Title: Precious
Author: Cheezey
Theme: Doomite Fic
Characters/Pairings: OC (Lotor’s Mother), Hazar
Album and Song: Depeche Mode – Playing the Angel; “Precious”
Rating/Genre: T / Drama, Angst
Summary: In exile on Dreska, Commander Hazar of Drule encounters an unexpected friend from the past: the former queen of planet Doom.
Author’s Notes: Although we know what happened to Lotor’s Golion counterpart Sincline’s mother, it was never specified what happened to Lotor’s mother in Voltron canon. This story explores the what-if avenue if she was not dead as typically presumed in Voltron fanon, but if she was alive and caught wind of news about the family, and son, she left behind…
It was evening on the lonely world called Dreska, although one could only tell that by the hour. The ambient light outside was certainly no indication, for its skies rarely grew lighter than the reddish purple reminiscent of a sunset on more habitable worlds. An outpost in a part of the Drule Empire rightfully considered smack dab in the middle of nowhere, few came to Dreska that did not have reason or inarguable orders to be there. The barren little world was uninhabitable without significant technological development, with no arable soil and very little naturally occurring water, the vast majority of which lay deep in its core. It was subject to a constant barrage of naturally occurring radiation from galactic anomalies in the quadrant and radioactive substances in its own crust, and were it not for the fact that it had an otherwise clean and breathable atmosphere and was rich in valuable raw elements for mining, no one in the Drule Empire would bother to even land a ship on it, much less construct a settlement there.
The main city, if one could call the smattering of dwellings in its most tolerable climate that, was home to a pitifully small population of mine workers, their families, technical and entrepreneurial types who made their living servicing the area, Drule soldiers who lacked the fortune to be stationed somewhere better, and the occasional eccentric who moved there for the solitude.
One such type lived in a majestic dwelling on the “upscale” part of Dreska’s city, defined as such by the fact that all the buildings were in good repair, the elite of the world’s merchants did their business there, and the presence of a domed park with exotic landscaping nearby. Commander Hazar only paused briefly as he passed by the park, doing so to glance at a tree in full bloom with black-edged pink flowers, a rare sight indeed on the lonely world upon which he had been forcibly stationed. “Amazing that’s still alive,” he mused aloud to the empty and dry air around him. It occurred to Hazar as he walked on toward the large building at the end of the street that the Zuline tree—once native to Drule and now found on many planets his people had conquered and settled over the centuries—had taken to Dreska’s lack of ambient light far better than the last two plants that had been in the spot. When he had first visited that park shortly after his arrival on Dreska, the local landscaper he encountered had grumbled to him in passing that he had just removed a dead flowering bush that cost a small fortune to import and died anyway within a week. The desert plant that had been put in its place afterward fared no better; it did not even make it to the flower stage before withering to a brown husk. The Zuline tree survived and could even be said to be thriving, as much as anything on Dreska could thrive. Much like himself, however, it was Hazar’s firm belief that the plant would be much happier elsewhere.
With a media reader in his hand, Hazar was granted entrance into the home of the local noble hermit and led to a spacious chamber on its fourth level. When he walked in, a robed feminine figure turned to greet him.
“Lady Lil, I presume,” the commander greeted cordially, and as she turned around Hazar’s eyes widened with a start of recognition upon seeing the face he had half expected, and half imagined impossible to be there.
His hostess, a fair-skinned human, favored him with a welcoming smile. “Commander.” She gave a polite bow as per Drule etiquette. “It’s been a long time.”
Still stunned to learn that the rumor he had heard of a woman presumed dead being alive and well living under an alias on the nowhere world of Dreska, Hazar returned the bow. “So the rumor is true,” he said after a moment. “I’d heard allusions to it in Throk’s circle, but nobody ever said anything outright…” His voice trailed off again briefly before he continued, “But I’d have expected more creativity out of a woman like you as far as an alias goes, Queen Lilian.”
At that the woman laughed and smoothed her long hair, once a very light blond but now streaked with distinct lines of silver. “Well, as I’m sure you understand all too well, Hazar, once the ego gets accustomed to a certain level of station, it’s hard to give it all up.”
“From Castle Doom to Dreska is quite a step,” Hazar remarked, gesturing to their less than resplendent surroundings. Although the domicile was as pleasant as any noble dwelling on Dreska, it was a far cry from the ostentatious luxury of royalty. “And much of a pleasure as it is to see you alive and well, and charming and lovely as you still are, it looks like you’ve seen better days.”
