she hadn't tried. He dipped his spoon in the bowl of shredded meats and porridge that had been set in front of him and smiled across the table her.

"Did you sleep well, my dear?" Sincline wondered just how long her self-control would hold out before she finally broke and demanded news of her home-world. He would be lying if he said he didn't find her agitation amusing.

She glared at him from her seat as if trying to impale him with her sharp and furious gaze but said nothing. She was just so lovely when her eyes were so full of such passion, like a Shield Maiden from ancient tales. But then again, he reflected, she rather was like a Shield Maiden fighting along side her champions in the protection of her planet and people. She was a warrior in her own right, clever and brave. She would make an excellent Empress. Sincline felt almost giddy at the prospect. All that needed to be done was have Altea's surrender finalized and she would be his. No strings attached, no compromises, no political intricacies, just his.

"You seemed rather peaky at dinner last night. Are you feeling alright?" The Emperor inquired, intentionally avoiding the topic of Altea's surrender. It was adorable watching her composure slip every time he began to speak but saying nothing of her planet or people. Her control was fraying and he rather liked this little power game they were playing.

"If you must know, I was revolted to the point of nausea by that disgusting display your people have the gall to call a 'coronation'." The princess shot back, more than happy to fling insults and verbal barbs at him every chance she got. As much as he delighted in making her feel uncomfortable she was going to relish matching him. Perhaps if she was lucky he would become so frustrated with her that he'd louse interest. Perhaps he'd slacken his guard enough for her to escape. Perhaps hell would freeze over and pigs would fly.

"Ah." He sipped his wine thoughtfully. "I suppose it would seem a bit... disorienting to one who comes from a culture bleeding-heart peace mongers."

'Disorienting' was not the word Fala would have used to describe her feelings on the matter but she didn't really see a point in telling him that. Instead she said, "'Peace mongers'?"

"Indeed." Sincline placed his wine glass back on the table and took another spoonful of the meat and porridge concoction that was his breakfast and wished longingly for a steak in its stead. "Although I should probably add 'hypocrites' to the end of that. If you're people truly desired peace they would have given over to Galran rule a decade ago."

The Altean princess' fist impacted the table with enough force to rattle the china. But when she spoke her voice was level and even. "We desire peace and freedom, Sincline. That is something your Empire does not offer those who join it; whether freely or by force. There is a saying from Earth, one of the planets already under your rule, 'it is better to die standing than live a lifetime on your knees.' My people fight because they would rather die than become slaves to your sadistic whims and blood-fetishes."

"Hmm, 'blood-fetishes'... Ya know, I think I rather like the sound of that." The Emperor smiled wickedly at her. "Blood-fetish... and what kind of fetishes do you have, my dear? I'm very interested to know."

Fala flushed at his remark and chose not to dignify it with a response, instead opting to sip daintily from her orange juice to avoid answering. To her great relief, Sincline did not press the question and instead returned to their previous topic.

"Still, even your use of that lovely little Earther proverb is hypocritical my dear. After all, do your subjects not kneel to you? Do they not happily go to their knees at your passing? And then your clergy are always on their knees as well, praying to your single omnipotent and yet pathetically impotent god." He shrugged lightly. "But then again, it was never an Altean saying to begin with and I suppose everything is open to interpretation on some level. Especially when being interpreted by people of a culture different from the saying's origin. I'm curious what you might think of some Galran proverbs."

"They probably all have to do with blood, murder and rape." She muttered dryly while suppressing a snort of derision.

Sincline neither confirmed nor denied her assumption, in fact, he ignored her comment all together. "And so, what was your interpretation of the coronation ceremony?"

Fala wrinkled her nose in distain. The memory of a room full of people softly chanting as an innocent and helpless man's life was drained out of him played itself over in her mind's eye. Sincline raising the golden cup, almost overflowing with blood, to the sky and muttering a prayer of his own before drinking. She shuddered and suddenly found that she had lost her apatite. The Altean princess pushed her breakfast away from her in disgust. What was her interpretation of his coronation ceremony Sincline had asked. "It's barbaric. You're barbaric. This whole damn planet is barbaric!"

"How deep." The Emperor commented dryly. "And not at all over generalized or bias."

