Chapter Text
Hordak was seated on the comfortably uncomfortable seat of his throne, newly-acquired child still very much in hand as he wondered what, exactly, he was doing.
He'd taken the girl. He'd brought her back to the Fright Zone. He’d even made it all the way to the sanctum before he finally realized he didn’t have any sort of actual plan. Just a lot of confusing new emotions and a child who stubbornly refused to provide any creative input of her own. By then the shock and nervous excitement had started to wear off, leaving Hordak without any distraction to keep him from acknowledging the profound new responsibility that he'd just taken on.
And now he needed to figure out how much of said responsibility he was actually capable of shouldering.
He hadn’t the faintest clue as to what it took to raise a child, so he’d need to let the infirmary staff handle that while he tried to figure it out. Furthermore, the sanctum probably couldn’t be considered a safe environment for such a fragile life-form, so she’d have to sleep in the barracks until he could construct proper quarters for her. And, on top of everything else, she wasn’t native to this planet, so Hordak had to figure out, very quickly, if there were any pesky biological complications to worry about.
He pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a frustrated sigh as he calculated how long all this would take to complete in addition to how much of a delay it would put on his other projects.
He pointedly didn’t calculate how big of an advantage those delays would grant the Princess Alliance, who were beginning to actually push his forces back on some fronts after they’d miraculously found a way to coordinate themselves a few years ago.
Hordak sat there for some time, head in hand, thinking up more and more ways this decision would inconvenience him. His brain raced through reason after cold, logical reason as to why this was an overall terrible idea. When he was fairly sure he’d run through all of them, Hordak lowered his hand, lifted his head to stare at nothing at all, and then he laughed. A single manic-sounding exhale escaped his mouth before he could clamp it shut.
He laughed because he didn’t care. Hordak was consciously dealing a potentially massive blow to his own productivity, and despite every reason that he should, he simply couldn't bring himself to care. Somehow, this little girl that couldn't even count the fingers on her own hand had successfully convinced him that all those tiny, infuriating nuisances and setbacks would be worth it if it meant she would be there; alive and well and—ideally—standing nearby to see him mitigate all the problems she was inadvertently causing.
Hordak took a deep breath, shrugging off the nonsensical apathy that had taken hold of him. He glanced down at his new… Sister? Ward? He actually wasn’t quite sure what to call her yet other than his.
She was asleep at the moment, softly dozing in his arms, trusting him to keep her safe and secure until she was ready to wake. Trusting him to be there when she needed him. Hordak gingerly brushed his thumb against her cheek, his lips quirking upwards. He intended on earning that trust. He was going to keep her, because verbal or not, he’d made a promise to her back in that field. He was not going to break it.
He wasn’t going to fail her.
Now he just needed to figure out how he was going to do it.
First things first, she needed to be brought to the infirmary, sooner rather than later.
Hordak's smile faltered. He didn't much like that part, it didn't help that it was literally the very first step. The thought of being separated so soon was an unpleasant one, to say the least, and there was a selfish, irrational part of him that simply wanted more time.
More time for what, he couldn’t even say. The part was refusing to elaborate.
Then of course there was the small, but rapidly-growing fear that whatever tenuous bond they’d formed might be broken if he let go too soon.
The thought that she might not look at him the same way if he left her with someone else filled him with a terrible, gnawing dread. Hordak knew the fear would consume him if allowed it to fester, so he very forcefully didn't. He drowned the nagging fear out by reminding himself of the simple fact that he had no other choice. Especially not after it had become so painfully obvious that he was unequipped to care for her himself.
The clone gave a small shudder, recalling his earlier failed attempt at feeding the girl. Evidently, her species was not compatible with Hordak's synthetic amniotic fluid. That, or she just held remarkably strong opinions regarding the taste. Either way, it had taken him nearly half an hour to soothe her cries, (it was still unclear which of them had been more distressed during that period) and he imagined it would take even longer to scrub the stains out of his tabard.
So yes, despite his fears, it was definitely in the girl's best interest that she be tended to by people who actually knew what they were doing. At least until she was older and a tad more… durable. Perhaps when she was developed enough to walk, Hordak could attempt to take up a more involved role once again, but for now, he would just have to… observe from a distance.