“I’ve lived better ways,” the former queen of Doom countered smoothly as she regarded her guest. It had been many years since Lilian had last encountered Hazar, long before he had held the prestigious rank from which he had been recently stripped. She remembered him as a handsome young up-and-coming Drule officer and more importantly, the son of Chancellor Mozak, a prominent figure on the Drule Council to which her former husband, Zarkon of Doom and the Ninth Kingdom, had been affiliated. The years had honed the young Hazar she remembered into a fine figure of a Drule, proud and strong and quite attractive, with only the stress lines upon his face as evidence of his rank and tenure in the Drule military, lines that unbeknownst to her had worn their way so deeply mostly in the past few months. She also noted the weariness in his red eyes and added, “You and I have that in common, don’t we, Commander?”
He let out a sardonic chortle. “You know a lot about current events for a dead woman.”
Lilian waved a disdainful hand. “Please; politicians never know how to keep their mouths shut when it comes to making themselves sound good, and our dear Viceroy has a lot of clout on this little world.”
“The reason you’re here, no doubt,” Hazar replied.
She folded her arms across her chest as Hazar took a few steps closer, his noticeably larger frame dwarfing her slender human one in that proximity. “I’d forgotten how similar your voice is to his.” It was clear that the comparison she drew was not necessarily a pleasant one.
“Somehow I don’t think you’re talking about Viceroy Throk.”
“No,” Lilian replied darkly before she resumed her congenial façade. “The Viceroy has always been kind to me… a good friend.”
Hazar arched an eyebrow. “Very good, I imagine.”
Lilian traced her finger along the back of a divan. “Good enough to do me a favor in a time of need. It helps to have friends in high places.”
The slightest hint of a smile tugged at Hazar’s otherwise serious demeanor. “Well, by all accounts you never had any trouble making those.”
More flattered than anything else that her reputation preceded her, the former queen of Doom flashed the visiting commander a decidedly coy smile. “It’s a talent. And on that note, what a nice surprise to see one out here on this dreadfully dull world!”
At that Hazar chortled despite himself. “If you know why I’m here, you should know that I don’t qualify.”
She laid a hand on Hazar’s arm, the bright crimson of her painted fingernails creating a sharp contrast to the Drule’s lilac-colored skin. “As a friend?” Her lips formed a melodramatic pout. “I’m hurt. I wouldn’t have thought there’d be bad blood between us, Hazar. I got on quite well with your father and other members of the Council back in the day, and I remember you as such a fine boy.” She squeezed his bicep ever so softly. “Now a very fine man.”
“As a friend in a high place,” he clarified, doing his best to ignore her overt flirtation. “I’m not high on Viceroy Throk’s list of favorite people these days.”
“No, I would imagine not; you and Mongo took quite a risk,” she said in a serious tone. “Had your father not had the pull he did, I imagine your punishment would’ve been far worse than merely being appointed to oversee this delightful little corner of nowhere.” She eyed him curiously. “And how is the Chancellor these days? And your mother? She must be heartbroken. I remember how highly she spoke of you and your sister—lovely girl, I recall, surely she must be grown now too—at Council dinners.” Lilian’s face took on a wistful look as the reminder of Mozak’s children sent an unwelcome stab of memory of the two children she had, the ones she had borne Zarkon of Doom. Though she knew them both to be alive, well, and grown—her daughter married to a prince of a prominent world in Zarkon’s empire and mother to two boys, and her son grown and by all rights as formidable a conqueror as his father—those were not her memories of them. When she last saw them, her daughter Vanarya had been a young teenager sent off world for schooling and her son Lotor just a young boy.
“My parents are handling things as well as can be expected, and Dorma’s strong and resilient… more so than me when it comes down to it I think,” Hazar’s gruff response cut into Lilian’s thoughts. “They support me and that’s what matters. I knew when I did it that the Council wouldn’t like it, but sometimes what’s right isn’t what’s popular. I regret nothing, except that they were too blind to listen.”
“You don’t have to justify your decisions to me of all people,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand, and then turned toward a nearby window that overlooked the barren Dreska landscape. “I know how fickle a beast political popularity is, and who am I to judge your motivations?” She then turned back around and added with a wry look, “After all, who better than a Doom woman to understand the motive of self-preservation?”
“It was for the preservation of all the citizens of Drule,” he asserted, frowning, before adding, “And technically, you’re Nemonian.”
“Which world do you think affected my outlook on life more, hmm? But enough small talk. Tell me, to what do I really owe the pleasure of your company this fine evening?” She glanced from the window to a timepiece to verify the hour since from the half-light outside it was impossible to tell. “Did you just come by because you had nothing better to do than chase rumors from Drule Council gossip?”