"Well, you can't very well expect my views to be unbias when you and your Empire have been attacking my planet and enslaving my people for as long as I can remember." Fala shot back. She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back in her chair in frustration. She furiously wished he would stop all these silly games of his and just tell her that she had lost, Altea had surrendered and she was now, for all intents and purposes, his. The princess didn't want to be a slave, but his keeping her in suspense and playing these ridiculous games with her was worse. Fala gazed across the table at him so calm and collected, casually sitting with one elbow on the table, his chin resting on his hand, just studying her. She wished he wouldn't. She wished he wouldn't look at her so tenderly, they were not lovers, they were not even friends and he had no business holding such 'affection' in his gaze. Especially not when he had just forced her planet to surrender to his vile Empire.

"No, I suppose not." Sincline admitted.

They lapsed into a suddenly awkward silence then and Fala found herself wondering if he at all found truth in her words and regretted what he and his country had done. Then she reminded herself that he was an evil selfish bastard incapable of feeling remorse. Still, she found herself wanting to start up the conversation again. Perhaps the awkwardness of the quite made her uncomfortable and she just wanted the masochistic comfort that came from the familiarity of their verbal spats. And so she asked, "What does 'narhand ni minyeh, narhand ni atai' mean?"

The Emperor looked up from his meal. He seemed rather startled by her question but his featured quickly melted into an expression that could only be described as 'pleased'. Thought, what exactly he was pleased about the princess could only guess. "Literally translated into your tong it means 'strength of enemy, strength of mine'. It's a prayer said when..." he paused as if thinking of a way to phrase his explanation that wouldn't make Fala cringe. Finally, he decided there was no gentle way to put it and continued. "... The idea is that when you drink the blood of an enemy or eat their flesh you take their strength into your body and their strength then becomes your own. Narhand ni minyeh, narhand ni atai is what we say when we do this."

He paused to let his lady digest the informations. Odd choice of words considering the topic of conversation. She looked a little sick and he wondered if she would vomit.

"And during your coronation...?" She pressed grimly. Her face looked pale and stricken but her eyes seemed to sparkle with an odd sort of morbid curiosity, as if she were both repulsed and yet allured by the sanguinary practices of his people.

Sincline sipped his wine before continuing. "That specific slave had been the ruler of his world before it joined the Empire. The belief is that the blood of an old leader would endow whoever drinks it with the wisdom and strength necessary to rule."

"I... see..."

"Are you alright? You look a bit peaky." Why did he sound genuinely concerned when he asked that? He had no business acting concerned over her! "Perhaps we should change the subject."

"I can hardly imagine there's a single topic between the two of us that could be any better than what we're already discussing." The Altean princess shot back, a little of the color coming back to her cheeks with the sharp retort.

"Well, I do have some good news for you." He announced deciding that it wouldn't be all that bad if he were the first to give in their little battle of wills. He would confirm for her what she had probably already guessed about Altea without her having to ask. That was kind, right? "You're no longer a hostage."

Her hand flew to her mouth. "You don't mean..."

"Your Steward surrendered last night." Sincline nodded his confirmation.

"No..." The softest of whispers. The Emperor would not have been able to hear it were it not for his superior alien hearing. Tears began to fall from her eyes, silent, subdued tears of defeat. Fala looked down at the spoon by her hand and wished it were a fork or knife. Something with a point or a blade... Her vision blurred with her tears, the princess gave in and buried her face in her hands. She wept for the fate of her planet, the lives of her people and... and she wept for herself. An image of Kogane's face appeared before her mind's eye and she wished furiously that he were here to wrap his arms around her, to comfort her. Someone did wrap their arms her, strong well muscled but lean arms clothed in soft fabric. Fala tried to pretend it was Kogane and not the man she knew it must be. But then he spoke, shattering her flimsy illusion.

"Do not be saddened, Fala." Sincline whispered into her hair. "You may not see it yet, but one day you will appreciate Altea being part of my Empire."

"I doubt that." The princess growled through her soft sobs.

His arms fell away from her shoulders and gripped the chair on which she sat, turning it and her to face him. The Emperor gently pulled her hands from her face and wiped her tears away with his black-gloved hand. Sincline looked her right in the eyes when he said, "What if I told you I would let you retain control over Altea? That I would let you rule the planet however you saw fit with little interference from me aside from the standard satellite outposts and Imperial head-quarters we place on every acquisitioned world."

Her eyes turned form saddened to wary and suspicious. "And what would I have to do for you in return?"

