Summary: Allura has something to say to Keith.

Rating: K+ for mentions of genocide and some angst.

Notes: So, I felt like it was important that Keith and Allura hash out their issues before things festered, especially considering how things went in their first couple face-to-face encounters. Also, it frustrates me so much when problems occur that could've been really easily avoided if characters just talked in shows, so. There's that.

The tone of this piece is pretty serious, and there is a mention of genocide, so feel free to skip it and wait until the next fic is posted. I tried to handle things delicately, but please let me know if I'm being insensitive in any way! Thanks for reading!

(Takes place almost directly after Gotta Run Another Night.)

"Keith. May we talk?"

Pausing, Keith looked up. Tucked between Red's forelegs as she sat in her hangar, he had to crane his neck slightly to meet Allura's gaze. Allura's expression was stiff, almost uncertain, but at least she didn't seem angry or upset. Briefly, she glanced down at the medical supplies he was sorting through, but otherwise only stared at him with expectation.

"Uh." Keith put a roll of bandages back into their package and rose to face her on a more even keel, wary. Considering that his jaw still ached from when Allura had punched him, he considered that a reasonable reaction. "What do you want to talk about?"

There was a pause. Allura took a breath, straightening as if there was steel settling into her spine, and looked Keith dead in the eye. "Were you aware," she began, "that the original paladin of the Red Lion was my father? Alfor, creator of Voltron, King of Altea?"

Keith opened his mouth. Closed it again, when he couldn't think of anything to say.

...Now that Allura mentioned it, hadn't Red said something like that just before Keith had been captured?

Red? he asked, though the memory was already dredging its way to the surface of his mind, is that true?

There was a low rumble, phantom reverberations deep in his chest. Yes. Princess, cub of my first paladin. Age-old grief was like banked flame, embers burning low and strong. I never thought she survived. All this time…

Keith frowned at that. "Huh. How did you survive? Red didn't think you had," he wondered, half to himself, and even as the words left his mouth he had to bite back a wince. That probably hadn't been the best way to put it, seeing as Allura was essentially going to be his commanding officer for the foreseeable future.

Luckily, she didn't seem too perturbed by the question. "Cryo pods," she told him, tone slightly clipped. "My father put Coran and I in stasis just before Altea was lost, and sent the Castle away. We were not awoken until fairly recently, when the other paladins discovered us."

"...Wait." Keith thought back to half-forgotten history lessons as dates solidified in his head. "You mean, you were in cryo for ten thousand years?"

One perfectly white brow arched in a faint current of surprise. "You didn't know?"

Keith felt irrationally defensive. "How could I? Nobody ever said, and Red didn't know either."

"Fair enough, I suppose." Allura seemed willing to give him that much, settling her expression back into a neutral mask. "At any rate, I digress. I came to talk about something else, today."

It was a near thing, but Keith resisted the urge to cross his arms. Instead, he hooked his thumbs into his pockets and stood close enough to Red that he could lean slightly against her foreleg. "What did you want to talk about?"

Allura's hands were clasped in front of her, but her posture was anything but demure. "I believe I owe you an apology. I treated you badly when we first met, and I hope that I can make amends. I was angry when I felt that my father's legacy was being– well, betrayed, I suppose, as you're Galra, but I judged you wrong. I am sorry."

...What.

Red's surprise mirrored Keith's own. Keith blinked, thrown decidedly off-balance, and barely managed not to gape. Had Allura– had she just apologized to him?

That had never– Keith had never had a commanding officer apologize to him before. Huh.

He wasn't quite sure what to think.

Sincere, Red murmured after a moment, strong and steady at his side. Princess stubborn, as her father was… but also inherited his heart. A pause, and then an impression like crackling amusement. Common sense from mother, though. My first paladin was reckless. Like you, Cub.

That's not that funny, Keith replied, even as he bit back a slightly hysterical laugh. His jaw throbbed faintly, as if in reminder of Allura's strength.

"I– thanks?" he tried, and was immediately annoyed at himself for the questioning lilt at the end of the words. "I mean. Thanks. I guess."

...Okay, that was even worse. Great.

Keith wasn't sure why, but he kept talking. It was as if his mouth was running on autopilot, spewing out whatever came to mind in a wreck of unfiltered thoughts. "You don't need to apologize," he said, and in the back of his mind Red's humor abruptly vanished. "I mean, you were just trying to defend your father's legacy, right? I get that. My family–"

He stopped, clamping his jaw shut. That was too much.

If Red had been a real lion, her ears would've been pinned back in discontent. Cub. She hurt you.

