Quick Author's Note: I have taken down the old version of Melantho. This is the newer version, and while it starts off very closely to the old, it will diverge quickly. Due to school and work, I may only update twice a month. As per usual, none of the recognized characters belong to me. I hope you enjoy and I look forward to any feedback provided.

Cheers, Stephy

Prologue

She was dying. She had been on the verge of death for nearly six years, and he came to hope she'd recover. He could no longer fool himself. She was dying, and it would happen today.

"Kelantho, my love, is there anything I can do for you?" He squeezed her hand. She was too weak to squeeze back. It was now, staring down at his fading wife that he wished he could change the past. He would have stayed home more, perhaps fought in the war less. He would have told her loved her more often. Never let himself be led astray that one time.

So many mistakes that he wished he could go back and undo.

"Tri-Klops has finished the new water purifier. The water is now the sweetest you'll ever taste. No more sulfuric after taste. And Evil-Lynn went hunting and brought back some creature for dinner." He smiled as well as he could as his wife frowned. Gently tracing his thumb over the paper-thin skin of her hand, he said, "I know you don't care for her. Forgive my past, my love. I have not looked at her since that time. You are the only woman for me."

With his free hand, he brushed a few strands of her black hair away from her blue-skinned face. Once, he looked like her; dark blue skin and black hair, the proud markings of his people. Now, she was really the only one left.

"Kelantho," he muttered, the words catching in his throat. If this was the last, he knew he had to say it. "I wish I had saved you. I wish I had killed the one who did this to you - to our son. I wish I could avenge you." He squeezed her hand once more. "I promise I will. I will not fail you again."

Six years ago, when his war with his despised half-brother Randor reached its peak, his life came crashing down. He thought he was on top of the world, about to win his rightful place among his people. He was poised to win, it was so near his grasp. He had just destroyed the fragile family bonds of his enemy, left them in the very depths of despair over the loss of a child they could never get back. However, Randor was more like him then either would ever admit, and he gave as good as he got. While he was away, fighting a small portion of Randor's army, another troop had sneaked into his village. He returned to find his home burned to the ground, his son slaughtered, his people dead, and his wife a broken woman.

Blast Randor's luck! That rat managed to escape every trap he set. To make matters worse, it was he who was defeated, not Randor.

"Keldor?" He almost didn't hear his wife's gentle calling.

"Yes, my love?"

"Promise me," she whispered. Her voice trailed off. He could see her thin lips moving, but not make out the words.

"Anything, Kelantho. I'll promise anything." He brought her hand to his lips, only to remember belatedly that he no longer had the lips to kiss her sweet hand. A parting gift from Randor. The burn of acid, his skin melting, the fact that he was only alive because of black magic and a soul-binding contract to an evil that made his skin crawl. There were times at night he wondered if his horrific appearance wasn't partly the cause for his lovely wife to fade away so fast.

"Protect her," Kelantho breathed. "Promise me."

"Protect?"

"Protect the child. Please Keldor."

The mere thought turned his stomach. The 'heroes' that attacked his village and killed his son left one more horrific surprise for him: one of them raped his wife. In her depression over losing their beloved young Devlin, Kelantho suddenly wanted to keep the baby. In her mind, she refused to believe she was pregnant by such a monster and started calling the baby Keldor's. He should have put his foot down, but he could never say no to Kelantho. The baby gave her so much joy, but its birth robbed her of her strength. Every time he planned on killing it, Kelantho must have sensed it for she would ask him to either present the child or to care for it. He just couldn't bear the thought of destroying what little happiness his wife still had. After her death, he would destroy that abomination.

"My love, don't ask this of me," he begged.

"Please. She's all we have left. She'll be the last."

"She's not mine."

Kelantho gave a shuddering breath. "She is still us, Keldor. She's still Achian."

"She is also one of them."

"Then make her one of us fully. Protect her, Keldor, and she will serve you well."

"Kelantho..."

"No, Keldor!" Kelantho summoned the last of her strength. In that moment she was the woman he fell in love with, the powerful and beautiful daughter of a lord. In Achian culture, the women held the power, and it was only to Kelantho did he ever bend his head. "She is the last female Achian. If you are to ever bring our race back, you will need her. I bore her out of a need to see our race rise again." Seeing the slight jump go through his body, she smiled. "Did you think I did that because I wanted that creature's child? No, she is at least half Achian, and you will raise her to be as whole as possible. Use her, my husband, to bring Randor to his knees. She is a weapon, always remember that."