"Be my wife." He answered without skipping a beat. "Stay with me here on Galra, rule you're people from my Imperial capitol. Share my bed and my wealth, rule by my side and I'll give you your planet and then some."

She looked sick again...

...

"Have you decided on a place to hide until you can rescue the princess?" Raible asked. He looked grim, as did the Black Lion pilot to whom he spoke.

Kogane stood with his back strait, a travel bag packed with a spare change of cloths and a few weeks worth of food and medical supplies was thrown over his shoulder. The other three remaining pilots all held similar bags, each one having been hand packed by the loving (if somewhat outspoken and overbearing) hands of Hys. The men were all gathered in the Control Room waiting for the Steward to 'announce' Altea's surrender.

"The Leo Alliance will grant us asylum." The Golion chief nodded. "I was thinking we'd stay with Prince Alor on Planet Heracles."

The Strategist nodded his approval of this idea. Alor was Amue's younger brother and might possibly have a more efficient way of communicating with his sister's rebel unit on Galra than they did here on Altea. The planet was also far enough away so as to avoid any regular harassment from whatever Galran forces Sincline chooses to station on Altea but still close enough for the Lions to come and help should any trouble arise. It would also have the equipment and resources necessary to study and duplicate the technology of whatever Galran ship Ryou manages to steal. All things considered, it was a smart choice.

Raible clasped Kogane's hands in his own. The Black Lion pilot felt the Strategist press something cool and metallic into his palm. "Take this with you."

The Golion Chief opened his hand to see a pendent about half the size of his palm. It was mostly blue with a single gold cross in the center. "Blue Lion's key! But I would have thought it had been taken when the princess was captured."

"I can only guess that they tired but were unable to remove the key from Blue Lion when they captured her." The Strategist answered. "Either that, or the pilot that took her didn't think of it at all. Galran grunt soldiers aren't exactly known for their intelligence. In any case, we have no way of moving Blue Lion with out someone to pilot it. To keep it from being turned against us by Galra I want you to hold the key."

"Understood." The Black Lion pilot clutched it for a moment longer as if it were a delicate treasure before placing it in the pocket of his flight-suit. He then turned to the other three pilots. "Ready men?"

There was a subdued chorus of "Yeah." None of them were very happy with this idea. They did not like the prospect of leaving Altea to the mercy of an occupying Galran force. Kogane understood their feelings all to well and he wondered just how much (if any) of the planet would still resemble the beautiful utopia they had come to know and love when all this was said and done. When they got a new pilot for Blue Lion, when the devised a way of penetrating the energy field surrounding Galra, when they finally got Fala back.

Fala... Kogane felt inside his pocket for the key he had deposited there only seconds ago. 'Fala, I'll save you.' He thought. 'Just wait for me...'

To the rest of the team he said. "Lets go!"

"Be sure to make allot of noise." Raible added.

"T'ch, that's not hard." Kurogane scoffed as Kogane brushed passed him and on into the Lion shaft. "Just don't get yourself killed Raible." He too turned and disappeared into the shaft. As did they all. And before the Strategist knew it, he was alone in the Control Room.

"Be careful boys." He muttered to the empty room. "Damn, I should have had one of them hit me!" He thought aloud a little to late to do anything. A little physical damage to his person would add an extra layer of plausibility to his story that they had hijacked the Lions instead of him letting them go. But oh well. No since in crying over spilled milk, as the saying went. He switched on the interplanetary comm. to report the "theft" of his Lions to his new masters.

An explosion rocked the Control Room just as the Galran communications officer answered the call. It was so perfect Raible had to wonder of the boys had planned it that way.

"What the blazes!" The Galran comm. officer exclaimed. He spoke Alrean, that was good. It made his little scene much easier to play out. "What going on over there, human?"

"I'll tell you what's going on!" The Strategist snarled with all the vehemence he could muster. "They stole my Lions!"

"What?" The poor comm. officer looked genuinely confused.

"The Lions! Golion!" Raible shouted back as if he thought the man hadn't heard. "They're making off with Golion!" He secretly wanted to congratulate himself. In his opinion he sounded like honest to goodness hysterical-old-man.

At the mention of 'Golion' the comm. officer's golden eyes bugged out of his green scaly head and he looked suddenly as panicked as Raible was trying to appear. "Go after them!" He exclaimed. "Send ships, fighters, troops. Get them back! The Emperor will not be pleased if his prize is lost!"

