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 Twenty-Five: The Search for Keldor
Hec-Tor didn't know if Randor was on his way back to Eternia already, or if he was staying a bit longer on Etheria with Adora. Either way, he did not want to bother the other man until he actually had something to bother him with. Losing Keldor was hard for both of them and Hec-Tor did not want to give Randor false hope.
Hell! Hec-Tor didn't even wanna give himself false hope!
But here he was. Chasing down a years old lead that had run cold, and doing it himself. Not sending any of his Lieutenants or underlings to follow-up. And doing it alone. He left Grizzlor and Mantenna behind in Dryl to continue his work for the Empire for him.
He landed the ship in a small, almost out of the way space port. The closest –official- space port to the border between the Light Hemisphere and the Dark Hemisphere he could find.
The names 'Dark Hemisphere' and 'Light Hemisphere' were misnomers. Eternia was not a planet split in half, with a dark side and a light side. Each hemisphere got the exact same amount of sunlight. Days and night, sun rises and sunsets. Same as any other planet that orbits a star. The term 'Light Hemisphere' with capital letters referred to continents and territories of Eternia that were under the control of, and loyal to the mainland government, the royal family of the House of Grayskull, who's seat of power was Eternos. The 'Dark Hemisphere', also with capitals, referred to the parts of the planet that did not accept or acknowledge royal rule or authority.
Before leaving the ship, Hec-Tor changed out of his Imperial gown and into some Eternian clothes.
It was an outfit he requested be made some time ago. Shortly after Randor's coronation before he and Keldor returned to Horde World. Hec-Tor had never actually worn it out in public –Keldor never let it stay on him long enough for them to go out- but even if he had, Hec-Tor would have felt so absurd. Eternian fashion was absurd. Leather, and fur, and exposed skin.
A leather shirt-vest bearing the winged emblem of the Horde, even wearing Eternian clothes, he was still a Prince of the Horde Empire. With a still hood rising off the back to protect the ports on the back of his neck. All of it trimmed in a blones motif that Keldor favored. The shirt-vest was tucked into a loincloth made of black fur. Silky and soft, the softest fur that could be found on Eternia, Hec-Tor spared no expense on the luxury. Below the loincloth, his legs were bare. The boots were black, and similarly trimmed in bones, same as the vest, but with plates around the ankles and tops of the feet. Just a little light armor.
Wearing it, Hec-Tor felt so exposed. Almost naked. How did Eternians get to be so comfortable showing off their bodies so much?
But, the Eternian clothing would help him blend in and seem less out of place. Eternia was a world of many races and peoples. So the fact that he was a space bat did not mean much. Most would just assume he was an odd looking member of the Gargoyle tribe. But if he walked around dressed as a Prince Imperial of the Horde, that would get people to notice and make them suspicious.
So would going by the name 'Hec-Tor'.
He took an extra moment to practice his alias in the mirror.
"My name is Hordak." He frowned, that sounded inorganic and forced. "Hordak, pleased to make your acquaintance." Nope. That was even worse. Too friendly. He even made himself uncomfortable with that one. "I am Hordak."
That was it, that was the one. 'I am Hordak.'
Feeling about as ready as he was going to, Hec-Tor, or rather Hordak, exited the ship.
The port town was not the kind of place Hec-Tor would normally visit. The buildings were short and ill maintained, the streets narrow and filthy. Neighbors strung lines between their windows and hung their clothing on them. The shops had bars on the windows and the doors. More than one tavern had a sign in the window saying 'Bartender Wanted: must fight good'. It was not the kind of place Prince Imperial Hec-Tor would be caught dead-or-alive in.
But Hordak went to dirty taverns in slums all the time. Hordak got into bar fights with his husband, and flipped tables. Maybe he also passed out on the floor once or twice. Hordak lead a wild life!
He walked into the first tavern he saw. It had swinging saloon-style doors and hardwood floors. He took one step inside, rested his weight on one floor board, and heard an uncommonly loud creak.
It was like one of those old clichés from the stories. Everyone already in the tavern looked up from their drinks. Noted the tall stranger in the doorway, silhouetted against the noon-day sun, and a number of them casually drifted their hands to their weapons. Inwardly, Hec-Tor cringed. He hated this. But Hordak threw a smug smirk on his face and swaggered up to the bar.