With the knowledge that the last of her strength was finally slipping away, Keldor agreed. He'd 'protect' the child, but if it died in his care, so be it. He would not coddle the child of his enemy, but he would turn it into the weapon his wife envisioned.

"Love you, Keldor," Kelantho sighed. She breathed out and expired. Keldor sat there, staring at his beautiful wife's dead body. He could feel the last vestiges of goodness fade until he wondered if it was ever really there at all.

Finally, he stood and walked from the room. He was no longer Keldor, husband of Kelantho and son of Mela. He was no longer Keldor, general and hero of the Achians. The moment he left that room, that side of him was gone forever. Keldor had the ability to be the good guy, to be that sweet man Kelantho fell in love with.

Now, he was Skeletor, Overlord of Evil.

He needed to decide what to do with that blasted child. He promised Kelantho, but could he really do it? Could he raise and protect it? That was a promise by Keldor, and he was Skeletor now. No one expected the Overlord of Evil to keep his promises.

Please, my love. Kelantho's sweet voice echoed in his mind. Deep down, he knew he would honor Kelantho's last wish. No matter who was - Keldor or Skeletor - he loved her.

He marched briskly down the dark, cold halls of Snake Mountain. He would have to do this before he lost his nerve. Finding the child was no problem. All he had to do was locate the two most dim-witted of his minions and fetch the child. Luckily, he found them on his first stop.

The two minions stood hunched over a hole in the wall. Whiplash, a reptilian creature with a flexible and deadly tail, tried to whistle at the hole, but it came out as a rush of wind ending with a sputter. Clawful, a crab-like creature with huge clawed hands, was holding a treat by the hole.

"Come on out. Please." Clawful waved the treat by the hole. "Nummy nummies."

"I don't think that's working," Whiplash said.

"Well whistling isn't working either."

Skeletor walked over. "Exactly what is going on here?"

The two minions turned. Too stupid to look embarrassed, they both pointed to the hole. "She won't come out," Whiplash said.

"We didn't think she'd go in there. We were playing and she slipped into the hole."

Skeletor glanced around them and noticed that the hole in the wall was just big enough for a small, malnourished five-year-old child to fit through. He pushed his henchmen away and peered into the hole. For a brief moment, hope fluttered in his cold heart. If the little brat wanted to get stuck and die in that hole, so be it. That hope died when he noticed a shadow moving at the far end. There was a way out.

"And why would it run into the hole," Skeletor asked, standing back up.

"We were playing a game," Whiplash said.

"What kind of game?"

"I was General Randor, and I was chasing her around the room. If I caught her, I was going to eat her," Clawful said. "And Whiplash was Duncan."

"We weren't really going to eat her," Whiplash added. "It was just a game."

Skeletor turned to leave. "Don't move from that spot until the brat comes out," he said. He was curious to know how long it would take them to realize it had escaped. On his way out, he stopped by the next room and fetched the child, who was huddling in the corner. He had one more place to visit before he could put his lovely Kelantho to rest.

He never promised he'd protect the brat alone. Who better among his minions to care for a child then Evil-Lynn? Surely she would have some kind of motherly instinct, right?

Evil-Lynn had been spending a lot of time in Tri-Klops' labs. Everyone knew it had more to do with the burly inventor/swordsman than it did with any love for inventing. Deep down, Skeletor knew he had no reason to feel jealousy. Evil-Lynn had been a single fling, a mistake he regretted the moment he got home. Why should he care if she found a new plaything? Perhaps it was because Tri-Klops was his most loyal of henchmen, the only one to really pledge his life to the service of Skeletor. He hated to share.

"Evil-Lynn, get off my work bench!" Tri-Klops' deep, rumbling voice echoed outside the room. Skeletor felt practically giddy to know there was trouble in paradise.

"All you want to do is tinker with that little toy," came Evil-Lynn's seductive voice. "Aren't I much more interesting then that pile of metal and bolts?"

"At this moment, no."

Skeletor opened the lab door. Evil-Lynn was half-naked, perched on the work bench. Her pale limbs were smudged with the dirt and oil from Tri-Klops' latest project. Tri-Klops, so named for the visor he wore, stood with his arms folded and fully dressed. Both looked up as Skeletor entered the room, and it pleased him to note that Tri-Klops, at least, had the grace to look shamed.

"Lord Skeletor," Tri-Klops said as he pushed past Evil-Lynn. "I was just about to come looking for you. I've completed the first prototype of the Doom Seeker. With it, we can explore further out and not worry about the heat and thirst that plagues the Dark Hemisphere. I know it's a bit bulky, but we can work on that." He held out a a clunky, bird-shaped machine.

