Disclaimer: I do not own She-Ra or its related characters. All is the property of Noelle Stevenson, Dream Works Animation, Netflix, NBCUniversal Television Distribution, Filmation, Larry DiTillo, and J. Michael Straczynski.

Inconvenient Arrangements

Chapter One: A Good Day

He double checked the number on the scale before recording it, hesitant to believe the positive result. There had been no further weight loss in three-hundred and sixty-six consecutive days. He had gone a whole year and a day without his cachexia advancing his condition. Prince Hec-Tor, younger brother to the current Horde Prime, decided to consider that a win. Better than a win. This was a victory! Feeling a level of confidence he was well aware was inflated, he made sure the data was saved to the app he used to track his personal health on his datapad.

Today was going to be a good day.

In his office, his secretaries had already organized all the business for the day, arranging the datacards in neat stacks by relevance. Of course, Imperial projects that were in service to the Great Horde Empire and –by extension- his brother the current Horde Prime, were front and center in the middle of his desk. But there was also his own personal business ventures, household business mostly dealing with salary and requests from staff that cared for his son, Imp, and, finally, one sad lonely little data card off to the side the only one in its stack. That one had to be in reference to the search for Keldor.

Hec-Tor picked it up, glaring at it with mingled hope and dread. Then opened a drawer in his desk and put it out of sight for the moment. He already knew what it was going to say anyway. The same thing all the updates on the search had been telling him for years. 'There is still no sign of Prince Keldor.' 'We have been unable to locate Prince Keldor.' 'I'm sorry, your Highness, but it is looking as if your husband is-'

But Hec-Tor would not dwell on that today. Today was going to be a good day.

Horde Prime was planning some big event in the palace at the end of the week –although he had not yet briefed his brother on what this event would be celebrating. After morning business, Hec-Tor toured the training yard to inspect the troops. If Horde Prime was planning an event, then security had to be in top form. He even felt well enough to jog a lap around the training yard himself.

The sun was mild, the air not too dry, dust particles at an all-time low, uncommonly good weather for Horde World, so Hec-Tor had his lunch served outside in the garden. He skimmed over memos as he chewed a simple sandwich with a side of vitamin supplements and medications. The usually harsh sun gently warming his skin, with an awning bearing the insignia of the Imperial Horde keeping him cool.

Today really was a good day.

Imp came dashing through the bushes, a smile on his face as his head was turned looking behind him. Running on all fours like a feral child instead of the Prince of Imperial decent that he was. Hec-Tor was about to reprimand his son for carrying on like a common street urchin, but then he heard the familiar clunking of a portable breathing tank strapped to the exterior of prosthetic armor. Sure enough, Zed came jogging around the bush Imp had dashed out of. Breathing heavily, fogging up the mask covering his mouth and nasal cavity, the respirator strapped to his back humming loudly in its efforts to compensate for his bodies deeper and heavier breaths. The two boys were playing. They had also noticed that today was a good day.

Imp let Zed catch up to him.

The other boy tapped the tip of one Imp's wings. "Tag." He gasped. "You are it."

Zed turned and began hobbling away in the direction they came, the tank of his respirator clunking against his armor with every step.

Imp jumped up on the table –like a feral street urchin again- and stole a triangle of his father's sandwich in lieu of counting to ten.

"Do not overtax your cousin." Hec-Tor commanded his son. Zed might be having fun now, but if he exerted himself, the boy could suffer a seizure. Hec-Tor suffered from a similar condition, except that when he over exerted himself he just passed out. Zed, however, would not just collapse unconcious, he would seize and convulse causing more damage to his already frail body.

Imp knew this just as well any anyone. He nodded at his father before hopping off the table and chasing after Zed.

Watching his son dash away, Hec-Tor couldn't help the smile that pulled at his lips. It was a rare thing to see both children playing outside. Looks like it was a good health day for everyone.

After lunch was back to work.

New reports had come in since inspecting the troops. Rebellion in the Denebria System. Uprisings in the mines on Krytis. Queen Elmora was raising the price of phitanium. Blight in the Imperial orchards on Antares. All the problems of a large and far-reaching galactic Empire. Hec-Tor arranged everything in order of importance to the Empire, prioritizing each issue by its impact on the heart of the Empire –Horde World.

