From the Past of Third Earth, Part Two:

Lost Prince, Chapter Four

Pumyra stopped in her tracks as she stepped into the infirmary; Tygra was sitting in front of Rainbow Brite, making various hand signals in front of her blank expression in an attempt to get her to respond with more than a slight lifting of her head. "Having any luck with her?"

"None whatsoever," he sighed, dropping his head in defeat. "She might as well be an android with a wiped memory."

"Is that the only reason you're here?"

"No. I need you to tell me I'm insane."

She shook her head. "I'm not doing that. You're as sane as the rest of us."

"Really?" He raised an eyebrow at her. "How well do you remember Snow Leopard?"

"Well, she was a reckless psycho—which definitely rubbed off on Bengali—though she could be surprisingly calm around him… well, when she wasn't being antagonistic or speeding around on her motorbike like a maniac—"

"But not a Thunderian."

"No, not a Thunderian. She'd certainly been on Thundera long enough to 'go native', and those tattoos she had helped her blend in a little—"

"Can you say with absolute one-hundred percent certainty she was human?"

She opened her mouth to tell him "yes", then closed it again when she realized she had no information to back up the claim. Her gaze met his for a few moments, and it slowly occurred to her what he was implying. Shaking her head again, she told him, "No, I know what you're thinking. It's too unlikely."

"As unlikely as two spaceships from the same destroyed home world landing on the same alien planet only an ocean apart after spending ten years in suspension?"

"I would claim it's even more unlikely. We're discussing millennia, planets light-years apart, and most importantly of all no proof."

"Maybe…." He smiled sadly. "I can't shake the idea, Pumyra, that's why I need you to tell me I'm insane."

"Wishful thinking isn't insane, Tygra, it's just wishful thinking. Even if by some stupid plot twist Snow Leopard was one of MoonGlo's friends, I know for certain she never made it off Thundera. She went down with the ship Bengali, Lynx-O, and I were supposed to take." She came over and helped Rainbow Brite to her feet, grateful the young woman was able to at least move on her own with a bit of nudging. "I know you'd like to help your brother, Tygra, but he's just going to have to continue grieving over her."

"I know, and entertaining crazy thoughts like this won't benefit anyone, least of all him." Sighing again, he got up and headed for the door. He paused, his hand on the doorknob as he told her over his shoulder, "Don't tell him what I've been thinking, Pumyra."

"Trust me, I wouldn't dare."

Mumm-Ra flew to his pyramid in a fury. "That blasted brat!" he snapped, reverting to his weaker form as he landed gently on the floor of the cauldron room. "As if it wasn't bad enough when the Grand Duchess stalked me, now I have to deal with the twit she spawned after our one-night-stand!" He crossed his arms petulantly as he tapped his foot. "I could've sworn I'd buried the girl beneath enough dirt to crush her to death, but clearly Shining Glory wove his own protections into the sleeping spell he placed upon her, that idiot princess, and her friends."

He ran his hand over his face. "My nerves are a wreck lately. First MoonGlo resurfaces, now Ravenwaves has to enter the picture and make my life difficult—what next, the Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man decides to pay a visit?!" He glanced at his sarcophagus, debating if he ought to just seal himself away for a century or two. Cringing at the idea of giving up, however, he snarled and stubbornly stamped his foot against the stone floor. "No, damn it! I refuse to let the goody-two-shoes forces of righteousness succeed!"

He started pacing around the cauldron, trying hard to think of a way to turn the whole mess around to his advantage. "Ravenwaves has no magical ability whatsoever," he thought aloud. "She's a reckless, manipulative, and spoiled slut, but she's got a brain in that head of hers—unlike her mother, who was luckily stupid and vain enough for me to get rid of easily."

He chuckled, reenacting his last conversation with the Grand Duchess of Tangleland. "'Why, of course this potion will wipe the king and queen of the Lovelylocks throne from the face of Second Earth, dearest!' Never occurred to you the recipe I gave you would take you along with them, did it, Grand Duchess? That was a relief, getting rid of your obsessive ass! And yet you still haunt me with your presence, albeit through our daughter.