"What're you supposed to be?" Asked the bartender, wiping the space in front of Hordak with a dirty dish towel.
"Shouldn't you be asking what I'll be having?" Hordak deflected the question. Not many people outside the Horde knew what a space bat looked like.
The bartender's four eyes flicked down to the winged emblem on his chest. "You with the Horde?"
"Occasionally." Hordak answered vaguely. "You with the monarchy?"
"Occasionally." Answered the bartender. They set an empty glass in front of him. "What'll you be having?"
"Information." Was Hordak's short clip of a response.
"Go to a library." The bartender told him. There were no libraries in this out-of-the-way port town.
The bartender filled the glass in front of him with a frothy liquid from the hose-tap. Hordak smelled the alcohol coming off the froth and knew immediately that he could not drink it. What was it with Eternians and their alcohol? Couldn't they just drink water, or juice, or non-alcoholic fizzy drinks like Entrapta?
"I doubt a library would be able to tell me what I want to know about Snake Mountain." Hordak whispered over the frothing glass.
The bartender leaned back. "What does the Horde want with Snake Mountain?"
"I don't know yet." Hordak leaned forward over the bar, keeping the gap between them small. "That depends on if there's anything interesting at Snake Mountain."
The bartender shook their head, looking almost scared. "Oh, no. I'm not getting mixed up in that. You wanna know about the sorcerer of Snake Mountain, you go somewhere else."
A sorcerer at Snake Mountain? That was interesting.
Keldor was a sorcerer.
All this time, Hec-Tor had been operating under the belief that Keldor was taken in some way. Abducted or kidnapped. Randor agreed. Keldor would never leave him willingly. He was a Prince of the Empire. He and Hec-Tor were happy. They were going to have a child together. The only bad thing that ever happened to either of them was that Par-Is died, and neither were handling it very well. Keldor spent hours –sometimes days- in his magical study, watching over Imp in his tank, or reading books on macabre and forbidden magics. He was going through a hard time. They were both going through a hard time.
Hec-Tor didn't think it was so bad that Keldor would leave.
He shook his head. Pushing back from the bar.
No. Keldor would not leave on his own. He had to have been abducted somehow. Keldor was a powerful sorcerer, but that didn't mean he was the most powerful sorcerer. What if this sorcerer at Snake Mountain was more powerful than him? What if this other sorcerer was keeping him prisoner for some reason?
Hordak left the tavern.
He needed to find somewhere else to find out about this mysterious sorcerer at Snake Mountain.
Maybe another village closer to the border. This was the town the space port was in, but it was not the settlement closest to Snake Mountain or the border of the Dark Hemisphere.
It just so happened, there was a small village nearly right on the border. Randor hadn't mentioned a name, but Hec-Tor decided this had to be when Randor was in his story. The one where he followed a hooded Gar almost all the way to Snake Mountain. The sad little wall of crumbling cobble stone with a sign that said 'Danger None Shall Pass' could be seen from the village market.
The village itself was tiny. Consisting of one main street, mostly lined with shops, with residential homes on top. There was a school, a bank, a market, various craftsmen services, general supplies, a stable for beasts, a small hanger for hover vehicles, no sheriff's building or jail to speak of, but two taverns.
He chose another one with swinging doors and this time when Hordak entered, he checked the floor boards and measured his step so as to avoid any loud clichéd creaks.
Hordak needn't have worried. Most of the tavern patrons attention was already engaged. Listening to, or throwing things (or both) at member of the Beastmen race that was standing up on a table against the far wall.
He was wearing only a single teal-blue loincloth. The rest of his body covered in thick layers of reddish brown fur, as was common for his race. His face bald of fur and on it he bore several tattoos in geometric lines inlayed with tribal designs. Not just a member of the Beasmen race, but a Beastmen warrior.
Hordak appeared to have come in, in the middle of what might have been a passionate speech on the failings of the monarchy.
"Miro was more concerned with fucking his mistresses than he was ruling his people!" The Beastman was saying. "And Randor is no different. He leaves the planet and his throne to go meddle in his daughter's love life!"