Which was perfectly fine, Hordak thought over the twisting sensation in his chest. (It was far from the most alarming sensation he'd felt in it today) He had other business to attend to after all. Running an empire was no small task and it wasn’t as if he could afford to waste precious time, constantly doting on his new…
His new…
...Daughter?
Hordak blinked, then hummed to himself thoughtfully as his previous worries vanished into thin air. Slowly, carefully so as not to wake her, he lifted the girl upwards, closer to his face. The corners of his mouth twitched again. He’d always considered sleep to be a rather boring state of being, but at this moment she managed to look just as fascinating as ever.
“ Daughter...” He whispered, testing the word out loud, seeing how it felt on his tongue. It certainly sounded better than ‘ward’. And, honestly speaking, the girl was far too alien-looking for Hordak to earnestly refer to her as ‘sister'.
But ‘Daughter’, that could work. It came out sounding mostly natural, and it seemed a fitting enough description of their would-be relationship. Besides, a child had never before existed within Prime’s flock, it made sense that her title reflected the abnormal circumstance.
And if this girl would be the Horde’s first daughter, then… that would make Hordak the first father. Yet another detail that would set him apart from his brothers and the unintentional competition they created for their god’s favour.
Now Hordak was feeling an odd flicker of anxious pride as he considered the implications. When he returned to the known universe and took his rightful place at Prime’s side, he wouldn’t be bringing along just another nameless sister that would wordlessly blend in to the crowds. He would be bringing something new into the hive mind, someone that was his before she was anyone else’s.
Hordak grinned, imagining the surprise—maybe even jealousy that might quietly spark in the other clones' thoughts. The stoic, yet approving look on Prime's face when he looked upon the dutiful new disciple his lost brother had managed to raise while in his exile.
He pictured himself, walking through the pristine white corridors of the flagship alongside a young woman dressed in matching black robes. Her brilliant blue eyes fixed on him as they shared thoughts and ideas on how to improve their master's great empire. Every now and then their shoulders would brush against each other, a silent reminder of a unique bond that transcended even the hive mind.
Yes, Hordak believed he would very much like to have a daughter.
He was starting to lower her back down when the girl stirred. Hordak paused his movements, a sharp spike of guilt sliding between his ribs, but it was to no avail. A pair of big blue eyes, still bleary from sleep, blinked open. They wandered around somewhat aimlessly through her limited field of view. It was debatable whether or not she absorbed any of the information.
A moment or two later, the eyes regained their clarity and the first things she looked at were the sharp features and glowing eyes of her new self-proclaimed father looming overhead. Her face lit up with a bright smile while her little limbs started to stretch under the blanket.
Hordak smiled back without thinking as the guilt dissolved. The pure, unbridled joy that flowed off the girl was frighteningly infectious, and it did wonders to ward off the paranoid fears of abandonment that were already trying to ease their way back into his thoughts.
A scarred finger curled beneath her jaw and lazily scratched under her chin. A delightful giggle dragged its way out of her before she was to able bring her own uselessly small hands up to try and push him away.
Hordak huffed in amusement, and mercifully let himself be fought off.
Fully awake now, she started to wriggle in his grasp. Her legs spasmed a few times, which he belatedly realized was an attempt to kick off the blanket, and her weight shifted back and forth as she tried to roll over in his arms.
Hordak observed this new behaviour with mild interest. He tried to get a clue to what her goal could possibly be; from what he could tell so far she was simply moving to move.
He should start taking notes. Logging her development could prove beneficial to his future parental endeavours.
(It was also a reasonable enough excuse to keep an even closer eye on her while she was staying in the infirmary.)
Before he could take the thought any further, he was interrupted by the throne room doors slamming open. Instinctively, Hordak’s head snapped up, his hands moving to quickly swaddle the girl into a tight bundle while his mouth opened to shout at whoever dared disturb him.
What just barely stopped him was the way the lights flickered right as the doors opened. The way the room somehow felt a little colder than it should. The way the shadowy corners and crevices between the machinery suddenly appeared darker, more sinister, than they had mere moments ago.
