The mighty King of Doom sat high atop his usual perch in the Great Hall, eyes closed, thoughtfully strumming his fingers on the arm of his overly embellished throne. In recent days, this is where he would often be, alone, thinking. From this throne, he had built a kingdom, the great Empire of Doom. So many years gone by, so many lives sacrificed in pursuit of its glory (including that of his very own wife), but it had all been necessary, essential to the Great Plan. The Doom Empire was a personal heaven in which he was the self-ordained god, supreme ruler in not only his own mind, but that of millions. A living, breathing deity of the highest proportions.
But King Zarkon was no fool. As much as he wanted to believe that he would live on forever, he knew that his body was failing him, and soon, he would come to pass on what he’d built to another. Better to groom an heir in his stead than let his empire dissolve. At least then his name and legacy would live on throughout the vast expanse of space, continuing to strike fear into the hearts of countless planets and their miserable peoples in spite of his physical absence. But the great king had been suffering long in toil over the subject of his successor.
For many years, Zarkon believed that it would be his only son who would rule in his name someday. Lotor, his only son. His beloved, nitwit, piece of shit son who couldn’t conquer his way out of a paper bag these days. Zarkon rarely included Lotor in any official Doom business as of late for the reason that his imbecile son ruined everything he got his hands, and Zarkon couldn’t afford to jeopardize his next plan. It was one of ultimate importance to the capture of Planet Arus, as well as the entire future of the Doom Empire.
Zarkon clenched his massive jaw in frustration. Lotor’s defeats continued to mount daily, tarnishing the already questionable reputation of the Doom empire and costing the loss of countless planets.
The great king sat back and opened his yellow, piercing eyes. Exuding a deep growl from the back of his throat, he reached for his usual glass of Drule wine and took a full mouthful of the bitter, dry liquid. The King let his mind wander aimlessly. ‘Princess Allura. One woman has prevented the take over of the entire Galaxy. My son is a fool to be blinded by a pretty face.’
At one time, Zarkon had desired to take the Princess of Arus for his own. That is, until Lotor re-appeared and spoke of his “undying love” for her. Zarkon conceded to let him have her as a gift for destroying Arus, but he had yet to do just that.
Zarkon sighed and greedily licked the corners of his mouth.
The old King no longer had a personal interest in having the Princess for himself, but he had no intention of serving her to Lotor on a silver platter either. No; she stood to fulfill a greater purpose in his plan.
Zarkon chuckled aloud. “Lotor, the fair Princess is too good for you…as is your position of Commander of my armies, for that matter.” Zarkon considered his next thought for a few moments. ‘It’s time to bring in a replacement…and I have just the man for the job.’
Zarkon flipped a switch on his faithful, golden staff and spoke loudly. “Witch! I need you.”
A haggard, distant voice responded, “Anything for you, Sire.”
“Haggar! Not a word to Lotor. I just want you right now.”
There was a slight pause from the other end. “Why, Sire! It’s been ages since you’ve spoken that way to me! I’m flattered.”
“Just get in here, you old toad!”
Zarkon’s stomach twisted slightly. He often tried to forget that he had once shared a bed with the very same woman who now sickened him at first glance. But times were different back then. She had been a young, beautiful, powerful witch. Now…she was just a powerful witch. Haggar would never again be the same desirable woman he had once thought of making his queen, but out of necessity, habit, or perhaps a sort of twisted affection, he kept her around. She was incredibly useful, and he knew that she would never leave his side. So he would use her, just as he used all the others he touched.
It was not really in Zarkon’s nature to give thoughts of this kind more than a second’s attention, so he pushed them aside to focus on the issue at hand.
It had only been a minute or so since he had summoned her when the giant doors to the royal chamber slid open, revealing a brown, cloaked figure with blue cat in tow.
