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Zarkon had never been off Daibazaal before. He had heard of all kinds of planets during his lessons, although never in detail. His governess had always promised to explain when he was older and was actually attending parties with the intention of establishing diplomatic connections. His mothers had said much the same, even though Zarkon was incredibly curious about the lives of others in other places. His birthmother, the Empress, had said it was a trait that would suit him well later in life, but that it would be better that he was taught about politics when he had to deal with foreign dignitaries and members of high ranking clans. Battle knowledge would follow, for when he would undertake the Kral Zera following his birthmother’s passing. He had insisted she wasn’t going anywhere, of course, and she had done nothing but agree to the notion with the softest of smiles.
Since he had shown interest in the lives of other people around the galaxy, his mothers had decided to take him along on a diplomatic trip, to see one of their many allies. While the Galra Empire was extensive, it was not the only governing body in the universe. There were several others, including Altea, which was where they were going now. Zarkon had been told to sit with his bodyguard, Aven, throughout the trip. Try as she might to keep him entertained and focused on some of the lessons his governess had left with her, Zarkon’s mind continually drifted. The hyperspace jump was coming to an end, and soon they would be arriving.
“Can we go up to the bridge yet?” Zarkon pleaded, staring up at Aven with wide eyes.
Aven’s ears flicked in amusement as she regarded him with a knowing smile. “You’re not getting out of your lessons that easily, Your Highness.”
Zarkon pouted, sinking into his seat. “But this lesson is boring , Aven…” he complained.
Aven sighed, setting the datapad to the side. “I suppose all lessons are boring when you’re young,” she conceded. Zarkon’s eyes widened a fraction as she got to her feet, but he only sat up and watched as she headed for the door. She stopped there, looking over her shoulder at him, crossing her arms. “Well?” she asked, jerking her head towards the door. “I’m sure your mothers would be more than happy to see you right now.”
Zarkon was to his feet in an instant, grinning wide as he took Aven’s hand and practically dragged her along as they made their way towards the bridge where his mothers would be.
“You have to promise me that once we land, I’m not going to be chasing around after you,” Aven said as they approached the doors. “Can you promise me that?”
“Yes, Aven,” Zarkon mumbled, ears dropping in disappointment.
“I know it’s exciting, Your Highness,” Aven continued, “but your mothers would worry if you got lost in the Altean palace.”
Zarkon didn’t see what the big deal was. He just wanted to explore. During the lead up to the trip, he had been chatting incessantly about it, asking all kinds of questions and wondering if there were going to be any other children there. Turned out the Altean royal family had one, the Prince of Altea, Alfor. Supposedly there were several servants’ children as well, although Zarkon didn’t know if he’d see any of them. It would be nice if he did, seeing as his main playmate up until then had been Aven.
But he would behave, if only because he didn’t like making his mothers worry.
—
Zarkon decided within all of five ticks that Prince Alfor was boring.
For one thing, Prince Alfor was tiny, and couldn’t stand up very well on his own yet. He also seemed far more interested in gnawing on Zarkon’s robes or babbling nonsense while yanking on Zarkon’s ears than actually playing with him. Zarkon didn’t know why Aven and his mothers had insisted that he would enjoy spending time with the Altean prince. He felt it would’ve been better spent looking around the castle. The Queen of Altea had mentioned that they had a lovely garden somewhere on the grounds, but when Zarkon had asked Aven if they could go, she had merely said they needed to stay inside the Prince’s suite.
Zarkon had begrudgingly agreed to it, since he hadn’t really seen another option for escape.
But as soon as Prince Alfor started getting fussy, and Aven was distracted with trying to help Alfor’s governess calm him down, Zarkon saw his opening. Carefully, he inched his way across the room, only glancing back once he had managed to get the door open, just to make sure he hadn’t been spotted. Upon realizing he hadn’t, Zarkon couldn’t get away fast enough. As soon as he was down the hall and around the corner, he stopped running and actually got a look at his surroundings. He knew that Aven would probably be cross with him, but he would worry about that later.
His eyes widened at the high ceilings and ornate architecture. The lines were smoother than those at the palace back on Daibazaal, although the ceiling seemed just as high. He remembered asking his mothers frequently about how everything always got set up around holidays. There weren’t any Galra who were tall enough to reach, but he wondered if Alteans could get that tall.
He walked along the deserted halls, trying to find some kind of indication of where he was. All of these halls looked exactly the same to him, save for the decorations and the occasional window that overlooked the garden. Perhaps if he hadn’t been a fugitive, wanted by his overbearing bodyguard, he would’ve asked a servant how to get to the throne room. He assumed his mothers were there, and if he promised to behave, they might even let him sit in on whatever meeting they were having with the Altean Queen and her consort.
Standing on his tiptoes, Zarkon peered out of the nearest window in an attempt to make out anything of interest—this window overlooked what he assumed were the gardens the Altean Queen had spoken of during their brief introduction. There were several trees, which he could practice his climbing on, and maybe he’d be able to try catching something to show his mothers later whenever they inevitably came looking for him. Hastily, he walked around the next corner, and spotted a nearby doorway that lead into a stairwell. Directly across from the stairwell were the doors that fed into the gardens.
