From the Past of Third Earth, Part Two:

Lost Prince, Chapter One

Mumm-Ra stared into the cauldron, tapping his fingers against his arms impatiently as he stared at a lone tent pitched a few hours outside of the Rock Men's kingdom. "One would think," he said aloud to no one in particular, "after a year those Thunderkittens would've gone insane trying to find the Color Kids. To their credit, they're doing a far more thorough job of it than I would've thought possible, though. If I keep a close eye on these two, I'll learn the locations of those brats, then I can take care of them all, Thundercats and Color Brats both, for good. I'd have gotten rid of them years ago if the cauldron was able to find them; unfortunately, their being from another dimension seems to protect them from my grasp."

He started pacing back and forth between the cauldron and his sarcophagus. He spared a moment to glance at the lid Bengali had shattered to pieces; Mumm-Ra scowled as he remembered how he'd painstakingly put it back together one piece at a time. "One of these days, white tiger," he snarled, momentarily distracted, "I am going to throttle you with Panthro's nun-chucks and hang your body on a wall."

After muttering angrily to himself as he continued to pace, he eventually ended up back next to the cauldron. "There's still at least an hour until dawn. I probably ought to find something to do in the meantime, but I honestly can't decide on anything…."

I must go to him.

The fact she was in pain herself meant nothing to her, that he cared almost naught for her mattered little; he was the only one she'd known for millennia, the only one she could waste her affections on. Ignoring the agony ripping through her frame as she got further and further from her assigned rooms, she crawled onward, determined to make it to the throne room where he would be.

I don't care that he cursed me to never leave the treasure chambers. I don't care that the curse will kill me if I continue on like this. I don't matter.

He's the only one who matters. He is all that's important.

Just as she got to the final doorway, she collapsed against the stone floor, unable to go any farther. Her sight fading out, the image of her master standing by the cauldron as he looked over his shoulder at her incredulously, she held her hand out to him imploringly. "Master," she gasped. "Please… let me… appease you…."

Everything went black.

Mumm-Ra stared at the prone figure of Stormy in bemusement as her body twitched on the stone floor. In a perverted state of mind, he studied her form for a moment: the long violet hair which covered her face even though it was pulled into a tail, breasts squashed by the weight of her torso, loincloth tossed aside by the fall, revealing her bare ass and the gold thong he forced her to wear for his amusement.

"Hmm… I should double-check the efficiency of the curse I placed upon you," he sighed, half to himself and half to her. "This is twice as far as you got the last time. Oh, Stormy, my little slave, you are such a thorn in my side… and yet I still can't bring myself to just get rid of you already. It's bothersome, really, I never had this problem with any other woman I took as my own." He grinned lecherously. "Then again, no other woman has stayed as young and obedient as you."

He turned away from her, returning his attention to the tent the Thunderkittens were sleeping in, waving a hand carelessly in her direction as if she were still conscious. "I'll return you to your chambers after I've determined whether or not the Thunder-brats will find any of their quarry today. I have a few bones to pick with you concerning MoonGlo's escape anyway, you little bitch." A brief flash of movement caught his attention from the pool, but no matter how he moved the view in the water, he didn't see what caused it. "Hmm… that keeps happening around those two lately. I wonder if they're being followed—but who would be following them? Surely not Slythe?"

He waved his hands over the cauldron, intoning a chant which would change the image from Thunderkittens to Castle Plun-Darr. "What the—what is that idiot doing?!" He clapped a hand over his eyes in exasperation, dragging the palm down across his face as if doing so would wipe away his frustration. "Why in the name of all the Ancients is Slythe wasting time digging an enormous hole next to the castle? What do I have to do to keep that idiot under control?!" Crossing his arms, he contemplated various ways he could bring the mutants to heel again. "Rataro isn't as useful as I would like, and there's no one else currently running around Third Earth I can use. Wait… weren't the ancestors of the mutants called Galra?" He glanced over his shoulder at one of the many passages leading deeper into the pyramid. "I do have that prince… he's certainly intelligent and powerful enough to easy bring the mutants to heel… although…."

