The Starlight Princess's Legacy

Princess Astra, no longer merely a princess bored with polishing stardust, was now the Starlight Princess. The title, bestowed upon her by a decidedly less-grumpy Celestial Council, felt surprisingly… fizzy. It wasn't just the glitz and the glory, though that was certainly a pleasant change from the endless shimmer of nebulae dust. It was the knowledge that she, Astra, had been the one to wrangle that mischievous comet and coax it into relinquishing its starry prize.

Her days of endless council meetings, where the most exciting event was the occasional debate over the optimal shade of galactic purple, were over. Or at least, significantly less frequent. Now, the council meetings often involved Astra recounting her adventures, much to the wide-eyed astonishment of the older, more conservative council members. They’d listen, mouths agape, as she described the zero-gravity disco with its pulsating alien beats, or the sheer, bewildering absurdity of space pirates whose primary motivation was lint.

Gleep, bless his grumpy, grease-stained heart, was a permanent fixture in her life now. He’d grumbled, of course, when she’d insisted he continue to “assist” her. “Assist?” he’d huffed, his antennae twitching indignantly. “I’m a mechanic, not a royal bodyguard! And definitely not a professional kazoo-polisher!” But Astra had seen the grudging affection in his multi-faceted eyes, the way he’d subtly adjusted her helmet before a particularly bumpy atmospheric re-entry, or the extra polish he’d given her ship’s engine, just because.