Fingers flying over the console in front of him, Coran hardly noticed the doors to the bridge sliding open or the figure that passed through them.

"You're the only one who hasn't made any attempt to show your displeasure at my presence aboard the ship."

There was a worldly sigh that fell from Coran's lips, fingers stilling against the keys in front of him; eyes slowly shutting as he prepared to face someone he hadn't been expecting to see. He slowly turned around, his eyes slowly opening, even as his face possessed a deep frown that made him look older than his age; a crestfallen look painting his face that barely encapsulated the true depth of loss and pain that Coran had suffered through in his life. "Prince Lotor." There was a gruff weariness to Coran's voice that had Lotor considering if Lance's advice was practical at this moment. "I apologize for not making you feel as welcome as I truly should have."

"There's no need for you to make me feel welcome. In fact, I wouldn't expect less for you or the other Paladins to feel wary of me right now."

A single brow rose on Coran's face as he twisted his torso to peer at Lotor. "Then is there something that I can help you with?"

Pensively, Lotor crossed his arms in front of his chest, his index finger idly tapping at the bulge of muscle beneath his fingertip. He hummed, "I suppose, you and I could converse about the multitude of ways the Galra Empire has impacted your life and caused you suffering."

Shock colored Coran's face, his brows pinching together as his lips twisted into something that was akin to a tired grimace. "Forgive me for being so curt, Lotor, but no matter what I choose to tell you or even if I choose to do so, will bring back anything that I've lost or erase what I feel. Now if you'll excuse me—" Coran paused, motioning to the hologram behind him that was lit up with diagnostics of the Castle. "—I have work to do." Turning his back on Lotor, the Galran Prince couldn't help but feel that Lance's plan wasn't working.

If he was supposed to be listening to how the empire had personally impacted other's lives shouldn't these people aboard this Castle be more than willing to prostrate themselves before his feet? Pour out their hearts and souls into his lap as they listed one by one how the empire had ripped their families, hopes, and dreams away from their arms? This wasn't going like he had expected it to.

Instead, Lotor sighed. "As the Blue Pal—Lance—put it in his Earth term. Do you want to talk about it?"

Coran turned his head to stare at Lotor, there was something flickering in his eyes—bewilderment? Surprise?—Lotor didn't know what, but there was a small smile on his lips as he simply whispered. "No." The older Altean turned back around, his hands engrossing themselves into the work before him.

Sharply sniffing in disgust, Lotor let out a low growl in the hollow of his throat. This clearly wasn't helping him if the old Altean wasn't planning on talking and it only made the prospects of talking to the other Paladins even more dim in his eyes. If he was keen on building up an empire that wasn't living in the oppressive shadow of his father's corpse, he needed these people to talk to him and their refusal was more than a hindrance and annoyance to him. "Lance told me that in order to overcome pain it was best to talk about it."

That made the Altean stop. His fingers still against the keyboard in front of him as a sigh ripped itself from his throat and his head fell forward as his shoulders slumped. "And sometimes it's best not to dredge up old memories." Lotor watched as Coran forced a smile on his face, forced a spark of joy to burn in eyes that were tired and weary; bogged down by the pain he refused to talk about.

It reminded him of himself.

"It's almost like the time I dug up Araimrizi." Coran continued. "Powerful little buggers; powerful jaws too! One time back when I was traveling with—"

"I didn't come here for a tale." Lotor's words sliced through the air as the icy tone tore itself from Lotor's throat. Coran simply stared at him, his brows raised as if he was almost pressuring Lotor to see what he would do. And it hit him like a slap to the face as he realized that years of experience and skills that Lotor had pared in comparison to Coran. The old man knew he was getting a rise out of him; knew that he was simply dodging the question, hiding behind the mask of a whimsical old man so he could avoid answering Lotor's line of questions.

Lotor had pegged him as a stubborn sort, but no he was much more than that. That glimmer of what he had mistook as bewilderment in the old man's eyes had been a cold, pitiful fury that he wasn't used to seeing. "I know what you're doing." Lotor pressed him. "Constantly hiding your own pain behind walls, just so that you don't have to face the tru—"

"Stop. Talking." Coran's words came out as a hushed whisper; there was a biting edge to them that only served to highlight the ruddy color of his cheeks as his face warmed with anger. The scalding fury that burned in his eyes and simply highlighted the tired lines that were etched into his face and made him look older than he truly was. "You don't have a clue about what you're trying to imply."

"I know enough about myself to recognize the same thing in another."

In the back of his mind, Lotor knew that he was watching the critical moment when Coran's opposing game piece fell, giving him an advantageous hand over the entire field. He watched as Coran sighed, pressed a single hand against his forehead and walked over to a chair that he collapsed in. Leaning forward in it, he pressed his hands against his face, obscuring his features. There was a tense silence that hovered between them, until Coran had pulled his hands away exposing his weary face, his lips parted as he began to talk. "Do you know what it's like? To wake up 10,000 years in the future to the knowledge that I and Princess Allura were the last of our people? The fact that I serve as her advisor with the unspoken knowledge that we have neither a home nor people to return to?

I mask my pain behind jokes and mirth because it's easier to do so than to confront the fact that Allura and I lost everything 10,000 years ago." Coran looked down at his own hands. His fingers curling inward to his palms as he let his eyes fall shut. Visions of dead friends, lovers, and family floated behind his eyes. Memories of happier times and moments in his life flittered behind them before they slipped back into the shadows of his mind. There was one face that he didn't focus on for too long, but unbidden like a rain shower it gripped his mind as King Alfor's face flashed in front of his eyes. His heart constricted inside of his chest as if it had been wrapped in thorns that burrowed into the flesh of the organ. Face burning with frustration, guilt, and anguish, he couldn't help but think about King Alfor—a man he'd come over time to not only regard as a dear friend but something like a brother. They'd shared so many adventures together—sailing across the dunes of Pusolrit, spending multiple evenings with nothing but the glow of a campfire to illuminate their faces as they gazed up at the stars, standing beside Alfor as his best man at his wedding; watching the way the corner of Alfor's eyes crinkled with happiness as he spotted Allura's mother approaching down the aisle. He'd been by Alfor's side for so long and when Adrasteia married Alfor, Coran felt that he had gained another member of his family.