Yes, Sincline would be very displeased indeed at not being able to use Golion to subjugate and terrorize the galaxy, the Strategist just hoped the monster wouldn't take out his anger on Fala. To the comm. officer he said, "What would you like to do? Altea has no standing military. Golion was our only defense against you people! I have nothing to send! I can't get them back! My Lions! Oh, my Lions! What are you doing just sitting there! Where's your commanding officer? Are we not part of your Empire now? I demand my Lions be returned to me!"

"I... I'll speak to my Commander." The poor comm. officer leapt out of his chair and dashed out of view of the screen.

Even thought he was gone Raible maintained composure of a hysterical-old-man just in case there were others in a position to view the screen he was on that he just couldn't see. Inside, however, he relaxed just a little bit. Hopefully this would be enough to convince Sincline that Altea was not involved in the Lion's escaping. Hopefully the young Emperor would leave the planet alone (or at least some version of alone) and direct his attention elsewhere. Raible just hoped that this plan didn't make things harder for Fala back on the capitol.

...

Fala sat despondent in her suit. In the bedroom of her suit, actually. Her 'room' did not consist of one but rather several rooms, the bedroom in which she now sat, an adjacent bathroom that contained toilet, mirror sink and stand-in shower and a sitting room which connected to the main corridor that ran the length of the floor they were on. She sat, examining the weave of the pale pink material of her bed's hangings in an attempt to avoid dwelling on what she and Sincline had discussed at breakfast.

'Stay with me... Share my bed... Be my wife.'

She shook her head as if doing so could knock his voice from her mind. Be his wife! Sleep with him! There was not a single idea in the whole galaxy that revolted her more than the idea of sharing a bed with Sincline, not just sharing a bed but allowing him to... 'Be my wife...' She knew what a wife's duty was to her husband. Her more womanly education had been left to Hys who was a stringent prude and didn't always explain things clearly, thinking the vocabulary necessary for such explanations indecent. But she had managed to educate Fala on the most vital details of matrimony and what a woman was to expect. The princess was no looking forward to the idea of opening herself for the first time to the butcher whom had been threatening her planet and people for so long. But if she didn't submit to his... attentions...

'Your planet is practically helpless...'

It was true, without her they couldn't form Golion. But beyond that Raible had signed over control of Altea to the Galra Empire, it was Sincline's now and he could do with it whatever he pleased. What would he do to it, to her people and their land if she didn't give him what he wanted? As she had been a hostage against Altea, Altea was now a hostage against her. As much as she did not want to admit it, Sincline had her trapped. With that realization she felt suddenly restless and wanted to move.

The princess rose from her sitting position on her bed and paced around the room. It was a cozy room with a wide window offering a view a barren and choked looking landscape as far as her eyes could see. Every now and again a short black tree would rise up from the parched and blackened land. They all looked withered and ancient, tall corpses of a long dead forrest. She wondered if the planet had at one time gotten sunlight, if the perpetual cloud cover hadn't always been there, if Galra had once been a place of light and life before whatever happened happened. It was a naive thought and she suspected it wasn't true but it gave her hope all the same (even thought she was more than sure that it was a false hope). She turned from the window back to her bedroom.

The bed was large enough to fit three people her size, fitted with sheets of a pale pink -her favorite color. She supposed that had she been in a normal relationship she would have been pleased that he knew her favorite color but because it was Sincline she was revolted by the idea that he knew so much about her and yet had spoken to her so little. The term 'stalker' rose to mind as did a few choice others that Hys would have blushed to hear her utter aloud. Oposite the bed was a closet that really should have been considered a room unto itself. Its two doors were set with tall mirrors in them and opened out to reveal a deep wardrobe with two rows of neatly hung gowns running its length on both sides. Elegant dresses of silks and velvets and other materials she couldn't name and all in such varied and vibrant colors, blues and pinks, golds and reds, orange and cream, silvers and greens, lavenders and burgundies... All tailored to her measurements, though she had been to see no tailor for fittings. Once again she was disturbed by just how much Sincline seemed to know about her.

