CHAPTER THREE: The Shallow End

Allura was ushered into a narrow changing room, slim stalls lined along one wall near the servant quarters in the palace. A plump maid bustled about, throwing the traditional Sjarkan clothes at them, hanging them over the closed doors of stone that creaked at the slightest touch.

It was a relief to slip out of her skin-tight suit, sweat having been building underneath the fabric all afternoon. The cooler air as night grew closer was refreshing on her skin. The Sjarkan gown (or at least it looked like a gown) was soft as she slipped it on. It was made of a thin white cloth, sleeveless, and went down to her ankles. With the right pair of heels, she'd have no problem moving around in it. Silver chains, sparkling naturally, were wound over her shoulders and collarbone with gaps in between, overlapping over the torso of the dress. Against her dark skin, it looked especially beautiful.

It had nothing on Altean formal wear, of course, but it was still rather nice.

She bunched up her hair in her hands, pulling it away from the hot nape of her neck, looking for any tangles that might have formed after taking it out of its bun, before stepping out of the change room.

Pidge and Hunk were already out, the latter bending down so Pidge could fix his bowtie. Their outfits were closer to suits, with long sleeves and silver shirts underneath what resembled white tuxes. Pidge was wearing a long, flowing skirt as well, while Hunk wore pants, and had hiked it up to reveal white shorts underneath, so they could change as they pleased.

"I used to do this for my brother all the time," Pidge said, sounding mildly annoyed, even if there was a smile spreading across their face as they fiddled with Hunk's tie. "He's such a dweeb."

Hunk grinned at them, rising back to his full height. "Sounds like it, alright." He tugged his bowtie from side to side. "Nice job Pidge."

All three of them turned as Keith came out of his dressing room, followed by Lance moments later. The Blue Paladin positively swaggered in front of the closest mirror, he and Keith dressed in the same outfit as Hunk, except he had popped the collar and wore a blue tie. "What d'you think?" He shot hand guns in Hunk's direction. "Do I look snazzy or what?"

"What," said Keith flatly, and Lance let out an indignant noise.

"Oh yeah, pretty boy?"

Allura rolled her eyes―after all these months in space, couldn't those two ever stop bickering?―when she turned her eyes to the last door, and her breath caught in her throat.

Shiro.

His outfit was clearly supposed to match hers, with gleaming silver cuffs lining the edge of his sleeves and collar, a black shirt underneath his white blazer. The suit defined the broad stretch of his shoulders, the collar neatly folded over and she could see the bare skin of his neck for the first time. One side of his collar was pulled up more than the other, lopsided, and she smiled faintly.

"As the Black Paladin, Shiro," she said, mock-stern, "your outfit needs to be as professional as your reputation." She reached up, curling her fingers over his collar, and trying to ignore their proximity; she could practically feel him breathing. They were supposed to be married after all. She went to adjust the collar, when a line of splotchy red flesh rose up over his skin: a scar.

Her fingers went slack.

Shiro blushed as she drew her hands away, and cleared his throat. "I just don't like them showing," he said, very quietly, adjusting his shirt so the scar was covered again. There was no way the other Paladins could hear them over Keith and Lance's bickering.

Allura nodded, her brow furrowing. She looked past him, at the wall. "I understand. I apologize, I should have―"

"No, it's okay." His voice changed into a sort of soft fondness, and she forced herself to meet his eyes, gazing back at her unflinching. "You're always okay."

A faint smile tugged on her lips. "I'm glad that you trust me, Shiro." She realized she was still standing so close to him, even her arms were lying limply by her sides, yet couldn't find the will to step away.

She didn't have to, because he took a step back after only a moment, and she swallowed her disappointment. And then chided herself for it. Really, what had she expected to happen?

"Of course I trust you," he said, but she could hear him slipping into his leader, more reserved voice, the one he used when he had to be a leader. "We're friends, aren't we? And the leaders of Voltron. We have to trust each other."

Have to.

She forced a smile. "I suppose so."

