The private Grayson residence sat nestled in the forested mountains outside Tokyo, far from the media frenzy that had engulfed the city since the battle with All For One.
Unlike their public home - the one listed in official records - this property existed under layers of shell companies and false identities, a sanctuary unknown to reporters, heroes, or government officials.
In the dimly lit master bedroom, Thragg sat beside Samantha's sleeping form. The Battle Beast coat hung on a nearby stand, leaving him in a simple black shirt that strained against his muscular physique.
A leather-bound copy of Milton's Paradise Lost rested in his hands, his eyes moving across the ancient words.
He found the author's perspective on rebellion, authority, and divine punishment... interesting. Particularly Satan's famous line: "Better to reign in Hell than serve in Heaven."
Humans had such limited understanding of true power, yet occasionally produced things to think about - especially with the fact he knew Satan truly existed, alongside Heaven and Hell.
Though, so many seem to miss the fact that Hell itself is a place for punishment - and Satan being its primary target.
Samantha shifted slightly in her sleep, a strand of red hair falling across her face.
Without looking up from his book, Thragg reached out, gently brushing it away with his fingets. His touch lingered briefly - a gesture of fatherly concern he would allow himself only when certain they were alone.
Three days had passed since the battle, since she had played her role in their carefully orchestrated plan. Three days, and still she slept.
Her physical wounds had healed perfectly within hours - her molecular manipulation abilities ensuring no lasting damage from her self-inflicted injury. But her mind, her spirit... these required more time.
Thragg's jaw tightened imperceptibly as he recalled what Nolan recently told him of her actions in the weeks leading up to the battle.
She had not merely played her role as War; she had embraced it with a fervor that bordered on self-destruction.
Using her powers to function without sleep for weeks. Manipulating her appearance to terrify enemies, taking on eldritch qualities that made hardened criminals weep with fear.
Effective, yes. But reckless. Dangerous. Her soul needed rest that her body had been denied - since sleep wasn't only the rest of the body, but also the chance for the soul to nurish itself.
What a foolish action his daughter has taken. One he will most definitely punish her for after she's fully recovered, to never again be so reckless.
A soft knock at the door interrupted his thoughts.
"Enter," Thragg commanded, his voice low but carrying easily through the solid wood. His hand withdrew from Samantha's face with a bit of swiftness, returning to the book as though it had never left.
The door opened to reveal Mark Grayson - not Marcus from Class 1-A, but the original Mark from Class 1-B.
He stood hesitantly at the threshold, his normally confident posture replaced by something more uncertain.
Thragg continued reading, allowing the silence to stretch between them. When Mark made no move to speak, he finally looked up, studying the young man's face.
Conflict was written across his features - questions forming and dissolving before they could reach his lips.
"What purpose brings you here?" Thragg asked finally, his tone neither welcoming nor dismissive.
Mark's hands clenched at his sides, his jaw setting with determination. "Could we... talk? If you have time, I mean."
Thragg regarded him silently for a long moment, unblinking. Mark met his gaze steadily - a small act of courage that did not go unnoticed.
Finally, Thragg closed his book and placed it on the nightstand beside Samantha's bed. He rose to his full height, towering over Mark as he approached.
"Follow me," he stated, moving past Mark into the hallway.
They walked in silence through the spacious home, eventually reaching the living room with its high ceilings and massive stone fireplace.
Instead of taking a seat, Thragg moved directly to the open kitchen area, beginning to gather ingredients from the refrigerator and pantry.
Mark sat at the dining table, watching with barely concealed surprise as the Emperor of Viltrum began preparing what appeared to be chicken soup and rice - a hobby he picked up to relax.
Something he did when he wanted to, since normally his wives and daughters were the ones who cooked for him and the rest of the family.
"Amanda and Roberta are with Evelyn and Eva," Thragg stated, not looking up from his work. "They went shopping at Eva's suggestion. Nolan and Marcus are training in a remote location."
His hands moved with practiced efficiency, chopping vegetables with precision that would make professional chefs envious. Without turning from his task, he asked, "What did you wish to discuss?"
Mark remained silent, his hands clasped tightly before him on the table. His knuckles whitened as he gathered his courage.
"Why?" he asked finally.
Thragg washed his hands thoroughly, drying them on a kitchen towel as he turned to face Mark. "Why what?"
Mark looked up, meeting Thragg's gaze directly. "Why do you do what you do? It's been bothering me since... well, since I decided to follow you. To accept this path of conquering worlds- to elevate them."
He leaned forward, his expression earnest. "I'm not questioning your right to do it anymore. I get that part now. You have the power, the wisdom, the knowledge. Like you said - a father who sees danger has the right to stop his child from walking into traffic."