He sighed in resignation, changing the vision back to the Thunderkittens. "Mm… whatever. I'll think on it later."

Slythe glared up at the lightening sky; though he should have been angry since the brilliance of the moon and stars meant MoonGlo was still using her magic, he was instead far more irritated at himself for finding the enhanced sky striking. I've never once looked at the stars before, he thought bitterly. There was no need to. How dare that slip of a female find something within me that appreciates beauty… even if it is beauty of the night.

To try and make himself feel better, to assure himself he was still evil through and through, he was forcing the slaves to dig a pond next to Castle Plun-Darr. There was absolutely no reason for it, but he pretended to act as if there was. Any excuse to whip the slaves mercilessly eased his heavy heart as he secretly admired the atmosphere.

Growling, he forced himself to bring his gaze back down to Third Earth; the pit he'd ordered the slaves to dig had already gotten admirably deep. It was probably in part because Monkian and Jackalman were both down in the sludge with the slaves, screaming orders, threatening beatings or even death, and generally making sure the work continued fairly steadily. Even as he watched, the latter of the two took a peevish pleasure in attacking some slaves that had stalled in their digging for whatever reason.

"Mumm-Ra wasn't joking about the power of those brats," Vulture-Man cawed as he stepped up beside Slythe. "The little bitch's power to enhance the stars and moon make it harder to plan evening attacks. We'd be seen miles away."

"Indeed," Slythe agreed, only vaguely aware dawn was starting to break. "She might be one of the four most powerful, but the thought of any of the less powerful ones creating similar problems is just as unnerving—what in the name of Plun-Darr is going on down there?!" The slaves had all stopped digging and gathered at one end of the enormous ditch; Monkian and Jackalman were in the center of it, but for whatever reason weren't paying a single heed to the crowd surrounding them. "Come on, Vulture-Man, let's see what those idiots are doing."

Sliding down the muddy edge of the hole, the vulture and reptilian forced their way through the crowd, beating, kicking, and punching to do so. As they neared the center, they both slowed down, just as startled at the unexpected discovery as both Jackalman and Monkian had no doubt been.

"What in blazes is this?" Vulture-Man asked curiously, falling to his knees beside the object. "A funeral casket?" He wiped the mud off of the cut-crystal top, peering into it and trying to comprehend what he was seeing. "Alright, who murdered a woman and then went through the trouble of burying the corpse beside the castle? You could've just thrown the body in the moat."

"That's what I thought at first," Monkian stated, "but she was found nearly twenty feet below the surface. We would've noticed a hole that deep being dug out."

"I thought we might've stumbled across some ancient burial ground," Jackalman added, "but she looks… well, like she's still pretty fresh."

Slythe studied the casket in his own manner as Vulture-Man proceeded to crawl on all fours to examine every inch of it with the various instruments he pulled out of his pockets. "If she was buried twenty feet below the surface," he thought aloud, "then the weight of the earth piled upon her should've crushed that crystal."

"Not necessarily, Slythe," Vulture-Man said, finally getting back to his feet and holding out a detection device to the reptilian. "Look at the readings on this: there's powerful magic surrounding her. Inside the coffin is a spell that just reeks of goodness, but the outside is encased in magic so similar to Mumm-Ra's I wouldn't be at all surprised if this was his handiwork."

"So, she's good?" Monkian frowned.

"I didn't say that," Vulture-Man sighed, probably more patiently than he normally would have. "I said the magic inside was good. She could be a good person, but she could just as easily be evil."

"I think she'd kind of pretty," Jackalman blurted out. Several of the slaves nodded in agreement. "Especially all that long, midnight-black hair. Can we keep her, Slythe?"

"I'm not having magic spells taken into Castle Plun-Darr without first determining what they are!" the reptilian snapped. "If you want her, then you better convince Vulture-Man to get those spells off her." He tilted his head slightly to the side. "Though I have to admit… clean the mud off the casket and she'd certainly make an impressive decoration for the front hall."

