On the last day of October, Prince Lotor was startled out of sleep in the wee hours of the morning by the sound of a great clamoring at the door.

He shot awake in an instant. "Who is it?" he asked in a scratchy voice.

"Please, open up!"

He rubbed his eyes and stifled a yawn. "Coming," he muttered, pushing the covers. He was dressed in light gray pajamas, with pictures of little green one-eyed monsters. His little blue toes curled against the cold marble floor as he stalked across the room. Whoever was pounding had now added a high-pitched shriek, a kind of keening sound that cut off abruptly when Lotor punched in his secret code on the control panel and the door opened.

A skinny Drule boy with torn brown clothes stared back at him. He was about to demand what the matter was when the youth rushed around him and charged the room, screaming, "He’s coming! He’s coming!"

The Prince raised an eyebrow at him. "Morgill, what are you talking about?"

"I was feeding Hagar’s blue robeast and I accidentantly stepped on its tail. He became sooo mad, that he wants to eat me!"

Lotor smiled, revealing cute little fangs, for he had lost his front teeth a few days ago. "You better stay here then, we don’t want a robeast with diarrhea running around the castle, do we?" he asked mockingly.

The other boy became pale, and gasped, "No."

Then Lotor strode across the room, until he reached the window. He stepped on a stool so he could look down at the gardens. He saw his parents walking toward the hangar, followed by their court, and he sighed. "Mommy and Daddy are leaving for planet Nemon," he muttered, "our newest planet. I wanted to go with them, but they told me that I was too young."

He came down and sat, crossing his arms. Morgill noticed that his golden eyes shone with tears, but none had yet escaped to track down his cheeks. And they never will, he thought, because Drules never cry; that’s what King Zarkon always says.

"Prince, do you know what day is this?"

"October 31st."

"And what do we celebrate on this day?"

"I don’t care," he bit back.

"Halloween!" Morgill added enthusiastically.

Lotor’s blue lips tightened a bit before he parted them to answer him. "Halloween in Doom sucks! I’m tired of always getting blue oranges and robeast-shaped cookies when I go trick-or-treating. I won’t go this year!"

His page merely shook his head and released a weary sigh. What could he do to lift the Prince’s spirits? But he was right; the loot was always too insipid. He caught his bottom lip in concentration. He didn’t like to think, because he always got a headache.

Then a great idea crossed his mind. "I got it!" he chirped. "Why don’t we go trick or treating to Arus? I’ve heard they give out caramel apples, hard candy, chocolates, lollipops, toys, and gold coins."

The little Prince rolled his eyes at him. "They’re not gold coins, dummy. They’re chocolates covered in golden foil. I had some on my last visit to Bully Bonkha’s candy factory with Mommy."

"Oh yeah, the factory King Zarkon stole a few weeks ago," Morgill said dryly.

"He didn’t steal it…he said it was a ‘hostile takeover’," Lotor replied matter-of-factly.

"Anyway, Yurak could take us to Arus in his cruiser," his page volunteered.

"Hah! Are you crazy? The last time he tried to invade Arus, Voltron kicked his ass."

Morgill scratched his head. "Uh, maybe we could ask witch Hagar then. She just got these spiffy-looking coffins…"

Lotor’s face lit up. "That’s a great idea! She could even help us with the costumes too," he exclaimed. "We don’t have much time, you best get to it then. I’ll get dress and then I’ll meet you in her lab."

"Yes, Milord Prince." With that, Morgill marched away toward the door.