"Princess of Altea, and the Paladins of Voltron―?" Noruku's head popped up from behind the doorframe, the advisor fidgeting. "The feast is about to begin, well, it cannot being without you since you all the guests of honour, but―"

"We're on our way," said Shiro.

"Not worry, Noruku," Allura assured him. "Thank you for your people's hospitality. Would you be so kind as to guide us back to the dining hall?"

"Of course, Princess, right this way."

The sand had all been swept away from the floor of the ballroom. The high, domed ceiling was glittering with tiny shiny lights that mimicked stars, purple streamers hung between the pillars on either wall. The long banquet tables were now laden with platters of food: grilled meat of birds, lizards, even something that looked like the hindquarter of the camel-like creature; leaf wraps of vivid purple, chock full of meat and thin, lumpy orange vegetables that had a sweet and sour taste, with some creamy sauce poured over it; desserts of transparent jello-like substance in a rainbow of colours that tasted far more like chocolate.

Not many people were eating, however. Most Sjarkans were dancing with their partners, dressed in fine silk and shimmering gowns and robes of white and silver, earrings swinging as their bodies swayed. A band was in the centre of the ballroom with a variety of string instruments and flutes. King Ilvaar was sitting on a gilded golden throne next to the wall opposite the balcony, the curtain having being peeled away, revealing the sandy dunes stretching out of the Oasis, the velvety night sky settling over the planet like a thick blanket. For the first time since landing, the air was cool instead of humid.

"Your seats are over there, with the nobles," said Noruku, pointing one of his four thin fingers towards the tables collected along the same wall as the king's throne, with sturdy chairs made of thick wood.

Allura bowed her head, Shiro staying by her side, hands clasped as the other Paladins scurried over excitedly towards the banquet table, Lance and Hunk in the lead. "Thank you, Noruku. Give our gratitude to the king."

"If you can bring us water, we will be the ones in your debt," Noruku said, smiling faintly. The two teeth on either side of his front were pointed, before he turned and left to stand by the king's side, conversing quietly with his ruler.

Shiro turned his head to Allura. "Are you hungry, Princess?"

"Famished," she admitted, her easy smile slipping. "But we should probably dance and participate in the local's rituals, first. Do you mind?"

He ignored the growling of his own stomach. "Not at all, princess. You're right."

He let her lead him onto the dance floor by the hand, her grip firm and reassuring as they waded into the sea of Sjarkans, the music taking a softer tune, something akin to a waltz, if somehow off-beat and with an odd twinge to the strings.

"Where should I put my, uh―" Shiro weakly held up his prosthetic, and Allura smiled gently.

"My waist," she said, a hint of amusement in her eyes. Shiro did as she said, wishing not for the first time that he could actually feel something beyond faint tingles and sensation in his metal hand, feel the warmth of her skin underneath the fabric of her dress. Their other hands were clasped together, and he was both relieved (and disappointed) that their chests weren't pressed together, or he thought he would combust.

He tried focussed on dancing instead of her, which was proving to be just as difficult as the dance steps. He did his best to mimic her foot work, albeit clumsily, and winced when he stepped on her foot, luckily lightly enough so as not to hurt her toes, sticking out from under the strap of her open-foot sandal.

Shiro flushed. "Sorry," he mumbled. "I told you I'm not a very good dancer,"

Allura tightened her grip on his hand. "Nonsense, you're doing just fine. Relax." She watched him struggle for a few more minutes, gently guiding him as he slowly improved, but still looked frustrated. At least hardly any of the Sjarkans were paying attention to him, when she added, "You don't have to be perfect with me, Shiro."

A lump formed in his throat, their eyes meeting. Her eyes were a deep blue, mesmerizing as the rest of her. "That's what you deserve," he said softly.

Her hand slipped in his. "Is that really what you think?" she said, just as softly.

"It's what I know." He swallowed, and broke their gaze. She turned away as well, heat rising to her cheeks. Her hands were nearly shaking in his, although she hoped he wouldn't notice.

"I believe it is an appropriate time to take a break," she said, clearing her throat as the song came to an end. They needed to get off the dance floor before the nice time began. "I'm even more famished than before, you?"