There were a few mumbled agreements from the crowd. It seemed Randor and the monarchy were not very beloved by those who lived far from the capital.
"I fought for the monarchy!" Beastman continued. "I was a soldier under King Miro. I was there in the Battle of Two Kings when we breached the barrier protecting Snake Mountain and overthrew Hiss. And I was a damn good soldier too! What did I get as my reward for my service? A scar, and a discharge. When I returned home it was to find the monarchy had forced my people off our ancestral land, relocating us to a dry, semi-barren waste. As much as Miro liked to fuck non-mainlander women, he didn't care much for non-mainlander people."
This assessment got much, much more enthusiastic a response. Some patrons even going so far as to thrust their fists up into the air with a loud 'Yeah!' or 'The son of a bitch!' of agreement.
"Eternia is a world of many races. Yet we've never had a ruler that wasn't a pale-faced mainlander, the same as every other pale-faced mainlander to come before him!"
The bartender came from around the bar to physically pull Beastman down from the table he was standing on. "Hush!" They shushed him. "These are not sentiments you should be voicing in front of a Horde agent."
Of everyone in the tavern, the bartender was the only one to have noticed Hordak entered.
He was starting at Beastman. There was something familiar about him. He hadn't seen many of the Beastmen race in person and, in all honesty, a great many of them did look the same to him. But their tattoos were always different. Within the Beastman culture, tattoos weren't cosmetic, they were earned, and this Beastman had earned many tattoos for a warrior. He had a scar cutting down his face through one eye, and that too was uncommon. But the thing that was most telling was his mention of the Battle of Two Kings, when Miro's forces finally defeated King Hiss.
It was the exact same battle the Beastman who nominated Keldor referenced at the Kings Moot before Randor's coronation.
This Beastman was the same one. The one who had wanted Keldor as his King.
Hordak noted every face in the tavern had turned to him. He forced an uncaring shrug. "The Great and Eternal Horde Empire does not concern itself with local disputes. If you wish to overthrow your King, you may –so long as the new leadership you install remains loyal to the Empire."
Jumping down from the table, Beastman pushed his way through the small circle of other patrons to get to Hordak. They were of a similar height, almost eye-level with each other.
Beastman glared at those glassy and hard to read crimson eyes, without iris or pupil. It was sometimes hard for other species to read space bat expressions. The secret was to look at the ears, not the eyes.
Beastman was not looking at his ears.
"Really?" He asked. "You wouldn't care if we overthrew your Prince Imperial's brother?"
Actually, Hec-Tor would care. He would care a lot. And he had some very strong opinions about the idea. He was definitely going to be passing this information along to Randor when he was done. But right now, he was not Prince Imperial Hec-Tor Kur of the Great and Eternal Horde Empire. Right now, he was just another space bat named Hordak.
"Prince Keldor has been gone for some time." Hordak shrugged again, trying to look as unaffected and uncaring as he could. "And our Prince Hec-Tor has remarried. Do as you please on Eternia. Just so long as you continue to pay your tithes to the Horde."
He brushed past Beastman to sit at the bar.
Beastman followed him.
Leaning against the bar next to Hordak, he looked him up and down. "Don't get many Horde agents out this far." He commented. "Have we met before? You look familiar."
They had not been formally introduced, but they did attend the same Kings Moot and coronation almost twenty years ago, so… yes? Hordak cleared his throat. "I was bodyguard to the Prince Imperials Hec-Tor and his husband Keldor when they came to attend the coronation of your current King Randor."
"Bodyguard?" Beastman echoed. He was so skinny. It looked like he could be knocked over with a feather. "You don't look much like a fighter."
"Well, you don't look much like a political radical, but here we are." Hordak flagged down the bartender and ordered a water.
Beastman watched him drink it, not quite sure what to make of this skinny Horde agent wearing Eternian clothes but bearing the emblem on the Horde. He was sure he'd seen him before but not as a bodyguard. He just couldn't quite remember where.
"So, Mr…"
"Hordak." Supplied the agent. "I am Hordak."
"Mr. Hordak, what brings you this close to the border?" Beastman asked.
"I am seeking the sorcerer who has taken up residence at Snake Mountain." Hordak supplied. "Do you know of him."
