If there was someone who definitely didn't deserve the pain they had been given in life, it was the Champion. Ezra had seen him often in the company of Haggar and felt the tugs of concern and pity at her deadened heart. Haggar loved her experiments, sure, but the witch's love was stifling and the punishments of disobeying her were dire.

Ezra's prosthesis ached in memory. Haggar had given Ezra legs, but the time Ezra had spent under the High Druid's care was a screeching, agonized blur. Her recovery was remembered in flashes of sprayed royal purples and bleeding violets. When she woke, she was presented to her Emperor as a weapon. She enjoyed that role. She was given purpose again and could serve her emperor with efficiency.

Ezra protected and served any who her Lord asked of her to. She watched after him when not on assignment, though he didn't need it. She enjoyed the occasional attention he would lavish, though lavish might be too strong a word, on her when little was occurring. She had shadowed Haggar on many occasions at his request, but was mostly given assignments with high ranking Generals or the children of those houses. Sometimes she was given to a Druid other than Haggar, but she never learned their names.

Or, perhaps she had, but simply couldn't be bothered to remember it.

The choking smog from the accident and the months spent in depressive isolation along with her recovery at Haggar's hands had probably affected her brain negatively in the memory retention department.

So, even though she was a dutiful follower to Emperor Zarkon and to Haggar, she still felt pity for the young human amongst the Galra. He reeked of death. He had not yet learned his place. A long gash was across his face, now. The bone of his small nose bruised and swollen. He had an arm that would soon be similar to her legs; state of the art tech infused with Galran infected quintessence. He must be favored by the emperor, as well.

He was a cute little thing, that was for sure, and his matches always left a spark of admiration in her belly and a soft upturn to her lips. One such as he had surpassed everything her masters gutted him with and it surprised her as well as many others. Humans must be a stubborn, resilient species... However, Ezra had heard that some of his species had been taken with him, but were sent to the work camps on Ir'Vad IV. They were sent there for weakness. Perhaps he was exceptional even amongst his own species.

How lonely that must be.

Ezra couldn't quite remember a time where she was not an assassin and guard to the higher circles of society. The memories of her family's farm were fading in the cold. Her mother's face was blurry, and her father was but an outline, the scents of home were faint. She remembered thickly woven tree lines that ate the sky, but nothing else.

Odd.

Maybe when Zarkon gave her leave, she would return to her parents. She doubted that so long as she lived, though, that she would ever be given leave. Her version of shore leave used to be wherever her commander's ship was docked and surrounded by her rowdy engineering team. Now, it was any quiet moment she was able to steal from the gaze of whomever she was protecting. Zarkon rarely slept, though she didn't mind him much. Haggar only slept after she had eaten, and the generals slept often. Generals would never be more favorable than her masters, however. Haggar may have been brutal, but she was an easy motherly substitute and all that Ezra knew for that role. Zarkon was her emperor and more. She would gut herself if he but asked, slain thousands if he wanted it of her, or lay herself out in supplication for him to crush under his boot. But, he never did. He was not soft with her, but did show a certain affection to her.

Funny that Ezra knew that she would never have given someone that deadly loyalty before her mother's colleagues had come knocking. They had taken her to Haggar and she remembered the vicious torrent of hope that had gripped her heart when she found that the Witch was able to give her her legs back.

Ezra wondered if she dreamed before.

It didn't matter now, though. This was her life. This would be her life until her masters released her of it. She would only be stopped by death or by victory, as was the Galra way. So, when her Lord asked her to shadow the small Champion, she did not complain, nor was she compelled to disobey. She was curious about the smaller being, and a little worried that she might lose him under foot.

But, again, sometimes Ezra was ordered to watch the children of high ranking families. She was used to smaller beings, but not so used to actually interacting with them. Ezra did recall that the children of those families were on two sides of a spectrum; quiet and reserved, to utterly spoiled and prone to violent tantrums. The kind that were shrill and pounded the skull like a hammer to a nail. It was usually the smaller ones, however. Was size connected to temper?

She dearly hoped not. The Champion was mighty and had the potential for even greater than what he was now achieving, but he was quite short.

Nevertheless, Ezra looked forward to guarding and caring for the Champion in Haggar's absence.