If the Prince were to look back, he would probably have found something like innocent memories, at the recesses of his mind, somewhere far, far back, something faint and graying.

They might have included a moment or two of a somewhat listless young boy whose dramatic pout was nonetheless somewhat deliberate, sitting on a bench or chest in a dusty room with instruments that ranged from state of the art wonders of mechanics to old-fashioned beakers and distillation rigs, as well as a variety of ominously floating crystals.

Somewhere in the dim lights of the room, a rustling could be heard, and one might spy the shadowed outline of a robed figure working, bony gaunt fingers endlessly working, testing, refining and seeking and generally being rather consumed with concerns that weren't him, all the while he sat there, vaguely bored, swinging his legs back and forth.

He didn't quite recall why he didn't have anywhere else to be at this moment, or what his current opinion of that person had been; He thinks that, at this stage, here may have been something like a distant cold comfort in knowing that there were others who looked somewhat like him.

Perhaps whatever he was supposed to be doing had fallen through and so he'd come here –

He wasn't anxious nor wearing the carefully assembled veneer he presented to almost everyone else, but neither did the visit feel like a treat or serious occasion; It was not unusual for him to just exist in her presence, not exactly stewing but fermenting ever so quietly, yet still young enough to glance at her with some degree of curiosity and openness as he observed her at work.

It was not his first time in this particular room, and in truth, he did think that he'd picked up some noises of some origin that he couldn't quite trace on the previous times, but, who knew what it might be, in a place like this...

It was, however, the first time that he would directly encounter its source, and whatever there was to be expected of this place, it wasn't this.

This was something novel, something that didn't fit with his previous understanding of the world, that is, something to be studied and understood, narrowing his eyes, the young Prince remained cautiously sitting in place, quietly slipping his hands onto the surface he was sitting up in case he needed to get up and bolt – and the same time, he moved no further, fixating on the unexpected small creature with unwavering, piercing eyes.

If it had been some kind of hideously deformed mutation, or a creature of oozing slime, he might have understood, but facing him here was nothing more than a small feline creature with the correct number of limbs, and all of them matching kinds of flesh – if it was modified, and he knew better than to exclude that just from it its appearance, it must be a subtle kind, for surely, the creature was facing him with what could only be described as a body language of suspicion, its stance ready to leap with its hair standing on edge, its tail just slightly raised, but he recognized this as a mirror image of his own initial confusion.

Something he had already found by then was that he was good at observing other beings, to infer things about them or, gauge how they would react to one thing or another.

Right now, his observation told him that making any move toward the creature would probably startle it away, but as a matter of principle, he was going to stand his ground here, for he had all intention to keep observing.

Thus, young Lotor did nor break eye contact with the being, but he slowly, carefully shifted his posture into a more relaxed, welcoming state, hoping that it would do the same. He had no way of knowing whether it would register this, let alone understand, but it was bound to soften up over time.

At least, Lotor could not help but wonder if he was, at least in a sense, being observed back – It was more careful than truly scared, holding itself with a certain poise, not so much waiting as forming a coiled spring of kinetic energy as if it were just about to move, but not before ascertaining that the coast was clear.

The young prince was not familiar with this kind of beast, but from what he had seen so far, he thought it an admirable creature, and he thought he could sense a curious yet elegant nature behind its pupils – even putting aside the question of what it was doing here and the person this room belonged to, Lotor deemed that this creature was as interesting a sight to study as any other and began to slowly, carefully test the waters.

He understood that if he startled it away, it would leap away and disappear back into the dark corners of this room, leaving him to content himself with all the dead, barely moving things in this room, its third occupant included, so he proceeded with caution, always keeping his eye on the creature as he slowly leaned forward, slid toward it on his his improvised bench and, toward the end, even held one of is little hands in what was a cautious, calculated move despite the thin smirk appearing on his face when he saw that the creature hadn't fled yet.

He figured that his outstretched little palm must have made for a sufficiently nonthreatening offering, small and soft as it was compared to even what the other children had to offer, with only the barest hints of claws... not so good for scratching and tearing at things, but perhaps, he might find some other use for them, and he seemed all the more certain of that when he beckoned the smaller creature with a wink of his inner fingers.