Something flashed behind Beastman's eyes. Some kind of recognition. But Hordak didn't know what it was. Recognition of who he was, his cover blown, or recognition of the sorcerer at Snake Mountain.
"I know of him." Beastman nodded. "He's very crafty. Big ambitions beyond Eternia. Dangerous too. I wouldn't get mixed up with him."
"I thank you for the warning." Hordak pushed back from the bar. He took out a standard Imperial credit chip and tossed it on the bar counter (even though water was free). "All I needed was a confirmation that such a person exists and is there. But the extra information was helpful."
Hordak left.
If this villain, this sorcerer of Snake Mountain had ambitions beyond Eternia, he could have kidnapped Keldor to use his power for his evil machinations. That didn't mean he was still alive. The body of a sorcerer could be just as useful for dark magics as the living sorcerer himself could be. Hec-Tor had to prepare himself for the worst.
But, either way, he was going to Snake Mountain.
After he left the tavern, Beastman went back to his own table and grabbed his rucksack. He pulled out his communicator and switched it on. "Unwanted attention coming your way." He muttered into the transmitter. "Imperial agent. Space bat by the looks of him, wearing Eternian clothes. Looks kinda funny, like he's sick or something."
There was a pause in which the channel only crackled and Beastman wondered if the one on the other end got the message.
Then a woman's voice answered. "I'll take care of it."
…
Randor wasn't kidding when he said it was easy to get lost among the rocks around Snake Mountain.
Many of the rocks were taller than he was. Jagged, with narrow trails and passages threading between them. No wonder this place was the seat of power for the Snake Men, one needed to be a snake to travel comfortably through the labyrinthine landscape.
Hordak scraped his armor against a sharp edge more than once.
He could see Snake Mountain rising up out of the jagged landscape. Tall peaks, as narrow and sharp as needles piercing the sky. The tallest of which had a massive serpent-like sculpture carved from the very living rock of the mountain side. That had to be the castle at Snake Mountain.
As he drew closer to the slopes, the landscape began to grow flatter. Not in a natural way. The tall, sharp rocks and labyrinthine turns did not slowly fall away, growing less tall or less jagged as he traveled. The change was more abrupt. More like the rocks have be crushed or knocked over by outside forces. Outside forces like a battle.
There was a cracked shield under a pile of rocks painted in the colors of the House of Grayskull. A faded and threadbare banner on a broken poll hearing an emblem of a five-headed serpent, presumably the crest of King Hiss, Hordak didn't know. Remnants of the Battle of Two Kings that no one felt the need to collect.
There were bodies too. Mostly serpentine in shape. Elongated spines. The Snake Men must have been very tall. As tall as space bats, even. Long necks, and narrow shoulders. Long, multi-jointed arms. But very few of the skeletons had legs. The lower halves of their bodies seemed to be nothing more than vertebra extending down past where an average bipedal being's feet would end. King Miro's forces might have collected the bodies of their own fallen, but they left the Snake Men's dead behind to feed the crows.
At the foot of the mountain, right where the land began to slope up, there was a short little line of stones. Like the foundations stones of some kind of wall. But there was no wall and the foundation stones barely even came up to Hordak's ankles. Perhaps the remnants of the 'barrier' Miro's forces had to breach before they could storm the stronghold? Hordak realized he didn't actually know much about the battle to hazard a guess. All he really knew was the it was the battle that made Miro's victory over Hiss, and that it was the battle in which Keldor got a nasty scar on his back. A wound the nearly killed him.
But, Eternia was also a world of magic, so Hordak paused before crossing the line of stones. Checked for anything that looked out of place. Looked for odd glyphs, or runes, or symbols carved into the rock. Then, when he found none, stepped over the line slowly.
Nothing happened.
Hordak waited.
Still nothing happened. So, he shrugged and continued on his journey.
Climbing up the mountain was a narrow, winding stair. Looking like it was cut out of the rock of the mountainside, same as the serpent sculpture that encircled it. Whoever these Snake Men were, they must have been amazing craftsmen to use the natural landscape for their building. Hordak just wished they made their stairs and paths cuts a bit wider or less steep to accommodate beings with legs and knees, and wide shoulders. There were points where the stair got so steep Hordak had to literally climb, and parts that were so narrow, he had to turn his body and shimmy sideways to get through.
