This is dedicated to all father figures, whether fathers by blood, adoption, or mentorship. Happy Fathers Day!

I got the idea for this story after hearing a sermon about God changing Abram and Sarai's names to Abraham and Sarah in Genesis 17. Abram "exalted father" became Abraham "father of many." Sarai and Sarah both mean "princess," but the former is diminutive, like a pet name, whereas the latter refers to the title or position, suggesting respect and nobility.


"Always My Princess"

Coran had amassed many skills over the course of his long career serving the royal family. Unfortunately, midwifery was not one of those skills. Since he could be of no substantial help to Queen Melanor, he had to wait while King Alfor and the midwives helped her give birth. Alfor promised that in spite of this, Coran would be one of the first to meet the new prince or princess.

Coran wandered from one part of the castle to another, looking for things to do while he waited. Distracting himself was impossible, but he could at least make himself useful. He had already made every necessary preparation for the royal child's arrival; nothing was wanting in the nursery or treasury. Nothing more could be done until after the birth itself. So he checked on different departments of the castle's staff, offering his services to any tasks that needed another set of hands.

He was helping clean the cryo-pods in the infirmary when a servant paged him. "Coran, your presence is requested in the recovery room." There was nothing about the health of the Queen or the child, no confirmation that the child had even been born yet. News of such import would not be announced through the intercom; a formal announcement would be made when all was done.

Coran threw his towel on the floor and sprinted to the rarely-used room. It was equidistant from the infirmary and most of the bedrooms, and furnished to serve the functions of both types of rooms. The servants who came out or stepped aside to make room for Coran smiled at him knowingly. Finally he was just outside. He took a moment to collect himself, caught his breath, straightened his uniform, and smoothed out his mustache. Then he stood in the threshold and looked in.

The bed was surrounded, and King Alfor was seated on a chair set next to it, cradling something—someone—in his arms. Coran gulped, then cleared his throat and said, "Your Highnesses?"

The new parents looked up at Coran and smiled broadly. The last time they had looked so happy was on their wedding day. Alfor beckoned with one arm, still holding the blanket-swaddled baby secure with the other. "Coran, come meet our daughter." Her name had been chosen long before, to remain a secret until the birth was announced. But now Alfor held her out for Coran to see, saying, "This is Allura."

It was easy to see the child's resemblance to her parents: she had their white hair, brown skin, even a similar face, with a pointed chin and a wide smile. Her eyes were big, bright, blue, looking to Coran with joy, curiosity, and intelligence.

Coran leaned and spoke softly. "Hello there, Princess. I'm glad to finally meet you."

"Would you like to hold her?" Alfor offered.

"You do know how to hold a baby, don't you?" Melanor asked.

"Well, ah—I've studied the theory." Coran knew enough first aid to save a baby or small child in an emergency situation, but he had little firsthand experience with handling children under normal circumstances.

"It's simple." Alfor gently moved Coran's arms into the correct position before placing Allura in them. "She can grab things already, so don't hold her too close to your mustache."

"She already pulled at my hair and Alfor's beard," the Queen added.

The baby princess kept her eyes on her father and seemed distressed at being parted from him, until Coran poked her chin and drew her attention to him. "You and I will see each other a lot, I think. I've changed positions quite a bit, but our families have always been close. I do hope we'll get along."


At the King and Queen's request, Coran was the one who presented Allura's tiara when they sent out the transmission announcing her birth. It was a lightweight accessory that would change size to fit her as she grew. Of course Alfor was the one who put it on her head while Melanor held her, signifying that he was conferring power to her, but Coran was honored to even be present, let alone visible, in the historical recording.

He was correct about them seeing each other a lot. Thankfully they did get along—most of the time. When they did not, Alfor set things straight between them, and Allura usually deferred to his wishes.