He remembered the day, Alfor had rushed to come find him. He'd been working on repairs to the castle with his grandfather. Alfor had looked so giddy when he'd grabbed Coran by the wrist and dragged him to his personal study inside of the castle. Adrasteia sat perched in a chair, her hands gently pressed against her stomach.

She'd lifted her head at the sound of the study door squeaking as Alfor and Coran made their way in. Alfor had turned to him, a maddening grin stretched across his face.

"We wanted to tell you first, my dear friend."

"Tell me what?" It had struck him like a jolt of electricity as his eyes widened as he took in the small swell of Adrasteia's stomach. "No," he'd whispered.

She let out a sweet laugh; a laugh that reminded him of bells. "Yes."

There was a shout of joy that rushed out of Coran's mouth as he rushed over to her, pulled her up into a hug that pulled her off her feet, and spun her around in a small circle before she was playfully imploring him to put her down. Setting her back on her feet, he stared at her stomach.

"Do you know what it is?"

Giving a soft shake of her head, she simply continued to smile. "No." Was the simple response she gave, as she softly rubbed the swell of her stomach. "But I have the feeling it'll be a little girl." Glancing at her husband, her smile only seemed to widen. "And Alfor and I have talked already about this, but—" Pulling her hands away from her stomach, she reached out and grasped Coran's own in hers. "—we'd both like it if you could name her."

Shaking his head, Coran pulled his hand away from her grasp. "I can't—I couldn't. That's—that's such an honor."

Soft footsteps fell against the plush carpet that lined the study as Alfor came over and rested his hand against Coran's shoulder. "It is no honor, Coran. I consider you to be like a blood brother as if my own mother bore you herself. This is but a small gift that we can give to you."

There was a smile that stretched across Coran's face as he fell to his knees and pressed his hands against Adrasteia's stomach. "I have the perfect name in mind," he whispered, "Allura."

Wrenching himself out of the bittersweet memory that gripped his mind, Coran gingerly wiped at the tears rolling down his cheeks.

"You don't know how difficult it is," Coran whispered, his voice scratchy and broken from the flood of emotion that coated his throat. "To be by Allura's side when she was a baby still being cuddled in her mother's arms, to now a young adult forced to make decisions, be a leader that her parents would be proud of." There was a sardonic smile stretched across his face as he paused to collect his words. "It was one thing to advise her from the comforts of the castle, where she could simply stand at the helm and serve as a beacon of peace; a token of inspiration amongst the casualty and horrors of war. But for her to be at the forefront of it as a Paladin. It just makes me fear ever having to lose her. There are times where I dread going to sleep, dread closing my eyes with the knowledge that's she's going to put herself in the forefront of danger the next day. I don't just worry about her simply as her advisor. But I'm the only thing close to family that she has left and she's the only thing close to family that I fear losing. I laugh and make jokes because it's an easy thing to do that for a few moments, allows me to think of something other than the pain that may come if and when I lose Allura." Lifting his head from his hands, Coran found himself solemnly gazing into Lotor's eyes. "The pain that comes from losing those that you love...is something that takes time to heal, but the wound is still always going to be there."

Nodding, Lotor found himself thinking of a dream he had some time ago. His mother's arms wrapped around his shoulders as he tucked his face into the crook of her neck and inhaled deeply. A pang of pain resonated deeply in his stomach as his grip on his own arms tightened. "I know the feeling," he whispered.

Coran simply bowed his head, rose from his seat, and strode over to Lotor. With an outstretched hand, he patted Lotor's shoulder in an attempt to reassure him. Lotor didn't know why but the older Altean had an aura about him that made him relax a little in his presence.

The corner of Coran's mouth wrinkled a little in a tired smile as he said, "I believe this is the part where Lance tells me that we had a good talk."

Letting out a little huff of a laugh, Lotor let the odd combination of words flow from his tongue. "We had a good talk."

That phrase caused a smile to stretch across Coran's features. He could see the mask settle itself back onto Coran's face as his chipper personality won over—the little flicker of fear and doubt still burned in his eyes; it was something that Lotor was always going to be vigilant of, but he believed that the Altean today had allowed him to see a glimpse of himself that he had never shown to the other Paladins.

The older Altean ushered him from the bridge; saying there was important work left for him to do as he had to go through the entire diagnostics of the castle ship and that Lotor was free to do whatever he pleased.

As Lotor walked out of the bridge, he mindlessly roamed the halls of the castle, until he found himself standing in front of a door. It was decorated with little glowing stickers of various constellations, dwarf stars, and auroras. Lance had made sure to educate Lotor on whose room was whose on this ship by the various decorations they had placed up on the outside of their doors. Even as he raised a single fist to rap his knuckles against the metal of the door, Lotor wasn't worried by the inevitable conversation he'd be having with the person who occupied this room.

"Come in." The voice called out, slightly muffled by the thick metal of the door. At the sound of its occupants' voice and the express permission that Lotor was being granted entry to the room, the door slid open, revealing Allura sitting in front of a rather large mirror, the largest of her mice resting comfortably in her cupped hands as the others were perched upon her shoulders.

Her brows wrinkled together as a flicker of surprise and distrust bloomed in her eyes. "Lotor."