Jackalman looked pleadingly at the vulture. "Please, Vulture-Man? Please?"

Vulture-Man just rolled his eyes. "Fine, whatever." Taping a series of buttons on the detection device, he muttered to himself as he continued to examine the casket, mutants and slaves watching him curiously. "Mumm-Ra's spells tend to have a very obvious weak point… looks like it pertains to the casket only… I'm having a difficult time reading the second spell… maybe if I look at it from the inside-out…. Oh, no wonder I'm having difficulty, the two spells merged over time…."

After seemingly spending hours on the problem—though from the moon's position it wasn't nearly as long as it felt—Vulture-Man finally ruffled his feathers and said, "Alright, I think I have this figured out. I'm still not sure yet what the spell on the inside does, but I'm positive I know how to break the outer one. Slythe, if you could hit this spot right here with your axe," he tapped the crystal dead center in the middle of the cover, "then I can figure out what to do with the 'good' spell."

"Won't that break the crystal?"

"Nope. Trust me."

Resisting the urge to come back with a snarky reply, Slythe hefted his axe off his shoulder, lifted it high over his head, and slammed the blade down onto the spot indicated, fully expecting the crystal to completely shatter.

Something shattered, but it wasn't the crystal. Sickly red light appeared around the casket, breaking into millions of sparkling pieces before disappearing or catching clothing of unaware observers on fire. The clear top of the casket remained unharmed; there wasn't even a scratch where the blade of the axe had hit it.

The vulture nodded. "Okay, that was the first one. Now, I need some slaves to gently lift the top of the casket off her. The crystal is interfering with my ability to examine the spell around her." Several slaves stepped forward eagerly to obey, lifting the crystal part of the casket off of her; all it did, however, was reveal a second cover over her, this time a simple dome of plain glass. "Well, that explains a few things. At least this is a much simpler spell, though…"

"She looks like a Warrior Maiden," Monkian said as Vulture-Man continued his examinations. "Except, well, I've never seen a Warrior Maiden dress so… frilly before."

"She's certainly dressed to the nines," Slythe mused. "If she was royalty of some kind, or maybe a powerful sorceress, it might explain why Mumm-Ra tried to hide her away."

"Probably with the intention of eventually releasing her for his own purposes," Vulture-Man added. Pulling out an awl, he held it in careful position right over the face of the woman. Cracking his neck, he gently smacked the instrument with a hammer while the others watched, wondering if anything was going to happen. Unlike the crystal, the entire glass cover smashed to pieces beneath the awl's point, though the many sparklers and miniature explosions surrounding the destruction indicated more than just glass was broken. Pulling back the awl, he, the other mutants, and all the slaves leaned forward to get a better look at the woman to see if anything else would happen.

At first it seemed as if she was just dead, but suddenly she took a deep breath. It wasn't quite a yawn, but it was certainly reminiscent of someone waking up from a long, deep sleep. Sniffing, her eyes fluttered open as she slowly sat up, nonchalantly brushing glass shards off her face and chest. She glanced around, a slightly puzzled look on her face as she stretched. "Something tells me I was in there way longer than promised," she said blandly, flipping her long dark tresses with her hands, sending glass pieces flying out all around her. "Where on Second Earth am I?"

Slythe stared at her, unable to believe what he'd heard. "S… Second Earth?" he asked, apparently the only one who wasn't completely stumped by her question. "We're on Third Earth, sweetheart."

Her head snapped around, her deep violet eyes sharp and angry. He leaned casually on his axe; he wasn't sure how he knew, but he was quite certain he wasn't the one she was angry at. "Third Earth, you say? Oh, yeah, there will be hell to pay."

"Well, since you're up, girly—" Monkian reached out and grabbed her wrist, probably intending to yank her out of the casket roughly.