Coran took it upon himself to learn the basics of child care, just as the Alfor and Melanor were as they adjusted to parenthood. They learned through trial and error, and reported what they learned to Coran, who tried to follow his example. For instance, when Allura would not eat, they found the best way to coax her was to pretend her utensil was one of the Voltron Lions and her mouth one of the hangars.

When Allura was little, "Princess" seemed like a term of endearment, even though it was technically her title. In fact, Coran was one of the few people who could get away with calling her by her given name alone. This usually happened when he was frustrated with her or afraid for her, and occasionally in moments of gratitude or affection.

As she grew older, Coran called her "Princess" out of a growing sense of respect. It was not just that he felt the need to be formal, though that may have been part of it. More than that, he was coming to see her as a leader. She made so many suggestions about her parents' political affairs that Alfor allowed her to sit in on meetings, and even invited her to give her opinion. She demonstrated compassion and a determination to help people in need.

As a warrior and, later, a paladin of Voltron, Alfor knew he needed to make arrangements in case anything should happen to him. Of course it was expected that Allura would lead Altea after her father, but like any new ruler, she would need guidance and assistance. Coran was the most reliable and trustworthy friend of the royal family; it seemed only natural to entrust him with Allura's welfare. Coran readily accepted the responsibility, though he expressed some reservation about keeping Allura herself ignorant of these contingency plans. They both knew she would never have agreed to go into hiding while her father and the rest of their people risked everything to fight, but Coran still felt indignant on her behalf when Alfor put her to sleep.

When they emerged from the sleeping pods, the only thing that kept Allura from giving in to her grief was focusing on picking up the pieces of her father's legacy. The only thing that kept Coran sane was helping her, seeing to her and the new paladins' basic, immediate needs.

As they met one new group of people after another, Allura continued to introduce herself as a princess, even though she had neither a place nor a populace to govern. Coran was the only subject she had left. He did not know whether she kept the title out of habit or a sense of duty or identity. He continued to call her "Princess" and hinted to the other paladins that they should do likewise. They picked up on it fairly quickly. Despite what Pidge said in a moment of anger, they seemed to consider Allura their princess almost as much as Coran did.

Coran never apologized to Allura for causing so much annoyance and distress when they were in the time-loop. She had seen glimpses of him at different stages of growth for a few minutes at a time; he, on the other hand, had watched her grow up from infancy, and put up with all of her moods and phases. To her credit, though, Allura never asked for an apology, so perhaps she understood.

They did not dwell on the past or on what their strange situation meant for the future of their people. The only person who dared to do so was Slav, the genius who constantly calculated hypothetical possibilities and speculated alternate realities. He got into everyone's business, asking rude questions and making forward statements about Shiro's prosthetic, Keith's heredity, Hunk's cooking, Lance's romantic prospects, and the probability that Pidge's relatives were still alive (she looked ready to electrocute him when he spelled out how slim her chances of finding them were). The most tactless of all his lines of inquiry was when he broached the topic of Coran and Allura being the last male and female Alteans. Fortunately no one else was present, but even so, Coran came very close to strangling him.

Coran did not need to hear it; he already knew. If he and Allura wanted their race to go on, at least one of them would have to marry and have children. If they wanted there to be pure-blooded Alteans, they would have to partner up with each other. Coran had extinguished that thought quickly when it first occurred to him. He and Allura would never be that way, nor did he wish it to be so; they were too much like family already, like a father and daughter. That was one of the few circumstances that did not change after their ten-thousand-year hibernation, and he would not suggest changing it now. Preserving their race mattered less to him than preserving their bond.

The hardest part of being Allura's advisor was obeying her directives when they contradicted his efforts to keep her safe. Every such allowance went against Coran's (paternal?) instinct as well as the vow he made to Alfor. He made his own wishes and the facts of every dangerous situation clear to Allura. Yet, even when she was fully aware of the risks and his fear for her sake, she most often went on and did as she wished. She was self-sacrificial, like her father, and as much as it made Coran worry, it also inspired him with the same kind of admiration he had felt for Alfor, now accompanied by a mentor's pride as well.