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Honerva’s condition had steadily been getting worse and worse over the last couple of months. She could feel herself getting weaker, and there were some days she couldn’t even get out of bed in order to continue her research.
She knew that she was dying, and she could see how this was negatively affecting both her husband and her son. And she felt awful for it—Lotor was only a few years old, and yet he had to witness her slowly grow weaker without being able to do anything about it. In spite of this, he still remained chipper as ever and was always happy to see her when he visited her room in the afternoons after his lessons.
Whenever she heard a tiny knock on the door, her heart swelled.
“Mama?” came from the other side, and she smiled at the muffled sound of her son’s voice. She knew that her doctors had been telling Lotor that his presence was helping her, and honestly, she liked to believe that it was. She didn’t like seeing her son upset, nor did she like seeing her husband upset. Zarkon would sometimes visit with Lotor if he could get away from some of his afternoon meetings. For a moment, she wondered if that would been the case today.
“You can come in, sweetling,” she tried to call back, although her voice was weak and the effort of raising it caused a cough to be torn from her lungs. She attempted to stifle it behind her fist before Lotor could hear.
Lotor nudged the door open with a soft grunt. He had always had trouble doing it by himself, as the door was heavy and he was still very small for his age—Honerva had always assumed that was because of her Altean genes. Today, he was carrying a bundle of flowers from the gardens, held in one of the glass vases they kept in the kitchens.
“Mama!” he said excitedly, hurrying over to her bedside as fast as he was able to in spite of the vase blocking most of his view. “Aven helped me get this vase… she said that it would help the flowers stay pretty!” He tried to the best of his ability to get the vase up onto the table at her bedside, and then made sure it sat soundly before turning to her again, smiling brightly.
“Did you make sure to thank Miss Vas Marmora?” Honerva asked, tilting her head just so while peering at him in mock sternness.
Lotor quickly nodded. “Miss Aven said she was happy to help… but she had to go and oversee the guard shift change.” His delicate looking ears twitched against the sides of his head, but he smiled nonetheless. “She said she hopes you feel well, though.”
“It was good that you were polite,” Honerva managed to say, although her voice came out as little more than a whisper. She reached out to run her hand over his pretty, pure white hair. She tried, for just a moment, to smooth back that lock of hair that had always refused to lie flat, no matter what she did. Lotor leaned into the touch, much like his father did when Honerva would run her hand along his armored plates. “Thank you for the flowers, sweetling,” she finally said. “They’re beautiful…”
She turned her attention to the flowers, lightly—and shakily—running her fingers over the soft, golden petals. It was an Altean species, but it was one that was suited for Daibazaal’s colder climate. She knew there was a small town that cultivated them on the other side of the planet, but Zarkon had had them planted in the palace gardens shortly following their bonding ceremony, so as to make Honerva feel more at home. She could remember spending hours in that garden, surrounded by nothing but the flowers. When she was pregnant with Lotor she had done the same, reading to him in the crisp, cool air of Daibazaal until one of her assistants would come to retrieve her.
They were actually called lotor blossoms in the Galran language.
“Why did you choose these, sweetling?” she asked.
“Papa chose them!” Lotor said, smiling brightly at her, and Honerva found it difficult not to smile back. “He said they were your favorite…”
“And where is Papa?” Honerva asked.
“He said he had a meeting…” Lotor said, brows knitting together. “But he helped pick the flowers…” His pout made it clear that he wanted to make sure Zarkon got some credit for helping with the flowers.
“Well, I will be sure to thank him when I see him later,” Honerva assured him.
After that, Honerva mostly listened to Lotor as he rambled. He had always been such an inquisitive little thing, even before he could really talk. Back then, most of his questions had involved soft squeaks in the back of his throat while he pointed at things that had caught his interest. She had taken him with her to the rift on occasion, before she had started getting worse. While there, held securely in her arms so that he was high enough to actually see what was going on, he had tried to ask questions to the best of his ability. He hadn’t yet been articulate enough to get them across well enough, though, and he always got frustrated in the end.
His curious nature was no doubt because of who his mother was. So many ideas were hidden away in that little brain of his, and he just wanted to know more and more and more all the time. Honerva still fretted sometimes, as she worried after his health. He had been such a sickly thing when he was born… but he seemed to be healthier now.
Even if she wasn’t.
“Lotor, sweetling,” Honerva began, cutting him off right before he could start detailing the beginnings of his ‘research’ into some of her older work—trying to understand how she had gotten to where she was, even though he was still too young to really grasp it. Lotor was immediately silent when he noticed how heavy her voice was… and a look of disappointment appeared on his features as he seemed to realize that she was about to ask him to leave. His ears drooped and he pouted, looking at the floor.
“You can come and visit me later tonight,” Honerva assured him, reaching out to smooth her hand over his hair one last time. “Before you go to sleep, alright?”
Lotor’s ears perked up again and twitched as his smile returned—more hopeful than before. “Will you tell me a story then?”
Honerva smiled—it was hard not to when she had such an excitable little boy to care for and love. “Of course, sweetling.”