Work Text:
“Sire.”
At the sound of Haggar’s voice, one of Zarkon’s ears swiveled and perked. The door to his quarters slid closed behind with a faint, barely audible hiss. She moved across the floor in a whisper of fabric, circling around the foot of the bed to join him beside the mirror.
“Guests have begun arriving,” she announced as her eyes flicked up and down, checking over his attire. Seeming displeased, she reached out, lightly fussing over how the fabric of his formal robes fell. Zarkon tried his best to keep still as she did so, watching as her ears flicked beneath her hood. When she seemed satisfied with her work, she stepped back and fell in at his side in front of the vanity.
“Are they behaving themselves?” Zarkon asked as he took a tentative step forward, looking over the jewelry he had picked from his extensive collection. All of the pieces were extravagant, perhaps unnecessarily so. Most were old ceremonial pieces that he had managed to recover following the destruction of Daibazaal. At least one of them had been his mother’s.
“When I left them, yes,” Haggar said, eying the jewelry that rest on top of the vanity. “Do you require assistance, sire?”
Zarkon’s ears pinned back, twitching in confusion as he peered over his shoulder at her. “Assistance?”
“You often have trouble putting on necklaces by yourself, as I recall,” she remarked, taking a step forward to look over the jewelry with a more critical eye. Lightly, and perhaps unthinkingly, she reached out, running her fingers over the facets carved into the gemstones. Her gaze lingered on one with deep purple stones, and she carefully picked it up, and turned to face him. It immediately became apparent that their height difference was going to be an issue—at least to Zarkon. Haggar, on the other hand, didn’t seem troubled in the slightest. Vaguely, she motioned in the direction of the bed, in a silent order for him to sit so that she could properly put the necklace on. Zarkon sat without a direct order to do so, tilting his chin up and exposing his throat as Haggar gingerly fastened the necklace in place, and adjusted how it sat over his shoulders. Her eyes were focused on her work, intent on making sure everything fell properly into place.
“There we are,” she said easily, taking a step back to admire her work. Then, her gaze softened. “It suits your eyes.”
Zarkon was unable to contain the flutter in his heart—for the briefest of ticks, she looked as if she had recalled something, although whether it was about him or their past together, he didn’t know. And then, just like that, the flicker of recognition was gone, and he could see nothing but the bright yellow glow of her eyes from beneath her hood.
“Thank you,” he said sincerely, before rising from his seat and heading to the door. From behind him, he could hear the whisper of Haggar’s robes against the floor as she followed after.