A/N: Thank you so much to all those who reviewed. It means so much to me that you thought enough of my work to even bother, all the nice things you said were just icing on the cake. Please keep reading.
Chapter 2:
Suspicions
King Randor stared out the window of the palace conservatory. The plants outside were beginning to show signs of the struggle they were undergoing for several weeks now due to the persistent dry weather. The Eternian farmers were not complaining too earnestly yet, but he knew that if the weather did not cooperate soon, they'd be looking to him for salvation. As if he could control the weather. Sighing heavily Randor dragged his hand over his face trying in vain to wipe some of the tiredness away. He had never wanted to be king—it was a position thrust upon him by the elders. Hell, he didn't even have time to object properly before they were gone and he and the Masters were fighting Skeletor for their lives. He had managed to do his duty well, so far, but there were times when he longed for freedom from all this responsibility.
"King Randor, you sent for me." Randor turned immediately from the window leaving his insecurities outside with the wilting rosebushes and thirsty grasses.
"Yes. I did. Walk with me." He moved toward Man-at-Arms and both proceeded along the winding path through Marlena's favorite plants, "I am concerned about Skeletor and what he's up to."
"Yes, he has been quiet for sometime now hasn't he. It's been almost two months since his last failed attempt to capture Castle Greyskull. One would think that he has finally learned his lesson."
"No, my friend," Randor began as he flicked away a particularly long stem hanging obtrusively across the path, "I know Skeletor, and such a blend of arrogance, megalomania and stupidity could never leave room for reason and logic."
Man-At-Arms chuckled softly then sobered. "So you want me to find out what, if anything, he is planning"
"I think it would be wise to head off trouble before it starts."
"I agree," Man-At-Arms said, fingering his thick mustache and looking grim "Man-E-Faces and I will go to Snake Mountain tomorrow, we'll see if we can't gather some intelligence—covertly of course."
Randor sighed for the third time in the past half hour, "I feel it's time that we find a way to rid ourselves of this "Skeletor" problem once and for all. Without He-Man I don't know what we would have done by now. I have run out of patience with these continual skirmishes."
"I understand," shaking his head gravely Man-At-Arms looked at the king from the corner of his eyes while they continued to walk through the enclosed garden. "It has not been easy. It seems that each time his schemes to take over Eternia get grander and put more of our people in danger." Stopping suddenly, Man-At-Arms turned to face the king who also stopped—a little surprised at the abrupt change in pace. "If you want, this mission could have a more permanent objective."
The King's eyebrows lifted slowly as the weight of what his commander was suggesting settled slowly in. He waited a few moments and looked again at Man-A-Arms, his eyes sad, "I am a soldier at heart, Duncan and believe me, I realize that some things have to be done, but I am King and I cannot condone certain courses of action. I … I believe that it would violate the trust the elders have placed in me"
"I am sorry sir," Man-At-Arms said quickly, "I did not mean—"
"There is no need to apologize, Duncan. Come along. Tell me how that daughter of yours is doing."
………………………………………………………………………………
Skeletor glared at the latest freak show to request his audience. It was always like this, though not so much anymore. Some imbecile with a misguided notion that he was the strongest, most evil minion he, Skeletor, would ever see, vied for his approval to join his ranks. All he had to do was give them a chance to "prove" themselves. He had to admit that it was quite entertaining at times to see them wrestle each of his men. He usually started with Trap-Jaw and then had them work their way up. Most could not make it past the first round, the very best he'd seen yet had the privilege of participating in the second round where they had their spines twisted by Beast-Man's brawn. It was round two and this hopeful was still standing.
His fur covered body glistened with sweat and his massive chest heaved in testament to his exertions. He struck a cocky pose, standing over his fallen, whimpering opponent, hand on one hip, while one booted foot continued to apply pressure to Beast Man's head. "Is that all?" Orad smirked, deliberately toying with the "Overlord of Evil." Was he mad or just plain crazy? Skeletor thought as he sipped wine from a heavy iron mug. "Tri-Klops," he began conversationally, "will you please help our guest understand what he has gotten himself into. Kill him."
"With pleasure," they had all they could take from this cocky piece of shit. "I'm gonna tear you apart."
The newcomer just smiled. He jutted his chin toward the scowling man and tapped it lightly with his finger, graciously giving Tri-Klops the first shot. Growling in rage at the insult, Tri-Klops rushed forward. Orad easily avoided punch aimed at his head. He grabbed the stunned man's hand and quickly wretched it backwards. Tri-Klops' bellow of pain signaled the moment his shoulder snapped of place. Orad followed up with what appeared to be his signature move. While still pinning Tri-Klops' arm across his upper back, he unleashed exactly five stabbing blows to Tri-Klops' groin with his knee. Finally releasing him, Tri-Klops fell face-first with a thud to the floor, sobbing and clutching his privates in agony. Orad proceeded to fire a round of five kicks to the man's stomach. Luckily Tri-Klops passed out before he could get up to number three. That did not deter him in the least, "Four, ugh … five." Orad briefly surveying his work, snorted loudly and ran a hand through his long hair, fixing the long, damp strands away from his eyes. He looked at his watch, as he had done the first two times. Four minutes, fifty-two seconds. Frowning slightly, he waited and at the right moment kicked Tri-Klops in the head. Five minutes, perfect.
Skeletor looked on with displeasure. "Evil-Lyn, your turn."
She'd sat unmoving and staring off into space since she and the others had been summoned and had only been paying partial attention to the sadism being executed before her. She had more important things to think about. At the sound of her name she jumped and looked at Skeletor questioningly. The hollowed out caves he used for eyes glowed red in annoyance. Evil-Lyn noted this but continued to sit, eyebrows raised in inquiry. Normally, fear of Skeletor's wrath would have her scurrying to do his bidding, but compared to the news she had found out today, Skeletor was as frightening as a cowering squirrel. Besides, she thought it peculiar that he had gotten so angry with her so quickly.
"I said: GET OVER THERE AND DESTROY HIM." He was so furious that he dropped his goblet on the floor. His knuckles were white as he gripped the arms of his throne; his body positioned as if he was going to spring up from his seat at any moment.
Evil-Lyn recoiled as if he'd physically struck her. She looked from Skeletor to Orad's grinning face. She had not been paying that close attention, but who could miss the kneeing, the kicking! She clutched her stomach unconsciously and looked at Skeletor as if he had gone mad, "Are you mad?" His eyes, liquid flame, seemed to burn even brighter. He lunged out of his seat and before she knew it, he had her pinned by her neck against the wall behind her now toppled chair.