"Still, I need to think of a way to outsmart the brat. I doubt I'll be able to seal her away a second time, she never did fall for the same trick twice." He paused, glancing over his shoulder at one of the hidden hallways behind him. "There is the ancient Galra prince… I could always wake him up and put him in charge… even Ravenwaves wouldn't dare cross him. Hmm… no, no, not yet. He was a little too dangerous—I'll keep him as a last resort."

He continued pacing, rubbing his chin as he thought long and hard. "I wonder what enchanted items I have stowed away that I can use against the brat. I'll have to see if Stormy is still capable of listing them all off for me…."

Making up his mind, he headed straight down the hallway, never once suspecting anything might be wrong. Finally reaching the door of the room he kept her trapped in with his curse, he walked straight in. "Slave, I need—"

He had about one second to spot her in the center of the room, her expression one of absolute rage as electricity sparked around her entire frame, just before a lightning bolt crashed through the ceiling and blasted the floor in front of him. He was thrown off his feet and slammed into the floor of the hallway; staring up at the ceiling in shock for a minute, he finally groaned as he eventually pushed himself up into a sitting position. "How did you get your powers back?!" he asked in shock.

Stormy didn't answer; she merely stood just inside the doorway, still covered in a deadly shell of power. "Get away from me, you backstabbing liar," she snarled.

He frowned. "I feel the need to point out the irony of you attempting to insult me in such a fashion."

"Get away FROM ME!" she shrieked, raising her hands to bring another bolt of lightning down, this time probably aiming for him.

Scrambling to his feet, he barely had time to dash down the hallway before the second blow came. This time he managed to avoid the result, jumping through a separate door just as the explosion blew past him. Panting from the exertion—he hadn't thought he'd have to fight a battle in his own home—he stared into the darkened passage in utter confusion. "Did I do something wrong?" he asked no one in particular.

It was long past sundown when there came a slight tap on Vulture-Man's laboratory door. "Come in," he said, immediately putting down the blaster he was working on. Ravenwaves walked unsteadily into the room, still somehow managing to look physically attractive despite obviously being worse for the wear. "I probably should've warned you how long it's been since anyone here's had a female."

Still dressed—barely—in her underthings, she slowly sat down on the bench opposite him with a wince, followed by a relieved sigh. "Honestly, I had a suspicion." Grinning wearily, she added, "I'm not in as bad of shape as I probably look. A fair number of your lower-ranking comrades have easily-indulged fetishes that don't require penetration, although I am now in desperate need of a shower and birth control." She reached up to her face and gently poked her cheeks. "I don't suppose you have something for an aching jaw? I don't think I've ever used these muscles to their full extent before today."

He handed her a couple of glass vials he'd taken out as soon as he'd realized the entire mutant population of Castle Plun-Darr was going to have its way with her one right after the other without a break. "This one will numb the pain of any sore muscles you have, no matter where they are," he told her, shaking the blue one, "the green will prevent you getting a bun in the oven." As she downed each vial with a single gulp for each, he couldn't resist asking, "So… you're Mumm-Ra's daughter, are you?"

She placed the empty bottles on the table, her face distorting with distaste. "Yeah, and the thought makes me sick. I'm the offspring of the ever-living source of evil, and he doesn't give two shakes of a Snarl's tail because I didn't inherit a single drop of magical talent from either him or my mother." She snickered bitterly. "And I'll bet he wonders why I have 'daddy issues'." Placing her elbows on the table, she leaned her head on her hands, looking at Vulture-Man curiously. "Why do you know him well enough for him to just waltz in and demand your attention? He kept his presence to an absolute minimum on Second Earth; it seems strange he would change tactics now."

The vulture shrugged. "I have no idea why he would be quiet during your time, but he's been nothing but a pain in the butt since we landed on this planet. When he isn't bothering us to do his dirty work for him, he goes after the Thundercats himself, attempting to retake Third Earth from them."

Her lips twitched in amusement. "Clearly he isn't doing a very good job of it. I seem to recall someone telling me the Thundercats landed here about the same time you did. Are they conquerors, or is there another reason Father goes after them?"

