Coran's POV
Allura had been born in a time of peace. Granted, things had begun to get tense, as Honerva and Zarkon chased impossible dreams of quintessence, but it was peace nonetheless. She had been raised by loving parents, taught the pleasures of royal life. She had spent many days with friends, laughing, dancing, playing with others her age. Then her mother had died, giving birth to a stillborn. There had been nothing that could be done, not with any amount of knowledge or science, and the whole kingdom and many others had grieved for what was lost.
As time went on, she had recovered from the loss, and life continued. As the war inched closer and tensions grew, she learned a little of the less pleasurable parts of being a princess. Being that she was next in line to take the throne, her father stressed that it was important to learn how to lead people in more than dances and sing alongs. So she learned how to fight with various weapons, how to maneuver a ship through a battlefield, how to quickly and efficiently move around armies to best ensure a victory. Her father and himself had taught her firmly but happily, kindly. They didn't forget how to laugh, no matter how things got.
And perhaps, Coran thought, that had been what made the difference between her and Lotor. He sat at his desk in his own room, looking at images on a screen pass by of the days before the war. Coran and Alfor had been friends for many, many years. Brothers in all the ways that count. He had been there while Allura had grown up, watched her turn from the squirming little infant into the woman she was today, and he was as proud as if she was his own.
Coran had seen a great many children grow up. And he had met a great many people, all of whom had different upbringings. Zarkon had been raised well, at least by his mother. His father had been cold and unloving, but his mother had made up for it. And yet, Zarkon had been corrupted and poisoned. Honerva had been raised right as well, by two very loving parents who supported her in all her dreams. Yet the Quintessence had poisoned her mind. Coran wasn't sure exactly when Lotor was born, as the war had already been started by that point, but thinking back, he found he didn't hate the Zarkon's son.
They had spent many days chasing Lotor, trying to stop him. While they hadn't exactly said it...they had been wanting to kill him. Now, Coran still didn't trust Lotor fully. But...but maybe he could learn to. Nothing he had said had been false yet, and he had done nothing to show any shady motives.
He remembered the day after they left the White Hole. Coran had been wandering the castle aimlessly, lost in thought, and had found Lotor in the library. The library had not been used in a very long time. Finding the door open, Coran had looked inside and saw Lotor curled on a couch with a book in his lap. His head was dipped, and the book was drooping. It was obvious that he was fallen asleep. There was a peacefulness about the scene, and Coran moved forward slowly, peeking over Lotor's shoulder to see what he was reading. Mostly to make sure it wasn't anything that could prove to be dangerous. But no, Coran recognized the title. It was some fictional adventure book, about an the 3rd son of an Altean Queen, who since he would never have the throne had set off to explore the universe and in the process, met some friends and helped save a bunch of random villages along the way.
There was a lot more detail to it, obviously, but Coran couldn't remember the whole thing. Allura had told Coran had Lotor had said he had wanted to be an explorer. Perhaps, reading had been the only way he could explore while he was a child. He had left the half-breed sleeping on the couch, not wanting to disturb him.
Coran flipped the screen in his room off, and made his way to his own bed, wondering what kind of a childhood Lotor had had and what kind of person he was because it. But the only way to find out would be to wait it out and see what he did.