How in all the worlds did Miro get his army up this narrow ass stair?
Well, magic. Obviously. This was Eternia.
But still! This was a little absurd!
Hordak was climbing through another steep segment of the passage when his hand caught a lose stone. He fell several meters, clawing at the side with his talons, but he couldn't find purchase. Talons and armor scraped against rock as he fell. Hordak managed to close his hand around a small shrub and that stopped his fall for a second. But the moment his weight jerked, the roots gave out and the shrub fell from its hold.
Hordak hit the ground with a hard SMACK!
His vision swam. The silhouette of Snake Mountain against the sky kaleidoscopeing into countless facets behind his eyes, before his vision went black and Hordak passed out.
He never should have come here alone.
This was a terrible idea.
…
Hec-Tor faded in and out of consciousness.
When he was lucid, all he was aware of was aching pain all over his body. His head pounding like he'd hit it on something. His shoulders biting as if the joints of his armor were warped and cutting into him. His lower back throbbing like he slept on it wrong. Everything stiff like he'd laid on a hard surface without moving for too long.
When he wasn't lucid he dreamed.
Or, he thought he dreamed.
A curtain of ebony hair lifting out of the way to reveal a rough gnarled scar knitted into dusky blue skin. Almost a straight line cutting on a slight diagonal between the shoulder blades. 'This one was bad!'
Of himself siting in the middle of a path in the Imperial gardens, holding his skinned knee and hissing in pain as the clones administered anti-septic and liquid bandage. Par-Is standing over him, her hands on her hips as if she we somehow so much more mature than him. 'This is what happens when you try to do things on your own. I need to find someone to take care of you.'
Par-Is and Keldor sitting side by side in those same gardens. 'Oh. You're together.'
'You've grown quite close to my sister.' Himself, relining against Keldor's well muscled chest, his dusky blue arms encircling him.
'She's my best friend.' Keldor admitted with a sigh.
Of Keldor raging after Par-Is' death. Throwing pillows and décor. Snarling Eternian and Garish battle cries at no one in particular.
Of Keldor poring over his magical books. Dusty old tomes full of dark, arcane, and macabre spells. No one ever uttered the word 'necromancy', but it was there, in the hushed sound of a page turn.
Of Hec-Tor running to find Keldor, having just learned that Par-Is' crypt had been broken into and her bones were stolen.
But He couldn't find Keldor.
Keldor was gone.
And so was Par-Is.
…
When Hec-Tor finally woke for real, he didn't know where he was.
On a bed, obviously.
It wasn't the softest mattress in the universe, but it was a mattress in a frame. In a room with stone walls and an unfamiliar stone ceiling. All of it looking like chiseled rock instead of masonry blocks. As if the room he was in was carved out instead of built.
Someone had removed his armor while he was out, and his ports were plugged with silicone plugs he did not recognize as any of his own.
He sat up.
A little too quickly.
Hec-Tor's head swam and he felt himself begin to pass out before his head fell back on the pillow.
The second time he woke up, there was a person in the room with him.
This time, Hec-Tor did not try to sit up.
He laid there, glowing crimson eyes studying the woman who stood over him. Checking his pulse at his wrist, measuring his breathing, moving a finger in front of his eyes.
She looked Eternian, but then, Eternia was a world of many races so that didn't mean much. She looked like an Eternian mainlander, pale skin, more of an olive shade compared to Randor's more lily-pinkish hue. Wearing a skintight leotard that showed off her legs, some light armor on her chest that looked more decorative than functional outlining the shape of her breasts, painted lips, dark eyes, and an ornate headdress on her head, like a helmet with fins.
The woman was not familiar to him at all. Hec-Tor was quite sure they had never met before. But, he also had the oddest feeling that he knew her somehow. That they were inexplicably connected.
"Who are you?" He demanded.
"I'm the person who saved you." She informed him, not giving a name. "Now that you're awake, stand up, try to walk for me. I need to see if there're any injuries I missed."
"You healed me?" Hec-Tor asked skeptically. His whole body ached all over. He did not feel like he was healed.