"Their leader, Lion-O, carries the Sword of Omens, which bears the Eye of Thundera, the source of the Thundercats' power. It's supposedly one of the most powerful items in the galaxy."

She sniffed. "Why would Father care about the Color Kids being found, then? Seems to me the sword should be his only objective."

"The way he makes it sound, he's convinced the Color Kids would empower the Thundercats and give them even more of an advantage over all the forces of evil."

"He's lying."

Stunned at her quick accusation, he stared at her. "Um… pardon?"

"The Color Kids use their powers indiscriminately," she told him. "They give an advantage to all, not a select few. Let's take, oh, MoonGlo for example: she cleans the night air; the proof of this is how visible the stars and moon are. When the air is clean at night, everyone sleeps better since there's no longer anything in it to block sinuses or cause allergic reactions due to chemicals. Everyone benefits, even those who are evil."

"So… in reality, these Color Kids are a neutral party."

"That's right." Her eyes focused exclusively on him. "My father never takes notice of a neutral party—unless it would benefit him and him only. Let's reverse the situation and pretend someone took out MoonGlo. The night air would be filthy, no one would sleep well, everyone would gradually become weaker, sicker, and more emotional from lack of sleep… meaning only one creature would be left completely unaffected and able to overpower everyone else."

He jumped slightly as the realization of what she was saying hit him. "Mumm-Ra! He's the only one who wouldn't be affected!"

"Bingo. He only sees the Color Kids as a threat because they would prevent him from weakening anyone he considers to be in his way—enemies and allies both."

The vulture crossed his arms irritably. "The bastard is playing us all for fools! He—" A thought hit him, and he raised an eyebrow suspiciously at her. "How do you know about these Color Kids? They're from—"

"First Earth, I know. I was babysat by one, and watched as Father recaptured another who'd escaped. I'm pretty sure I was still in diapers when that happened, but trust me when I say it was memorable." She pulled the onyx vial out of her cleavage. "Every time I look at this I'm reminded of that day. I considered it an amazing gift from Father at the time, but I've come to despise it since. I honestly don't know whether to keep it or destroy it."

Wily Kit glared at the tracker, ignoring the fog her breath created as it hit the cool air. "We already have one phantom blip!" she snapped irritably at the small machine, shaking it furiously. "We don't need another one!"

Wily Kat, who'd lagged behind her as she'd run up the hill, finally came up beside her, raising an eyebrow at her tone of voice. Glancing at the empty scraps of foliage around them, he asked, "I'm guessing the machine really is messing up, then?"

"I don't know!" She stuck a claw in her mouth and gnawed on it, resisting the urge to throw the tracker against a tree. "We should be right on top of this one, and we know the stupid thing actually works otherwise we wouldn't have stumbled across Buddy and Patty."

Her brother took the tracker from her, studying the screen carefully. "Well, we know it's not the phantom blip because that just appeared." He frowned. "Although… the phantom blip is stronger than the one we were following."

She'd started pacing in frustration, but the moment she heard that, she stopped dead in her tracks. "Wait… it's weaker?"

He nodded. "It's not blinking as fast, nor as brightly, as if the tracker can pinpoint it, but just barely." He glanced around the hill. "You do recognize where we are, right?"

"Yeah, above the Maze of Infinity." She smacked her hand against her forehead. "The person we're tracking might be in the Maze."

"It's not that bad," he pointed out. "The Maze couldn't have changed much since the Anointment Trials, and you still come here fairly regularly to read to the Under-Earthmen as a 'thank you' for helping us. So even if we have to go deeper to a part of the cave we don't know so well, they'd certainly be willing to help us."

"They probably would. I'm just amazed at my own lack of thinking." She sighed, removing her hand and glancing around for the ventilation opening she and her brother preferred using. "Alright. Let's explore the part of the Maze we know first. If we have to go deeper, I'd prefer calling the other Thundercats before doing so. I don't think they'll be able to reach us past a certain level."