“No—well, yes, actually.”
He made a slight wince, and then smiled despite himself at the fact that
the honesty had tumbled out so easily. “It is
dull here, and no, I suppose I didn’t have much better to do than sit around
thinking about things while waiting for some real news about the situation with
the
She smirked. “That I’d be just as bored as you out on this hunk of rock?”
Hazar made an amused noise that was nearly a chuckle but not quite. “That you could probably use a friendly ear.”
“And with you being in need of one yourself, Commander, it seemed worth your time to chase ghosts.”
“Yes,” he admitted, “it is a little lonely. But I do have my family. Dorma’s very loyal and she visits often to keep me informed. I don’t know what I’d do without her support.” He extended the media reader in his hands. “And although I know it’s hardly the same… I thought if you were who I thought you might be, you might want to know what’s happened to your family. Rumors travel far, but facts get distorted.”
“Indeed,” Lilian murmured as she took the media reader from him, her blue eyes intent upon its closed metal case. The thoughts of her children she had earlier surfaced again and nagged at her with renewed intensity now that she knew answers to questions she’d had for years were potentially in her hands at that very moment. However, she forced herself to stave off the curiosity beast for a short while longer, and did not open it. Instead she studied Hazar’s features for any hint of a motive beyond the one he had stated. A woman with an enemy as powerful as King Zarkon of Doom did not survive long, even under an alias on a faraway world, without a healthy measure of paranoia in her psyche. “So tell me, Hazar, exactly what was the rumor that led you to my doorstep? You said you’d heard allusions. From who? And why?”
When he picked up on the suspicion in her tone, Hazar laid a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Nobody said anything you need to be concerned about. Small things, really, that don’t mean anything until you put them together and in the same context. King Zarkon’s not exactly high on Throk’s list of people to please these days; the only time he mentions him at all is to complain about how he hogs the lazon and resources in the Denubian fighting the lion Voltron.”
Lilian was not convinced. “And yet here
you are. Don’t tell me you’re the only Drule in the galaxy
clever enough to figure it out?”
“I’ve heard remarks,” Hazar went on to explain. “Offhand comments about how it would rile ‘him’ but good if you showed up one day alive and well from living it up on a backwater planet all these years. Jokes that Zarkon of Doom doesn’t dare remarry in case his wife shows up from beyond to give him what for. Comments that he’d better heed the Council lest they bring him a ‘surprise’ from Dreska.”
The former queen of Doom’s eyes went wide. “Throk said that?”
“I doubt Nerok and Durak had any idea what he was talking about. They probably thought it was something to do with the lazon mine and the contracted research going on here. That’s what I thought until something clicked when I’d been ruminating on the fact that they waste all their time mining lazon for war machines when they should be looking for a new planet, and I overheard some local soldiers talking about a pale human noblewoman in this part of the city. That was when I remembered the other comments.” He gave her a pointed look. “After all, how many humans of high station wind up on a world like this in the Drule Empire? Solitary light-haired women at that?”
A smile tugged at her lips. “You thought of me so quickly? I’m flattered. I must’ve made quite an impression on you at those Drule Council meetings back in the day.”
The egotistical reaction elicited a chortle from Hazar. “It’s nice to see that forced exile hasn’t hampered your self-esteem any.”
It was Lilian’s turn to be amused. “Ooh, you’ve become quite sarcastic, haven’t you, Hazar? I can see years of political schmoozing have left their mark on you.”
“Anyway,” he said with a glance at the media reader in her hands, “I looked into the local census records and there you were, ‘Lady Lil.’ It struck me as a strong enough coincidence to be at least a possibility, so I thought I’d stop by and find out for myself if Throk was playing political games giving sanctuary to ousted family members of Council members on his blacklist, or if I was just a little too entrenched in conspiracy theories for my own good.” He smiled. “I’m not sure if I should be glad to find out that Throk has his hand in even more sordid business than I knew about, even if it does mean I managed to figure out something that’s eluded your ex and his court for years.”
“Sordid? Now you really do sound like my dear former husband, assuming such things.”
Hazar met her huffy look with an even stare. “With all due respect, I’ve heard the stories.” He chortled. “And Throk’s never been a pristine example of honor.”
“Hazar dear, you have to understand,” Lilian said, and smoothed her hand along his arm in a coy manner. “Doom is a very different place from Drule. It’s a far more… uninhibited culture.”
