The news didn't turn his mind completely upside down, to Lotor's credit. After all, alternate universes and parallel realms had tied into much of his alchemy- and quintessence-related research. Still, meeting another version of himself in a purgatory dimension hadn't even made it onto his list of expectations, nevermind the bottom. Stringing his scattered thoughts back together, he dug a finger into one pointed ear. To eliminate any possibility for error by that means. "Forgive me. I thought you said your name was Lotor."
Smirking, the other man rested his fists on his hips—like one of the speakers from those insufferable SHRED Talks Ezor had favored. ("But they taught me all sorts of Galran life hacks when I was growing up," she'd whined when Acxa had gotten fed up as well and made her shut the feed off. "How to be your best conquering self, choosing weapons that fit your personality type, balancing personal life and military superiority…I wouldn't be half the Galra I am today without them!" To which Acxa had shot back, "We'd all be half the Galra we are today regardless, thanks to our parents." The resulting silence had been only slightly more bearable than the asinine lectures.)
"I did," confirmed the other, dispelling the past with the present. "Obviously you've heard of my greatness or you wouldn't be gawking with such awe."
Wherever this version of himself hailed from, it apparently lacked tact and class as much as quintessence. He arched one brow. "I am familiar with you, in a manner of speaking. We're closer than you may realize." More than was preferable maybe.
His alternate version's face squinched up in mingled curiosity and scrutiny. "Are you from the Supremacy then? Perhaps one of Viceroy Throk's lackeys?"
Viceroy Throk? This other universe had to be topsy-turvy indeed to allow reality to bend that far.
"Er, no. How shall I put this…" Lotor tapped his chin a moment. "Ah, well. You seem like a direct person, so I'll come straight out with it then. Allow me to introduce myself, Your Highness. I am Emperor Lotor of the Galra Empire. Also the only son of Zarkon."
His double threw back his head and laughed. Lotor couldn't blame him for it, no more than he could help noticing what an open, easy target it made him. Not everyone had been fortunate enough to learn Altaen alchemical secrets or had the intelligence required to teach themselves bleeding-edge scientific theory. In other words, this was going to take a little convincing.
"Do you have a Princess Allura in your universe?"
The laughter died. Those yellow eyes, so Galra, fixed on him with predatory intensity.
"What do you know of Princess Allura?" Though the other man's tone aimed for scorn, a tremor knocked it off course.
"I know that her father was King Alfor. That my own father destroyed him as well as Allura's planet." It became a struggle to keep his own voice neutral. "I know that she pilots the Blue Lion. That she's powerful, brave, intelligent, and entirely too humble about it." Not to mention she'd been willing to share all of those qualities with him before that ignorant dissenter had opened her mouth and everything had been taken from him. Just as it always was.
The prince's eyes had gone wide and glassy, pupils eating up their golden color, as he reexamined Lotor's features. The lavender-blue skin, the human-soft mold of the bones beneath, the white hair that could be as unruly as it was glorious at times. Features they shared beyond dispute. The other man's chest rose and fell a little too fast and shallow to be healthy. Good. He'd begun to understand. Lotor idly wondered what would happen if his alternate self were to faint and crash to the mirror-like ground.
"How…" The other man paused to swallow his stutter and start again. "How is this possible?"
"All things become possible when universes are infinite. Including, I have to believe, escape from one's fate."
For ticks that stretched on like phoebs the other Lotor remained quiet, brimstone-yellow gaze turned inward. Perhaps beneath the layers of brash arrogance lurked a mind after all.
"Did you die as well?" he finally murmured. "Is that why we're here, in this place together?"
Lotor stared up at the serene, indifferent sky while he considered. "Death is the 'how', certainly. As to the 'why' part of the equation…that remains to be discovered."
"Was it that Swede son of a bitch, Sven, who got you?"
He cocked his head, interest no longer feigned. "Who is Sven?"
"The former pilot of Blue Lion, before the princess joined. Tall, dark hair and eyes, sounds like a certain Muppet chef. Haggar—"
To his shame, Lotor couldn't stop his sharp inhale. "Zarkon's witch? She exists in your reality?"
His reaction invoked puzzlement. "Yes. Though her first loyalty is to Father she's proven somewhat useful in my own plans. Particularly where capturing Allura for my bride has been concerned."
He ruthlessly tore out the choking, thorny tendrils of jealousy and betrayal sprouting in his thoughts. Now was definitely not the time to reflect on how hard he'd fought to win Allura's trust. Nor how quickly she'd retracted it on the words of a stranger. "You said your reality doesn't possess knowledge of quintessence? You rely on something called lazon?"
The other him shrugged. "Unless your quintessence is our mineral under a different name."
"Ah. That's a no then. What does this lazon mineral do for you exactly?"
"It powers all our tech and weapons. Ships, robeasts, guns, warp capabilities—everything." The other's eyes narrowed. "Why are you so interested?"
A thin parody of a smile twisted Lotor's lips. "Because quintessence, which also powers all of our tech, apparently drives one mad with overexposure. An alternative source of fuel would have been a godsend."
"Why use something that damned dangerous in the first place?"
Rubbing his temple, he sighed. "Because the Galra homeworld, Daibazaal, was destroyed, leaving the empire dependent on quintessence to survive. We conquered much of the universe just to harvest more, and as the empire grew so did its energy needs. It was an unsustainable way of life. I had nearly perfected a solution to the problem when…certain factors threw a wrench into the works."
Brow furrowed, his alternate self began to pace in aimless circles and lines. "This is all too strange. I don't understand how any of this can be happening. Two Lotors? Two Zarkons and Haggars? Two Voltrons? It's unfair." He halted and whirled around to face Lotor again. "Did your Allura reject you for that miserable captain in the go-go boots? That Keith bastard?"
A jagged shard of ice burrowed into his heart, but he refused to acknowledge the pain beyond a slight, snarling curl of his upper lip. "She did, though not for Keith, no. I'm quite sure the Black Paladin's affections lie elsewhere where I come from."
The prince cocked his head, quite lost. "With who? Princess Romelle?"
From saboteur to princess…would wonders never cease? "Try the Red Paladin, Lance."
That unhinged his doppelganger's jaw. "Wha…the pointy-chinned one?"
"The same."
"Weird…"
Lotor fluttered his hands. "All unconfirmed speculation, and irrelevant besides. What matters is finding some common point of reference that might provide us a clue on how to free ourselves from this realm. Knowledge of yet another reality adjacent to ours would be an enormous help."
"And just how the hell are we supposed to get information like that? Divine it from these damned clouds? Go into a mystic trance?"
Lotor pointed to the horizon beyond the other man's shoulder—to what he'd spotted while his alternate self had been busy pacing. "We could, I suspect, ask him."
Turning, the prince's pupils went wide as he finally saw what—or rather, who—was approaching.
Long white hair. Blue skin. Yellow, feline eyes. Fringing.
A third Lotor had arrived to make them a proper crowd.