Prince Lotor watched from his command ship trembling with anger as Voltron ran his Blazing Sword through yet another one of Haggar’s monstrous robeasts. A flaring light assaulted his vision for a moment, accompanied by a low, loud thundering explosion that shook the command ship from bow to stern, causing a few glass gauges to shatter and some of the robot soldiers in the bridge to topple over on the floor.
Zarkon's son was too furious to notice.
“Haggar –“ he spat through gritted teeth, hurling his wineglass against the wall in an all-too familiar gesture. The distinct tinkle of breaking glass fell into the terrified silence that followed his action. “I am sick and tired of losing to those pesky space explorers,” he said in a low, most threatening voice, enunciating every word through gritted teeth, one hand clutching the hilt of his sword convulsively. “You said that this time we would finally defeat that menace Voltron – and I would finally win the heart of Princess Allura.”
With one swift motion, he pulled out his sword and jumped to where Haggar stood and watched the last of the remaining debris from her destroyed robeast float away into open space. She raised her staff to block the sword’s path to her throat without even sparing him a glance. “Highness, may I point out that we never would have been discovered had you not tried to capture the Princess one full hour sooner than I had instructed you to do so,” she said sarcastically. “Don’t go blaming all of this on me again when the plan would have worked out perfectly if it had not been for your rampaging libido.”
Lotor flinched at the witch’s words, but the unyielding look in his face remained there. Nonetheless, he sheathed the sword and turned his back on the crone. “Fact still remains, Haggar, that no matter how many plans you say are foolproof, the Voltron Force always manages to weasel their way out of it… maybe I should ask my father to retire you,” he snarled walking back towards his elevated seat that overlooked the entire bridge.
“It’s not my fault that you were born incompetent,” she muttered under her breath, glaring at Lotor’s back. He turned and looked her suspiciously.
“What did you say, hag?”
Haggar smiled hideously in a parody of innocence “I said that no matter how hard we try to deny it, the members of the Voltron Force are skilled warriors and are essentially to difficult for our less trained robeasts to beat,” she said.
Lotor’s features tightened in a fit of pique. “Stop making excuses for your failures, old witch! All our robeasts are chosen via tournament – they’re the strongest in the ring,” he shouted angrily. “Are you trying to tell me that those damn humanoids have more strength than the most fearsome of our warriors? Don’t make me laugh.”
“It is not a matter of strength, Your Highness, it’s a matter of brains. It is, as they say, a matter of heart,” Haggar countered with smug snort. “And I have finally found a way to use that heart to our advantage.”
Lotor had reached his throne and sat upon it heavily. One eyebrow was raised at Haggar in barely concealed skepticism. “Oh? And how do you intend to do that?”
Haggar cackled. “By pitting it against them and making them face the worst enemy they can ever face.”
“Please, don’t keep me guessing – I’m dying of suspense,” Lotor snapped, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
“I’m disappointed, Prince – a mind as devious as the one you claim to have would have figured it out a long time ago,” the witch said in a sickeningly sweet tone, waving her staff in the air and conjuring an image of a dark-haired young man with serious dark eyes. “We will fight them with one of their own.”
“Captain Keith,” Lotor spat, feeling his insides clench with hate for his greatest rival. “If you can devise a plan to get rid of that arrogant upstart twit permanently and Voltron at the same time I’ll give you control over one of my planets.”
“Well then listen closely, Prince. Listen closely,”
she cackled, putting down her staff and making the image of the young Captain
disappear then picking off her Blue Cat from the floor and stroking its
head. “We have a lot of planning to do.”
The Worst Enemy -- A Soldier's Pledge