Y'all are the worst kind of enablers. I blame each and every one of you who interacted with the previous fic for the existence of this one. I hope you're all happy.

Previously:

The cub is pinned beneath him, breathing hard, blood trailing down his face from a broken nose. He's staring at Zarkon like he expected him to finish him off, and now Zarkon allows himself that smile that's been threaten this whole time. "You did well," He told the cub, and gently patted his head, he has to be careful, the cub is so very small, for all his spirit. "But you're not quite ready yet."

The cub continues to stare at him with wide eyes, not moving, breathing only shallowly, Zarkon considers that he might have hit the little one too hard. "Are you well?" He asks, guilt curdling in his belly. Had he overestimated the cub's strength.

"I think I'm hallucinating." the cub rasps.

That can't be good. Zarkon feels his brow furrow, he cannot think of any injury that would result in hallucinations, but this cub is a halfling, he knows nothing of human biology.

But Haggar does.

Gently, he scoops the cub up and cradles him to his chest. "Forgive an old soldier, little one, I do not know how to heal you. Haggar will know what to do though."

For a moment, the halfling is limp in his arms, then he squawks and tries to free himself. Zarkon easily keeps his grip, if he wanted to, he could wrap one hand around the entirety of the cub's waist and have his fingers meet.

"You're not taking me to your witch!" The cub snarls, perhaps he isn't as injured as Zarkon feared, but still, he doesn't know what sort of healing technology is on that blasted castle and he trusts Haggar more than any machine.

"Peace, little one, there is no shame in receiving healing." He doesn't know about humans, but centuries ago among the Galra, there had been something of a taboo about requiring aid of any sort.

The cub exhausts himself entirely to quickly and lays slumped across Zarkon's arm breathing hard and staring at nothing with glassy eyes. That can't be good.

Zarkon increases his pace and soon they arrive at the doors to Haggar's domain. He strides in without a thought and bellows "Haggar, you are needed!"

The halfling whines and Zarkon gently pats him on the head.

Haggar materializes from the shadows on the other side of the room, her eyes flashing. "My lord." She murmurs and dips into a graceful bow.

Zarkon nods acknowledgement. "I fear we are in need of your skills." he says, offering the halfling.

"Lay him there." Haggar says, gesturing to an empty table.

Zarkon obeys, and almost as soon as the cub has touched the surface, he attempts to lunge off. Zarkon pins him easily with one hand upon his chest.

"Perhaps something to calm him." Haggar murmurs.

Her eyes flash and the cub groans, but the tension in his muscles drains away. He slips into sleep with a low murmur too quiet for Zarkon to catch. He is silent while Haggar examines her patient, waiting for her verdict.

"He said he feared he was hallucinating."

Haggar nods and moves her fingers over the cub's temples. "There may be a slight concussion." She says quietly. "It will heal given time and rest."

"He has spirit." Zarkon murmurs, watching the rise and fall of the halfling's chest.

Beside him, Haggar stiffens and rotates to face him fully, there is something desperate in the vast expanse of her yellow eyes. "My lord," her voice is earnest and pleading. "No"

"I let you keep the Champion." Zarkon mutters to her retreating back.