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Being summoned to the Sanctum was never something that anyone liked to have happen in the Fright Zone. Except for Scorpia. She was never afraid of Lord Hordak. Blame it on her long relationship with him and his long relationship with her family. It was no secret (to her at least) that he held the title of King’s Favorite when her granddad King Scorpio was alive. It was no secret to anyone that after King Scorpio died that the advancement of the Horde’s army became brutal and vengeful to the point that the Princess Alliance was torn to shreds and two thirds of the planet was conquered within a single decade.

Scorpia, in many ways, considered Hordak a surrogate family member. And while he was not the cuddly sentimental type, he was always welcoming when she came by the Sanctum outside of office hours. Truthfully, she was the only one who was allowed to do so. It was her habit from the time she was a teen, and every time she finished a mission as Force Captain she often delivered her reports in person while sharing a small meal.

When his personal guard found her at the docks, she smiled and gave orders to her lieutenant to continue examining the goods they secured from one of the outposts and headed towards the heart of the Fright Zone. It was somewhat unusual to be summoned away from her post. In recent years, she was head of operations along the coast, spending most of her time seeing to the protection of fishing outposts and securing shipping routes. It was a good assignment, and one she preferred.

When she arrived, Hordak was seated on his throne with Imp in his lap. The little spy perked up at the sight of her and chittered before flying down to perch on her outstretched pincher. She laughed and said, “There’s snacks in my backpack, friend.”

Hordak made a noise that sounded somewhat like a growl, but she paid him no mind. He stood and walked down the steps, holding a scroll in one hand. He said, “This arrived for you from the Kingdom of Snows. I believe it is a formal invitation for the Princess Ball.”

Scorpia’s jovial expression soured. “Oh, that. Has it been a decade already?” She laughed awkwardly as she accepted it delicately with a pincher. “I appreciate that you brought this to me, Lord Hordak. I assume you wish me to attend for purposes of intelligence?”

“Nothing intelligent could possibly come from such a place,” Hordak grumbled, though his expression indicated he meant it as a joke.

Scorpia laughed. Then she sighed and said, “Good. I don’t want to go again. I went when I was young and felt foolish. They, uh… They didn’t like me. I don’t fit in there. Never did. Granddad was right about the princesses. They don’t like people who are different.”

Hordak remembered the event somewhat. He didn’t understand it at the time and felt it was such an odd formality. But King Scorpio insisted that it was an honored tradition going back centuries, an opportunity to speak peacefully and meet with other dignitaries from around the world whom they otherwise would not. He framed it as a chance to open peace talks. This was of course back when peace seemed a viable option, before King Scorpio and the rest of the royal house was assassinated.

The result of the gathering was Scorpia returning with her mothers, the young girl feeling shunned and dismissed by the rest, having been insulted as a monster for her physical appearance. At the time, Hordak had been infuriated on her behalf. She was not some defective creature! She was an ideal specimen of her species. Then again, the entire Horde was made up of beings that did not fit in with the humans who lived among what were now considered the rebels.

“They were fools to treat you poorly, Scorpia,” Hordak said sternly. “Likely they were embarrassed they could not live up to your beauty.”

Blushing, Scorpia said, “It’s no wonder Granddad liked you so much. I won’t tell everyone you can be so charming.”

“I am not charming,” Hordak grumbled. He turned around to return to his throne and said, “Do with the invitation as you wish. You are a princess, after all. There is no harm in partaking in your legacy for an evening, if it is what you choose.”

Scorpia nodded and tucked the scroll in her pocket, and said, “Thank you, Lord Hordak.”

Hordak was working in his laboratory when he received an almost frantic message from Scorpia asking for an audience as soon as possible. He glared at the transistor he had been working on, then responded for her to come to the Sanctum. He washed his hands and put on his cloak, and as soon as he stepped into the throne room Scorpia was barreling through the door with an almost panicked look on her face.

“Has something happened, Force Captain?” Hordak asked.

Scorpia paused short of colliding with him. Her arms were full of frilly dresses that he couldn’t fathom the origins of. She blurted, “I’m going to the Princess Ball, but I don’t know what I’m supposed to wear.”

Hordak cocked his head, his ears flickering. After he seemed to have processed it, he said, “And you came to me for this?”

“Forgive me, Lord Hordak, but you are the only person who knows I’m a princess, and I know that you were close with my granddad and he was a fan of your taste in clothing,” Scorpia said.

Hordak could feel his face warming. That was not something to be discussed. He said, “King Scorpio’s opinion of my clothing has little to do with—”

“I need help, and you promised King Scorpio you would help me when the time came,” she said in a tone that was laced with desperation and had a hint of the demanding that her grandfather once held.

“And these garments are what you have to choose from?” Hordak said calmly.

Scorpia nodded and tossed them on a nearby table. “They were what was available. But it’s all so frilly. My mothers loved frilly things, apparently?”

“Frilly,” Hordak said with a frown. He held up one of them that had a distinctive lederhosen appearance and immediately set it back down. He looked at Scorpia and said, “No, I do not believe that you are the frilly sort. You are strong. Bold. Your appearance must accentuate your strength and power.”

