Chapter Three
Much had changed in the five and a half years since the Horde had been driven from the planet. All structures damaged in the war- from thatch-roof cottages to the Royal Palace- were whole once again. Vegetation thrived on soil once littered with fallen soldiers. Villages abandoned by their terrified inhabitants now teemed with life. Families torn asunder by the conflict were reunited as the planet began a new era of peace and prosperity. All, that is, except one family.
One hour after the abduction of Queen Marlena and Princess Adora, King Randor and Duncan stood before the Sorceress of Grayskull awaiting answers, a plan of action, and a reason to hope. The most powerful woman on Eternia did not have a great deal to offer. She told them that Hordak and Skeletor had conspired to take both children because of a belief that the twins' destinies would be greater than most. She informed them of what her powers had confirmed: that Hordak had, indeed, left the planet altogether. She assured them that she would continue to search, but that Hordak could be anywhere in the universe and that it could be a long time before his base was uncovered.
"Define 'a long time,'" King Randor ordered, either forgetting or discarding the fact that the Sorceress, by virtue of the powers vested in her by the Ancients, outranked him.
"Years," Grayskull's mystic guardian answered, "It could be years."
She then offered them the thinnest sliver of hope.
"It is not in Hordak's best interest to kill Adora," she murmured, "She can serve him better alive than dead."
Silence rang in the cavernous room as all three occupants absorbed that last statement.
"And my wife?" Randor finally managed. "How does she best serve Hordak?"
The Sorceress regarded the king for a long moment before answering.
"I cannot be certain, but I imagine that Hordak would want to eliminate any possibility of Adora discovering her true heritage."
She spoke with the utmost kindness and compassion, yet the response slammed into Randor with all the force of a battering ram; later he would wonder how he had managed to stay upright. The words seemed to ricochet off the ancient walls much longer than they should, and Randor started to cover his ears before realizing that the echo existed only in his mind.
The king would like to have left the castle then, but there was still one more matter to discuss. The Sorceress feared that news of the tragedy that had befallen Randor's family would be a crushing blow for the planet. How could they rejoice when their queen and princess had been taken from them? The people loved and respected Marlena, while the royal twins, born on the last eve of war, were thought by many to symbolize the approaching dawn of peace. What could it mean that one of them had been taken by the enemy? Had the Horde truly been defeated, or might they one day return?
Finally, after several hours of discussion, the three reached an agonizing decision. As Randor and Duncan departed Castle Grayskull, the Sorceress closed her eyes, raised her arms, and tapped into the psyches of all but two of Eternia's inhabitants; then she began to chant.
Four hours after the spell of forgetfulness had been cast, a king all but broken in spirit stood before his people and delivered the grim news: mere minutes after being defeated, Hordak broke into the royal nursery with the intent of abducting Prince Adam. A struggle ensued, a portal was opened, and Hordak escaped, taking Queen Marlena with him. No one asked about rescue missions; they did not have to. Anyone could guess what a ruthless creature like Hordak would do to the wife of the man whose armies had vanquished his.
The people were devastated. King Randor's wife had been well loved—not only as a queen, but also as a person. Most were intrigued by the common-born alien woman who had literally fallen from the stars and captured the king's heart; and those who at first wondered if she possessed the ability to rule were soon won over by her grace, wisdom, and devotion to her new people. Now all grieved for the queen's death, the king's loss, and the prince's future. How would the child fare with only one parent?
Now, as he stood just inside the garden and watched his son play with Duncan's daughter, Randor decided that perhaps he had done fairly well as a single parent. At almost six years old, Adam was a bright, curious, and affable child who was well liked by all who knew him. He and Teela, Duncan's adopted daughter, were friends before either could walk, and by now treated each other as the sibling neither one had, which made life a bit more eventful for their respective fathers.
Adam might never know about the sister who had been taken from him, but he knew a great deal about his mother. Randor had wondered how he would manage to talk to his son about Marlena without becoming too emotional, but it turned out to be surprisingly easy. Adam was given the abridged version of events, which was that his mother had died soon after he was born. He knew that his mother was from another planet, that she was intelligent and compassionate, and that she had loved her son very, very much.
Adam also knew what she looked like because there was a picture of her on the small table by his father's bed. Eternia did not have the same photographic technology as Marlena's home planet of Earth- although images could be taken and made into holograms, they could not be reproduced into a tangible form- but there were four photographs that the alien queen had with her when she crashed, and one of these was a self-portrait. In the photograph, his wife was sitting on the lowest branch of a tree. Her slender hands rested on either side of the branch, and she was smiling brightly into the camera. She wore a short-sleeved green dress that fell just past her knees- Randor could remember being surprised by the length when he'd first seen the picture- and no shoes; her bright red hair was accented by the light of the sun, filtered though it was by the unseen leaves of the tree.
Randor looked at that picture twice a day: once when he awoke, and again before he fell asleep. It was, by now, as much a part of his routine as eating, sleeping, or holding court; and each viewing brought with it a myriad of emotions. Love. Sorrow. Regret. Anger. That last emotion had, at first, been directed solely at Hordak and Skeletor; then, as the years passed, he found himself growing increasingly angry with the Sorceress of Grayskull. The most powerful woman on all Eternia, and she could not locate one little girl? Absurd, one part of his mind screamed even while the other whispered that the Sorceress was doing everything she could to find the missing princess.