Zarkon’s ears perked in excitement, but he stopped himself before he could bolt across the hall. Instead, he carefully checked to make sure there were no Alteans in the hallway—servants or otherwise—who would try to catch him and take him back to Aven. Thankfully, there were none, and Zarkon hurried across the hall. His breath caught in his throat as he stepped out into the garden, eyes widening at the sight of the lush foliage. The palace back on Daibazaal had a garden, but it was smaller, and the plants were warmer colors, such as orange, reds, and yellows—the only commonly colored plants here were different shades of purple. Otherwise, they were cool blues and greens. Light shone down from overhead, through the tree branches, and cast shadows onto the grass and bushes.
It took a couple of ticks for Zarkon to notice he wasn’t alone in the garden.
His ears twitched when he heard the sound of soft giggling, and he immediately stopped where he stood. There was an Altean girl standing in front of the nearby bushes, checking the flowers over. There was already a pile of others sitting in the grass nearby, although Zarkon didn’t know what they could possibly be used for. Perhaps she was going to put them in a vase? That’s what his mothers always did with the flowers back at the palace.
As the girl turned into the light, Zarkon got a better look at her. Her hair was a grayish shade of purple, and when he caught a brief glance of her eyes, he found they were a bright shade of amber. As she turned to hurry over to the next bush, Zarkon looked over her outfit. It wasn’t as nice as the prince’s, but it didn’t look like a servant’s either. In a way, it reminded him of those scientists that the Altean Queen had introduced them to when they first arrived… what had she called them? Alchemists? The girl’s clothes were the same colors as their outfits—greenish and white.
When she finally turned, and noticed him standing there, her eyes widened a fraction in surprise. It seemed like she hadn’t realized or noticed that he was there at all.
Hastily, Zarkon took a couple of steps back, suddenly feeling very nervous now that she was staring. “Sorry. I can go…”
But then, a smile broke out on the girl’s face, and she darted over, grabbing hold of him by the arm before he could turn away. “Wait! You can help me with something!” she insisted, dragging him over to the pile of flowers that was sitting in the grass. “Sit!” she demanded, “I’ll be right back!”
Zarkon just did as he was told, plopping down in the grass in front of the flowers. Silently, he watched the girl as she ran off towards a nearby bush, looking over the flowers there with great interest. He wrung his hands together in his lap, ears twitching nervously against the sides of his head. He wanted to ask what she was doing and what she needed him for—surely she could pick flowers on her own? Or maybe she needed them sorted? There were several different kinds in the pile, but they were haphazardly mixed together.
“There!” she finally said, coming back over with a couple of light blue flowers from the nearby bush. She set them on top of the pile and then plopped down beside him. Upon noticing he hadn’t done anything yet, she quickly motioned to the pile. “Well? Pick some out!”
Zarkon blinked in confusion, tilting his head to the side. “What for?”
“I’m making flower crowns!” the girl said, mirroring him as she tilted her head. “Haven’t you ever made flower crowns?”
Zarkon shook his head. “My governess doesn’t let me get dirty.”
The girl frowned, looking even more confused.
It dawned on Zarkon that she might not have known who he was. “I’m… Prince Zarkon of Daibazaal?” he tried nervously.
That was when it seemed to click, and the girl’s eyes widened in realization. Zarkon expected her to apologize for her mistake—because that’s what everyone always did—but the girl decided to ignore his introduction entirely. “Do they not have flowers on Daibazaal?” she asked. Now, she just looked unamused, rather than confused.
“No, we do,” Zarkon said, shaking his head. “Maybe other cubs play with them, but my governess—”
“Well, I don’t see your governess here,” she said, carefully gathering up a couple of the flowers and setting them unceremoniously in Zarkon’s lap. “So you can help me make some crowns!”
She was right, of course. Even when Aven did find them, she was his bodyguard, not his governess, and she had always been far more lenient with him anyway. Besides, the flowers were pretty, and this girl seemed to be better company than Prince Alfor had been. More fun, at any rate. At least she hadn’t tried pulling on his ears yet.
“What’s your name?” Zarkon asked curiously, watching as she picked out a couple of flowers from the pile and set them to the side. When she looked at him again, he added, “You know my name but I don’t know yours.”
“Honerva,” she said simply, smiling at him before she turned her attention back to the flowers.
As Zarkon had never made flower crowns before, Honerva ended up walking him through the process of weaving flower stems together. She was smiling the entire time, and Zarkon found it difficult not to smile back. When she was done with her demonstration, she reached out and put the crown she had made right on his head. It fit perfectly, like one of the circlets his bloodmother often wore during royal parties to denote she was the Empress’s consort. Zarkon tried to follow Honerva’s instructions as well as he could, but as it was his first attempt, he ended up making his a little too big. When he reached out and put the crown on Honerva’s head, it hung haphazardly over one of her eyes. Even though she looked ridiculous, she still laughed.