Mumm-Ra stalked down the hallway towards the treasure chambers, wearing his powerful form like a shield, prepared for battle. "I have absolutely no idea how you regained your powers, Stormy," he muttered crossly, "but you will regret using them against me. I've kept you safe and sheltered all these centuries, didn't lay a finger on you until you were physically of age, removed your ovaries so you'd never have to deal with a menstrual cycle, treated you like a cherished pet—you think you can just turn around and get away with having a temper tantrum?!"

This time when he entered her room, he was prepared. Smashing his fist into the buttons to open the door, he immediately cast a spell to catch the lightning bolt streaking towards him. Forming the electricity into a ball, he threw it back, stepping into the room angrily as the ball hit the shelves just behind the startled Stormy and tore them to pieces, scattering splinters, shards, and scraps everywhere. She only winced slightly at the shower of debris, immediately charging him with her sword drawn, shrieking in fury as energy sparked around her entire frame.

He stepped aside at the last moment, grabbed the lightning-shaped blade in his hands, and used the force of her own inertia to flip her onto her back. Before he could land a punch in her gut to immobilize her, she showed a stunning display of physical flexibility by managing to land a hard kick right in his face, getting his left eye.

Roaring in anger, he grabbed her by the throat, lifted her up over his head, and flung her into another set of shelves. As she crashed into it and then to the floor, he gripped the edge of the shelves and tipped them over, causing the items on it to fall on top of her, soon followed by the heavy shelves as well.

Panting, he scowled and put a hand over his injured eye. "You ungrateful little bitch," he spat, stepping on the shelves and pushing down with a fair amount of weight. "After all I've done for you—why?!"

Her answer was a deep sob.

He watched her weep for a few minutes, unable to decide if he should keep being angry at her or just be flat-out confused at her actions. Rubbing his chin with his hand thoughtfully, he felt the basis of an idea start to take hold in his mind. "Hmm… I came to you to see what enchanted items I had that I could use against Ravenwaves, but to your credit you've given me the answer I needed with your disobedient ways." Removing his foot from the shelves, he turned and left again, adding over his shoulder, "I'm not through with you yet, Slave! Now pick up that mess before I return!"

Smiling as he headed down the hallway, he chuckled to himself. "Ravenwaves, my dear little daughter—what you need is a man to beat you into submission, and I know just the mutant to do it!" Lacing his fingers together in front of his face to crack his knuckles, he added, "I know you're not as stupid as your mother was, though, so just to be on the safe side I better have a back up plan to deal with you. A certain Galra prince would probably be just the ticket—and thanks to Stormy, I even know how to control him!

"After all, he was obsessively attracted to blonds, and there's just such a blond taking up space inside the Cats' Lair."

"It's her, it's her!"

"The one who reads our books to us!"

"Read to us, young miss! Read to us! It has been so long!"

The little purple Under-Earthmen swarmed around Wily Kit, surrounding her with cries of delight and pleas to read to them. She hushed them, waiting for them to calm down before attempting to talk to them. She glanced at her brother, somewhat amused he just crossed his arms and leaned against a wall, somehow unnoticed by the small people with eyes too light-sensitive to read their precious books anymore. As soon as she got a moment of silence, she told them, "I can read to you for a bit, but my brother and I have actually come here with a request."

"What kind of request?" the tallest of the men asked, looking up at her curiously.

"We're looking for some people—friends of a friend—and the tracker we're using indicates one of them is probably nearby. However, every time we think we've found this person, there's no indication of anyone… but the deeper we go underground, the stronger the signal gets."

The Under-Earthmen listened intently to what she said, immediately turning to each other and muttering together. As she didn't sense any hostility from them—and their brand of hostility tended to come with electrical shocks—she stood there patiently, trying to listen to their soft and quickly-spoken words. Finally, one of them turned to her and asked, "Are there any traits to this person that might differentiate him or her from anyone else?"

"Very long-lived and slow-aging," she immediately replied. "These people are millennia old at the least, though they look like they're only in their early twenties."

"They also tend to favor monochromatic clothing," Wily Kat added, "generally matching with their unusual hair-colors—green, blue, violet—"

"Red!" one of the other small men gasped.