Then, it dawned on him that he had miscalculated, perhaps failed to take into account to which extent this little critter may have been used to contact with other humanoids, and, by extension, what might result from convincing it that he could be counted in the 'friendly' category – the creature made a rapid approach that the young prince did not expect nor feel he was quite prepared for yet, and, in the weakness of his childhood, he let out a loud, high-pitched yelp as the creature came closer, raising up his arms and backing away toward the back of his seat when the cat rather harmlessly brushed against his resting calves.

This, unfortunately, was bound to draw the attention of the rooms currently rather occupied owner, and Lotor froze; There was not exactly a precedent for this sort of situation, so he had no means of knowing how exactly his father's right-hand witch was going to respond to catching him uttering such a disgraceful sound, or even to the presence of the creature itself, after all he he didn't truly know whether it was even supposed to be here, he had not actually spent that much time at her private laboratories; Certainly, even then he knew that he was a trusted confidant of his father's and that she'd just casually lurked in the vicinity of his life for as long as he could remember, he didn't really know what to expect of her at the time, perhaps for as simple as reason as his being a little boy while she was an objectively intimidating sort of person, but the heir of the Galra Empire was not to be daunted, so he looked up at her, right into the eyes, unwilling to dig himself deeper into potential disgrace.

Now he'd had many opportunities to observe her and catch onto her most common patterns of reactions, but this was not among them.

It took him a while to classify what he was witnessing, to recognize that he was, in fact, witnessing a low, raspy chuckle rather than some sort of gurgle or choking noise.

The whole sight rather confused him more than anything else, even more so when she leant forward to stretch out one bony hand and place it, squarely, atop the crown up his head,pushing slightly in order to induce him to meet her glowing gaze.

She was wont to poke and prod him at times, of course, she was a woman of science and Lotor was, as she would at times vaguely allude to, somehow something the likes of which had never really existed before, besides, his Majesty the Emperor would like her assurance that he would make a suitable heir apparent for his sprawling fiefdom one day.

She would at times remark about some features of his as they developed, always, subtly off from what would be expected from his peers, or comment on where some of his organs had ended up in comparison to his fathers' .

That was the only comparison there could ever be, given that Lotor didn't have a mother – at least, not in any sort official capacity, because that would have posed the question where the other half of his genetics had come from.

He had not yet grown resentful of all this, perhaps because he didn't fully understand it yet, but little Lotor did find it a bit uncomfortable for her to lay hands on him as if he were one of her machines, more so if it happened under such unusual circumstances...

He didn't even know that she could make noises like that, and he was feeling quite a little bit exposed given the situation he'd been caught in, and though he was trying his best to maintain as much princely dignity as a small boy would be capable of, he was probably still glancing over to that unexpected feline and looking somewhat stumped and embarrassed, as if he had been caught red-handed at some shameful deed, and given that she didn't seem to plan on imploding his small skull with magic and see if his father wouldn't prefer to bequeath his empire to something she'd cooked up in a vat, Lotor was really at a loss at what her intentions were meant to be.

"What is it?" he asked, a bit more awkwardly than he intended.

Finally, she let go of him and returned, mercifully, to her usual demeanor without any further attempts at distorted grimaces that did not fit on her face.

"I was just reminded about some occurrence, long time ago." she mused, none too invitingly. From the way her brows furrowed, Lotor could deduce that she couldn't even recall just how long it had been. "I believe it was something involving your father..."

A topic that brought up complicated feelings even then, even if he could not yet name or explain the splotched cocktail of mixed feelings that this mention dredged up. The strategist and performer in him wouldn't want to pass up any valuable information no matter the source, but another, simpler more central part of him that was more prominent back in those days just didn't want to hear in that moment.

"But that is not important now." That strange, unfamiliar expression that had come over her face dispersed as suddenly as it had appeared, and now that she had ascertained what had caused the sudden startled sound earlier, her mind seemed to have darted right back to her workbench before her body could catch up to it, back to flesh and formulas and quintessence, where it always seemed to reside. "I have work to do. Wait here until your attendants come to pick you up for sword practice. "

In passing, on her way back to where she had been working, she turned her glance to the small creature that had ostensibly caused the whole incident.

The feline creature promptly scurried over to her with some apparent recognition.