Faster than anyone would've thought possible of a woman who'd been asleep for at least centuries, she snatched her arm away from him and backhanded him across the face so hard Slythe could hear the vertebrae in Monkian's neck pop in protest. "Do not treat me in such a manner, you uncouth ignoramus!" she snarled, her tone brooking no argument. Her eyes settled on Vulture-Man, and it was only a split second later she was pointing at him. "You. You look intelligent enough to know how to treat nobility. Help me out of this thing." As Vulture-Man took her hand and helped her first to stand up, then step down out of the casket, Slythe admired the way the woman slapped away any fingers attempting to feel her up. "Keep your hands to yourselves, slaves!" she snapped. "I'm not in a lenient mood!"

"Alright, sweetheart," Slythe said as she reached back into the coffin and pulled a small onyx vial out of it. "I'm officially far more interested in you now than I was five minutes ago. Who are you?"

She flipped her hair again, sending a few stray shards of glass flying into the air as she stuck the bottle into her cleavage. "I," she replied in a stately and important manner, "am Duchess Ravenwaves."

Dawn slowly broke over the tent, sunlight seeping through the break in the cloth and landing right on Wily Kat's eyes. Scrunching his face up in frustration, he rolled over and pulled the top of his sleeping bag over his head to block the light.

"Get up, Wily Kat!" his sister called out to him from outside. "I know you're awake!"

"It's warm in here," he complained, "and freezing out there."

"I don't care, you've no excuse to be lazy, and if you want breakfast, you have to come out here to get it. I'm not bringing it in there for you."

"I never asked you to make breakfast."

"And I never asked to be kept up until midnight. Get out here, or I'm going in there and dragging you out!"

Growling in frustration, he reluctantly crawled out of the sleeping bag, immediately put his winter coat on, and stepped out into the bright and sunny day. The grass was still green, but any trees visible had either already lost all their leaves, or the green foliage had faded to dusty yellows and oranges. Few enough animals were out and about that it was easy for him to notice a pair of horses grazing nearby, one deep violet with lavender mane and tail and a white lightning bolt of his forehead, the other a beautiful white stallion with rainbow mane and tail and a golden star upon his forehead.

Dismissing the creatures as just more of Third Earth's strange occupants, especially since the lavender one seemed to be breathing out smoke like a dragon, he snorted as Kit handed him a mug of coffee, sitting down on the log beside her as she scrambled eggs, veggie fruit, and dry fish together. "The stupid weather was actually nice last week," he grumbled, watching his breath puff out in front of him like fog. "I hate fall."

"Oh, get over it," his sister replied, dividing the eggs between their two travel plates. She pulled the tracker out of her coat pocket and handed it to him. "Take a look at what I saw when I got up. It's still there."

"The phantom blip or something else?" he asked, looking at the small radar screen of the tracker. He blinked, took a long drink of the coffee, then looked again. "There's two of them."

"Three, actually." She pointed to the new blip on the screen. "If you watch this real closely, you'll see it's actually two of them practically right on top of each other."

"I'll take your word for—phantom blip disappeared again." He scowled at the tracker. "I know Panthro said this thing was working perfectly fine the last time we stopped by the Lair, but by Thundera, that phantom blip has got to be a glitch! When we try to follow it, we come up empty handed, and when we try to ignore it, it follows us!"

"The other two blips have been stable, though."

He studied the radar for a moment, glanced at their surroundings, and felt his lousy mood take a nosedive. "I think we've got a problem. If my guess is correct, our two new blips are inside the Rock Men's kingdom."

She sighed. "I was hoping I might be wrong when I guessed where they were. How the hell are we going to get in there? King Tork made it pretty clear he doesn't want a single Thundercat setting foot in his domain."

He picked up their travel bags and glanced inside them, one after the other. "Well, we do need supplies, and we're legitimately heading in the direction opposite the Lair, which means going home would put us way off-course. Maybe if we beg them to let us in to buy supplies, he might allow it as long as we remove ourselves within a decent amount of time. It'll be lunchtime by the time we get there, so it's not like we'll have to pretend to be hungry."

"I wonder if they're having any better luck freeing Shining Glory at the Lair."