"Maybe, we haven't found any of them with red hair yet—"

The little man shook his head emphatically. "No, no—Red! He lives with the largest of our tribes, deep beneath the surface of Third Earth! He came down with our ancestors when they were hunted for their books, but he's never died, looks as old as you described, and unlike us his eyes never changed. He can still bear the light, and he reads to his tribe!"

"He often mentions family," one of the others chimed in, "but he speaks about them as if they are missing or dead. If you are here on behalf of one of his old friends, that would please him considerably! He is a very unhappy man."

"Torn from his own home ages ago," someone else added. "Much as our ancestors were torn from theirs."

"Can you bring him to us?" Kit asked, unable to believe the lucky streak her and her brother had stumbled across.

She was disappointed, but only for a few moments. "Red will not leave the depths of the caves," a fourth Under-Earthman informed her. "He was a miner in his home as he is now, and he is comfortable underground. We can bring you to him, though, if you do not fear a week below the surface."

"A week?" Kat asked, shocked. "Is this tribe you mention really that far away?"

"Distance wise, they are only a few hundred feet below us. However, the cave systems are meandering and long; the path to them is what takes so much time. Three days to reach them, a day to rest, and three days to return. Is it too much for you?"

"No," Kit told them firmly before her brother could answer. "We can make it, and if you don't mind bringing some of your books, I can read to you along the way. All I ask before we leave is my brother and I be allowed to contact our friends so they know where we are."

"That can certainly be done. We constantly trade books with them other tribes so we always have new things to read. Go, contact your friends, then we will take you to Red."

Rataro arrived at Castle Plun-Darr. Nothing could have been worse.

Slythe hated the back-stabbing rat; very little irked him more than to be reminded of his low-ranking start, especially if his many achievements of clawing his way up the ranks were overlooked. I, at least, come from a prodigiously stubborn family, the reptilian thought angrily, barely holding back a snarl of contempt as Rataro landed the Rat Star in front of the castle. This loser comes from a family of high-ranking losers. First Ratilla fails to get his hands on the Treasure of Thundera, then loses the Sword of Plun-Darr, and now this nitwit can't even get his hands on the Sword of Omens. I've at least managed to nab the damn thing a couple of times; he hasn't managed it even once! All he'd succeeded in so far is kidnapping snarfs!

Duchess Ravenwaves, no doubt informed by the slaves, appeared at Slythe's elbow, her expression carefully closed. "So who's this joker?" she asked casually, glancing around at the four commanders.

"The 'mighty' Rataro," Slythe hissed, crossing his arms angrily. "He takes over for a couple of days, then proceeds to disappear for months at a time licking his wounds after he gets his ass kicked! I might get my ass kicked, but all I need is a couple of hours, then I can get up and start planning for the next attempt! By Plun-Darr, I hate his guts!"

"Mm… what about the rest of you?"

Monkian and Jackalman glanced at each other, looked at Slythe, turned their gazes briefly to Rataro as he walked across the moat bridge with a firm step, and gave their attention to the duchess. "I wouldn't mind him so much if he did what he said he was going to do," the jackal complained. "He seems more full of hot air than anything else."

"He can get his own hands dirty," Monkian added, "but he's more likely to just order someone else to do it for him. You know, like a woman."

She raised an eyebrow, but didn't seem to mind the comment. "Indeed. Vulture-Man?"

The vulture looked morose. "I screwed up," he admitted reluctantly. "I thought he would bring about a new golden age for mutant-kind here on Third Earth, but as Slythe implied, he can't handle defeat. I'd thought someone who'd never lost would be an asset, not a hindrance."

"Someone who's never lost doesn't know how to handle defeat," she told him. "It's an easy mistake to make, though, to assume someone who always wins will continue to do so. Don't be too hard on yourself. Now, I guess the next question is: why is he here?"

"Well, I didn't call him. After watching him humiliate himself by kowtowing to Mumm-Ra and getting his ass kicked by lowly Tuskas, I'm far more inclined to punch him in the face."

"Keep it down, he's almost here," Slythe interrupted. "I don't want to be thrown about by the Rats' Eyes again."