Haggar slowly approached the foot of the giant staircase that led directly up to the imposing throne. She could already sense that something was about to unfold. After all, she had known Zarkon long enough to sense when he was dreaming up some ill-advised scheme. Also, her crystal ball had warned her of an unstable element in the Universe. Although she could rarely foretell the future, she could usually anticipate major events of a sort, and she could definitely sense that something big was coming. What exactly, she wasn’t sure, but it was evil and dark, and it made her black heart jump with excitement.
“Sire, you needed something?”
Zarkon offered a smile to his old friend, one seeming almost friendly and cheerful rather than wicked. “Haggar, my favorite, ugly witch. I have a serious question to ask of you.” He eased himself up from his chair and continued to speak, carefully descending the steep staircase that led to the main floor. “Why is it that we consistently lose to the Voltron Force?”
Haggar was a bit surprised by the King’s unusually good mood, but she didn’t exactly feel like favoring him with a ridiculously obvious answer to an old question. “Don’t be coy, Zarkon. If you have something important to say, then say it. If not, I have other things to do.”
On any other given day, Zarkon would have unleashed his fury at her insolent behavior…but not today. This was to be the first day of the new and more powerful, Doom Empire. “Would it kill you to humor an old King?”
Haggar’s impatience grew, but she thought it best to bite her tongue and not sour the King’s apparent good mood. “Fine, Zarkon. We lose to the Voltron Force because we don’t have enough lazon.”
“No, keep guessing.”
Haggar thought for a moment. “Lotor?”
As Zarkon reached the bottom of the staircase, he broke into a hearty laughter. “True, but not really what I’m getting at. One more try.”
With Zarkon in rare form, Haggar’s annoyance was starting to turn to amusement. “Well, Sire…the obvious answer would be Voltron, so I’m going to say…Allura’s castle mice?”
The jest had not left her mouth when she found herself wanting it back. Zarkon’s good disposition suddenly changed for a more familiar, serious one.
This particular look had always made Haggar nervous. It was when he became like this, she could sense the pure evil that surrounded him. A witch who dealt with the dark magic always had a third eye for the evil in others, and Zarkon was no exception. She could almost choke on the scent of dark spirits that perpetually encircled him, gnawing at his soul.
As he drew near, her increasing unease forced a stumbled, backward step. “Sire, my apologies…I was only making a joke. Of course, we lose because of that damned robot, Voltron."
Zarkon stopped suddenly, a cool, even smile spreading softly across his face as he looked thoughtfully down upon her. “Yes, my dear witch, but a ship is only as good as the pilot who flies it.”
With that, Zarkon turned to face the large, wall-size monitor at the opposite end of the room. His voice echoed loudly through the cold, empty hall. “Computer, access Confidential Galaxy Garrison Personal Officer Profile #52B305.”
At hearing this, Haggar couldn’t help but be a little impressed. Galaxy Garrison terminals were nearly impossible to crack and from what she had last heard, they were so heavily encrypted that it would take years to obtain any classified information. “Classified? How ever did you manage that?”
Zarkon kept his gaze forward, waiting for the computer to display the file on the screen. “It might surprise you Haggar, but while you and my joke of a son have been busying yourselves with your childish escapades, I’ve been working.” His tone remained steady, “Now, be quiet before I lose my patience with you.”
Haggar studied the screen in front of her.
Name, Rank, Security Clearance Number, Personal History, Psychological Profile…
The statistics went on and on, but Haggar didn’t bother with the information; she was more intent on the picture of the profile’s subject. The face was painfully familiar. Dark hair, eyes, and uniform. He was young and handsome to be certain, and yet inexplicably unnerving.
Haggar studied him carefully. A face that was seemingly expressionless, almost unreadable in nature. But still, his eyes seemed to penetrate the lens of the camera somehow, almost appearing to be looking right at her…perhaps mocking her. It was as if they wanted to remind her of how much better he was at playing the game than she. They were the eyes of an enemy…a dangerous enemy. She bit her bottom lip and drew in a curt breath.