Hordak snapped his mouth shut, and bitterly recalled how much he detested magic.
His face twisted into a scowl as he subtly turned the bundle in his arms towards his chest and away from the doorway—or more accurately: the person who had just come through it.
Shadow Weaver silently glided across the room in that same unnerving, unnatural way she always did. Hordak was not an expert in sorcery, but he imagined that near-constant levitation required at least some degree of effort to pull off. At this point, he was certain the sole reason Shadow Weaver bothered with the effect at all was merely to flaunt her freakish abilities as often as possible. The same went for the floating edges of her robes, and the writhing mass of liquid shadow she called hair.
If he’d been in possession of visible pupils, this would be the exact type of trivial, vain, nonsense that Hordak would roll his eyes at.
The Horde’s resident witch, and current second-in-command, was, for once, forced to wrinkle her pristine robes when the time came for her to kneel at the base of the throne’s stairway. Her head hung low in a display of subservience that Hordak was becoming increasingly less convinced of in recent months.
The woman did not wait to be addressed.
“Was your excursion successful, Lord Hordak?” She said, without even a speck of enthusiasm.
Hordak wasn’t able to stop the growl that escaped his throat. The portal. In a split second all of his previous anger and frustration rushed back to him at once. His jaw clenched hard, so hard that his teeth ached. His ailing muscles tensed beneath his armour, suddenly itching to lash out at something— anything. The girl made a concerned noise as his grip tightened, it was loud enough for Hordak to force one of his hands from the blanket and onto an armrest, so that his claws may dig into metal rather than innocent flesh as he fought down another humiliating outburst.
Shadow Weaver waited in stony silence while he forced all his volatile emotions down into a secure little container where they wouldn’t be able to slowly tear him apart from the inside.
It was so much easier to just let them out, to redirect that searing, destructive energy towards something besides himself instead of trying to wrestle them into submission. But he knew that once he let them out he’d only feel ashamed. Anger burned hot, but it also burned fast, and once the fuel was gone Hordak would only feel empty and cold. And it was never wise to feel weak in Shadow Weaver’s presence.
His fingers slowly relaxed their hold on the armrest, even though he could still feel the writhing and prodding at the inside of his ribcage. It would do.
He dialed back his scowl from incensed to annoyed as he turned his attention back on Shadow Weaver. She had lifted her head slightly, either hoping for permission to rise or trying to sneak a glance at Hordak for whatever reason.
“I arrived too late,” Hordak answered her question honestly, his shame covered by the thick coating of simmering rage that oozed off his words. “The portal had vanished before I could send the signal.”
“That is… most unfortunate.” The sorceress said. Doing an objectively terrible job of pretending that she had the faintest comprehension of how large a setback this was. She even had the audacity to sound distracted.
A long, uncomfortable pause followed. Shadow Weaver was simply kneeling there, still—and about as useful—as her beloved runestone. Hordak glowered down at her from his seat, silently counting down the seconds until he lost his temper and demanded she get out and stop wasting his time. The girl helpfully filled the awkward silence with the occasional questioning babble aimed in her new father's general direction.
“Is there anything else I should be made aware of, my lord?” Shadow Weaver needled, not-so-subtly tilting her head towards the child.
Not really, no. Hordak thought but didn’t say. Instead, he gave the sorceress what she wanted: clarification of the obvious. “Something came through from the other side.”
Shadow Weaver took that as permission to raise her gaze up from the floor. The blank, white eye spots of her mask immediately zeroed in on the child cradled in Hordak’s arms. “So I can see.” She said. Her voice holding more genuine interest than Hordak had ever seen her give to anything other than a particularly magical rock.
“Why has it not been placed with the other orphans?” She asked, not taking her eyes off the girl as she spoke. She sounded distracted again, like the words didn’t really matter, and only existed to extend the length of this conversation.
Hordak’s own eyes narrowed. “I have taken an interest in this one. There is something… different about her." Which, like most things he told Shadow Weaver, was only the information she needed to know.
Apparently, that was more than enough this time, judging by the way her eyes widened in surprise, before she finally pulled them away from his child, and turned to face him. A small bit of tension Hordak hadn’t even noticed left his shoulders.