Of course, what's a witch without her familiar.

"Is that yours?" he still remarked, though it wasn't necessary in the strictest sense. "I wasn't aware that you kept animal companions."

The question was designed not to get a specific information, but to get her to talk more – Even then, Lotor had realized that with the right questions and inflections, you could get most people to tell you just about everything without them even realizing it was your doing.

The Witch was not 'most people', so he didn't even bother playing innocent where she was concerned, but he still felt a need to know to at least somehow twist this situation ever so slightly into some shape of his desiring.

He was good at persuading people, too, but that was a talent that neither she nor his father ever had all too much use for; Emperor Zarkon's will was absolute, and once he'd decided something – for example, what role a heir of his would be expected to play in particular situation – there would be no convincing him, and any attempt to sway his decision were, as a rule, poorly tolerated.

Even then, Lotor understood that this was nothing directed at him personally - His majesty the Emperor had been that way since time immemorial, and he wasn't just suddenly going to change now.

Even the witch had to affect some semblance of submission if she was to exist in his vicinity, let alone have any hopes of getting words of advice into the air surrounding them, and even then, he very much reserved the right not to listen.

The young prince understood that... not that this made it any easier, for the part of him that was just a boy, despite his precocious intelligence. Nor for the parts of him that weren't, those emergent outlines of a maturing young man who had many gifts to offer to this world, gifts that were not being used, assets that went underutilized, and when he thought that his potential might never be realized, he felt-

He felt a different thing when he looked back at it with the frustrated ambitions of a young man, but back then, it was a child's tender heart that felt disappointed.

He'd understood very quickly, that his father and his confidant had very clear expectations of the purpose he was supposed to serve in the greater scheme of the Empire, and how, exactly, he was supposed to do that...so, he relished every ever so tiny degree of freedom, every minuscule choice that allowed for him to leave his own handwriting on a slice of time.

But surely, they would not refuse him on such a trivial matter?

At least, the witch paused, and spoke to the young Prince once more. "I've had him a long, long time. His name is Kova," she said this dryly, nonchalantly, as one would recite a definition from a textbook.

As well she should – Lotor had already seen enough impossible things from her today, and he thought hell should freeze over if she were to speak in the bouncy, affectionate manner in which people customarily introduced their pets.

Still, Lotor did not flinch away from her – for one thing, there was very little that could deter him once he'd set his sights on an ambition (even one as modest as this), and besides, he derived pride from standing his ground as far as he could. He was good at arguing things, and even then, that was his pride, in a playful, boyish manner which he never quite discarded:

"Can I play with him?"

He was not quite certain if she understood that playing was something that children did; She was so absorbed in her work, you could have thought she knew nothing outside these walls.

He did not even bother with a 'please', but he did make sure that he could present a rationale:

"I won't be required for sword practice for at least half a varga, and I have no other duties to attend to at this moment. We'll go to the corridor so we won't disturb your work."

At this, she actually sighed, a tired sigh pushed out beneath narrowed, scrutinizing brows as she fixated on his determined little face, but the meaning behind it was not quite what the young Prince initially suspected.

In many ways, Lotor was very unlike his father, both inside and out, but one striking similarity they had always shared in common was the shape of their eyes – And Haggar knew that expression in the young boy's pair. It was, perhaps, the last thing left in this universe that could cause her any grief, and after many, many years, no even before them, she had learned to read them as a glance: Not Negotiable.

"Go ahead," she surrendered, faintly dour. "Just make sure you don't get any scratches on yourself, don't open any doors, and stay in this section of the complex. Do not be seen. His majesty would disapprove greatly if a member of the imperial family were spotted in some predicament not befitting their station. It would reflect badly on him."

It's a win then.

And perhaps that gave him the confidence to go even further in his audacity:

"Is that also why no one is allowed to know that you're my mother?"

He spoke bluntly, simply, as if it were the natural thing which it never was, not sheepishly or moved, yet maintaining plausible deniability.

After all, it should not be unusual for children to ask inappropriate question.

The witch, on the other hand, already seemed to have dismissed the encounter in her mind, ready to head back to her pursuits when his when his words interrupted her thoughts.

