Work Text:
Haggar worked in her lab more frequently than she did anywhere else on Zarkon’s flagship. In part, this was because there she could perform tests on new equipment and weaponry before it was put into the field, and Zarkon could assess her progress. Mostly it was because nobody else bothered her in her lab—not even her Druids. They kept to themselves unless they were giving her a status report or she had requested their aid. She trusted that they would get their jobs completed efficiently and effectively without much instruction from her. There were… consequences if they did otherwise.
Even with the additional bodies in the room, her lab was quiet most of the time. The only sounds were the soft swishes of robes on the floor, just barely audible over the hum of machinery. Sometimes, though, Haggar’s ears would twitch beneath her hood when she heard the harsh clank of metal boots against the floor. She never acknowledged Zarkon’s arrival, but he never told her off for not dropping everything to greet him—and she could not for the life of her figure out why she had no issue with him being present in the room while she was working.
He just… showed up sometimes—most often unexpectedly—even when there was no real reason for him to be there. If he had something important he wished to speak to her about, he would’ve sent her a memo to summon her to the throne chamber.
Today, she was so wrapped up in compiling and organizing data that she failed to notice his arrival at all until she heard her Druids whispering to one another. Zarkon lingered a couple of feet away, until she acknowledged him with a glance. Only then did he approach, standing at her back and peering over her shoulder at the data moving about on her screen. She knew that much of the information was meaningless to him, but frequently, he did try to engage her in conversations about her research and how it was moving along.
“Do you have everything you require?” he asked.
Her ears twitched at the question. It was one she swore he asked at least once or twice a week, depending on what was going on within the Empire. She didn’t mind, though. It allowed her to ask him for increases in supplies that she would otherwise have had to send him in a memo—and he preferred speaking to her face-to-face.
“One of my test subjects died last shift,” she said blandly. One of her nails tapped against the console she stood in front of, but she didn’t deign to look over her shoulder at him. “I will require a replacement if my work is to remain on schedule.”
There was a pause, as he seemed to mull her request over—not trying to decide if he would grant or deny her help, since he always chose the former. More likely, he was trying to decide how to fulfill her request. She continued working as he thought. Her nails tapping against her holoscreen could just barely be heard over the soft hum of some of her other experiments.
“Will one of the gladiators suffice?” he suggested.
Haggar’s fingers never paused in their typing. “Send me whoever you believe would be most able to survive what my tests require.”
“It shall be done,” he said, almost automatically.
If he had been anybody else, she would have expected him to leave. However, even though his usual business had concluded, he didn’t move. She did not attempt to shoo him away, either—as she had done so a few times before, she knew that he would leave if she asked him to. Instead, he lingered at her back, standing close as he continued peering over her shoulder. If he wished to spend time in her presence, he was free to do so, with no arguments from her.
He only occasionally spoke, asking after an explanation for a piece of data that had caught his interest, and she indulged him. She never asked why he showed up in her lab without warning—didn’t see the need to. She knew that they were close, that he trusted her above some of his most top ranking commanders. Many of those commanders wouldn’t have approved of him taking such an interest in her work if they saw him now. She was the witch who led the Great Emperor Zarkon astray with her bold promises of success using her magic. She ‘had his ear’ as she recalled them saying. He granted her pretty much everything she requested, although she never asked for more than she needed—cockiness would get her nowhere, and she didn’t want to take advantage of his kindness.
Not that Zarkon’s commanders knew that. It mattered little. Her lord did not need their approval, only their obedience.
Even if she didn’t always understand the reasoning for why he came down to her lab, she wouldn’t have said that his company was unwelcome. He always listened with rapt attention when she spoke, always paid her attention when she needed it. His presence was comforting, even if she couldn’t quite place why.
She didn’t often notice how time passed when she was working. Today, Zarkon was still standing there even nearly two vargas later. When he finally did speak again, it was not a question as to her findings, but rather commentary on her work ethic.
“You are doing great, my—” He cut off abruptly, before he could finish his sentence.
Beneath her hood, Haggar’s ears twitched, and she glanced over her shoulder at him, tilting her head just so. It took him a moment to compose himself—whatever he had decided against saying must have startled him. She could tell because of how his shoulders had tensed.
“Sire?” she tried as her ears drew in against the sides of her head and her brow furrowed—in a rare show of concern that was normally reserved for him and him alone.
“My—Our fleet will only grow stronger because of your hard work,” Zarkon managed. “I must go.”
Haggar watched him leave, ears giving a couple of confused twitches. She stood there for several doboshes, staring at the closed door, before she could bring herself to return to her work.
The absence of his presence lingered, and she wasn’t sure why she suddenly felt so cold.