He stared at her for a moment. "Yeah."

They sat with the other Paladins, Lance telling them in-depth which food was actually edible and what wasn't (Shiro scolded him; they couldn't afford to offend any of the Sjarkans). The Black Paladin straightened his collar before digging into his meal. He needed to keep his head on straight.

There wasn't any room for mistakes―especially not in his friendship with Allura.

Once the last of the plates had been licked clean and cleared away, King Ilvaar loudly cleared his throat, and a hush fell over the crowd. He raised his goblet of some green coloured wine (it tasted as bitter as wine, anyway) and everyone else did the same, the Sjarkans crying out, "Sajar! Sajar!"

Shiro made a mental note to ask Noruku for a translation later, as King Ilvaar stood up from his throne. "It is my honour to day to welcome the Paladins of Voltron and Princess Allura of Altea to our planet. They are here to defend us from the evil Galra and return what is rightfully ours: the water of the Oasis of Osock!"

The Sjarkans cheered, and Lance flashed finger guns at the crowd as Hunk humbly waved. Shiro inclined his head, even as Allura grinned brilliantly.

"We are also here to celebrate the leader of Voltron and the princess' bond of marriage, although new, yet strong." He raised his goblet again, bringing it closer to his lips but not drinking. "As we all know, the Galra do not share our ideals of marriage and what such a bond represents, allowing room for their monstrous deeds. I am confident in the knowledge that the Paladins of Voltron are much closer to our tier of thought, and that we can work together for the common good of both of our peoples!"

The Sjarkans cheered, and then drank alongside their king. Shiro took a sip of the bitter, tasteless wine, setting his cup back down as soon as he could. Coran had said the consequences of not being married―of anyone finding the holes in their story―would be severe, but he hadn't elaborated. Perhaps he hadn't even known, as their database hadn't even had all that much on the Sjarkans to begin with... Severe enough not to take a chance on, not to trifle with. But what exactly were the consequences?

A tightness grew in his chest. Did it even matter? They wouldn't be found out. Being in love with Allura? He didn't have to pretend.

They'd keep up the charade and play their parts (on her side at least), defeat the Galra, help the Sjarkans, and then jet off to another planet, and this mission would just be a passing thought and nothing more.

At least, that's what he tried to convince himself.

Somehow, Shiro forgot about the bed.

Between dancing until his feet ached, shaking so many hands and forgetting so many names the moment they were told, the celebration waned into the early hours of the morning. He sent the other Paladins to bed as soon as he could, Noruku guiding them to their quarters, all along the same long corridor of the palace, in the guest wing. They could be excused as younger members, but he and Allura, as leaders and spouses, had to greet everyone.

It was a relief to finally leave the stuffy, ballroom behind and breathe in fresh air. The musicians were carrying their instruments out as he and Allura left, having waved off Noruku's offer to lead them to their rooms; both were confident enough they could figure it out on their own.

Allura's hair was curling around her face, unusually unruly. As soon as they were out of sight of any Sjarkans, she paused and stooped down, taking off her high-heeled sandals and walking barefoot instead. She let out a sight of relief as her feet touched the cool, moonlight bathed stones.

"Thank the stars," she groaned. "I forgot how much dancing parties involved. Especially political ones."

"You went to a lot of those?" he asked, as they resumed walking.

"Oh, yes. Father thought it was good practice for a diplomat in training, he even had me organize a few. It was also a possible place to find a suitable match for me, princes and the rich sons of dignitaries. He met my mother at one, you see."

Shiro tried to ignore the twinge of distaste at the thought of other men vying for Allura's attention. "Your mother?"

"An Altean diplomat, she often travelled and was rarely home during the age most are marrying off. She got corralled into staying in close proximity with my father, however, when the Red Lion chose her as its Paladin."

He quirked an eyebrow. "Was she as impulsive as Keith?"

"Far worse. She mellowed as she got older, of course..." Allura's face fell. "She was one of the first casualties, when Zarkon turned against us."

