She had been his everything. She was his rock upon which he steadied himself. She was his driving force whenever he faced an obstacle. When he fell, the thought of her was what motivated to pick himself back up and try again, and whenever he thought he was going to cry, the memory of her smiling face dried his tears. He had always tried hard in everything he did, not because of his teachers' threats of beatings but because he wanted to impress her and make her proud of him, and it was the thought of her that drove him to explore what made him different and embrace it with pride rather than shame. Every thought, every theory, every doubt he had, he turned to her writings for guidance or comfort, and when all had seemed lost for him, she was what keep him going. Honerva had been so much more than Lotor's mother; to him, she was the embodiment of everything he ever wanted to be and the motivation he needed to become just that. She was his northern star, his compass, his light. She was his role model.
Shaking off the clouds of gloom that hung over him as he reminisced about a woman that only lived in his memories, Lotor allowed his eyes to fall to the small crib Hunk had recently finished assembling for him, and as he ran his fingers over the ornate designs Keith had "begrudgingly" carved into the soft wood, a faint smile graced his slender lips. No one could ever raise a candle to the woman his mother had been, but deep down, he hoped somehow that he could inspire his child the way that she had inspired him.