Dawn had yet to tint the sky but the Castle was already stirring to life. Servants moved around the different rooms cleaning and polishing, kitchen maids and cooks began preparations for feeding the hundreds of people who lived and worked in the Castle.
Ignoring the activity, Keith moved through the hallways like one of the many ghosts who were said to haunt the castle, a lonely wraith that slipped from one room to the next on soundless feet.
He kept his head down as he strode through the halls of the Castle in a futile attempt to outrun the demons of doubtand despair that tormented him during quiet moments.
His worry about his wife and the additional responsibility of ruling Arus was beginning to take its toll. His eyes hinted of his exhaustion and of the terrible fear that was his constant companion.
Rounding a corner, he came across a gaggle of housemaids cleaning and polishing the artwork and sculpture that decorated the hallway to a sheen that met Nanny's exacting standards of cleanliness.
His ears picked up the sound of feminine whispers just as the hair on the back of his neck stood up. His mouth tightened with irritation. He was being talked about again.
Bits and pieces of the housemaid's conversation floated across the hallway, their speculation an intrusive weight that lingered like a persistent itch at the edge of Keith's perception. If only he had the energy, Keith thought with a tired sigh. Then he could have given them all a tongue-lashing that would have sent them scampering away to find a safe place to hide.
He turned into the next possible corner, lured by the silence of the darkened hallway beyond it only to realize with a start of recognition that he was outside the apartments he was supposed to have shared with Allura.
Keith stared at the heavy metal doors with haunted eyes. For over a little over two weeks now, he had been making excuses to avoid entering the suite beyond the closed doors. He stretched out a tentative hand to touch the metal doors and the coldness of the fleeting contact crept into his body, bringing with it the sickening sensation of despair and loss.
He jumped back as the doors opened without warning, the automatic sensors within them already programmed to admit him without question or delay. Bittersweet curiosity filled him as he examined the room that lay beyond the door.
It was the first time that he had ever seen the suite that had been allocated to him and Allura. They had made arrangements to tour the suite together, but the demands on Allura's time had forced her to reschedule.
He entered the spacious living room on unsteady feet, irrationally terrified of what the room represented. His gaze traveled past the huge windows that filled up one entire wall of the room, letting in the light of a million of stars and a full moon.
The mysterious silver sheen illuminated a room that bore the imprints of Allura's distinctive touch. It was a cozy refuge, one that was unrelentingly warm and peaceful with its soft pillows, comfortable sofas and woven carpets.
The clicking of his footsteps on the wooden floors punctuated the silence that filled the room. Echoes of hopes and dreams danced in his head and mocked his loneliness.
The silence was oppressively heavy in the stillness of the room. Keith trailed a tentative finger over the ivory keys of the baby grand piano gleaming in the corner of the room in an attempt to dispel it but the mournful notes he played struck a resonant chord in his heart.
Closing the lid with a bang, he set off on a restless quest of exploration that led him through the sitting room, the small dining room and up the curving wooden staircase that led to the bedrooms and private studies.
His steps faltered and stopped as the familiar scent of roses drifted to his nose from one of the bedrooms. "Allura?" He whispered hoarsely, his heart filled with impossible hope. Taking the rest of the steps two by two, he pushed open the door and found the room empty.
Crystal vases filled with roses were scattered around the room, the blooms casting their fragrance into the air, reminding him of the delicious smell of Allura's hair and how perfectly she had fit into his arms.
He closed his eyes and saw his princess, brushing her hair with the silver-backed brush that lay on the dressing table, her face glowing with delicate beauty and her eyes sparkling with happiness.
Her smile and her laughter — those were the things he loved most about Allura. They were as much a part of her as her beauty and her compassion for others. They symbolized her great joy in life, her spirit and vitality.
He didn't know how he could go on without her. She had brought so much into his life — laughter and joy and happiness — even in the middle of a war. Without her, all that remained seemed bleak and forlorn.
His gaze fell on a framed photograph on the dresser, illuminated by a shaft of moonlight. He walked toward it and stared at the image depicted within.
Allura was caught in the act of rising from her impromptu curtsey in the cathedral. She was looking up at him and he was looking down on her with a tender smile on his face. Their hands were reaching out to each other, almost, but not quite, touching.
In contrast to the rest of the Castle, the hallway leading to the quarters of the Voltron Force was dark and quiet. It was — by Nanny's decree — one of the few areas in the castle off-limits to Nanny's housekeeping staff.
Stepping out of his room, Lance pulled on his favorite blue shirt as he crossed the hallway from his rooms to Keith's. He had seen this coming for some time. Despite Keith's carefully designed mask, the captain felt everything deeply and held everything in until his emotions reached a critical mass.