“You can sense it, too?” Suddenly Shadow Weaver’s voice was quiet, almost… worried?
Which wasn’t the reaction he had expected. Something wrong started creeping its way up Hordak’s spine. He leaned against the armrest and tried to make his scowl seem more indifferent than suspicious. “Would you care to be more specific, Shadow Weaver?” Tried to sound more annoyed than clueless.
If she noticed anything, she didn’t show it. Shadow Weaver’s eyes shot back to the girl, even with the expressionless screen of her mask Hordak could see an intensity there that made his skin crawl and his ears twitch nervously.
“She has power. ” The word was laced with something dark, something hungry. Whatever it was, it urged Hordak to pull the bundle closer to his chest and hold her a little tighter. There was a crimson flash of bared teeth that vanished the instant he could school his face back into a more detached glare.
Hordak let out a measured exhale through his nose. Shadow Weaver still didn't react to his strange behaviour, she was too busy staring at his daughter to notice.
"Power, you say?" He ground out slowly, fighting to keep his voice even.
"Yes," Was that actual glee he was hearing? "Far more than I have ever seen in a child so young." Shadow Weaver turned her attention back to Hordak, he decided it was now vitally important that it remained there.
“Is that so?” he drawled, knowing his apparent lack of interest would bother the sorceress to no end.
Sure enough, Shadow Weaver’s eyes narrowed at him and her shoulders went rigid. Always so sensitive about her little tricks. She raised an open hand, palm facing up as if she were offering him something other than more vague promises. “Don’t you see what this means? With that kind of magical potential, this child could be the key to us destroying the rebellion for good.” The hand clenched shut into a shaking fist for emphasis.
That… was a very bold statement to make for someone who’d only known the girl even existed for a couple of minutes. It didn’t help her case that Hordak had heard very similar words more than once before.
“Lord Hordak,” Shadow Weaver spoke like she’d just had the most brilliant idea. “You must allow me to take her under my care. That way I will be able—”
She was cut off by the grating sound of claws raking across metal. The mask winced before shooting an alarmed look at Hordak’s clenched fist, and the set of shallow grooves that now defaced the throne’s armrest.
“I must allow it?” Hordak hissed through gritted teeth and the stinging pain in his fingertips. His eyes flashed dangerously.
The container in his chest had just cracked, letting Hordak’s rage leak out and pool in the bottom of his chest where it could begin to properly boil. Shadow Weaver wanted his child. The blasted witch had crept into his throne room and requested that he hand over the only thing on this planet that made him feel like he wasn’t entirely alone. Someone who could maybe provide Hordak with some small amount of actual joy for the next Prime-knows-how-many-years before he could find another way of this rock.
His scowl deepened at his second-in-command, who probably thought that she had just made a tactful approach. Somehow Shadow Weaver had come to believe that she could simply ask things of Hordak. That all she had to do was wave her hand and spout some nonsense about magic, and that would naturally be enough to convince him to part with whatever it was she desired. As if she had done nearly enough to earn that kind of trust.
It was arrogant. It was presumptuous. And it wanted Hordak’s daughter.
The sorceress seemed to realize her mistake. Her hand lowered awkwardly to her knee. “What I meant, Lord Hordak was that it would be in the Horde’s best interest—”
She kept talking, but Hordak didn’t listen. His gaze wandered away from his rambling second and landed on the girl in his arms. She was fidgeting in his grasp and watching him with an alarmed expression.
His scowl softened slightly. He could see the burning red of his eyes reflected in the soothing blue of hers. It simultaneously calmed him and enraged him further, because Shadow Weaver wanted to take this from him and he most certainly wasn’t going to let her. The fire that had been his emotional, reactionary anger was doused, but it was immediately replaced with a cold and focused substitute.
It was time Shadow Weaver was reminded of her station.
“No.”
Whatever Shadow Weaver had been saying was abruptly cut off as she balled her hands and narrowed her eyes at him. “No?” She said, indignation managing to paint itself all across her mask.
Hordak turned his face back to the witch, his expression regaining its previous harshness. Shadow Weaver wisely ducked her head. And then very unwisely opened her mouth.