“Chaotic or not, there are still rules and laws,” Hazar pointed out, straightening his posture as he regarded her. “Laws which you wound up on the unfriendly side of, and that could still come back to haunt you if you aren’t careful.”
“Careful?” She scoffed. “Give me some credit. If I wasn’t careful, do you think I’d be here? This is a very unassuming life I live out here on Dreska, Hazar, and I’ve existed just fine for over fifteen years. I keep an eye on my enemies from a distance, I keep my friends in touch, and I don’t ask strangers questions about certain parts of the empire.”
“Wise, considering the questionable selection of your alias.”
She let out a disdainful breath and pursed her lips, coated in scarlet lipstick that was a perfect complement to her nails, in an equally unconcerned pout. “Don’t insult me, Hazar. You and I both know that Zarkon isn’t going to be bothered to look for me at this point. I’m ‘dead,’ remember? That’s what the empire thinks, that’s what all but about, what, three—no, two now—on Doom think, that’s what my own children think! Of the select few not on Doom that know I’m alive, I doubt any of them are out to do my dear ex any favors, and we both know that as long as I’m a good girl and stay quiet, he’ll never waste the time wondering where I went off to or how I got here when he’s got big Voltron-shaped fish to fry.”
Hazar frowned, and his voice took on a skeptical tone. “True, but that doesn’t account for what would happen if someone instigated him by rubbing the fact that they know you’re alive in his face.” He folded his arms once more. “And let’s not pretend you have any experience at or intention of being a ‘good girl’… as you said before, you are from Doom.”
“A worldly man like you judging by stereotypes, Hazar? For shame.” She waved her fingers in a tsk-tsk motion, and then smiled flirtatiously once more. “I can be very good, you know.”
“I’m sure Throk thought so,” Hazar replied evenly. “And while that might buy his favor and whatever strings he can pull, I don’t think, say, Zarkon’s witch would be impressed.”
The precocious look on Lilian’s face vanished in an instant, twisted into a bitter and angry one that bore a startling resemblance to the visage that her now-grown son wore in his foul moods. “That old bat’s had years to chase me down and she hasn’t bothered yet. She might hate me enough to want to, but she’s smart enough to know what’s a waste of her time and what isn’t. She has what she wants anyway; I’m gone. And from what I hear, Zarkon still won’t have anything to do with her except to use her for magic,” she finished acidly. “The old fool.”
“True,” Hazar conceded. “I’m sure the Arus war is his primary focus, which brings me back to what I brought you when I came here.” He gestured to the media reader again. “I thought you might have questions, especially in light of all the unrest over on Doom as of late.”
“‘Unrest?’” Lilian repeated dubiously. “That’s putting it a little mildly, isn’t it?” She fixed her blue eyes intently upon him. “From what I heard, Lotor overthrew his father with help from the Drule Council, who then turned on him and helped to oust him to reinstate Zarkon.” She shook her head, clearly distressed by the thought.
“It wasn’t the first time Lotor’s sought the throne,” he continued candidly. “Some time ago he also challenged him in the royal arena.”
Upon hearing that, Lilian’s posture stiffened, all pretense of coyness gone for the time being. “Are you telling me he invoked ‘Right of Might’ on his father?”
Hazar nodded. “That sounds like what I
heard it called. The Doom law that
allows a royal heir to challenge the existing monarch for the position through
combat?”
“That’s a fight to the death, Hazar. At least one of them should not have survived that—yet they’re both still alive?” The stressed look on her features wore deeper.
“What can I say? Your family is hard to kill. Look at you.” A brief smile touched his lips.
“Point taken,” she replied. “So how did it end without a fatal blow or the crowd pressuring one or the other into delivering one? Who won?”
The anxious look in her eyes became distinctly more agitated when he replied, “Zarkon.”
“Not Lotor.” Lilian’s voice held a noticeable note of emotion.
“He had reason and opportunity to kill your son and he didn’t, Lilian. I’d think you’d find that a relief.”
She looked up at Hazar with narrowed eyes. “Because I’m compelled to wonder why. The man isn’t merciful and he isn’t soft. He must hate Lotor for challenging him like that, and now even more so after that failed coup, I imagine. It makes me wonder if what Zarkon has planned for Lotor’s future isn’t worse than death.”
Hazar gave a thoughtful shrug. “Maybe he just wants his only son to live long enough, and be strong enough, to take over after he’s gone. With your daughter married out of the family, he is the direct heir.”