"What I could." She nodded. "Some things are just your body's natural state and magic cannot change that."
He looked down at himself. He was still wearing the Eternian shirt-vest and fur loincloth, so he could not actually see the discolorations on his upper body, but Hec-Tor knew that was what she was referring to. His defects. The discoloration, sensitive skin, muscles that were weak without his armor, easy to fatigue, headaches, dizziness, and fainting spells. This woman might have healed his injuries from his fall, but she could not heal all of him with her magic.
With her magic…? "Are you the sorcerer of Snake Mountain?"
He assumed the sorcerer would be a man simply because everyone kept using the word 'sorcerer', not the more feminine variation 'sorceress'. She should have realized that 'sorcerer' could also be a gender neutral term and did not automatically imply the gender identity of the one it was describing. When he got back to Dryl, he was going to take a moment to reexamine his own personal preconceptions.
The woman laughed. As if the idea of her being the sorcerer of Snake Mountain was an absurd idea. "That dramatic bitch? Gosh, no! He's away on business at the moment."
"Oh." Hec-Tor flopped back on the bed.
The sorcerer of Snake Mountain wasn't even here right now. He'd made this absurd trip, and gotten himself injured for absolutely no reason. This probably didn't even pertain to Keldor. The Horde investigator that came here years ago probably died on another absurdly steep segment of the path. That was why their date of death was listed as the date after their final report. They caught a loose stone on the path, same as Hec-Tor did, fell, probably hit their head on a rock, and died. Nothing nefarious at all. He-Tor was feeling immensely stupid right now.
He turned his head, looking at the woman again. There was something so very, very familiar about her.
It wasn't her face. Hec-Tor was sure they'd never met before. It wasn't her clothing, everyone on Eternia showed about as much or even more skin than she was. It wasn't her voice. But, still, there was just something about her… As if Hec-Tor already knew her.
"Who are you?" He asked again, realizing that she didn't actually give him a real answer the first time.
She hesitated for a moment. Almost as if she was unsure of her own name. Or perhaps she had so many titles she didn't know what name to give.
Finally, after a prolonged pause, she said, "I'm called Evil-Lyn."
The name was not familiar to him.
But she still was.
"Have we met before?" He asked.
Evil-Lyn offered him a gentle, almost sad smile. "Perhaps in another life."
He continued to stare at her.
"Stand up." Evil-Lyn told him again. "Slowly, so you don't pass out." She offered a hand to help him out of bed. "As soon as I'm satisfied you're alright, I'll take you back to your ship."
Taking her offered hand to help him climb out of bed, Hec-Tor looked up at her. "Why?"
"Because here is not where you belong." She informed him. She pulled on his arm, hoisting him to his feet.
Evil-Lyn was much, much shorter than him. About average height for a non-space bat. She was probably taller than Entrapta, but on him her eye-line only came up to about his pectorals. Hec-Tor was used to the vast majority of beings in the universe being shorter than him. Space bats were tall. Only Admiral Callix and a handful of others he'd met personally were taller than him. It was not strange for this woman to be shorter than him.
But for some reason he felt like it was. He felt like she should be the same height as a space bat. He felt like she should be his exact same height. That they should be on an equal eye-level. The fact that they weren't confused him, and Hec-Tor didn't understand why.
"How do you know where I belong?" He asked her.
"I don't know where you do belong." She clarified. "But I do know where you don't belong, and you don't belong here."
Evil-Lyn started walking around him, examining the skin around his ports, checking for redness or irritation. Reaching a hand out, she would gently squeeze his muscles, asking if the pressure was uncomfortable or if he felt any pain. How bad was the pain? On a scale of 1 to 10. Walk in a straight line for me. Stand on one foot. Now the other. Touch your nasal cavity. Okay, your coordination seems fine.
Hec-Tor grumbled some choice words under his breath. He hadn't had someone fuss over him like this since Par-Is and Keldor were still around.
"Are you quite satisfied?" He barked.
"Almost." She assured him. "There's just one more thing. Follow me."
Evil-Lyn exited the room.