Without bothering to announce himself, Lance pushed open the doors to Keith's old quarters to check if the captain had decided to sleep there instead of in his study. But, as Lance expected, there was nothing in Keith's room except for a few boxes of books.
Worry flashed across Lance's face as he surveyed the room, making a mental list of the places Keith frequented. Thumbing his communicator, he briefed Hunk and strode down the corridor purposefully to begin his search.
Lance checked his pace as he left the privacy of the Voltron Force's wing. He plastered a smile on his face and sauntered down the hallway of the castle as though he didn't have a care in the world.
To the casual observer, he seemed like his normal friendly self, but those who knew him well enough would have noticed the concern that seethed beneath his seemingly placid expression.
A brief glint of wry amusement flashed in his almond-shaped eyes. For once, his reputation as the Voltron Force's resident lothario — deserved or not— stood him in good stead.
With practiced ease, Lance summoned up his most flirtatious grin and engaged each maid he met in conversation. His charming manner soon garnered him the information he needed — none of the maids had seen Keith.
He gathered the reports of the roving patrols in the relaxed easy manner of command that he was known for, subtly interrogating seven pairs of guards about the people roaming the castle halls.
Within a matter of minutes, Lance was satisfied that Keith wasn't in any of his usual haunts — the recreation room, the castle library, his study and the observation deck. Peering out a window, he saw the Black sitting on top of its monument, and after a quick discussion with Hunk in Castle Control, he knew that the Altaire was in its docking bay and that Keith's stallion was still in the stables.
Where else could Keith be? Lance wondered. His brows drew closer together in a frown as he considered other possibilities. Inspiration came to him as he saw a flash of pink running across the hall.
Feeling rather foolish, he raised his voice and called out to the space mouse. "Ummm, you... what's your name? The pink mouse. Jerry? Jacques? Minnie? Roquefort? Whatever... have you seen Keith?"
He was answered by an excited burst of chittering.
"I take it that that means yes," Lance said, scratching his head. "You know I can't understand you like Allura does, but I think you understand me. Can you show me where Keith is?"
The little mouse — probably second or third generation judging by her size — nodded and waved her arms in the air wildly. She scampered off, stopping every so often to allow Lance to follow her.
Keith was sitting on the couch, staring out at the rain. Naked despair shimmered in his eyes, its intensity telling of the turbulence of the emotions that boiled beneath his facade.
He didn't bother turning when the door swished open with a soft hiss. "What do you want, Lance?" he said quietly, lifting the glass he held to his mouth and drinking deeply.
"How'd you know it was me?" Lance asked cautiously, taking a seat and accepting the glass of Alanor Keith offered him. His sharp eyes noticed the effects of the alcohol on his friend. Keith's hands weren't steady and his eyes didn't quite focus.
A corner of Keith's mouth lifted in a humorless smile. "You didn't knock. You're the only person I know who enters a room without knocking."
A glint of worry filled Lance's eyes as he studied his long-time friend. He had known Keith for almost a decade – in good times and in bad – but he had never seen Keith in quite this mood before — bleak and despairing.
With wisdom beyond his years, Lance didn't respond, choosing to offer silent support and companionship. Sipping from his glass, Lance sat back and watched the rain.
Minutes passed in silence before Keith spoke. "I couldn't sleep Lance... I keep on thinking about Allura, wondering if I missed something... if I could have done something... if she's out there, needing me."
"Maybe you get some rest and stop drinking then," Lance pointed out gently, feeling the need to state the obvious. "You're in no condition for a hot scramble if we hear something and have to launch."
"I know." Keith agreed with a bitter sigh. "I know all the reasons why I shouldn't drink. I gave myself a lecture earlier this evening... But I just wanted to forget everything, even just for a little while..."
Lance felt a lump of sympathy rise in his throat. He was worried about Allura too — the Princess was a like a sister to him and to the rest of the Force — but their worry was nothing like Keith's.
"It's been so long, Lance. Too long. She's been gone for over two weeks and I miss her in a different way every day... Has there been any news?"
"None," Lance admitted gruffly, wishing that he didn't have to be the bearer of bad news. "Hunk told me that Pidge's program didn't work the way we hoped it would and Sven says that Romelle hasn't been able to sense Allura's presence either."
"It's getting harder and harder to keep hope alive, Lance." Keith groaned, burying his face in his arms. His breath came in short, painful gasps. "Coran talked to me earlier this evening. He wants to discuss Allura's last wishes."