Lilian let out a bitter laugh. “Oh please. That old man will live forever. The witch will see to that, and she’s older than time itself.” She sat on the edge of her divan and gestured for her guest to sit down as well. “But you might be right about it being about ego. I know Zarkon well enough to believe that nothing would please him more than to have his son turn out just like him.”
Hazar took the offered seat in a plush chair across from her and leaned forward. “I had some brief dealings with him not long before I was demoted. Lotor, I mean.”
Eyes burning with curiosity, she asked, “You met with him?”
“Not exactly,” he clarified, to her disappointment. “Marshall Keezor handled most of it directly and just briefed me on the major points of it. I think Prince Lotor’s commander did a lot of the talking for him on their end—Mogor, I think his name is. Was,” he corrected as he mused, “I think he was one of many that got culled from Doom’s hierarchy in that bloodbath.”
“Heh. Sounds like Zarkon’s judgment has slipped a bit over the years,” Lilian mused as she traced the edge of the media reader with her fingertip, doing her best to ignore the burning curiosity as to what was contained on it. “Back in my day he was very apt at sniffing out those who would betray him.”
“I think that point could be debated, after all, he did marry you,” Hazar pointed out with a raised eyebrow before he continued. “And besides, from what I understand, it was Prince Lotor that appointed the late Commander Mogor—or was it Morgil? Anyway, whatever his name was, it wasn’t Zarkon that appointed him. He was a mentor of Lotor’s at the academy.”
Lilian sat up staunchly and smoothed her hair back from where it had fallen over her shoulder. “I’ll have you know that I never betrayed Zarkon anywhere that it counted. Fooling around in the bedchamber is hardly on par with conspiring to commit treason, which I never did, despite what spin that nasty little witch tried to put on things,” she corrected him sharply. “And if you ask me, he never would’ve been put in such a position had Yurak still been around.” A wistful smile crept across her features. “A pity what happened to him, after his years of loyal service.”
“To you or to Doom?”
The former queen’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not even going to dignify that with a response.”
Unaffected by her withering glare, Hazar replied, “All I’m saying is that it must’ve taken someone pretty high in the ranks of security to smuggle you out before your own execution.”
“And I’ll point out to you that if Zarkon even so much as suspected Yurak, Haggar, or any of his court of undermining him in such a way, they wouldn’t be alive to talk about it.”
“Last I heard, Yurak’s dead.”
“Yes, almost a decade and a half after I was,” Lilian pointed out with a huffy edge to her voice that lasted only a moment before she resumed a more dignified demeanor. “Trust me, for a man that had a good half of my male confidants skewered, shot, beaten, or tossed in the Pit of Skulls in a jealous rage, if he thought his fleet commander had any sort of involvement in the kind of scandal you’re suggesting, he’d have been a splatter on the skull pile before my craft was out of the system.” She clenched the media reader in her pale fingers and looked Hazar squarely in the eye. “But you didn’t come halfway across the city to verify my identity and just dredge up old scandal, did you?” A faint smile returned to her lips. “You said you came here to tell me about Lotor.”
Hazar nodded. “Yes. I put together some information on your family, things you may or may not already know. But everything in there is if nothing else, accurate. More reliable than rumor that gets all the way out here to Dreska.”
“What’s my son like, Hazar?” Lilian asked, searching his face intently. “Is he truly like his father? Or worse, as some rumors I’ve heard?”
“That depends on what you define as ‘worse,’ Queen Lilian. He’s as ruthless as your father, and by all accounts has a far shorter fuse. But he’s considered among the best of fighters in hand to hand combat, and well-respected as a tactician. Before the Arus war anyway…” Hazar’s voice trailed off as he wondered if perhaps he should not have said the last bit.
It was too late to take it back, however, and a frown crept across the former queen’s lips. “You can say it, Hazar. I’m not stupid. I’ve heard enough rumors and I know it’s made him and all of Doom look bad. Look weak, look undisciplined, look like a bunch of children in lion ships can thumb their nose at the might of one of the mightiest kingdoms within the Drule Empire and get away with it.”
Unable to refute that, Hazar only replied with a subtle nod. “Yes.”
“But they got the better of Zarkon before Lotor, didn’t they?” she asserted. “And Yurak? And that know-it-all witch? And their newest commander, that so-called ‘Terrible’ one? They’ve all lost to Voltron. You and your own leaders have lost to Voltron, or his twin anyway.” She pouted and examined her manicure. “Voltrons seem to crop up like cockroaches in this part of space.”
“Yes.” Hazar folded his hands and looked down for a moment. “But none of them have lost to Voltron because of distraction.”