Fala shut the closet doors and strolled into her sitting room. In the center of the room was an elegant wood coffee table surrounded by three chairs and a love-seat, thought why she would ever need so many seats when she had no friends on this entire planet she had no idea. Next to the door that connected the sitting room to the bedroom was a large bookcase. It was tall and wide and looked like it could contain more books than Fala had yet read in her lifetime. It was really a shame that it was practically empty. A grand total of two books sat pathetically on a middle shelf, the cases only occupants. After a quick examination of them Fala decided that they must be the only books printed in her language on the planet and that was why there were there. She supposed it could be considered a courtesy that he had tried to provided some form of entreatment for her in her own language but she found neither book to be of particular interest.

The princess sighed and turned to the exit. The moment she stepped out of her suit and into the open corridor she was surrounded by her faithful guards. Four of them, two in front, two behind, all silent and stoic women whom never tried to stop her from going anywhere and always followed her wherever she went. She just wished she knew if they were for her protection against the rest of Sincline's people or to keep her from attempting to escape.

'Stay with me...'

The heterogeneous hybrid's words played over in her ears again, as clear as if he's just whispered them in her ear and she searched desperately for something to once again distract herself.

Down the hall at one end there was a communal bath chamber. The Altean princess had been confused at first when she had first been shown to her suit to find that her private bathroom offered only a shower and no bathtub. She would have thought that the luxury of the rest of the suit would have extended to the bathroom as well. That was until she had learned of the communal bath at the end of the hall. This floor was reserved for the royal family and the royal family only so the only one's with access to the bath (aside from servants and slaves) were Sincline and herself. She shuddered at the idea of him walking in on her bathing whenever he pleased and she vowed never to take a bath for as long as she lived on Galra. Showers for life! She turned in the opposite direction heading to the other end of the corridor, her guards falling into step around her.

Immediately adjacent to Fala's rooms was Sincline's suit. She hurried past this door not wanting him to suddenly appear for whatever reason. She had no desire to see him. After Sincline's suit was a room he had called his 'private study', his office if you would. He had an Imperial Office three floors down where he managed the task of actually ruling his Empire, this private study was for his independent ventures, the one's that fed his private accounts and not the Imperial coffers. Fala was just a little curious what he did in there and she found her hand resting on the intricately tooled door handle. She attempted to turn it only to find the room locked. She sighed again and continued on down the corridor, scrutinizing the place, actually examining the castle that would in all likelihood be her home for the rest of her life.

'No.' She reminded herself forcefully. 'Not the rest of my life. Just until the Lions can come and rescue me. Just until Kogane comes to rescue me! I'm just passing the time until Kogane...'

'Be my wife... Share my bed...' Her capture's voice cut into the princess' thoughts and an unwelcome and disturbing idea formed in her mind. What would Kogane think of how she had had to 'pass the time' of her captivity? What would he think of her knowing she had slept with their sworn enemy? The Blue Lion pilot felt the beginnings of tears forming behind her eyes but she held them in. She had already cried once today, she would not do it a second time. She refused to be one of those 'weepy' women who cried at the slightest provocation and never did anything useful. She would do something useful, she would memorize the layout of Demon Castle so that she could be of use when her rescue finally came.

At the end of the corridor opposite the communal bath was an odd room indeed, the only word that seemed to fit is was 'shrine'. It was a perfect circle, even it's single wooden door had been curved to fit the curve of the room. Inside the room on short pedestals and set against the wall were several statues. Each came up to Fala's breast and each was of a different Galran and in the center of the room standing alone was a single larger statue. Naked accept for a cape that was draped over only one shoulder and fell across the chest and a sword belt around his waist, and in his hands the figure held a scepter and a globe. At first Fala had be repelled by the statues alien nudity but slowly she found the she was actually curious to look at them for longer and longer whenever she did.

The captain of her guard, the only one of her guars that ever spoke to her (and possibly the only one of her guards that spoke her language at all) had explained that this was a small representation of the major gods in the Galran pantheon. The large figure in the center of the room was Menagroth, the king of the gods. Those on pedestals around the wall were those that made up the first circle in his court of the Netherworld. The Captain had gone on to name all the gods as well and explain what they were the god of, but Fala had since forgotten all their names. They were all so strange and alien to her ears.

The princess circled the room, examining the statues of the gods, noting that the only difference between the male and female gods was their genitalia and the females tended to have wider hips. But they were all completely flat-chested, completely, they did not even have nipples. Of course the Galran people did not suckle their young so why would their gods and creators have need for breasts or nipples. The idea was both disturbing and yet somehow fascinating. She was just a little frightened by how she was so intrigued by the alien figures. Hys would throw a fit if she ever caught Fala looking at such racy artwork.