"Remind me how we got into this mess again?" Panthro queried no one in particular, tightening a bolt onto the machine he'd spent the last year putting together.

"Concerning this blasted machine," Bengali asked, hammering out a plate to protect wiring, "or concerning Lion-O and MoonGlo?"

"The latter."

"They're young, they're in love, they're exploring a previously unknown part of life together, they're technically incompatible species so it never occurred to any of us to teach them how to prevent pregnancy—"

"I'm fine with it," Tygra stated, soldering wires cheerfully. "The timing might be lousy, but it takes at least one big weight off my shoulders."

"It's the timing which bothers me," Panthro sighed. "All I can think of is Slythe or one of his ilk breaking into the Lair and—"

"Do not bring that up with Lion-O," Tygra ordered sternly, pulling up his safety goggles briefly to give Panthro a hard glare. "The fears of being a first-time father are bad enough, and he's already fully aware of the other dangers involved. It's difficult just convincing him he doesn't have to be at MoonGlo's side every hour of every day as it is."

"I know. Trust me, I know. My concerns don't change the fact that we're just going to have to compensate for what's coming." Sighing, Panthro sat back on his heels and critically studied the work he'd just finished. "Speaking of changes… have there been any with MoonGlo's friend?"

Tygra replaced his goggles to keep working on the wiring. "Sadly, no. Wisp is as much of a blank slate as the day we brought her here."

"'Wisp'? I thought her name was Rainbow Brite."

The tiger visibly resisted the urge to scowl. "I refuse to call her that. MoonGlo told me 'Wisp' was her name before she became their leader, and I think it's a better one."

Panthro glanced over at Bengali, who merely rolled his eyes. "If she comes to her senses, she might not care for you calling her by her old name."

"She can bring her complaints to me when she does. Until then, I'm calling her 'Wisp'."

"She still looks up when you enter the same room she's in, doesn't she?" Bengali jabbed, clearly feeling impish. "I can draw a few conclusions from—"

"And I'm going to tell you to keep them to yourself," his brother snapped. "Until we can get her mind back into the here-and-now, there is no point in speculating why she responds when she does."

"Don't start another sibling fight in front of me, Bengali," Panthro ordered before working on the machine once more, "or I'll knock both of your heads in. Tease Tygra when you're not helping me work on delicate equipment."

"Should I be grateful you stopped him or annoyed you told him to save it for later?" Tygra asked flatly.

The door opened, Snarf walking in with a tray of mugs. "Alright, the three of you have been working on that thing all night and it's almost time for breakfast! You're taking a break right now! That sorcerer is just going to have to continue being patient!"

"It's been that long?" Bengali mused, setting down his hammer and stretching. "No wonder Tygra's grouchy."

Snarf held a mug out to Tygra, but didn't let him take it right away. "Don't you dare throw it at your brother."

"I wouldn't dream of it, Snarf," the tiger replied, standing up. "I'm actually contemplating smothering him in his sleep."

"Why can't you two get along as well as Wily Kit and Wily Kat?"

"But we do get along, Snarf," Bengali said with a grin. "He threatens to kill me, I guilt-trip him into letting me live, rinse, repeat. It's fun!"

"Besides," Tygra added, "Kit and Kat are brother-sister twins. I've got more than a few years on that youngster over there, and brothers generally tend to be rougher with each other."

"How are Kit and Kat doing, anyway?" Panthro inquired. "They've been gone for over a month this time."

"Well, every time they call in, Wily Kat complains about the 'phantom blip' you supposedly fixed. Other than that, they're coming up just as empty handed as before." Snarf looked around at the mess of wires, metal plates, joints, screws, and bolts. "So… how much longer are you going to be working on this thing?"

"Hopefully not too long. The spell keeping Shining Glory sealed within the Sphere of Light is surprisingly complex. The way the situation was described, Mumm-Ra must've had the spell pre-prepared and ready to use at a moment's notice; there's no way he could've cast it on the spot."