“Distraction?”
Hazar met Lilian’s eyes again. “I imagine you’ve heard that it’s Lotor’s intention to not only secure Arus for Doom, but to take Princess Allura as his bride?”
Lilian pushed a lock of hair back behind her ear and nodded. “Yes, I’d heard that he was enamored with the princess of Arus, to the point that he turned down a proposed marriage to Corral of Demos.” She shook her head. “Silly. Corral is a lovely girl. If my Lotor is even half as handsome in person as the images I’ve seen, they’d create darling children. I mean, look at my Vanarya, don’t get me wrong, I think she’s comely in her own way, but she always looked far more her father’s child with those huge ears and scaly complexion, and her husband Prince Xarleth looks like a toad, and their boys are still impossibly adorable.” She smiled and added as an aside, “I do hope you have pictures of my grandsons on here.”
“Have you seen what Princess Allura looks like?”
“Not in detail, no. Doesn’t she cavort around in a pink jumpsuit and a helmet with her fellow pilots?”
“Princess Romelle then, of Pollux? Have you seen her? She bears a strong resemblance. Actually your son courted her once, but it fell through.”
Lilian shook her head. “All I know about Pollux is that they’re rather remote and I’d heard they might willingly annex into the Empire at one point, but reneged on the offer when a deal with my ex went bad.” She tapped her fingernail against the arm of the chair. “I didn’t realize Lotor was so involved in that.” She smiled. “Quite the ladies man, is he?” Her smile broadened to one of pride. “That’s my boy. He was a charmer even as a child.”
“May I see the media reader?” Hazar held out his hand, and with a curious look Lilian handed it to him. He switched it on and a moment later handed it back to her. There was an image of Arus’ princess on the screen, wearing her traditional pink Arusian dress with her blond hair cascading down over her shoulders. “This is Princess Allura.”
“She’s quite beautiful,” Lilian said after taking a moment to examine the image. “For a woman resisting his rule by fighting him and his robeasts in a lion ship anyway.” She sat up straighter. “Maybe that’s what he sees in her and why he won’t take anyone else. She’s the one that got away, the one he can’t catch, the one he wants most to submit to him and won’t.” She smirked. “Men do like those sorts of power games.”
With a curious look in his eyes, Hazar went on to say, “Are you telling me you don’t see it? An astute woman like you missing what half the galaxy assumes?”
Lilian frowned. “What?”
He fixed his gaze intently upon her. “The resemblance.”
She looked at the screen again, and then shifted her gaze back to Hazar. “Resemblance?”
The pointed look on the Drule’s features intensified.
“Oh you can’t be serious,” Lilian said after a moment, and when Hazar did not argue, she sat up staunchly. “I admit, there’s a bit of a similarity in our facial features, but that’s all. I’m nothing like that rebellious Arusian.” She pouted as if the very notion offended her. “And frankly, if the Council has nothing better to gossip about than speculating if Zarkon’s son has a thing for women that look a bit like the mother he hasn’t seen since he was five years old, they need to focus on their own personal lives. Obviously they’re lacking.” She turned her head to the side. “And for the record, I’d never wear that color.”
“I wouldn’t say it’s ‘a bit,’ Queen Lilian, and I’d guess that if it were twenty years ago you’d be more likely to see it.”
“I assure you; twenty years ago I wouldn’t have worn that dress either,” she retorted, and turned to face her guest once more. “And in all seriousness, Hazar, it pains me to think that my son would so carelessly throw away the chance to shine, to outdo his father, to become the king I know it’s his destiny to be, all because he’s chasing some ghost.” She rose to her feet and looked out the window. “I don’t expect you to understand, but leaving Doom wasn’t what I ever wanted. Despite the rumors, probably started by that jealous old wart-magnet, I was quite happy there.”
Hazar also rose to his feet and joined her side, following her gaze to a meteor shower pelting the landscape in the distance. “Actually all I ever heard, that I believed anyway, was that you weren’t happy with Zarkon. I recall enough from my first Drule Council meetings that you were at to remember you as someone who thoroughly enjoyed being a queen.”
“I never hated Zarkon,” Lilian told him without lifting her eyes from the panoramic view of the window. “I actually cared for him, but I wouldn’t be controlled by him, not the way he wanted. I was born a princess. I was brought up believing it was my birthright to rule Nemone, and I don’t give up control so easily.” Her eyes darkened. “When Zarkon took over Nemone he handed my father an ultimatum as its ruler—surrender the world to him and it, and his family, would survive; resist and die, or perhaps live to be a miserable slave. My father was a shrewd man. He knew there was no chance of withstanding Doom’s forces, not with our comparatively pitiful military.”