For half a moment, Hec-Tor thought about refusing to follow her out of spite. He was a Prince Imperial of the Great and Eternal Horde Empire. He did not take orders from strangers he only just met after waking up in an unfamiliar room, in an unfamiliar fortress, on an only casually familiar planet. How dare she presume to command him! Who was she even? Some nobody, that's who!
But then he realized there was nothing else for him in this otherwise empty room. He had no reason to stay other than to spite Evil-Lyn presuming to tell him what to do. Hec-Tor did a quick little sprint to catch up to her.
It wasn't just the room he woke up in that looked chiseled out of the mountain, the passage outside was too. There were no stones in the walls. No bricks or mortars. No pieces put together. Everything was carved from the natural minerals of the mountain side. Hec-Tor could see the lines where it changed from granite, to andesite, and other minerals and stones he couldn't name.
Evil-Lyn lead him to what looked like some kind of grand hall. It was large and cavernous. With a high ceiling, a raised dais at one end, and a throne upon the dais. With a wide seat and curved armrests, covered in a bone motif for decoration. Evil-Lyn did not lead him to the throne. Instead, she sat down at a table that had already been set with two place settings and a selection of food. There was a pitcher of some iced beverage and two glasses.
"Sit." She told him.
When Hec-Tor did not immediatly do as she said, Evil-Lyn took out a small plastic case and shook it to rattle around what was inside it. Hec-Tor felt a stab of panic when he recognized it as the small travel case he put his medications in before leaving his ship.
"You'll need to eat if you plan on taking these." She reminded him. "So, sit."
He continued to stand.
"I haven't poisoned anything." Evil-Lyn assured him.
"How do you know so much about me?" Asked Hec-Tor. No one outside his own family should know so much about him.
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you." She assured him.
Hec-Tor did sit down. But he did not begin to eat. He just continued to stare at Evil-Lyn. There was something so eerily familiar about her. He was sure he'd never met her before. But something about her was compelling him to trust her. That she wasn't lying when she said she meant him no harm. That she actually wanted to help him and had his better interests at heart.
That was absurd, of course.
But that was what his instincts were telling him.
Finally, he did sit down and Evil-Lyn pored him a glass of the iced drink from the pitcher. He caught the scent of lavender mint tea. "My sister used to drink this."
Evil-Lyn paused. Just a quantum of a second. Her eyes flicked to meet Hec-Tor's almost startled. Then she lowered them again just as quickly. "It's a good drink." She said. "Your sister has good taste."
Hec-Tor took a sip. It was good, he had to agree. He never quite liked it to the extent that Par-Is liked it. He wasn't bit on mint. But he did have to admit that it did help soothe the throat and calm the mind.
"What brings you to Snake Mountain, Prince Hec-Tor?" Evil-Lyn asked. She poured a glass of the lavender mint tea for herself, from the same pitcher. Hec-Tor waited to watch her take a sip of hers before drinking his own.
"I'm seeking someone." He answered, wondering why he was telling this woman –this stranger- the truth. He didn't know her. He didn't know her intentions. Even if she was as kind and altruistic as she was appearing to be, he was a Prince of the Horde. Who was she? Some nobody squatting in an abandoned fortress in the middle of nowhere. He was not obligated to tell her anything. And yet- "My husband. Prince Imperial Keldor."
For some reason Evil-Lyn looked disappointed by that.
She served a portion of food onto his plate instead of commenting. "Eat something. So you can take your meds."
Damn, even the food she served looked like something they used to eat back at the Imperial palace. Lower quality, obviously, and a few of the ingredients looked like they had to be substituted with things that were more readily available and easy to get on Eternia. But it was essentially the same.
Cutting off a small piece, Hec-Tor took an experimental bite.
It even tasted almost the same.
Hec-Tor took his pill case and tipped the medications into his mouth, washing them down with the lavender mint tea. Then he took a larger bit of the food.
"Why are you searching for Prince Keldor." Asked Evil-Lyn. "I thought your spouse was Princess Entrapta of Dryl."
"She is." Hec-Tor confirmed. That was a matter of public record. There was no reason for him to try and hide that. This Evil-Lyn already seemed to know so much about him. "Keldor was my spouse before Entrapta."
"I know that." Evil-Lyn assured him. "I meant, Keldor has been gone from your life for so long. Why try seeking him out now?"
