Lotor thought the universe was playing a cruel joke upon him when the doors to the kitchen slid apart and instead of revealing Lance to him, who he'd seen mere moments earlier as he and Shiro had passed by the kitchen, he'd instead nearly collided into Keith who stood just behind the door.

Keith scowled at him as if he was excrement that he'd had the unfortunate pleasure of stepping in. "What do you want?"

Refusing to stoop to the same level of animosity that Keith clearly held for him, his eyes scanned the room for any signs of Lance and came back thoroughly disappointed when he failed to spot the Paladin. He turned on his heels, intent on leaving and searching for Lance when Keith let out a disgruntled "hey" that had Lotor rolling his eyes and turning his head to stare at him.

"Are you ignoring me?" He scoffed incredulously.

"Do you feel like you're being ignored? Because I rather having nothing of value to say to you as of right now."

Tensing up as Keith reached out with lightning quick reflexes to wrap a hand around Lotor's wrist, Keith drew himself up to his full height, which was still a few inches shorter than Lance. Lotor studied his face, just as he recollected the morsel of information that Allura had dumped into his lap earlier. "I don't know what game you're playing at here—" Keith began, his face burning with anger as his grip on Lotor's wrist tightened.

"You're Galra," Lotor whispered, more to himself rather than to Keith who heard his words anyway.

"Not fully," Keith mumbled, letting his grip on Lotor's wrist slacken as he pulled his hand back to his side.

But it was still enough for Lotor to recognize that Keith had Galra blood running through his veins. He never quite understood it himself, what set other half-Galra like himself apart from the rest or what drew him to find others like him. Maybe it was the way they held themselves like they had something to prove to a world that constantly reminded them they were different from others. Or maybe it was the innate desire that all half-Galra had inside of themselves, a desire to reach out and search for anyone in the universe that was unknowingly like them. It delighted him to know that he and Keith were alike in some way.

But Keith clearly didn't it. "No." The single word was sharp, with the edginess of a fatal bite that was meant to tear through flesh, sinew, and bone.

"No?" There was a curious fire illuminating Lotor's eyes, his brow curving at the faintest hint of his own question.

"You—" Keith pointed a single finger at Lotor's being, before letting his fingers splay apart as he pressed the palm of his hand against his chest. "—And I? We're nothing alike."

Sighing, Lotor crossed his arms in front of his chest. "No matter how much you want to deny it. You and I both carry the blood of the Galra race within our veins. Regardless of how miniscule it is. You and I are as much Galra as those that sired us."

Keith was shaking his head at Lotor's words, his voice rising with his frustrations. "I didn't ask to be!"

"You may not have asked to be born with the blood you carry in your veins, but you were born with it and it does little help to you or anyone else for you to be denying your heritage. You should be proud to be Galra—"

"Why should I be proud to be associated with the likes of you or any of the other Galra out there who've hurt so many people?"

"And how does viewing many of the Galra citizens who have nothing to do with this petty war that Zarkon or King Alfor started as conspirators to a war in which they neither make orders nor are the ones on the front lines holding weapons any better than the intolerant speech that's so rampant in the universe. Would it be wise for you to assume that members of the Blade of Marmora are as equally culpable for their actions as Sendak? Or even your own Galra parent as well?"

"That's different!"

"But what makes it different? Is it because you're able to see the allies on your side of the war? Because it's easier for you to empathize and dignify them? Or is it easier because you've never been behind enemy lines? Never had to see nor speak with the average Galra citizens who are so ignorant of the going on's of the war that it's much easier to vilify an entire race and pull the trigger against them?"

Lotor could see Keith's chess piece falling over as he shut his eyes, ball up his fists, and take a deep sigh. "I don't like you."

"I don't care if you do. I'm just imploring you to not vilify every Galra that exists in the universe; that your blood isn't something that you should fear or be ashamed of; that long before this war and even now, there was pride in being a Galra, pride for our culture and our history, and just because of the actions of a few being Galra isn't something you should be ashamed of."

Keith's eyes narrowed at Lotor. "I don't understand you. I don't understand anything you do. Why be so nice to all of us now when just moments before you were trying to capture all of us and our Lions to bring back to your father?"

Lotor gave a small shrug of his shoulders. "Merely a means for me to curry favor with Zarkon."

Keith's eyes only narrowed at that. "Why would you even want his approval when you make no attempt at disguising how much you hate him?"

Eyes darkening, Lotor merely stared at him. "You wouldn't understand."

Keith rolled his eyes at that. "Yea I don't understand what it's like to hate a parent. After all, I'm merely an orphan boy, who lost his dad as a kid and never knew his mom. I never once resented my own parents for leaving me alone in this world without so much as an explanation as to who I was."