“And Zarkon forced you to marry him?”
Lilian let out a dark chuckle. “Not exactly.” She turned toward Hazar to tell the rest of the story. “The original deal Zarkon offered my father allowed us to live and, if we cooperated, have a reasonable degree of freedom. We could keep our property but had to submit completely to Doom’s rule and be stripped of our dignity and authority. My father wouldn’t accept that so he brought me and my brother Warich to the negotiating conference in the hopes of securing us something better. He tried to butter up Zarkon every way he could, and told us to be as personable and agreeable as possible. So I did what any sensible girl would—I sat there and looked pretty, batted my eyes at him, flattered him, and tried to soften him so that my father would have more sway with him. And it worked.”
“He made the price you being his bride?”
With a smile much like the one might favor a child that had come up with a cute idea with, Lilian patted Hazar on the arm. “You’re very chivalrous at heart, Hazar, aren’t you? You probably think all pretty young princesses are virgins until they get married, too, don’t you?” She folded her arms daintily across her midsection. “No dear, he told my father he’d consider it if I came willingly to his bed, did whatever he wanted, and I was good enough. And do you know what my father said?”
Hazar drew a sharp breath. Though he could not imagine his own father selling out his sister in such a way, he knew all too well how self-serving most royals were. “I can guess.”
“He told him that I was his to do with as he pleased before I even had the chance to speak up. And you know, dear old Zarkon really was a pleasant surprise in that regard. I half expected he’d be brutal as an example to my father, but you see, I know how to read men, even back then I did. So I said all the right things and did all the right things to make Zarkon listen to me rather than my father. You’d be amazed how even the greatest and fiercest of men will concede to a woman’s whims in the throes of lust.” A mischievous spark lit in her eyes. “And when I saw the chance, I took it. Why settle for being heir to the throne of a conquered planet when you can marry the throne to an interplanetary kingdom?”
She turned to stare out the window once more. “It paid off well. I pleased Zarkon well enough during those negotiations that he told me he would make me his queen, that he would give me anything I wanted from conquered worlds if I sat at his side and gave him heirs and no trouble. He said I had the worlds of his domain at my disposal. Naturally,” she smiled, “I agreed. I even managed to save my father and our family’s station on Nemone. My father and Warich kept their titles and oversaw the mining operations for Zarkon until they were assassinated in a slave revolt and my nephew Taybor took over. It sounded so ideal at the time.”
Lilian lifted a hand and placed it against the glass as she continued. “If only Zarkon had been as true to his word as he seemed when he told me that I could do whatever I wanted. You see, that was where our problems started.”
Hazar nodded slowly. “You weren’t as free as he led you to believe?”
“Yes, and no,” she answered, turning toward him again. “I could come and go as I pleased, and had authority to make decisions and plans of anyone in that station. I was no slave bride, and I had a fair degree of his trust and even gained the trust of most of his court before long. When I say that Zarkon cared for me and I for him, it was the truth. But with his affection came a very nasty possessive side. To call him jealous would be an understatement and an overstatement at the same time. He’s a powerful and confident man, and the petty jealousy of a man insecure about whether his wife loves him is beneath him. But he is territorial, and what’s his is his. It wasn’t enough for him to have my loyalty. You see, he never had much of a wandering eye himself and he assumed that I would be content just warming his bed as he was mine.”
She snapped her hand away from the glass and folded her arms while her voice took on a more irritated tone. “Please. I was raised an indulged princess, and I was taken to live as queen on a planet renowned for its decadence, its bloodsport, its drink and gluttony, and its harems. Did he really think I’d be content to look and not touch all those fine gladiators, soldiers, exotic slaves?” She shook her head as if reliving an argument she’d had many a time before. “Suffice it to say it became a bone of contention between us. It wasn’t good enough for him to have my affection and respect; he had to have me as his and his alone. It didn’t matter that most men meant nothing more to me than a fine chocolate does before I eat it, or that I found out a good deal of useful information for our empire through, shall we call it, flirtatious entertaining. Over time his jealousy became unbearable. He even made accusations about Lotor and Vanarya’s parentage, as if she could even belong to anyone else just looking at her. He once had Lotor’s DNA tested. Looking back on it, I think it galled him more to find out unequivocally he was his than to find out otherwise. I know it galled Haggar.” Her face darkened considerably. “Talk about petty jealousy of the insecure, now there’s someone who could write a tome on it.”
