Work Text:
When Marlena realizes that she is pregnant with not just one, but two future royals, she has a lot of questions about what that means. After all, she hails from Earth, and she paid attention in her history courses.
She would like very much to avoid any beheadings, if she can help it, after all.
Randor listens to her stories of wayward English monarchs and laughs. He tells her that they have nothing quite as dramatic as that on Eternia.
(Later, she will learn about Keldor and that history; it will take some time for her to forgive Randor's ... untruth.)
As they walk the halls of the palace, so many faces of men stare back at Marlena.
"Kings of Eternia have a long line," Randor tells her. "My family can trace our lineage all the way back to King Grayskull."
Marlena does not yet understand the significance of that -
- And later she will partially wish she never did -
But she asks instead, "And there were never any women?"
"Well," Randor says. "Of course there were. Their wives."
"And if both twins are girls," Marlena says. "What then? If the first born is a girl?"
"...An heir is an heir, regardless."
Adora is born first, ready to greet the world with her voice loud and her fists clenched. Adam arrives a leisurely thirty minutes later.
There is no doubt about which one should be the heir. Randor holds her and looks ... admittedly... confused.
"It's the first time," he says. "In ...well. Since King Grayskull's time. But an heir is an heir." (Except in Keldor's case, and that will come to bite them soon). "Queen Adora has a good ring to it."
But for now, Marlena holds both of her children near and doesn't care about such things as heirs and spares.
Adora is gone, and Randor has moved on.
More fairly.
Adora is gone, and Eternia has moved on.
The Sorceress and Duncan and Randor all believe it is for the best to erase the knowledge of her daughter from everyone's mind - the very people who had celebrated the birth of a future queen would grieve her too much, after these months of searching futilely.
They can move on, but Marlena cannot. She can hold her son to her chest. She can love him with half of her heart.
But the other half is wherever Hordak took her daughter off to.
This war has lasted ten years.
Ten brutal, long years - and queens cannot be tired, but Marlena is exhausted. More importantly, mothers cannot be tired, and there is a child who needs her, still.
Randor believes this war will forge a stronger future king; Marlena fears it will kill her son.
Adam doesn't want to go - duty has been taught to him since the cradle. She kisses his forehead - a final goodbye.
Then she sends her son the only place he'll be safe: home.
And as Skeletor's forces storm the palace, there are no more heirs for him to take.