A/N: I wrote this story based purely on my memory of the episode. Some small details may not be in line with canon, and season 6 may render this a complete AU when it descends upon us. I hope I've done Kolivan justice, regardless- stoic characters like him are always the hardest nuts to crack.

As always, constructive criticism is welcome and appreciated.

Disclaimer: Voltron Legendary Defender does not belong to me.

Compartmentalisation was one of the first things Kolivan had learnt after defecting from the Empire and joining the Blade of Marmora. It complemented their cause and made their missions easier and more successful. It allowed them to both view the larger scope of things and focus on small details- to forget without really forgetting.

He shelved the question of the Red Paladin's parentage as he established diplomatic formalities with the Black Paladin- Shiro- and the Altean Princess, Allura. She was a good deal younger than he had imagined, and her transparent distrust of him was predictable but justified. The other paladins- all apparently adolescents, though their age was of no importance to the discussion- occasionally joined in the discussion to probe or elaborate on their leaders' behalf, but spent the bulk of the meeting's duration staring pointedly at him.

Their lack of subtlety- and his earlier boldness- only made the Red Paladin's silence starker. He was largely attentive, but Kolivan caught him staring forlornly at the Princess once, and his hand brushing against his dagger's sheath almost reflexively. It was almost too easy to guess what had happened between him and the Princess, and Kolivan felt a faint pang of sympathy for the boy's- Keith's- sake, which he tuned out quickly and easily.

Interpersonal problems of any individual were not any concern of his. The Blade of Marmora had almost no room for it, and and the Paladins were even more distant to him than the the agents under his charge.

He could only work on the assumption that they would separate their personal troubles from the goal they now shared with the Blade when the time came.

Keith came up to him after the meeting and held his blade out.

"Do you know who owned this?" The question was short and blunt; there was almost no sign of the boy who had been slighted by his friend. "I didn't think of asking before."

Kolivan's reply was likewise curt and honest:

"It's very likely that a blood relative of yours was part of the Blade. I cannot give a name at this moment; we have lost countless soldiers in pursuing our objective."

Keith's mouth vanished into a thin line. "How can you say that with a straight face?"

"Knowledge or death," Kolivan intoned evenly. "We joined knowing fully that death was a likely possibility in all our missions. Any sacrifices made were not done out of ignorance, and any hesitation in continuing the mission would undermine the sacrifices made."

Keith's eyes widened, and then flashed. The disgust in his face was more evident than ever, but he did not argue with Kolivan's reasoning. He turned around, his unsheathed dagger still in his clenched fist. The blade lengthened and shifted into sword form as he strode off, and Kolivan noted some finer details of its make.

Kolivan saw the boy go, and turns and headed back to his ship, Antok behind him. The other members of the Blade needed to be briefed.

The following night found Kolivan in his own quarters in the base, awaiting a squad that was due to return in a rare moment he had completely to himself. He had chosen to briefly indulge in thoughts unrelated to the matter at hand, only to come out of them feeling like he had been slapped.

He had made it a point to remember as much as he could about every individual member of the Blade of Marmora, including those who had died. Their names and faces were all embedded clearly into his mind, as were certain personal details and the shape of their sword blades. The latter- unique to each member- was less relevant now than it was when he had first joined, when they had limited means of identification. He still remembered them anyway, for they helped him ground himself in the founding principles of his mentors.

Sacrifice is inevitable, but an informed one is, above all, a sign of unshakeable trust, and a Blade should honour it. Make sure all who join are made aware of the stakes the missions involve, and demand total honesty from them in return.

He knew he had given Keith the impression that whatever family member he had in the Blade was dead. He had believed it then, too. But he had realised how shortsighted he had been after thinking deeply about the boy's blade; the only one who ever had a similar sword was not dead at all.

Krolia.

He'd been a fool.

It matched up with Keith's apparent age, what Krolia had told him when she found her way back to the Blade years ago, and with what little he knew about Earth and its solar system. One of his most trusted peers had lied to the Blade, to him- even if it was by omission- and the realisation stung. The emotion- anger this time- was stronger this time, like a pool that had started simmering.

She of all people should know that we cannot afford to be so self-serving.

Kolivan let out a long, low breath, his hands twitching, as a possible explanation formed in his head. Agents of the Blade frequently risked being interrogated by Zarkon's witch, and Krolia had likely realised that telling anyone else about her family on Earth would probably increase the chances of the secret coming out. It was a sensible decision in vacuum, but the context in which it had been made was something he could not excuse.

He could not contact and question her now, however, without potentially compromising her mission at Ranveig's base. Telling Keith did not seem wise, either; the Trial had proved that the boy could be easily swayed by emotion, and they could not afford to have anything happening to any of the Voltron Paladins. Their alliance- now that it had been made- was one the Blade could not risk losing.

I may or may not tell Krolia depending on the circumstances. The thought had crept, unbidden, into his head, and he pressed his lips together, refusing to tread any further.

He would admit later to himself that that thought had been a concession more than anything else, but he knew attachment well- everyone in the Blade did at one point, in fact. It was why they started fighting, and the thought of other people's families and friends was part of the reason they operated the way they did. It was they who reminded him that night that nothing had changed for him and the Blade for the time being. Their final goal still mattered above all else; Krolia knew this. Beyond that, however, speculation would prove useless until he had more information.

There will always be more important matters at hand.

The door slid open. His own moment of self-serving indulgence was over.