“I don’t like the bright colors either,” Scorpia said. “It just doesn’t go with my exoskeleton.”

“Black, my dear,” Hordak said. “Black is the color meant for power and for your kingdom. Your grandfather always made his best appearance when he wore the colors of the darkest skies.”

Scorpia’s eyes did that sparkly thing they did when she heard him talk about her grandfather in a way she considered charming. Hordak chose to ignore it. Instead he said, “I will call in my personal seamstress. Wait here.”

Being a scorpioid, Scorpia was used to being fitted for clothing. Her uniforms had to be tailored for her tail and broad shoulders. Everything needed to be accessible for her lack of hands. Thus, she spent a lot of time being measured. She knew her measurements well. Still, she had never been measured by the one who handled the making of Hordak’s tabards. She was an older leonid, much larger than Catra. But her hands were deft and eyes just as sharp as she ran her tailors tape across Scorpia’s body and took measurements of her chest, bust, waist, hips, and legs.

Once finished with the measurements, the seamstress brought out a catalogue of fabric samples which Scorpia found nearly overwhelming. She chuckled as she said, “I never knew there were actual options when it came to black.”

The seamstress chuckled, a purr in her throat as she said, “These are seldom used, and I thought this would be a great opportunity to use something other than the usual fabrics. I personally think silk would be ideal for you. Would you like to feel it against your skin?”

Scorpia nodded, then her eyes brightened as it was swept across her shoulder. “Ooooh. That. That’s really. That’s really nice. Yeah. I like that one.”

“Excellent!” the seamstress said. “Now, how many weapons compartments would you like?”

Hordak held up his hand and said, “I understand from my research that weapons are considered forbidden at this function, yes?”

Scorpia nodded, but said, “Still, maybe I could use this for other missions. I mean, after all. It seems ridiculous to go through all this trouble for a single event.”

“The trouble is worth it,” Hordak said sternly. “No weapons compartments. However, I recommend red lining that matched her exoskeleton.”

“Oh, yes, my lord!” the seamstress said with a broad grin. “And I believe a belt will accent the princess’s waist magnificently. I have a collection of rubies that would be ideal.”

Hordak nodded as he studied the plans for the dress. Scorpia looked at them too and gasped at the appearance. “I love the off the shoulder look. And does the sleeve wrap around my spikes! That’s amazing!”

“You’ll be a sight to behold, my dear,” the seamstress said with a sparkle in her eye. Then to Hordak said, “Shall I get to work, my lord?”

“Yes,” Hordak said. Then he warned, “This is not to be discussed with anyone.”

She nodded. “Discretion, as always.”

Hordak couldn’t help the fond expression on his face when Scorpia appeared before him wearing the dress. She stood with a confidence that she seldom expressed. She truly looked like the royalty that she was born to be, and he felt a strong sense of pride and a slight pang of something like loss for King Scorpio that he could not see her in this way. He would have been very proud, too.

“You are a magnificent representation for the Crimson Kingdom,” Hordak said as he stood in front of her. “I have prepared a proper transport for you and your escorts rather than the usual Horde vessels.”

“Are you certain this is a good idea, Lord Hordak?” Scorpia said, her shoulders dropping. “I’m going deep into enemy territory among people who have never liked me even when I wasn’t really their enemy.”

Hordak put a hand on her shoulder spikes, and said, “You are the granddaughter of a great king. You are Princess Scorpia of the Crimson Kingdom, and that is a legacy to be proud of.”

She looked at him and said, “But everyone considers you the one who rules the Crimson Kingdom.”

“I am the Warlord of the Horde,” Hordak said sternly. “The alliance formed by your grandfather and the other lords of these lands came long before me. The armies follow me. When peace again comes, the people will follow you. I promised King Scorpio to secure your inheritance, and I do not break a promise.”

“Scorpions are loyal,” Scorpia said with a soft smile. “And so are you.”

Hordak gave her a courteous bow and said, “I am honored by your high opinion, my lady.”

Scorpia blushed and gave him the bow she’d practiced for the court.

“Excellent,” Hordak said with a nod. “You have the elegance of your grandfather. He would be very proud of you.”

“You think so?” she said wistfully. “I like to think so. I mean…”

Hordak raised a brow. “You may speak freely to me.”

She sighed. “I just… I’ve never been good at being in charge. Not like he was. Even when you gave me opportunities to lead, I always seem to fail at it. People don’t like me the way they liked him. They looked at him as someone to look up to. And then there’s you! You’re someone people respect, or at the very least fear. But not me. I’m not that person. I think people only follow my orders because they know you’ll be angry if they don’t.”

Silence filled the room for a moment while Hordak tried to find the words to address the doubts Scorpia expressed. He was never good at encouragement. Prime was not the type to give praise to those around him. Fear, yes. Terror, absolutely. Praise, never. But in the years intervening, Hordak had encountered many others to take as examples when dealing with those whom he considered worthy individuals, especially those whom he felt were his wards.