It was only when she finished speaking that Lilian realized how bitter she sounded, and she straightened herself into a more neutral demeanor. “But that’s enough of that sordid little tangent. My point is, Hazar, that I never wanted to leave Doom. I loved my children and yes, I even loved Zarkon, for all that mattered in the end. His jealousy was like poison, it left me brittle and vindictive and yes, more than once I did flaunt my activities just to spite him. By the end it made no difference, true or not he was so blinded by his jealousy that he believed any and every little rumor about me, and that moldy old bat at his side fed into it every chance she got. I have no doubt that she’s the one who set him off that night…” A scowl crossed her features, and in the dark-lit room her resemblance to Lotor in a sour mood once again became evident. “I was good to Lotor and Vanarya. It hurt me on unimaginable levels to leave them behind, to leave them with no mother. But what choice did I have? Once Zarkon turned against me, I was lucky to be able to escape.”
“Your friends in high places,” Hazar finished for her.
Lilian smiled wanly at him. “Yes. Two friends that I will be grateful to until the end of my days. And believe it or not,” her smile turned coy for a moment, “I only slept with one of them.”
“Doesn’t that make one a lover and not a friend?”
She patted Hazar on the arm again. “No dear, I’d have had to be in love with him first. If you don’t love them, they’re just friends with benefits.”
“I think I see where Lotor gets his lustful side from,” Hazar remarked.
“Speaking of which, I did hear that he had the biggest harem on Doom. Amusing. That must gall Zarkon on so many levels.” Still smirking, she returned to her divan.
Hazar also reclaimed his seat. “Not nearly as much as having his son try to usurp him, I’d imagine.”
While Hazar sat, Lilian gestured for a servant to pour her and Hazar each a drink, and then took a sip from her goblet, her expression turning somber. “That hotheadedness—I suppose he gets that from me. Zarkon was always more patient than I, and Lotor was a very willful and demanding little boy.” She picked up the media reader and switched off the image of Princess Allura to bring up the files pertaining to Lotor. “I suppose when I look through what’s on here, it’ll tell me that hasn’t changed in fifteen years.”
“You’ll have to be the judge on what’s changed and what hasn’t,” Hazar said as he took the offered refresher and took a hearty swig. He watched as she began to browse its contents, and then said, “I imagine you’d prefer to read that in private.”
“Actually, yes, I would,” she told the Drule commander with a sincere smile. “Thank you, Hazar.”
Rising to his feet, Hazar set his goblet down and bowed. Lilian rose to bid him a proper goodbye, but he placed a hand on her shoulder to keep her in place where she sat. “It’s all right. I can see myself out,” he said kindly, and smiled back at her. “Like you said earlier, you and I can both use any friends we can get these days.”
“Indeed,” she said, and squeezed his hand in a friendly, if not somewhat flirtatious, acknowledgment. “And I hope to be seeing more of you in the future.”
“Absolutely,” the Drule replied congenially. “Take care of yourself, ‘Lady Lil.’”
“Thank you, Commander, and good luck,” she replied, releasing his hand so that he could head toward the door. “Give the local eccentric noble’s regards to your family.”
Hazar responded with a wave, and a moment later Lilian was alone again. She returned her attention to the media reader and her fingertips hovered a moment over the buttons as she went to open the first file, a compilation of information about Lotor. Questions that had nagged at her for so many years, hopes of things that might be and regrets of things that had not been, were finally going to be answered.
Her crimson-tipped finger pressed the button as the image of her grown son in full battle regalia came onto the screen. “My precious Lotor,” she said softly as text scrolled onto the screen below it, “Let’s see what’s become of you…”
* * *
“Precious”
Lyrics by Martin L. Gore
Precious and fragile things
Need special handling
My God, what have we done to you?
We always tried to share
The tenderest of care
Now look what we have put you through...
Things get damaged
Things get broken
I thought we'd manage
But words left unspoken
Left us so brittle
There was so little left to give
Angels with silver wings
Shouldn't know suffering
I wish I could take the pain for you
If God has a master plan
That only He understands
I hope it's your eyes He's seeing through
Things get damaged
Things get broken
I thought we'd manage
But words left unspoken
Left us so brittle
There was so little left to give
I pray you learn to trust
Have faith in both of us
And keep room in your hearts for two
Things get damaged
Things get broken
I thought we'd manage
But words left unspoken
Left us so brittle
There was so little left to give
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Evil Fan Fiction