Zarkon didn’t know how long they spent in the garden before Honerva was dragging him around the palace by his hand, insisting that she had to show him the lab.
“What lab?” he asked curiously, finding it difficult to keep up with Honerva despite being taller than her.
“Where my mother works,” Honerva said. “She’s an alchemist, and I’m going to be just like her someday!”
Before Honerva could go on to explain what an alchemist was, though, Zarkon’s ears perked at the sound of a voice he hadn’t been looking forward to hearing again.
“There you are!” Aven said, rounding the corner with the Altean prince’s governess at her side. Both of them looked frazzled, as if they had been running around the entire palace looking for him. “What did I tell you about running off like that? You could’ve gotten hurt!”
“No, he wouldn’t have!” Honerva said firmly. She still stood at his side, holding onto his hand, but she had raised her chin, puffing up her chest as if to make herself appear larger. “He was with me the whole time. Right, Zarkon?”
Aven’s gaze softened, and she seemed amused, judging by the twitching of her ears. “I see you made a friend?” she asked, crouching down so that she was eye-level with Zarkon and Honerva. Then, she reached out to lightly adjust the flower crown that still sat on top of his head. “And had some fun in the gardens? Does your friend have a name?” she prompted.
“Honerva…” Zarkon mumbled, feeling his cheeks heat up under Aven’s teasing smile.
“I wanted to show him the labs!” Honerva insisted, chin still held high. “Mama said she’d be in there until sundown.”
“The labs?” Aven asked, tilting her head.
“It’s where the alchemists work, miss,” Alfor’s governess cut in. Her brow creased as she frowned deeply. “It is certainly no place for—”
“I don’t see any harm in letting them poke their heads in the room,” Aven said, waving the elderly Altean off as she rose back to her feet. “If you want to take Prince Alfor back to his room, I can watch them.”
“Dinner will be held within the varga,” Alfor’s governess reminded her, deep frown not abating, as if the comment was supposed to sway Aven into listening to her.
“And I will ensure that my charge makes it on time,” Aven said. “Prince Zarkon was very curious on the ride over here, and I see no reason to squander his curiosity since we’re already halfway there.”
The governess scoffed. “And what would the Empress say?”
“I imagine the Empress would agree with me,” Aven said flatly. “Now, Honerva, please show us the way.”
Zarkon didn’t get a chance to thank Aven for letting him continue to spend time with Honerva because Honerva immediately dragged him down the hallway. Aven followed a couple of paces behind, looking rather pleased with herself. The entire time they were walking down the hall, Honerva chatted excitedly about what her mother was currently working on. Not that Zarkon understood much of what she was saying—did she even know what she was saying? He supposed it didn’t matter. Clearly, Honerva was very excited about her mother’s accomplishments, given how animatedly she was speaking. Excitement radiated off of her, and her eyes shone as she about how her mother had recently made some sort of breakthrough in the medical field. Her enthusiasm was infectious and Zarkon was more than a little distracted by her smile.
They eventually arrived at a large door. From behind it, Zarkon could hear the sound of machinery whirring—it was an low, constant hum. He had never really tried to look into the royal labs back on Daibazaal, so he wasn’t sure what to expect when they went in. But Honerva seemed excited, and she definitely wouldn’t have been excited if it was scary.
“We can’t stay long,” Aven reminded them as the door slide open with a faint hiss . “Just a quick peek.”
Zarkon nodded in understanding, but he wasn’t sure that Honerva had heard what Aven was saying. He was curious to see what was inside the lab. The room was mostly deserted, save for one lone alchemist who stood in front of the console towards the back of the room. However, they were too absorbed in their work to notice two children and a bodyguard walking around the room. During the tour—which mostly consisted of Honerva pointing out machines and what they did—Honerva made sure to keep quiet, speaking in a low whisper, as if she were revealing some kind of secret.
But Zarkon held onto every word, trying to understand what had her so fascinated. He wanted to know more about their work, and about what Honerva wished to study once she was old enough.
Of course the fun would have to come to an end eventually.
“Your Highness,” Aven said gently. “It is time to meet with your mothers.”
“Can Honerva come?” Zarkon asked hopefully, even though he already knew the answer.
Aven sighed, shaking her head. “I am sorry,” she said sincerely.
Zarkon’s ears drooped, but he nodded in understanding. Honerva seemed a little less upset about it, though.
“Perhaps you and she can play tomorrow,” Aven suggested. “We will not be leaving Altea for a couple more quintants.”
That immediately brightened Honerva’s spirits. “Tomorrow, I can show you the library!” she insisted, bouncing up and down on her toes. It almost looked as if the red markings on her cheeks were glowing faintly. Before Aven could manage to drag him away, Zarkon got an earful of excited chatter about everything the library held within. He was excited that he’d be able to spend more time with Honerva, and he hoped they’d remain friends long into the future—he couldn’t wait for the rest of the visit to Altea.