Shiro took her hand before he could think better of it―before he remembered that he didn't need to, because no one else was around, because they didn't have a charade to keep up with―but her fingers tangled themselves with his. Her eyes were shining, with tears or moonlight he couldn't tell.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly.

Her brow furrowed. "For what?"

"Oh, it's an um," he stammered, "it's an Earthling thing. As in I'm sorry for your loss."

The corner of her mouth lifted. "Thank you, Shiro. But I made my peace with it long ago, your condolences are not needed, but they are appreciated."

"I'm... You know I'm here if you ever want to talk, right Princess?"

Her eyes softened. "You already are."

He smiled gently. "O-okay. Good."

They paused in front of their door, made of rich brown wood with a purple hue, and a silver knocker in the shape of triangle. He recognized the corridor as the one Noruku had shown them on tour as the guest wing, the other Paladins' rooms lining the hall.

"This is us," he remarked, and opened the door.

Their shared quarters were as luxurious as the rest of the palace. There were wide, arching windows with thin glass panels that opened out onto a balcony, creamy walls of smooth stone and minimal furniture besides two dressers, a wardrobe and a very large bed with a cover of red silk. A door that must have led to the bathroom was off to the side.

Shiro opened up the wardrobe and found white bathrobes hanging there, and then the drawers, pulling open every one. Allura came up behind him. "What are you looking for?" she asked, peering over his shoulder.

"Pajamas," he answered. For a moment, he worried the Sjarkans hadn't given them any―married couples, after all, would have no trouble sleeping without clothing―and his face burned at the thought. The idea of staying in his stuffy suit, the undershirt sticking to him after a night of dancing, was almost unbearable, but the only alternative... No. That'd be even worse.

Not that the thought was unappealing, nor would he protest to it ever happening but not―not like this.

He finally found some PJs in the bottom drawers, long loose shirts and pants, and handed Allura a pair, their fingers brushing. He knew he was blushing. "Do you want to use the bathroom first or―?"

"Oh, um―" Was she flustered? "Yes, thank you Shiro. I will just go and―and change."

He sat down on the edge of the bed with a long sigh, as she shut the bathroom door behind her. How were they going to do this? Would this mission end up ruining their friendship? It was their first day and night, out of a week, and things were already becoming awkward.

His fingers curled into the sheets. He and Allura were both strong, he reminded himself, and professional adults. They could figure this out responsibly. There was no reason they had be embarrassed or awkward or―

The bed.

Oh.

They'd have to share it.

He pulled off the blazer of his suit just to have something to do with his hands, hanging it on the knob of the dresser, and didn't turn around once he heard the bathroom door open.

"I'm done," Allura announced softly.

He turned, and his breath caught in his throat. Moonlight was streaming in from the window, illuminating her silvery hair, the clean white of her clothes, glowing against her beautiful dark skin. She looked ethereal, like an angel.

Her brow furrowed when his gaze didn't waver. "S-Shiro?"

He blinked, and then blushed. "O-oh, sorry Princess, I just―I'll go change now."

He hastily went into the bathroom and stripped out of his clothes, pulling on the fresh pants and shirt, cool against his skin. He splashed water on his face, hoping to get a hold of himself, and to get all the sand that might have slipped through his helmet off.

He wiped his face, and then went back to the bedroom. Their bedroom. Allura was standing by the bed, playing with a thick strand of her hair.

"Princess?"

She turned. "I was wondering what side would you like."

"I don't mind either way, really," he shrugged. "Whichever one you would like is fine."

She nodded slightly. "Okay. Thank you." She chose the right side, sliding underneath the sheets, untucking her hair from underneath her head, her curls falling all across the fluffy pillow.

Shiro climbed in beside her on the other side, keeping as much space between them as possible. He could see her staring back at him from over the curves of her pillows, and smiled faintly, despite himself.

"Good night Princess."

She smiled back at him. "Good night, Shiro."

Falling asleep beside her proved to be easier than he had imagined, and gave him one of the best sleeps he had ever had.