Her plans for the day did not involve him asking this question right here, right now and certainly not at this point, so she was somewhat displeased, though not alarmingly so.

Perhaps she deemed him too young for this conversation, if she had considered it at all, and with it the possibility that he might actually want to know one day or otherwise do and think things that went beyond what he was supposed to be or do according to the needs and purposes of herself and her emperor.

"Come on. You must have known that I was going to figure it out eventually. I am the son of an Emperor. And a researcher."

Her gaze did not soften but neither did it harden by much.

He liked to think it was because he had point, or, at the very least, that there had been a good calculation on his part – after all, she could hardly punish him for being too smart; If she did not harbor any feeling of pride or kinship toward him, she must at least understand that the Prince of the Galra empire must not be a fool. She had told him so many times.

"...you understand that this has to remain confidential...?"

The young prince nods fiercely at this, not even daring to breathe a word lest the air exhaled from his lips would cut short the opening of this long-awaited door.

He knew better than to expect very much of anything to trickle from her lips, perhaps a few morsels interspersed with your basic lies to children and the inconvenient parts tellingly omitted.

Lotor would take what he could get, and then he would lie in wait patiently until the grass had grown over this occurrence and the conversation had slipped from her mind, and then he might do some 'research' of his own – it never ceased to amuse him how easily some adults could be motivated by making big eyes and asking not-so-innocent questions.

But right now, the moment hadn't closed yet, and once he had assured her hat he wouldn't spill their precious secrets, well...

Had he been older he would have thought twice about pushing her further, but for better or worse, the young prince had not yet learned to dominate every fluttering yearning of his chest – and besides, he thought he deserved to know.

What more, he needed to, for what sort of strategist did not keep stock of his assets?

This was not just about her, or about His Majesty, and he was altogether displeased by their way of acting like it was none of his business.

This matter pertained to his very life-

But let's not use that as an excuse to deny that the young prince was, on some subliminal level, still grabbing for a connection that was – no, not wholly absent and present insofar as it wasn't incompatible with their natures, but very much sporadic and very close to conditional.

It was frustrating, in the way a loose contact on a technological device could be.

In her own way, she distantly resembled a nagging, even concerned mother and wife enough that it stung when she showed so little faith in Lotor's budding attempts to carve out his path in his very own way, a way he would not truly find for many years to come, enough that he always knew, on some level, even before he got a glimpse of what she kept beneath her hood, but never so much that he could have been satisfied.

She never approached him, (or anything for that matter, living or otherwise) without the analytic glance of the scientist, the ruthlessness of the dark sorceress and the calculations of a secret empress, and that meant that she, too, was of the opinion that Lotor was to be an asset to the empire and to be managed and regulated as such – but it was strictly her vision of the Empire that he was to serve, hers and his father's.

So be it then.

They could be assets for his wants and desires, too. And right now, his desire was for knowledge.

"...where do we come from? I know the homeworld was destroyed in the early centuries of father's reign, but-"

"It was one of the first worlds your father conquered. Their ruler was a cowardly fool who refused to grasp power when it was right in front of him. When he refused to submit to your father's demand, he made an example of them."

The boy knew enough of His Majesty's practices to know what that meant; He was being educated to one day rule this Empire, after all.

"So we are the last."

"We are of the Galra Empire. That is all we are."

Or, that's what she had chosen to be – No one had asked Lotor.

It wasn't like he sympathized with those fallen people of hers, if they had been wiped out they must indeed have been fools, as someone too cowardly to grasp for power was fit to be called; It spoke of the witches' good sense that she turned on them.

But if reluctance to embrace greatness was to be foolish, then what was to be said of those who would let perfectly good assets go to waste?

A question for another day.

"You may go, Your Highness." she stated, curtly, cutting off any further inquiries and emphasizing his title to remind him that appearances were to be maintained. "I have much work to do."

Young Lotor knew to pick his battles, and made for the door – and for what it's worth, the small feline creature that had sparked this entire situation followed behind him.

But in these days, his heart was still soft, and there could be no better proof than the way he lingered in the doorway, even once he'd turned to leave.

He never went so far as to call her 'mother', but this was the closest he would come:

"Did you have a cat when you were very young?"

"What does it matter? I don't recall. And neither will you, given a few thousand years."