Keith took a breath. In a way, isn't she your cub too? If her father was your first paladin…

Not the point. There was a distinct sense that Red was Not Happy, but whether it was more with him or Allura, Keith couldn't say. She hurt you far more than you hurt her.

Allura, meanwhile, was blinking at him in clear surprise. "What? What about your family?"

The silence stretched, heavy and awkward.

"I know what it's like," Keith finally managed, deliberately slow, "to have a legacy. My people– there aren't many true Galra left, you know? And I don't mean of Galra blood. I mean the people. Zarkon tried to purge everyone of the old ways, twisted what was left until it was barely even recognizable. My mother– our family never followed that." He swallowed, tongue feeling thick and clumsy in his mouth. "There are very, very few left who still remember what the Galra Empire once was. My mother and my guardian, they made sure I was one of them."

Now, it was Allura who had been thrown off-balance, composed mask cracking. "What do you mean?"

Keith couldn't help it. He raised a disbelieving brow, expression flat. "Did you really think that in ten thousand years, not one of the Galra ever stood up to Zarkon? I'm descended from a family of rebels and traitors, and we're proud of it." His lips quirked into a bitter smile. "I suppose I should count myself lucky that the army didn't know who my mother was when they drafted me, or else I would've been executed on the spot."

Allura opened her mouth. Closed it again, and only let out a soft, "Oh."

Keith gave her a sardonic twist of his mouth, a mockery of an attempted smile. "The point is, I understand why you reacted the way you did," he told her. "I probably would've done the same thing. I mean, I've seen–" he cut himself off, swallowing the words before they could escape. No. That would've been over the line.

(I've seen Altea's grave, he had almost said, thinking back to an endless field of debris tumbling through the cold of space, shaking footage of an explosion so bright it was a star going supernova imprinted into his eyes. I've seen what my mother's people did to yours, I've seen–

He'd seen too much. It would've been cruel to tell her that. Genocide, after all, was not something that one recovered from quickly.)

"...Well." Allura drew herself up, but she didn't seem quite as stiff as before. "All that aside, I still feel it was important that we make things clear between us. We may not ever like each other, but we must work together. Especially if we are to be on a team such as that of Voltron, where trust and communication are paramount above all else." She looked him in the eye, one warrior to another. "Can I assume we have an understanding?"

Keith met her stare, his lion an ever-present flame behind his thoughts, and nodded. "I think we can manage that." On an impulse, he dipped his head in a faint bow. "Truce?"

Allura dipped her head back, and the edge of her lips tugged up in the smallest of smiles. "Truce."

The engine room smelled like ozone and felt like quintessence, overlaying even the recycled air of the Castle's filtration system. Energy crystals hummed, casting the room into shades of blue and grey that danced faded shadows across the walls. Holographic screens displayed readouts of data and ever-changing system updates to be manipulated with the touch of a finger or the sweep of a hand. It was organized chaos, a thousand parts working as one, but somehow the room still gave off a feeling of calm and control.

Allura closed her eyes for half a beat, instinctually relaxing. The engine room had barely changed since she was a child; everything smelled the same, felt the same, looked the same– but it didn't sound the same. It was too empty, too echoing. There weren't enough people.

"Allura? How'd it go?"

...Well. That was one familiar face, at least.

Shaking off the past, Allura opened her eyes. "Hello, Coran," she said, smiling. "It went fine, I think. The conversation took a bit of an unexpected turn, but I believe we've come to an understanding."

Coran hummed, reaching into a panel to adjust some wires. "That's good. What kind of unexpected turn?"

Allura folded her hands across her front, fingers lacing together. "Keith was actually more understanding than I thought he would be. He mentioned that he knew where I was coming from, a bit– he implied that, in a way, he is among the last of his people as well."

Coran looked up at that, mustache slightly ruffled. "Oh? How so?"

"The Galra Empire as it is now is nothing like how it was on Voltron's golden years." Allura frowned at that. "There is no honor, not in what they have become. Zarkon purged the traditional culture that we knew. But Keith said that it wasn't completely lost." She tilted her head slightly as she thought, recalling his exact words. "A family of rebels and traitors, I think, was how he described himself. And proud of it."

"...Well, that's interesting." Coran seemed contemplative. "That's a good sign, at least. He would never be loyal to Zarkon or the Empire's ideals."

"No, that's for sure," Allura agreed. "But, I think we understand each other."

Coran nodded. "Good," he said. "Keith might be rather rough around the edges, but you know, Princess… I think he has the makings of a fine Paladin."

"Let's hope so," Allura sighed. "Because right now, he's our only choice."