“Feeble mind, HA!” Lotor stormed through the castle halls. “I’ll show him depths of dimwittedness he has never dared to dream of!” He would! If he had to swear on every single one of the Dark Gods, the people of Doom worshipped, he would find a way!
Maybe he wouldn’t kill his father…instead, when he was ready to ascend the throne, he’d poison him. Disable his body, leaving him a shell of his former self, with only his mind working, so he could experience and fully comprehend all of Lotor’s wonderful accomplishments.
If only he knew where to acquire such a senses debilitating drug…Hagger would be of no help. She almost rarely assisted him in private manners. What help she offered with his pursuits of Allura, came at a high price. She wanted to rule Doom with him. Not as his Queen, she was not THAT deluded, but she still wanted the CO-ownership Zarkon had never delivered. And even if Lotor was willing to share his throne with the witch, he knew she would never plot against Zarkon. The little fool actually believed she was in love with the King!
Too bad he had disposed of that other witch. What had been her name…he could not remember. There had not been much, if anything memorable, about her. Except…that she had given him a plant that was remarkably like one of Hagger’s robeasts, AND a poison to give his ailing father. And all she had wanted in return was to take Hagger’s position as Court appointed Sorceress.
How foolish he had been to toss her aside! But he had been appalled at her suggestion to kill his father…he had still held some tiny shred of love for Zarkon back then. And even that love had betrayed him in the form of losing a most powerful ally indeed!
“Just because we’re foot soldiers, WE gotta take the blame for Lotor’s blunders.”
“Hmmm?” Lotor paused, noticing the two guards by the doors of Hagger’s laboratory.
“Yeah!” scoffed one. “I wish we could RUN AWAY like he does, but we’d be charged with insubordination.”
Walking slow and carefully, so as not to make a sound, Lotor crept closer, his body pressed against the wall.
“If he wasn’t a prince, he’d surely would have been court marshaled by now! Perhaps even executed! The lucky coward!”
“Being a prince has it’s advantages.” agreed the other one. “You get to hide behind your men, while they do all the dangerous work.”
“We risk our lives for him, just so he can stay alive AND look good while hiding!”
An eavesdropping Lotor’s cheeks flamed. It wasn’t possible for his blue skin to turn scarlet, but it certainly tried. What was with everyone today? He had thought it was just his father, but now it seemed these guards had bought into this coward propaganda as well.
He couldn’t understand where all of this was coming from! He had never been one to run from a fight. Why if Voltron was a normal sized robot, he would have gone out, and fought it by himself. But it would be suicide to do such a thing…he was ant sized compared to the gigantic robot…it wouldn’t do to be squashed like a bug! Surely his people saw the disadvantages in size! But then…so many forgot quickly about success in the face of failure. They and his father were so alike in that regard. He had to constantly prove himself, over and over again! All in order to retain favor.
You’d think taking on six robeasts would be enough! Voltron had NEVER done that. And how the nobility of Druledom had cheered when he had leapt into the arena. The robeasts, while not anywhere near Voltron’s height, had still towered over Lotor by almost eight feet! He had to fight them all on at once to the death. He had known his father wouldn’t call them off if he had lost.
He had even fought his father once in that same arena. He had been shocked to see how evenly matched they were, his helmet sliced in half, Zarkon’s robes in pieces by the fight’s end.
Lotor had earned his reputation as the greatest sword master in all of the Denubian Galaxy. Through blood, sweat and tears. His enemies blood and sweat, their widow’s tears. No one could match him in a fair fight. That time he and Prince Avok had fought…the little fool, taking on one robeast to prove his worthiness to become a monster that could defeat Voltron. Zarkon would have turned him into one, regardless of his skill. His father always enjoy any cruel diversions life tossed his way.
And so Avok and Lotor had fought, and Lotor was prepared to strike Avok down, not as a mercy killing, but for his arrogance–the arrogance of believing he was a better fighter than Lotor–when it happened. His sword paused in the midst of a decapitating swing, for out of the corner of his eye, he saw golden hair. Allura, he thought, turning from a much relieved Prince Avok.
He didn’t even notice when his sword was knocked out of his hands by the redheaded prince. He didn’t retaliate, didn’t see the need, instead leaping into the crowd, intent on her. And was sorely disappointed to see on closer inspection it was not his angel. Same height, same shade of blue eyes, and gold for hair, but it was not Allura. The shape of the face was wrong, the lips thinner, the voice deeper. He would later learn Princess Romelle was a distant cousin of his beloved, explaining the slight resemblance she bore.
He had always been appreciative of beauty, but never a sucker for a woman. Never that is, until he met Allura. if not for her, he would have won Arus on his first battle. And now, would not need to put up with this slanderous allegations of cowardice!
He could still put a permanent end to such talk. Unleash full power on Blue Lion…but then…she would die…and he with her. If his heart did not burst of it’s own accord, he would plunge his sword into it. Perhaps then, they could be together, if not in life, than in death…He shook his head to clear away such melancholy thoughts.
“Have you thought of defecting to Arus, or someplace else?” asked one guard.
Lotor’s eyes narrowed. Why should he care what traitors thought of him?
“Not a bad idea!” exclaimed the other, enthusiastically.
Enough skulking about, thought Lotor, a hint of a smile on his face. Time to scare these two, if not into respect, than into their own private taste of fear. “If you have nothing to do, I’ll find something for you!” hissed Lotor. “Such as cleaning the INSIDE of a robeast’s stomach!”
With a gasp, the two guards snapped to attention. Straightening, they saluted him, heels clicking together. “Prince Lotor, sir!” They chorused.
“We don’t permit socializing while on duty.” Lotor glared at them, and they gulped. “Too much chatter allows anyone to sneak up on you, even the nosiest person, say an old woman hobbling along on a cane could get pass you two unaware!” His scowl deepened. “And standing off to one side? Has your training taught you nothing?”
The two guards jumped away from each other. “So…so sorry sir…”
“You should be!” hissed Lotor. “At the very least, repentant! How are you to effectively guard this chamber from intrusion while staring into each other’s eyes?!”
“Er…ah…” They stammered stupidly.
“I see you’re in need of some severe retraining methods. Report to Morgor.” Lotor glanced at their name tags. “I’ll know if you have not. Well?” He tapped his foot impatiently, when they made no move to leave. “What are you waiting for?!”
“Er…sire…we have to guard Hagger’s laboratory until the next shift arrives.” explained one.
“What good will a bunch of lazy incompetents such as yourselves do her?” demanded Lotor. “GO! She will be safe in my care!”
“Yes sire!” They saluted him again, and rushed off, tripping over their own feet in an effort to get away from the angry prince. So frightened were they, they did not speak, nor did they dare to breathe a sigh of relief until they were in front of Morgor’s office.