Allura sat in a bed of purple flowers. The sky was filled with light and a white city glinted in the distance. Mountains bordered the valley of juniberry flowers and the majestic peaks that scraped the sky stood guarded by rolling foothills that acted as an impenetrable infantry.

Long blades of shamrock and mint green grass waved in the wind, giving off a faint resemblance to a green sea. She could nearly feel the breeze caress her face and it wasn't hard to imagine faint tingles where a few stray blades of grass tickled her perfectly normal ears.

It was so realistic that she could almost imagine that she was actually there.

It was so realistic, she could imagine a better time.

It was so realistic, she could imagine that it wasn't even gone. Living in an imaginary world full of memory, where everything was fine, was very appealing. Allura didn't want to remember the terror, the fire, the destruction. She didn't want to remember the fear in her father's form, nearly hidden by the determined set of his shoulders and the way he held himself and spoke with such confidence.

For anyone who didn't know him as well as she did, they would have been fooled by how calm he looked. But Allura could always tell, even at a young age. It was in the deep lines of stress that lined his eyes, the story told by his minutely trembling fists, the way his shoulders were just a touch to stiff, and even in how he seemed to clench his jaw. Allura wanted to erase those last memories of him, but every memory she had was so precious.

Ignorance truly was bliss-

"Allura." Alfor's voice was close, and it startled Allura. She had been lost in both her thoughts and the scenery of her old home world- she almost forgot the reason why she came into the memory chamber in the first place. "Allura, what's wrong? Something seems to be weighing on your mind."

She responded with a short chuckle. "What? Am I not allowed to spend my meager free time with my father?"

Alfor raised a single brow to signify his doubt, but then all playfulness was dropped from his expression. "Allura," the memory said again, "you can't lose yourself here. I am but a memory, you need to bond with the new paladins, not just act as their drill sergeant. You are the hope for the universe, and it is the duty that I regretfully passed onto you."

The princess sighed. Her heart mourned. It always came back to that, no matter what she said, the conversation always ended with a statement eerily similar to the one she just heard. Allura often wondered if her father was actually here, would he say the same things? Alteans had wonderful technology, magic even, but the mind was a complex system, and nothing was perfect. He must have simply copied the most important subjects, the most important guidance.

Oh Allura so desperately wished she could see him again.

Instead, she nodded at the hologram, the image of her father that was just as fake as the flowers around her. She rose to her feet slowly (a diplomat such as herself should never rush nor be anything less than graceful, the voice of her tutors whispered into her ear) then artificial lights flickered on and the flower valley faded from view. Her father waved a goodbye and she curtsied in response. Then his blue image flickered out and she was left alone.

Not that she wasn't alone in the first place, but it was always nice to live in naivety for a few spare minutes everyday.

. . .

Her father was gone.

Allura laid in a bed of fake flowers, surrounded by fake mountains, with a fake glinting city in the distance. But there was no fake Alfor to bring her temporary comfort. He was already dead, but now his grave has been ransacked and she was left with nothing.

All because of the race that took everything from her.

Her planet.

Her home.

Her friends.

Her family.

Her father.

The Galra couldn't even bare to leave her with even the memory of her father.

Rage built in her chest, the fire hot, powerful. But it was also quick to burn out as she instead turned for sorrow to be her companion instead. (Rage is meant for battle. Keep it safe and contained so you can unleash it properly when the time is right). Allura sobbed, unable to shed her tears quietly, but she quickly slapped a hand over her mouth to muffle the noise.

"Allura?" The quiet inquiry made her jump- she hadn't even heard Coran enter. She brought a manicured hand up to her eye, wiping any tears of her cheeks before she could be spotted in her time of weakness. (A diplomat must seem cool and collected in any situation).

"Yes, Coran?" Her voice sounded like she had swallowed a gorf, but she could play that off easily as simply having a sore throat.

"Oh, Princess," he approached, quietly settling next to her on the illusionary grass. The princess of a dead nation averted her shimmery eyes, focusing on staying strong, on hiding her burning eyes. "Princess Allura," his usual loud and goofy voice had a soft tone to it, "you don't need to hide from me."

She shook her head wordlessly, knowing if she would speak again any illusion of strength would shatter and scatter.

"Allura," he said gently, "look at me."

Slowly, she let her eyes meet his own and it took all of her strength not to break then and there. His own eyes were filled with sadness, filled with compassion, longing, and a whole myriad of emotions. But there was an obvious tenderness that wasn't often showed by the royal adviser (to a dead nation).

"It is okay to feel the loss. It is okay to feel sad, or hopeless. You just loss the remains of a great king. But more importantly, you lost the memory of your father. Rulers are allowed to have emotion, they are allowed to feel weak." His hand reached over and brushed away a stray tear that Allura had hardly even noticed was there. "They can feel weak because at their weakest their subjects will support them. The paladins will support you, I will support you, if you would just let us help you."

The dam broke, the floodgates opened, her vision blurred tears running down her face as ugly sobs racked her body. Her arms wrapped around her torso in an attempt at a self hug and she leaned against the side of the only other Altean in the universe.

Coran wrapped his own lanky arms around her, whispering sweet comforts into her ear.

"It's alright, Princess. It's alright let it out."

Her sobs echoed throughout the room that didn't seem so empty anymore.

Notes: This is for my sister, who's favorite character is Coran, Coran the gorgeous man.