Lately, though, he found that his rage was directed toward another; and he was filled with shame. How could he be angry with someone who had died right at the prime of life, who would never see her children grow up? What kind of person was he? Yet he could not help himself; ever since Adam's fifth birthday, six months ago, Randor found himself unable to feel anything but resentment toward Marlena. She had to have heard the soldiers approaching the nursery on that fateful day, so why had she sacrificed herself when help was already close at hand? How dare she leave him alone!
The king's bitter reverie was interrupted by a burst of shrill laughter. He looked toward the sound and smiled. Adam and Teela had climbed into the garden's white marble fountain and were now splashing each other with the liquid inside. Both children were already soaked from head to toe, their clothes clinging to their small bodies, hair plastered to their skulls. Droplets of the water they flung at one another dotted the ground near the fountain.
"That's one way to combat this heat."
"That it is," Randor answered without looking at the man standing behind him, "Hello, Duncan. I would have thought you'd prefer that breezy lab of yours to the outdoors."
"I found it hard to concentrate."
"Are the children bothering you?"
"No. Actually, it's nice to see them playing in that fountain. It brings back a lot of pleasant memories."
"Does it?"
Duncan nodded.
"I remember seven years ago, I walked into this garden just in time to see Marlena pull you down into that fountain to join her. The look on your face when you landed… the water dripping from the points of your crown… it was a sight to see, even if I still don't know how Marlena ended up there in the first place…"
Randor knew. He remembered watching this woman he was to marry in seven days walk around the wall of the fountain, head held exaggeratedly high as she glided barefoot across the water-slick marble. Apparently Lady Ailsa, courtier and self-proclaimed Mistress of Decorum, had taken it upon herself to 'turn that alien woman into a queen'; and apparently that involved four hours a day of making Marlena walk with books on her head and talk with a mouth full of marbles ("Like Eliza bloody Doolittle!" Marlena had muttered once in Randor's presence, causing him to scratch his head in confusion.) On the day in question, Randor was being treated to a parody of Lady Ailsa's latest lesson: how to walk. Marlena had just completed one full trek around the fountain when she slipped and fell into the water. She came up laughing and shaking the hair out of her face.
"Can you get out by yourself?" Randor asked, leaning over her.
"I can," she said between laughs, "But Lady Ailsa says that I am supposed to make myself appear helpless in your presence."
"Well, then. By all means, let's not disappoint Lady Ailsa."
He offered his hand, and as Marlena took it she looked up at him. By the time Randor caught the mischievous glint in her eyes, it was too late: Marlena pulled on his hand with an astonishing amount of strength, and the dignified king found himself in the water, his bride-to-be laughing hysterically beside him…
Duncan spoke from behind him, bringing Randor back to the present.
"The memory makes you happy, my friend?"
The king set his jaw and turned to his man-at-arms.
"Yes, but memories will not rule by my side or help me raise my son."
"You are angry at Marlena."
It was not a question.
"I know it is wrong," Randor muttered, more to himself than to his friend, "Marlena is most likely lying dead in some Horde-infested hell hole, and all I can think about is how angry I am at her for leaving me, for leaving Adam. What kind of man does that make me, Duncan?"
"You believe she willingly sacrificed herself?"
Randor looked away then, giving Duncan his answer.
"You are my friend, and my king," he said gently, "but you are wrong."
"Am I?"
"Randor, Marlena cannot have known what Hordak had planned when she lunged for him. How could she… how could anyone suspect that he would even have access to a dimensional portal? All she wanted in that moment was to get her child out of harm's way. I do not think that there was enough time for Marlena to even consider the possibility of her own death. I think you know as well as I do that she only did what any mother would, and I also know that you would have done the same in her place."
"I know all that, Duncan," Randor said, "I know that Marlena is not to blame for what happened… that she only wanted to protect Adora… that she did not plan to die. So why am I so angry at her?"
"Perhaps you are not," Duncan answered carefully, "Perhaps this anger of yours is directed at something bigger than Marlena, or Hordak and Skeletor, or even the Sorceress. Perhaps what you are angry at is… fate."
"Perhaps," Randor nodded slowly, "Though that is somehow worse."
"How so?"
"I cannot control it," the king answered, "and I cannot change it."
"You cannot change what has happened before," Duncan agreed, "and no man will ever be in absolute control of his own destiny, no more than he will ever be in control of another's. Your power, my friend, lies in how you respond to your destiny."
"Do you think so?"
"I do."
Randor turned and looked his friend in the eye.
"You are wrong on one count."
"Am I?"
"I can control what happens to Adam," the king stated firmly, "I can make sure that the creatures who took his sister and mother do not take him."
"You can try to protect him," Duncan answered, "but he, like everyone, will eventually have to make his own decisions… decisions that may, at times, put him in danger."
"You believe fate will determine the decisions he makes?"
"That, and his heritage. Randor, Adam is the son of a man who fought long and hard for his planet, and of a woman who remains the most skilled pilot- combat or otherwise- I have ever seen. His genetic makeup alone dictates that he will not be running from any fights."
"Then he must be prepared to defend himself."
"Yes."
"Very well," Randor looked back at his golden-haired son and nodded, "In a few years, he will begin physical training. Perhaps he and Teela can train together."
"It looks as if they have already begun."
Randor turned and saw that Adam and Teela had climbed out of the fountain and were now sparring with two medium-sized sticks. They danced around the garden, wet footprints marking the path of their mock-battle, shouts ringing through the enclosed space.
"I will vanquish you!"
"No, Iwill vanquish you!"
Both men grinned, and Randor felt his anger beginning to fade for the first time in six months. As the children continued to play, and their fathers laughed, Randor imagined that his wife was laughing with them.