Rataro stopped a few feet from the quintet, glaring individually at each mutant before his gaze landed on Ravenwaves. "So," he finally stated, stepping over and studying the duchess from head to toe as he circled around her, "you are the female Mumm-Ra told me about. The two-bit hussy."

"Spoke nicely of me, did he?" she queried blandly. "Who'd've thunk."

Slythe's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Why did he tell you about her?" His lip twitched with disgust at Rataro's glare. "Sir," the reptilian reluctantly added.

"He seems to be of the opinion a proper commander is needed around here," was the rat's commanding response, "and a real man is needed to bring this disobeying bitch to heel." He pulled one of his whiskers with a sly grin. "I'm here to wed her and make a decent woman of her."

Ravenwaves snapped her head around to glare at him. "My father does not dictate what I do with my life!"

Rataro chucked for all of two seconds, then immediately backhanded her so hard she fell to the ground, stunned. "I allowed you one slip-up. From this point on, you will not speak to your future husband in such a fashion, woman. Now, make yourself useful and go supervise our betrothal feast."

"Give me a moment to collect myself, Sir," she murmured submissively, slowly picking herself up from the ground, head bowed so her face was hidden beneath her midnight waves of hair. "Then I shall do as you order." A hint of white-hot fury touched her tone of voice, sending a shiver of concern down the spines of the four commanders.

Somehow, Rataro missed the anger; either that, or he completely ignored it as inconsequential. Turning to the mutant commanders, who'd all tensed up at his statement, he firmly told them, "If I find any of you laying a hand on my woman from this moment on, I will personally rip you limb from limb with the Rats' Eyes." Confidently, he turned his back on them and walked straight into the castle hall. "Now, I have work to do. Do not bother me until it is time to feast."

As soon as he was out of range, Slythe snapped, "I haven't had a woman in years, and that ignoramus has the gall to take the only one here for himself?! That rotten piece of shit!"

"Who the hell raised him?" Monkian snarled, crossing his arms with a scowl. "A barbarian? Any civilized mutant knows you don't hit a woman unless you have her consent."

The reptilian blinked in surprise when he realized Jackalman was hiding behind him. "What is it now, coward?" The jackal pointed to Ravenwaves, his finger shaking in fear.

She wore what appeared to be a pleasantly bored façade, but her eyes burned with livid ferocity. "So… Father sent him," she whispered, acting as if she were unaware of the others still standing nearby. "Future husband, is he?" She turned those dangerous eyes to the commanders. "How necessary is this Rataro to operations here?"

"Not very," Vulture-Man answered, the only one who wasn't cowed by her anger. "As Slythe said, he's generally only here for a few days at a time."

Her lips slowly pulled back into a frightening smile. "Then… I do believe… I need to prepare a feast." Turning, she strode leisurely towards the kitchens. "Do ask my 'lord' Rataro if he wishes me to sit beside him during the meal. I wouldn't want to embarrass him by arriving at his summons covered in flour."

"Why do I get the impression ticking her off was a bad idea on Rataro's part?" Jackalman asked no one in particular as they watched her disappear down a hallway. "She is Mumm-Ra's daughter, after all, and he isn't exactly known for having a tolerable temper."

All mutants were required to be at the feast, whether they wanted to be or not. Many of them were unable to hide their bitterness once they'd been told what the situation was. Much as Slythe had implied, many of them had been without a willing female for far too long to easily swallow the claim Rataro was taking the duchess for his own.

As he moved towards the head table, Vulture-Man had to quell numerous potential rebellions, usually with the phrase, "Don't do anything hasty; the duchess has an ace up her sleeve." In reality, he had absolutely no idea if she did or not; he hadn't seen her since she'd left for the kitchens, but something about her attitude had told him she wasn't going to stand for this situation. At the end of the day, he knew better than to underestimate a master manipulator.

He sat down beside Slythe, noting the severe dislike at having to sit so close to Rataro. "I noticed you calming the lower ranks," the reptilian hissed quietly, glancing at the rat to make sure he couldn't overhear. "Why?"

"If they attack, Rataro will simply use the Rats' Eyes on them and potentially kill them," the vulture whispered back. "We can't afford to lose any more men than we already have. Besides, you saw the look on Ravenwaves' face; let's see what she does to handle this situation before we attempt another assassination of Rataro ourselves."