The darkness in Lotor's eyes melted at Keith's words. It was just a glimmer, but Keith's eyes slightly widened at what he saw—a raw pain inside of Lotor that came and went with a quickness that had Keith blinking just to discern if what he was had even been real. "Forgive me for asking, but how did your father die?"

Lips parting, Keith stilled as the words refused to fall from his tongue. The memory still felt clear as day in his mind, but it was something he never liked to dwell on.

He could smell smoke and burnt wood tinging the air as he raced through the crowds of people and firefighters attempting to put out the raging fire like a cluster of rats. Heart pounding in his throat, his tiny legs burned as he raced toward the building.

"Dad!"

His eyes widened at the sight of the building as it came into his view. Black smoke billowed out of the windows as shards of glass imploded and fell down to the street below. Firefighters shouting orders as a young woman appeared in a blown out window. Hair billowing behind her head like a renaissance painting, soot-smudged across her cheeks, she looked to be no older than a college student as the firefighters below urged her not to jump; that help was on the way. The crowd below let out a collective gasp of fright as the young woman jumped from the window below to a bunch of firefighters that were quickly assembling a thick blanket together to soften the blow of her fall. But Keith wasn't focused on that or any other point of the chaotic scene around him. No, he was focused on one thing only as he attempted to race toward the burning building. His little legs were burning from the strain as he could feel the heat of the flames radiating off of his skin; feel the burn of the smoke as it poured into his lungs; the warmth of another as a pair of strong arms wrapped around his midsection, sweeping him up into the air as soothing, entreating words from an elderly firefighter who worked at the same company as his dad pulled him away from the burning building.

There were honey-coated words being whispered in his ear; how his dad was a hero who would come out safe, despite the tears rolling down Keith's cheeks like droplets of rain.

None of that mattered when just a few days later, he found himself standing over the closed casket that housed his father. His tombstone already erected even as they began to lower the coffin into the ground. He felt angry, confused, and sad as he stared at the words emblazoned on it as if they were a taunt directly to him. Husband. Father. Hero. Those 3 words pierced through Keith's heart like tiny daggers. His father was dead. His personal hero gone. He chuckled wryly to himself as he realized he didn't even know where his mother was. All his father had ever told him and anyone who had dared to ask was, "She's out doing really important work in another place. She'll be back someday."

She'd be back….

His tears mingled in with the pouring rain. She wasn't here. The only thing he had to remember her by was the knife his father had given him that had belonged to her. His mother wasn't here and now Keith was all alone in the world. He felt a hand upon his shoulder as his Social Services worker came up behind him to let him know that it was time for him to leave. As they left, Keith took one final glance at the open hole in the ground in which his father lay, the tombstone, the dreary cemetery. All of it, before turning his back against fresh, painful memories that would never match the ones in his heart.

Lotor was silent as Keith's tale came to an end. His mouth twisting in a grim line of contemplation. No Galra parent would ever just abandon their child so willingly, to the Galra, their own children's lives were more precious than anything else in the universe. They'd be willing to destroy planets, entire universes, even give up their own lives if it meant saving that of their offspring. But he simply pushed that thought in the back of his head and instead focused on the fact that Keith grew up alone, without knowing anything about his Galra heritage or the parent who sired him, without knowing the great parts of Galra culture that Lotor deeply appreciated, their history and everything he held dear to him that vastly outweighed whatever bad the Galra had done in the eyes of the Paladins—and Lotor would admit there were many of those. He felt there was nothing he could say to Keith, nothing that would ease a lifetime of pain, so instead he found himself reaching out. His hand resting against Keith's shoulder. The Paladin glanced at his hand, fixed his gaze on Lotor, and raised a single brow at him as if he was giving Lotor merely a second to explain himself or Lotor would find himself stuffed into an airlock.

"I can...understand how you feel. It's no secret that Zarkon and I don't have a relationship nor the fact that I was banished from the empire for an extended length of time. But if you wish to ever talk about Galra culture...I will be here."

Keith simply stared at him, his mouth fixed into a thin line as he seemed to contemplate the offer, before giving Lotor a solitary nod. "That would be...nice."

Lotor simply nodded and turned away, uncertain of where his feet were going to carry him in his search for Lance.

"Hey." The single word had Lotor turning around to face Keith. "If you're looking for Lance...last I saw of him, he was going to the observation deck." Looking slightly abashed at the words that had just come out of his mouth, Keith avoided Lotor's gaze.

It caused a lopsided smile to stretch across Lotor's features. "Thanks." Mumbling something in response, Keith turned on his heels and retreated back into the kitchen as Lotor set off in the direction of the room that Keith had pointed him in.