"So in other words, Galra attack upon Second Earth or not, it was only a matter of time before he trapped Shining Glory within the Sphere."

"Seems like it. I hate wasting material like this for a single one-time objective, but I can at least take it apart and reuse everything. Just a few more tweaks here and there—"

"—which you can do later," Snarf interrupted sternly. "You're done for now, and that's an order! Dining room for breakfast, all of you, now!"

"Yes, Snarf," all three replied, pretending to be annoyed.

Duchess Ravenwaves crossed her arms, refusing to move from the table. "No," she insisted firmly. "I will not answer any of your questions until I've been fed." She leveled a glare at Slythe, her violet eyes flashing angrily at him. "I've been asleep for centuries. I am starving."

The reptilian refused to be cowed by this woman, no matter how much she made him pause for thought; no bluffs were forthcoming from this female. "After you've been fed," he growled, "then you'll tell us how you ended up in that coffin?"

"Yes."

Slythe looked at the other three mutants commanders, all of whom simply shrugged. "Fine." He turned around to shout, "Slaves! You heard her! Feed the wench!"

"Duchess," she corrected instantly.

He shrugged as he took a seat beside her. "Whatever." Raising his voice again, he shouted after the scrambling creatures, "And bring food for the rest of us while you're at it! I need a good breakfast."

The others sat down as well, Vulture-Man the only other one who didn't mind sitting directly beside the duchess. For her part, she'd closed her eyes and continued to keep her arms crossed, deliberately ignoring them all.

The reptilian leaned back in his seat to study her more thoroughly, using her apparent disinterest to his advantage. The first thing anyone would notice about her was her height; she was tall and slender, though not so helpless appearing as MoonGlo, with long tresses of deep black hanging down to her knees… or, at least, where he assumed her knees were. A long dress of violet covered her form, tight around her torso; it no doubt sucked in her waist and pushed her ample bosom up delightfully. Starting at her hips, though, was a skirt flowing out into wave upon wave of cloth trailing behind her quite impractically. Though the cut was simple, it was clearly made out of very rich silks and velvets, even trimmed with metallic blue ribbon and nonsensical swathes of delicate pink veil around her upper arms and waist.

After years of no real female companionship, she looked good enough to eat.

Finally, the slaves returned and a dish was set before her. With a slow blink she raised an eyebrow at the slop's presentation. Without saying anything, she daintily ate a single bite. Scowling, she slammed the spoon onto the table. "Let me guess," she snarled, "you men have been eating this swill without a second thought."

"Well, we've had second thoughts over the years," Jackalman replied, the only one who was happily eating the sludge.

She snorted. "Clearly a woman's touch is needed around here." Grabbing a slave by the scruff of its neck, she commanded, "Take me to where this crap was made!"

"I'm starting to like her," Slythe admitted to Vulture-Man as he watched her walk out of the room, closely following the slave.

The vulture smiled. "I agree. Let's follow her and see what she does. If she fails, we can rub her face in it, and if she succeeds, maybe we'll enjoy better meals."

Curiosity overpowering hunger, the mutants got up from their chairs again to follow after the duchess as she was led down to the kitchen; once there, she pushed aside the slave, crossed her arms and ordered, "All of you, stop what you're doing and present your dishes to me now!" The ten slaves did as they were told without hesitation, clearly understanding to disobey her was dangerous. As they lined up, she started at one end of the line, handed the slave a spoon, and commanded, "Taste it."

Confused, the creature obeyed, eating a spoonful of the food. It grimaced a little.

With her own spoon, she tasted it herself, then sighed as she shook her head. "Not very good, is it?" she asked sarcastically. As the creature shook its head, she moved on to the next slave. Each one was forced to eat the dish it was preparing, and the duchess closely observed their reactions to their cooking. Halfway down the line, however, she reached a slave that absolutely refused to eat the food. "Eat it," Duchess Ravenwaves snarled, "or else."

The creature looked her square in the eyes and shook its head.