"If she succeeds at stopping him, I'll kiss her blasted feet."

Almost as if she heard them, the duchess entered the room, a string of food-laden slaves following in her wake. Bowing low before Rataro, she submissively said, "I offer the best of my efforts, Sir. I hope you do not mind sharing the results with all present to ease your mind of any potential poisoning." She lifted her face to present a meek—and painfully false—smile. "The last slave to attempt poison was killed and left as an example in the hall, but I'm sure you understand there might be another."

He smirked back at her, waving a hand carelessly in her direction. "Yes. That's perfectly acceptable. Now, come show these cretins who owns you, and sit beside him during this feast."

She bowed her head briefly before obediently doing as she was told. The mutants she passed by muttered, but upon glancing at her frozen expression—her eyes still burned in deep anger—they settled immediately and watched quietly. Everyone began to pay close attention to her, somehow knowing something was going to happen, though none of them knew what.

Even Rataro was suspicious, his gaze never leaving her demure figure. As the thin chowder was served by the slaves, he watched her closely. "Forgive my old habits," he said suddenly, grabbing her wrist before she could taste her own bowl of broth, "but I suddenly have the urge to make sure the dishes holding the food are safe. You will eat form them before I do."

"But of course, Sir," she replied humbly. "I would expect nothing less." As ordered, she tasted his food before he did with his spoon, making a show of scraping it against the side of the bowl before bringing it to her mouth. She did the same with the mulled wine, making sure her lips were pressed firmly against the metal rim of the goblet.

He watched her carefully for the next few minutes, eyes sharp for any change in her demeanor or a secretive slip of antidote into her mouth or veins. When he spotted none, finally satisfied, he turned to his meal and proceeded to eat. When he tried the wine, he scowled. "You must have a mouth of leather, woman," he told her irritably. "Slaves! Bring cold water to cool this beverage!"

She didn't even bat an eyelid at his jab, practically disregarding him as she delicately ate her soup and sipped genteelly at her own wine. In fact, she didn't bother looking at him again for several minutes as everyone silently ate, deliberately ignoring him when he suddenly started to choke, gasped in shock, and fell face forward onto the table, convulsing strangely.

She patiently finished chewing on a slice of bread before requesting, "Slythe, do be a dear: shove his head into his bowl and hold it there. It seems the poison isn't quite enough, and it'll amuse me to know he drowned in his own soup."

With a vicious grin, Slythe did as she advised without a moment's hesitation. Rataro jerked under the forced circumstances, though it was hard to tell if it was because he was still alive or if his body was just going through its last spasms. "How'd you poison him?" the reptile asked, clearly amused—nor was he the only one, as all the other mutants were sighing in relief. "You ate everything that was served to him."

She turned to look at him, a satisfied smile on her face. "Not everything. I deliberately told the slaves to make sure his mulled wine was especially hot—took all my acting skills to pretend it didn't burn my mouth something awful—and, as I'd hoped, he called for water to cool it." Her grin widened. "The water was poisoned, and it never crossed his mind to test that."

"You are a dangerous woman," he mused appreciatively. "I pity the idiots that get on your bad side."

She giggled. "Oh, I don't know about that. By the way, you will help me 'reward' the slave that did as I requested, won't you? I assured it freedom. I'm sure you understand the need to expedite my promise."

He grinned back. "Oh, but of course."

She glanced down at Rataro's prone figure. "Vulture-Man, I don't suppose you can tell us whether or not our friend here is dead yet?"

Impressed at her quick solution to prevent being controlled by Mumm-Ra—why else would he have sent a "husband" to her?—the vulture complied with her suggestion, checking for pulse, heartbeat, and breathing. "He's quite dead," he announced, taking his seat again.

The rest of the mutants lifted their goblets and cheered.

Slythe removed his hand from Rataro's head just as the door crashed open and Mumm-Ra entered the room, apparently quite pleased with himself. "Ravenwaves," the ancient sorcerer stated, striding forward triumphantly, "I do hope you're pleased with the special arrangement I made just for you, to hopefully turn you into a real lady like your mother."