"Were you now?" Skeletor looked over at Evil-Lynn, who had not bothered to cover herself. She stared silently back, challenging him to say something, to show some emotion that she mattered.

Instead, Skeletor pushed the child forward. "Kelantho is dead," he announced. He shoved the child to Evil-Lynn's feet. "I want that thing bathed and brought down to the tombs. Alive."

"Planning on disposing of it in the tombs," drawled Evil-Lynn. "And here I thought we'd just stumble across the body someday, rotten and decomposed in some forgotten smelly corner of Snake Mountain."

"Tri-Klops, follow me." Skeletor didn't bother to see if his minions did as he ordered. He took it for granted that they jumped to his tasks. He knew Tri-Klops, at least, would die if he commanded it.

Silently, they went back to Kelantho's room to fetch the body. In the tomb, far below the mountain in the only cool area of all the Dark Hemisphere, they placed her in the prepared stone coffin. The lid of the coffin had her likeness carved in, her beautiful form sleeping for all eternity.

Evil-Lynn finally arrived with the still-wet brat. Cleaned up, Skeletor could see a lot of Kelantho in her. Like all Achians, she had the same blue skin and black hair. Some trick of fate gave her the watery blue eyes that must belong to her father instead of the beautiful dark ones of Kelantho. This was the only thing that brought him back to the reality that he hated her. If she looked too much like Kelantho, he feared he might come to care for her.

Soon, the rest of his minions filtered into the room, except for Whiplash and Clawful. They were probably still staring at the hole in the wall. It was now or never. Skeletor cleared his throat.

"As you are all aware by now, Kelantho passed this morning. This is the only time you will be allowed in her tomb. After you pay your respects, you will leave. No one is to enter here without my permission." He reached down and pulled the child up. "As for this thing -" He paused, picking his words carefully, "-it needs a name."

"Why bother," asked Evil-Lynn. "you're only going to kill it."

"Am I, Evil-Lynn?"

She looked from the child to her master, all certainty starting to drain from her pretty face. "Aren't you?"

"No. It was Kelantho's dying wish to have this thing grow up. So, she shall be named and taught and become one of us."

"Why," asked Kronis. "What do we need her for anyway?"

"Kelantho's wish," Skeletor said. He wasn't about to tell Kronis, the only other Achian alive, that their species survival depended on this little half-breed brat. He was just starting to realize his wife's wisdom, and wasn't ready to share. The Achians were dead, and this brat was the last female. If Skeletor ever found anyone he thought would carry the Achian genes perfectly enough, he would need her.

Skeletor picked up the child by the back of her shirt. Holding her over Kelantho's tomb, he said, "Take a good look. Your mother is dead. The only person on this planet who cared about you has passed on." He dropped the child. "Kelantho was one of the two greatest women I've known in my lifetime. She was kind, beautiful, powerful, and wise. All things you will strive to be, brat. The other woman was my mother, Mela. A strong and determined woman. Another person you will strive to be like."

He studied the urchin. It was too stupid to understand him. Spending so much of her time with Clawful and Whiplash must have stunted her intellect. He'd have to fix that. While he didn't mind having mindless drones as his minions, he didn't want all of them to be idiots.

"Your name, from this day on, will be Melantho. Now get up! Your sniveling is annoying me. No child of mine will be a sniveling coward."

"Child of yours?" Evil-Lynn's question was a bit too loud in the tomb, echoing off the stone walls.

"Yes. As of today, I am adopting her. It was what Kelantho wanted." He turned away, waving them off. "Leave. I wish to be alone."

The minions filed out, taking Melantho with them. The little girl looked hopefully up at each of them, knowing something had happened. She held her hand out Evil-Lynn first, but was ignored.

"What do we do with her," asked Tri-Klops.

"I don't care," said Evil-Lynn. She pushed the child out of her way and stalked out. "I'm not babysitting that creature." One by one, the other henchmen found an excuse to leave the moment those watery blue eyes landed on him. Soon, only Tri-Klops was left, standing before the still hopeful child.

He sighed, looking down at her innocent face. "Fine," he growled. "Come on, than. Your first lesson will be to learn the difference between a spark wench and a tork wench."

Another quick note: Sorry, one more. There will be special features in this story called "Interludes". They are background short stories or scenes rewritten in another character's POV. I have few planned, but don't mind taking suggestions. The first will be after Chapter Five, all about how Kelantho and Keldor met.