Snatching the dish from it, she threw it against the wall. "Yeah, that's what I thought!" Grabbing the slave by its ear, she yanked it over to Vulture-Man. "Hold onto that one. We'll deal with him later for trying to poison us!"

The slave looked shocked. "What? But I—"

"Shut it! You had your chance!"

The next slave she turned to refused to eat its own dish as well, but instead of just defying her, it looked up at her beseechingly. "I… I can't…" it whispered.

"Oh?" The duchess leaned in close and held a hand up to her ear. "Do tell me why." Upon hearing the barely audible response, she stood up and took away the dish. "Really now?" Instead of throwing it aside, she instead handed it to one of the previous slaves and calmly ordered it to throw the food out. "You," she said firmly to the cowering slave who'd tampered with the dish, "are forbidden from ever cooking again. You are now the lowest rank in this kitchen. You will wash dishes, stoke the fire, take out the garbage—whatever the other slaves order you to do, you will do: you are their slave. Now, go clean something and be grateful I spared your life."

The next slave was practically dancing in delight as she handed it the spoon. It happily took a bite of the dish, eagerly holding the pot out for her; when she tasted it herself, however, she clearly gagged. "This is awful!" she shouted. "Have you no taste buds?!"

Crushed, the slave started crying. "I'm sorry," it said. "I just… I thought…."

She took the dish away, setting it aside. "Stand right here," she told the slave in a surprisingly kind voice. "I'll have a special job for you in just a moment." It stood where she indicated, silently weeping in dejection.

The last three slaves ate the dishes they held with no complaint. In fact, the last one enthusiastically ate two spoonfuls before she took her own. She raised an eyebrow at the creature, tasted the food, and told it, "It's bland."

"All the better to tell if it's been tampered with," the slave replied without missing a beat. "Most poisons have a strong flavor. If the food is bland, you know it's safe. Spice can always be added for flavor at the table."

She smiled sweetly at it. "This is true." She patted him on the head. "You, my dear, are now in charge of this kitchen. And you," she turned to the lamenting slave, "you can stop crying. You meant well, so you can be second in command. Be sure to learn well from the head of the kitchen." Facing the rest of the slaves, she crossed her arms. "That means the rest of you are to obey these two without hesitation."

She started back towards the door, stopped as if a thought had crossed her mind, and turned around again. "As a final warning to all of you: if I ever have to set foot in this kitchen again because the food is inedible…." She left the sentence hanging, slowly twisting about to smile at the slave Vulture-Man still held. "You know," she said sweetly, the dulcet tones hiding a sinister aftertaste, "that was a lovely coffin I was found in. It would make a wonderful decoration for the front hall of this castle." Her eyes slid to the side until her gaze met Slythe's. "It seems a shame to leave such a pretty casket empty, though. Don't you agree?"

Catching her drift, Slythe smiled back. "You're right, Duchess Ravenwaves. And what a coincidence—we seem to have a slave here that tried to poison us." Chuckling sinisterly as Vulture-Man and Monkian grabbed the protesting slave by its arms and hoisted them up, forcing it to hold its neck out, the reptilian lifted his axe up over his head. "He'll do quite nicely."

"You are not allowed in the kingdom," the first guard stated firmly.

"Not even to buy just a few supplies?" Wily Kit asked sweetly, holding out her empty bag to show her sincerity. "We're hours away from the Lair, and it's opposite the direction we need to go in. It would be really out of our way to go all the way back there."

The second guard made a noise in his throat which was a cross between a groan and a sigh.

"We promise not to be here too long," Wily Kat added, trying his best to sound harmless. "If you ask King Tork and he says no longer than an hour, we'll be sure to leave ten minutes early just to be sure."

The two guards looked at each other, then back at the twins, saying nothing.

She gave them her most charming smile. "I could offer blow-jobs."

Kat choked, his head snapping around to stare at her in horror. "You would what?! You can't be serious!"

She batted her eyes innocently at him. "Why not? They're bored, I'm hungry, and it was worth saying just to see your expression!"