"May I at least ask why you would squander such an opportunity, my lord." Very bold indeed. Hordak might have been impressed if he wasn't so violently angry.
“The key to destroying the rebellion.” He repeated, adding a touch of grandiose flair to his cold deadpan.
“If properly utilized, yes.” Shadow Weaver said, exasperated. Like he was the one not understanding the situation.
Hordak leaned back in his seat, creating an illusion that he was in any way calm. “Like you promised the Black Garnet would be?”
The sorceress bristled under the implied accusation. “I have made significant progress with the Garnet—”
“And it has taken you years to accomplish!” Hordak snapped. He raised his hand, pointing a finger at the red gem embedded in the mask’s forehead. “I have allowed you access to my runestone because you assured me that you could put its power to good use, but after all this time you still have nothing of note to show for it.”
Then Shadow Weaver was on her feet. Fists clenched, and head held insolently high as the nearest shadows started to writhe and twist. “Nothing!?” She shouted, “I have done more—!”
Hordak slammed his fist into the armrest. The sorceress flinched hard, then shot him a look that might have been fearful before quickly morphing into a defiant glare that she hid by bowing her head low.
“Careful, Shadow Weaver.” He growled. “I am in no mode for your impertinent excuses.”
The noise startled the girl. She let out a frightened squeak, followed quickly by crying; loud and shrill and scared. Hordak hated that sound, and he hated Shadow Weaver for pushing him to the point where that sound was the outcome.
He left the sorceress where she was and turned his attention on the person that needed it most. He quietly repeated the soothing shh-ing sounds and gentle rocking motions that she'd seemed to find comforting earlier. He kept brushing the side of her face, softly caressing her too-soft skin as the cries slowly diminished into a string of distressed hiccuping sounds. Only when the noise was reduced to the occasional hushed whimper did Hordak turn back to Shadow Weaver with a vexed frown.
At some point, she’d tilted her head back up. Both eyes were narrowed, one squinting slighter more than the other. The expression could have been anything between befuddlement and disgust.
Whatever it was, Hordak didn’t have time for her judgement; he had a point to finish making. He pushed off of the throne, slow and steady enough as to not disturb his still mildly distraught daughter, and stepped forward until he was on the precipice of the large staircase.
“The Horde demands results, Shadow Weaver. You are failing to provide them.” He raised a hand to the bundle and started tracing the girl’s face with a claw. “And yet somehow you have the gall to ask more of me.” She looked as if she were about to say something. He didn’t let her. “If you wish to convince me that you are entitled to anything more than what I have given you, you can start by proving your precious magicks can do anything other than disappoint me.”
Shadow Weaver clasped her hands together and bowed her head low. When she spoke her voice returned to the politely submissive tone she usually used in Hordak’s presence. “My lord, please. I understand your frustration, but all I wish is to make the most efficient use of our resources, so that your grand plans may come to fruition as swiftly as possible.”
Hordak took a deep, steadying breath because he did not appreciate being lied to. He started walking down the steps.
“If that is true, then you will be pleased to know that I do, in fact, have plans for this child. Plans that do not concern you. Plans that I will see to personally, while you attend to the responsibilities you have been given.”
He stopped in front of his still-bowed second-in-command. He was close enough to see that her hands were clasped far tighter then should be necessary for someone that truly had his best interests in mind.
“Am I understood?” He growled. His tone made it clear he would only be accepting one particular answer.
“Of course, Lord Hordak.” She answered robotically. “Your will is my will.”
“Good.” Was all he said before continuing to march forward, forcing Shadow Weaver to scramble out of the way before she was trampled by him.
“I am going to the infirmary,” He said loudly, refusing to look back at her. “As for you, I’ve heard the Fifth Battalion is requesting resupply. Do not keep them waiting any longer.”
The doors slammed shut behind him with a rather nice finality. Though, Hordak had a sneaking suspicion this wouldn’t be the last he heard from the sorceress regarding this matter. It was of no consequence, he’d simply berate that bridge when he came to it.
It didn’t occur to him until much later that all that talk about magic might have held water.