"I am not just seeking him out 'now'!" Hec-Tor snarled at her. "I have been searching for Keldor from the moment he disappeared. I have expended countless man-hours and resources of the Horde Empire searching for him. I have gone nights without sleep, I have driven my staff half mad, and have allocated military personnel to finding Keldor! This is not a new thing! I have been desperate to find him for year!"
Evil-Lyn just sipped her tea. "Sounds like you haven't left yourself much room for anything else in your life."
"I still do my work for the Empire." Hec-Tor snapped, feeling oddly indignant.
"And what about yourself?" She asked. "Have you left room for yourself between your desperate searching for Keldor and your work for the Horde? Have you left room to be happy?"
"I'll be happy when I find Keldor." He informed her.
Evil-Lyn took a bite of her own food. "Mm. And what does your new spouse think of that?"
"Entrapta-" Hec-Tor began a statement, then quickly realized he had no idea what he was about to say about Entrapta. 'Entrapta would understand', would she? 'Entrapta is not the one I'm concerned with', but that wasn't true, she was his wife and her feelings were to be considered. 'Entrapta is not the one I love', that was true, but he did respect her. Hec-Tor might not love her, but he did respect her. He recognized how intelligent and brilliant she was. She was always kind to him and considered his special needs that were not common among most beings. Imp liked her…
"Did you even tell her you were looking for your ex when you left to come here?" Evil-Lyn pressed.
Hec-Tor did not answer. He only told Entrapta that he was going to Eternia on personal business. It was right after the debacle with Randor and Adora. He let Entrapta draw her own conclusions about why he might be leaving to Eternia on 'personal business'.
Taking his silence for the admission it was, Evil-Lyn asked another question. "Has Entrapta done something to earn your distrust? Has she been cruel to you? Mistreated you, or your son?"
"No." Hec-Tor muttered to his plate, feeling oddly like a small child being reprimanded for bad behavior.
Why did this woman make him feel like he was being lectured by his mother, or by… his sister?
"Let's say you did find Keldor." Evil-Lyn leaned back in her seat, holding her glass of lavender mint tea in her hand. "Let's say you were reunited like you always wanted and you brought him back with you to your new home in Dryl. What would you have told Entrapta about him? What would you have told him about your new spouse? How do you think either of them would feel about you in that situation? Do you think Keldor would be happy? Do you think Entrapta would be happy? Would you be happy?"
Hec-Tor scowled. He did not like the line of thinking these questions were making him consider.
Keldor had been gone so long. He didn't know what to think anymore.
"What is your point in these questions?" He finally demanded.
Evil-Lyn took a long sip of her iced tea.
She set the glass back down on the table, leaning forward to look him in the eyes. "Keldor is gone." She began. "Whether he is dead, or simply missing, kidnapped, murdered, or run away. Keldor is not with you anymore. It has been years and Keldor has not been returned to you, either living or dead. You cannot dwell on his loss forever."
"He's the parent of my son!" Hec-Tor snapped.
"And your son has no memory of him." Evil-Lyn reminded him. "Your own memories of him might not even be as accurate as you choose to remember. The Keldor you remember in your heart might not even be the real Keldor. Memory is a funny thing and it clouded by our feelings. It's not real. But you know what is real? You are real. Your new marriage and the new life that goes with it is real. You could be happy, Prince Imperial Hec-Tor. But only if you allow yourself to be."
He blinked at her.
That was not what he was expecting to hear from a stranger. That was not what he was expecting to hear from a stranger at all.
"Who are you?" He asked again.
"I told you: I'm called Evil-Lyn. Now, eat your food. You need to have more in your stomach to take your meds." She took a bite of her own food, as if to show him how.
Hec-Tor did take a bite of his own food. More because he had already swallowed his medications and knew she was right. He would need more in his stomach. He chewed over what she said as he chewed his food.
They were married for months now, he and Entrapta. Yet, they hadn't really talked very much in that time. She knew he was once married, and he knew she had an ex-girlfriend. But they never really talked about their past lovers, or what they wanted in a relationship.
Maybe Evil-Lyn was right.
He should talk to Entrapta when he got home.
…