"Fine," one of the guards said after a moment. Before Kat could cough up a protest against his sister being used for sexual gratification, however, the guard continued, "You're clearly desperate, so I will send a message to the king asking if you could be let into the kingdom long enough to purchase supplies. He might demand something in return, though, so I might as well tell you to be prepared to oblige him."

"We can do that," Kat replied with a sigh of relief.

The guard disappeared for a moment, and told them when he returned, "You will wait here until we get an answer from the king."

"Can do. So… have either of you read any good books lately?" The two guards crossed their arms and ignored him. "Okay then." Kat glanced at his sister. "Apparently they're going to give us the silent treatment until the messenger comes back, Kit." He grinned mischievously.

Her smile mirrored his. "Ooh, let's see what it takes to get a reaction out of them!"

"So, let me get this straight," Slythe thought aloud, attempting to digest what he'd been told as he paced the meeting room. It had taken far longer than he liked for the kitchen slaves to produce a meal: considering it was far better than anything they'd had for years, though, he tolerated the tardiness. Turning his attention to the intruding female, he stated, "You're from a time when this planet was called Second Earth, specifically from the realm of Tangleland."

Duchess Ravenwaves nodded from where she lounged in the armchair the slaves had dragged into the room for her. "That's right."

Jackalman snickered. "Was the founder of your realm drunk when he named it?"

She considered the question for a moment, pulling the onyx vial out of her cleavage to study it. "No, I think he was actually high on mushrooms or something."

Slythe glared at the jackal before continuing. "And you briefly joined forces with your sworn enemy to give her sorcerer the power to defeat an invading alien army."

"Well, more rival than sworn enemy at that point. My father sure as hell wasn't making himself useful; he was probably hoping the Galra scum would wipe everyone—including me—out of existence so he could take over the planet for himself."

Vulture Man rubbed his lower beak thoughtfully. "My, my, she even knows the name of our ancient empire."

She grinned, an almost insane look of joy radiating from her eyes. "They were your ancestors? Did they win? Please tell me they won. If I ever run into Shining Glory again, I'd love to rub it his face his spell failed!"

"Unfortunately, no. What really happened has been wiped from our history books and replaced with the single sentence of 'we misplaced the empire and had to start from scratch again'. It's frustrating, really. How do they expect us not to repeat the same mistakes when we don't even know what those mistakes were?"

"Do you mind?!" Slythe snapped. "I'm trying to make sense of this foolishness she's telling us!" Turning his attention back to Ravenwaves, he finished, "And from what you recall, this 'Shining Glory' used the last of his power to cast spells upon you, your rival, and her two friends to restore your energy. It was to keep you asleep for no longer than a day or two."

"Exactly."

"So he betrayed you?"

"No. Shining Glory double-crossing anyone is like the sun forgetting to rise in the morning. He's got problems, but back-stabbing isn't one of them." She shrugged. "Sorry, I'd like to know how I got in that coffin just as badly as you do. I've got suspicions, mind, but no real proof."

He crossed his arms angrily. "Well, what are we supposed to do with you, then?!"

She glanced at the floor. "You know, I honestly don't care what you do, but I can tell you right now what I'm going to do." She stuck the vial into her cleavage once more, stood up and walked to the door. Upon throwing it open, she screamed at the top of her lungs out into the hall, "I want five slaves with broom, dustpan, soap, water, and rags in here immediately!" Turning back to the surprised commanders, she smiled charmingly. "I'm sorry, this room is a mess and I really can't tolerate it anymore. You can go do your battle plans somewhere else while I supervise the cleaning, right?"

Notes:

1. Did I happen to mention I really didn't like the 2000s comics? Bengali is my all-time favorite character from the TV show. Guess WHY I don't care for the 2000s comics.

2. Duchess Ravenwaves is the villain of Lady Lovely Locks, the second-most-interesting character the show has to offer, and is officially one of the lamest villains I've personally ever seen come out of the 80s. Hopefully I managed to keep her in character whilst making her far more dangerous… and competent.