She straitened and turned from the room, careful to shut the door behind her and headed for the lift.

The floor directly below the royal residential suits was a recreation area of sorts but the only spot she had ever seen any play there was fencing. Not the tame, safe little foile fencing they practiced on Altea but all out, hard-core saber fencing with real swords that caused real wounds and even death. She did not stop on that floor today. Below the recreation area was the floor reserved for guests, important dignitaries, visiting nobles, etc. She did not stop there either. The third floor down from the royal suits was the business part of the castle. It held the main audience chamber, the throne room, the legislative office, the interplanetary commerce office and the Emperor's office. This was to this that she was headed.

Fala did not want to marry Sincline. She did not want to sleep with him. She did not want to share a bed with him. Hell! She didn't even want to share her meals with him! But he was holding he planet and her people hostage. If she didn't give in to his demands she would burn the lands, boil the seas and enslave, torture and/or kill her people (not necessarily in that order). As much as she did not want to be his wife she did not want that to happen to her country more. It was the age old question 'the needs of the many versus the needs of the individual'. Well, Fala was an individual and she decided that the needs of her people far out weighed her needs. Or her wants...

'Kogane...'

The Emperor looked up from his desk when she entered the office unannounced. Her guards did not follow her inside but waited dutifully just outside the door and Fala found that she suddenly wanted their company. There was some comfort to be had in being surrounded by four well armed silent body guards, not that Sincline posed any mortal danger to her. True, he was indeed a dangerous man but the threat he posed to her was not against her own life but rather the lives of others -her planet, her people.

"Sincline," she began, her voice taking on a tone of confidence and command that she did not feel, "in exchange for my being your wife you will give me full control over Altea as a wedding gift."

The heterogeneous hybrid set aside the document he had been reading, not a draft printed on paper like the one's Raible often had her look over for approval, the thing he set aside was a tablet of plastic and metal that looked almost like a computer screen. To one side of his desk were arranged several small disks all about half the size of her palm set in neat trays. These, she assumed where to be loaded into a disk-drive in Sincline's tablet for him to read. It struck her then that Galra had no paper. What a silly mundane thing to think about at the moment. But it made sense. Galra received no sunlight from their sun do to the ever-present cloud cover, no sunlight, no trees, no trees, no paper. She thought back to the two books that sat on the shelf in her sitting room and suddenly wondered if they were more of a precious commodity on this world than she had supposed.

"No." The Emperor's voice ended her musings and returned Fala to the conversation she had come to have.

"You lied then." The princess accused without missing a beat. "At breakfast you said you'd give me Altea."

"I said I'd let you rule Altea with little interference from me." He corrected. "Altea will remain subject to my Empire. And I will not give you control over it just yet."

"And you will give me this control upon the signing of our marriage contract?" Fala nearly choked on the words 'our marriage'.

"No." Sincline said again. "I will, however, give you control over Altea after you have been married to me for a time. Say... as a one year anniversary present?"

"Unacceptable!" She all but shouted.

"Non-negotiable." He shot back, an amused smile crept across his lips and the princess did not like it one bit.

'Your planet is practically helpless...' His words spoken in the Arena box seat played through her head once more and she had to concede that she really wasn't in a position to argue the matter. It was with a subdued air and low voice that she asked, "An Altean year or a Galran year?"

"A Galran year."

"To long." The planet Galra was slightly farther from its its sun than Altea was from its sun. As such, Galra's year was longer than Altea's by roughly two months. Not very long, but longer than Fala was willing to spare when her people's lives were at stake.

"Non-negotiable." He said again. "Come now, Fala, it won't be all that bad. Your world won't stop spinning if you let it be for a year. And I only want to time to work on our marriage."

"What's there to work on? I'd be nothing but a glorified pleasure slave." The princess snarled bitterly. Kogane's image once again rose to the forefront of her mind and she clenched her hands into fists, her nails biting into the palms of her hands.

Sincline leaned back in his chair. "Ah, Fala, you will be many things, but a slave is not one of them."

"I'd rather be a slave than your wife." She snarled.

"Don't say that. You might find that you like being Empress of the most powerful Empire the universe has ever known."

"I will never enjoy power gained on the backs of slaves and the blood of innocents."

...