There was always at least one rebellion going on at any given time somewhere in the Empire. Rolling his eyes, Hec-Tor moved that datacard to the bottom of the stack. Nobody cared about Denebria anyway. The orchards on Antares did grow fruits that many of the residents of Horde World enjoyed, but the capital imported food stuffs from all over the Empire it was not like they were at risk of starvation from one food-producing world suffering a blight. The Mondor mines on Krytis did produce valuable ores, but it was mostly a penal colony, the uprising would have to be put down, but nothing came out of Krytis that was so valuable he had to drop everything and send out an armada. Queen Elmora raising the price of phitanium, however, that was a big deal.

Phitanium was the hardest substance in the universe. The Horde's space ships were made out of it. Their weapons were made out of it. Their bots were made out of it. Hell! The royal family's personal armor was made out of it. The armor Hec-Tor was wearing right now was made out of it. And Elmora knew it. A planetary Queen extorting the great Horde Empire was something Hec-Tor could not allow. The fact that they needed the resource aside, it set a bad precedent! The Empire did not negotiate. The Empire did not concede. The Empire commanded.

Hec-Tor took swift and firm action. Feeling confident in the outcome.

Overall, an easy workload.

Today was a good day.

As evening gathered, the weather turned stormy. The shield wall was raised around the city to keep out the worst of the sand. Shutter plating was locked over the windows of the Imperial palace. Even so, Hec-Tor could still head the 'plik-plik-plik' of sand and pebbles impacting the armored sheeting. Horde World was a harsh planet.

Hec-Tor was in the middle of reminding his son that he could not have dessert until he not only finished his food, but took his supplements and medications as well. Hec-Tor demonstrated for the child by swallowing his own assortment of pills and washing them down with water. Imp was unmoved by the display, pushed the cup of medications off the table where they spilled on the floor, and hissed at his father.

A servant rushed to bend down and pick them up, while a second one left to fetch a fresh dose.

That was when Horde Prime walked in.

He frowned at the display, as if his own child had never been fussy about taking medications and got worked up into a tizzy.

"Brother!" Hec-Tor stood from the table, assuming a straight-backed and disciplined military rest. (Imp similarly mimicked his father's pose, although his was far less polished.) One must always show the proper respect to the Emperor of the Known Universe. "I was unaware we had a dinner together. It was not on my agenda for the day."

"We do not." Horde Prime informed him.

This did not give Hec-Tor leave to relax.

"I simply came to inform you that your fiancée will be arriving tomorrow and that I have taken the liberty of rearranging your schedule leading up to your wedding at the end of the week." Prime said matter-of-factly. As if this was in reference to an item of business Hec-Tor should already know about.

The younger man only stared at his brother. "My what? Leading up to my what!?" His mouth hung open for a few moments, sure he had misheard. Or misunderstood. Surely Horde Prime meant his own fiancée and his own wedding, not Hec-Tor's. "But- I am already married."

The Emperor frowned. Displeased with his brother's response. "Keldor has been gone for years. It is time to conclude that –if he is not dead- he is certainly not coming back. You, however, are still a Prince of this Empire and have a duty to form alliances and strengthen our powerbase. There is no stronger alliance than the contract of marriage."

"The search for Keldor is still on-going." Insisted Hec-Tor.

"The search for Keldor has been 'on-going' for years and yielded no result except wasted resources and man-power." Prime turned his attention to Hec-Tor's son, a hybrid-child created by Keldor's magic. "Nephew, how old are you?"

Chancing an unsure glance at his father first, Imp held up five fingers.

"It has been five years that you've been searching for Keldor." Prime informed his brother. "You are not going to find him and he is not going to come back. Legally, I can declare him dead. As far as I'm concerned, you are a widower and can be remarried."

At least Prime was not threatening to annul the marriage all together and render Imp a bastard –effectively removing him from the line of succession. But Hec-Tor still glared with displeasure. "Anillis, please… I do not wish to remarry."

"What you wish is immaterial." Prime informed him. "You will do your duty as a Prince of this Empire and remarry."

That was final.

The Emperor had made up his mind and made his decree. Hec-Tor got his chance to voice his complains. His complaints were heard. Then dismissed. Now it was time to serve his Empire.

Hec-Tor lowered his eyes. "As it pleases my Emperor."

With a nod of satisfaction, Horde Prime left.

Imp scooted his chair closer to his father, placing one blue hand over the older man's. The servant returned with the new dose of Imp's medication and the child took it without fuss, hoping this might improve his father's mood.

Hec-Tor stroked the child's throat, helping the large pills down easier. "I am fine." He assured his son. Then sighed, slouching in his chair in a way that was unbecoming of royalty. "And today had been such a good day too."

…