Her smile instantly turned sweet and innocent. "Oh, but of course, Father, I—why do you have a shiner?" The question came out sharp.

He cleared his throat, ignored her query, and brazenly continued. "Now, as I'm sure your future husband has told you by now, you are to—" He stopped midsentence to stare with some slight concern at the corpse in the middle of the table. "What on Third Earth—why is he face down in his soup?"

Ravenwaves eyes became enormous with feigned surprise. "Is he?" She looked at Rataro and placed a hand against her chest. "Goodness! Rataro must have collapsed! Did anyone see what happened?"

A disjointed chorus of, "No," answered her question.

She grabbed one of his ears with her pointer and thumb, making a point of studying his face carefully as she lifted his head from the bowl. "How strange—he appears to have drowned." Letting go of the ear, a vicious smile briefly crossed her face as she watched the chowder splatter everywhere. "Oh, well. C'est la vie."

"What a shame," Slythe clearly couldn't resist adding, "and I was starting to like him. I'll just take these two daggers here," he removed Rataro's belt and smiled at the Rats' Eye daggers now in his possession, "as a memento of my dear friend. Slaves, remove the corpse for a funeral worthy of a mutant general: we chuck it into the moat at sundown."

The mutants cheered again, this time joined by a surprising number of slaves.

Mumm-Ra slowly crossed his arms, his piercing gaze never leaving his daughter's placid expression. "On the one hand, I am extremely irritated with you, you ungrateful brat," he stated. "On the other hand, I'm impressed I underestimated you so drastically."

"I inherited my mother's looks," she replied calmly, "not her brains."

"If you think you've won, you can guess again. I had a backup plan just in case you pulled off something like this."

"Ooh, I'm worth a backup plan!"

"Indeed. Clearly I need to pull out all the stops when it comes to you. How you got these mutants so firmly under your thumb—"

She interrupted him with a giggle. "Excuse me? I have them under my thumb?" She turned to the four commanders, pouting slightly. "Could you elaborate on that for me? I must be misunderstanding him."

"She makes sure the castle is clean and the food is good," Jackalman mused, scratching his head, "giving us less things to think about."

"She keeps the slaves controlled, leaving us more free time," Monkian added.

"And most importantly of all," Slythe finished, "she doesn't interfere where she's not wanted! This woman isn't controlling us, Mumm-Ra, it's we that are controlling her! She does what we need her to do so we can concentrate on what we need to do!"

Ravenwaves merely smiled, turning back to her father triumphantly.

Vulture-Man laughed at the crowd of mutants immediately leaping to the defense of the duchess, unable to hold back the grin he knew graced his features. She truly is a master manipulator, he marveled. She knew exactly how to make herself invaluable to all of the idiots here so they would do anything to defend her—and, no doubt, do anything she requests as compensation. The fools are so turned around they don't even realize how easy they make it for her to pull their strings!

Mumm-Ra must've seen the same thing Vulture-Man did, but he kept his peace for his own reasons. "If that is how you choose to play the game," he chuckled, "then so be it." Pointing at her, his face firm with conviction, he continued, "You have not escaped my control yet, Ravenwaves. In three days time, I expect you at my Pyramid." He moved his arm so he gestured at the four commanders. "You four as well. It is long past the time I instilled a new leader of your forces."

Notes:

1. I find it interesting the origin story of Lady Lovely Locks was NOT in the TV show; a book was released (full title "Lady Lovely Locks and the Pixietails An Enchanting Fairy Tale Adventure") that detailed how she became the princess of her kingdom. To make a long story short (because finding the book is hard and it's typically expensive nowadays), Ravenwaves' mother unleased a tornado in the castle of the king and queen not long after Lovely Locks was born, and everyone was "swept away and never heard from again"… including Ravenwaves' mother, who miscalculated her spell. Hence why I consider her an idiot.

2. Does Rataro count as a main character death? If he does, please let me know. I actually rather like him, but as he's superfluous to the story I'm creating, I had to make sure he's completely out of the way. You'll see. :3