“What’s the matter, Haggar? Afraid of a little space explorer?”
Embarrassed that Zarkon had noticed her reaction, Haggar quickly regained her composure.
The old king smiled. “That’s all right, witch. In fact, you’ve just made a good argument in favor of my plan.”
Haggar turned to her King. “So, you have a confidential file on our good friend, Commander Keith. What of it?”
Zarkon all but ignored the direct question, his gaze still fixated on the screen. “We’ve been defeated by the Voltron Force for seemingly many reasons, Haggar, but the entire time, the answer was right here in front of us…why we can never get past Voltron.” There was a brief pause. “It isn’t because of the robot. It is because of its commander.”
Haggar pondered the comment for a moment. Certainly, it was true that the Commander had been a gigantic thorn in their side, along with the rest of the meddling Voltron Force, but this really wasn’t breaking news. Battle after battle, they had tried and failed to destroy the Black Lion, the heart of Voltron. Even Lotor had taken a personal interest in trying to remove the Captain, only to fail repeatedly. Haggar didn’t really see why this was somehow a new revelation for Zarkon.
As if he sensed her impending question, he continued, “Haggar, have you ever heard of the expression, ‘If you can’t beat ‘em, join them.’? Well…how about, ‘If you can’t beat ‘em, have them join you?’ ”
Haggar was speechless. Maybe Zarkon had finally lost his mind completely. Too many lost battles and too much Drule wine, and he had finally lost touch with reality. “What are you planning, Zarkon?”
His expression was now more thoughtful than angry. “Witch, I believe that the little orphan Commander would make a nice addition to our little happy family, don’t you?”
Haggar could no longer conceal the dread that was now evident in her voice. “My King, have you gone completely mad!? Please tell me that this is some sort of joke!”
The King dropped his head, almost as if in regret. “Haggar, I grow tired of my son and his continuing failures that bring me nothing but shame. I need someone who I can be proud of; someone who I can mold into the conqueror and leader that Lotor will never become.”
“But the Voltron Commander? The little star of the Galaxy Garrison? I question your choice in a protégé, my King.” Haggar was slightly hesitant to voice her next thought, but the situation was turning desperate. “Besides Zarkon, he’s in love with his Princess. I’ve seen it in my crystal ball. He would never betray her,” she added, almost in whisper.
Zarkon smiled. “But that’s exactly what I’m counting on, old witch. Would a man rather turn his back on his own personal morals and beliefs…or on the woman he loves.”
She remained silent, waiting for him to elaborate, but he didn’t. He simply rubbed his chin thoughtfully and continued. “And there are other issues I’ve considered.”
He began reading from the overhead screen. “Two Garrison parents, listed MIA 17 years ago…no explanation.” Zarkon noted Haggar’s skeptical reaction. “If you take a moment to read the profile, you might start to see where I’m coming from. And we both know that Garrison has been less than helpful in sending backup for the Voltron Force when requests have been made for it from Castle Control headquarters. Almost makes one wonder if maybe our Captain’s loyalties wear a little thin in the authority department.” Zarkon then grew silent and refocused his gaze to the image on the screen.
“Sire…I don’t know exactly what you’re planning, but you’re wasting your time.”
“We’ll see Haggar. Fetch me a messenger spy. I need to send a personal message to the Castle of Lions. Discretion is of the utmost importance; I want our Captain’s attention, but not that of his friends’ OR Lotor’s. Understand?”
Haggar nodded reluctantly and headed out to do his bidding. As the giant doors closed behind her, a lump came up from deep within her gut. In all the years she had known Zarkon, she had never known him to be fool-hearty. He was usually well thought, careful, and incredibly intelligent. But this plan, this ill-advised scheme might just be the first sign that he was losing his touch, or perhaps even losing his mind. If it failed, the Empire was sure to fall. A sly smile form across her ragged, old face. But then again, if it succeeded, the Universe would be theirs for the taking.