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Prisoners rarely held Lotor’s attention. So why he found himself drawn to Haggar’s experiment, a mangy, beaten thing cowering in the corner, he couldn’t say. Perhaps it was the feeling that there was more to the bundle of rags than met the eye. Perhaps it was that Haggar’s files had told him so many tantalizing small details; that he was a rebel, that he had been a spy in Zarkon’s ranks for months, possibly years –
He let himself into the room, back straight and eyes dark. “Well, well. Looks like the witch forgot somebody back here.” Pretend to know nothing. You have all the cards; don’t show them.
The ex-rebel didn’t respond. Lotor wondered if the prisoner had finally succumbed to his injuries; an arm that hadn’t set right, the cold and malnutrition that had his fur falling out – but then finally, there was a response. “And who are you?”
“Lotor. Interim Emperor of the Galra Empire.”
“So he’s dead. And left a child in his place.”
Lotor’s back prickled despite himself, but he laughed off the insult. “It’s good to have some young blood in the throne, don’t you think? Ten thousand years of rule can leave somebody quite set in their ways.”
The prisoner said something else, but Lotor couldn’t quite hear it. Despite himself, he took a step forward, letting the door swing closed behind him –
The prisoner sprung at him, the chain of his manacles pressing onto Lotor’s neck. The metal bit into his skin, and Lotor hid his wince, staring into the yellow eyes that were fixed so intently on his.
“Your name is Thace. Yes?” Lotor said calmly.
“Yes.”
“I can give you one good reason not to kill me,” he offered. He could feel his heartbeat in his throat. He supposed Thace could feel it to.
“And what’s that?” replied the prisoner. He was younger than Lotor had thought – not some old derelict but a Galra in his prime. No wonder he’d held out so long.
Lotor smiled despite himself. “I’m going to set you free. With a message for whoever it is you work for.”
He could feel Thace’s hands shake at that. He was full of resolve, this one, resolve and bitterness and spite. “And why should I trust you? This sounds like a trap.”
“I’m not asking you to trust me. Take any measures you like, but I am not my father.”
“Hm.” Thace’s eyes stayed fixed on Lotor’s, full of consideration. “I’m half-dead. I’m no use to anybody.”
“Quite the contrary.” Lotor cocked his head, listening to the harried sound of Thace’s breath. “I believe you will be incredibly useful to me.”
Thace hesitated. And then, the chain came down.
Lotor could have simply killed him.
But where was the fun in that?