“I have many memories of your grandfather, probably far more than you, truth be told,” Hordak started. He sighed, relaxing his posture. “But I remember a man who, as you say, was well liked by all. But he also suffered the same doubts as you. He struggled with many aspects of leadership. It was why he asked me to lead his armies. It was why he gave me the title of Lord. I am respected for my actions in battle, yes, and for what the Horde has accomplished. King Scorpio was adored for his kindness, his loyalty, and his ability to understand those around him. These are not my traits, but they are yours.”

“A lot of people in the Horde do not see them as strengths, though,” Scorpia said.

“Strengths are relative,” Hordak said dismissively. “And your strength can never be denied. So, stand tall, Princess Scorpia. You have a ball to attend.”

She smiled again. “Thank you, Lord Hordak.”

As night deepened across the Fright Zone, with Scorpia gone away to the Kingdom of Snows, Hordak walked the halls, making his way to the remnants of the throne room where once King Scorpio held court. It was in shambles due to the attack that took the king’s life—an attack that Hordak never forgave himself for. Another failure on top of a list of many.

Alone there, his red eyes the only illumination, he stared at the angular visage of the last ruler of the Crimson Kingdom and thought about the last time they spoke. It was during a terrible sandstorm that ravaged the Fright Zone for many days. Lord Hordak was summoned to King Scorpio’s private chambers. Outside a massive sandstorm raged and everyone was sealed away inside the buildings with windows and doors closed. The king had a broad window that overlooked the Red City—the Fright Zone—which currently lived up to its name. Scorpio stood at this window, his long tail swaying lazily as he leaned against the thick framing. He turned his head when he heard the guards open the door.

“You requested my presence, your majesty,” Hordak said as he stood inside the door. His armor was polished, and he wore the black tabard representing his unique position among the Horde. The name of the King’s army, he decided, was a sign he was meant to be in this place. His crest was the emblem of Prime in red. It was blasphemy, Hordak was certain. Yet he wore it.

The king turned fully towards him, a bright smile on his face. “I am glad you have joined me, my friend.” He gestured towards a table full of foods, some that were specifically for Hordak, and said, “Please, let us eat together on this gloomy day.”

The way the seating was arranged, Hordak was meant to sit directly beside the king. This was not unusual. At most of the functions that the clone attended as the King’s Favorite or as one of his generals, he was often positioned at his right hand. Nor was it necessarily unusual that the king would pour him drinks or hand him delicate foods for him to try. While Hordak arrived with aminos to eat, he quickly learned that there were a variety of fruits and simple proteins he could eat without ill effects, and the king seemed to greatly enjoy providing these for him. The drinks, though, were often filled with alcohol, which Hordak greatly enjoyed. They did not have the same effect as with Etherians, instead giving him a sense of peace in his mind without the drunken effects.

“What am I here to discuss, my king?” Hordak asked after they had eaten their fill. “Is there a new development concerning the war?”

“This is not a meeting for planning or tactics, Hordak,” the king said with a lazy smile. He poured more wine, and said, “I asked you here because I wanted your company.”

Servants came to remove the food, and as King Scorpio tended to do in recent months, he gestured for Hordak to come closer and lounge against him as they talked. It was a strange situation for the clone. Not necessarily uncomfortable. Truly, it was nice to be close to someone in such a way, though Hordak was unsure how to take it. In many ways, back then, Hordak was very innocent when it came to the ways of interpersonal relationships. Before arriving on Etheria, he’d only ever experienced connection to others through the hivemind. Connection—physical connection—was a strange and new experience, and not an unpleasant one.

The things they discussed that night were many and inconsequential for the most part. The storm raged, and Hordak remembered feeling relaxed and somewhat carefree in that place and with the king. The king, however, did have one thing on his mind.

They were discussing the recent illness that had caused the deaths of several in an outlying village, and Scorpio said, “If anything were to ever happen to me, I must ask that you watch over my granddaughter, Scorpia. She is the light of my life, and the one who is to inherit my kingdom.”

Hordak looked to him, and saw the earnest expression he wore, and he nodded. “Of course, my king. I will watch over her for as long as I live.”

Then the strangest thing happened. King Scorpio pressed his lips to Hordak’s forehead. It was as if he was sealing the promise, signing the treaty. And Hordak, unaware if this was a custom of sorts, rose up and did the same.

“I do not understand you,” King Scorpio said with a smile on his face, his eyes dancing over Hordak’s face. “But I am thankful to know you, Hordak of the Stars.”

Hordak felt a strange sensation inside back then, and he felt there was something that he was supposed to do. But he didn’t know what it was, though. It was all so very confusing for a clone who had only been out of his vitrine for five years before being separated from the hivemind and thrown away. Hordak was supposed to be worthless, yet the king seemed grateful to him. It made sense when he was grateful for his ability to improve weapons, make vaccines, form strategies, and bring victory. But to be thankful to simply know him? That seemed so absurd.

And like a fool, Hordak left the room.

For the next twenty years, Hordak wondered what life would have been like had he stayed and protected King Scorpio instead of running off into battle.

Regardless, Scorpia was safe.

What might have been no longer mattered.