Mark's hands spread in a gesture of uncertainty. "But I still don't understand why. Why do you want to elevate worlds? Why rule the multiverse? Is it... is it just because that's the Viltrumite way? Because it's what Grandfather Argall wanted?"
He shook his head slightly. "That doesn't sound like you. You're not someone who just follows others' will or gets swayed by their views. There has to be something deeper, and I... I just want to understand."
As the words poured out, Mark's confidence faltered. His gaze dropped to his hands, shoulders hunching slightly as though expecting rebuke for his presumption. When nothing happened, he looked up again.
Thragg's expression held something Mark had rarely seen - genuine surprise.
Without a word, Thragg moved to a cabinet, retrieving a bottle of red wine and two glasses. He approached the table and sat across from Mark, pouring them each a bit of the dark liquid- both of their metabolisms making it so they would never get drunk from it.
Only for the taste.
He drained his glass in a single swallow, set it down, and immediately poured another. As he raised it, he studied the swirling wine thoughtfully.
"No one has asked me that in a very long time," Thragg said finally. "No one has dared to - none but my father, Argall."
Silence fell between them again as Thragg seemed to weigh his next words. His gaze lifted from the wine to Mark's face.
"For your courage, I suppose I can tell you. It is not a secret, merely... personal. But first - why ask? Is it mere curiosity?"
Now it was Mark's turn to fall silent. He pulled his untouched glass closer, staring into the red liquid.
"I've been having doubts," he admitted quietly. "About... about the worth of all this."
His fingers traced the rim of the glass absently. "It started when I killed Angstrom - the evil one. The world - all worlds - don't just contain good people, but evil ones too."
Mark's expression grew distant. "At first, I wanted to be a hero because my dad was one. Then I found out he was a Viltrumite sent to conquer Earth, that being a hero was just a cover. He called my mom a pet and killed thousands of innocent people."
His jaw tightened. "I decided to still be a hero to be everything my dad wasn't. I stood against Viltrum because I saw them as mass-murdering maniacs who wanted to enslave me and everyone I loved."
The bitterness in his voice was palpable. "Then Angstrom blamed me for his accident and went after my mom and Oliver."
"I thought I'd killed him, but he came back with an army of evil versions of me, intent on destroying everything - and he probably would have succeeded if you hadn't stopped him."
Mark's hands clenched into fists on the table. "As a hero, I kept meeting killers, murderers, all kinds of evil people. I started seeing that evil wasn't just from outside Earth, but from Earth itself."
He looked up at Thragg. "I mean, I knew that intellectually - why have heroes if there aren't villains? But knowing and experiencing... they're different."
After a moment of silence, he continued, his voice having softened. "Since you came and took over, I haven't been constantly stressed by some looming threat."
"No planet of Viltrumites coming to kill everyone I care about. I've been... free. And that's given me time to think about heroes, villains, the world, people's nature in general."
Mark's expression clouded. "I just don't understand why we-"
"Why you should save them," Thragg finished for him.
Mark flinched slightly but nodded. "Yeah. Power gives us the ability to do a lot of good, and a lot of evil too. It basically gives us the right to do whatever we want. But having the right doesn't mean having the desire to exercise it."
His words came faster now, as though a dam had broken. "Spending time with everyone - with you, this version of my dad, Eva, Marcus, Evelyn, Amanda, Roberta, and before coming here, with my mom - I'm happy."
"Not worrying about threats because we're so strong. Not feeling misunderstood or alone like before, when only my dad and I were the aliens."
Mark's voice dropped to almost a whisper. "I just don't understand why we should risk it by continuing this path of conquest. Going to other worlds, saving people - many who probably don't want to be saved and would fight back."
His expression grew troubled. "I keep thinking about my classmates in 1-B. They're good people, but imagining them resisting, having to fight them when they rebel... it just..."
"You don't like it," Thragg stated simply.
"Yeah," Mark confirmed, falling silent at last.
Thragg regarded him thoughtfully, taking another sip of wine before speaking. "Do you know how I became Emperor?"
Mark considered the question. "Marcus told me you were born the strongest of your race. Emperor Argall adopted you as his son and raised you to be Grand Regent - the ultimate authority when he wasn't present. And later, my dad's counterpart said he didn't want the throne so you took it."
"That is true," Thragg acknowledged with a slight nod. "I was taken from my parents, who gave me up willingly."
"I don't remember them - not their voices, faces, not even their names. I could search the archives, but I've never been interested. The only parent in this world I truly recognized was Argall."
Something shifted in Thragg's expression - a softening almost imperceptible to anyone who didn't know him well. "Argall... he didn't treat me like a weapon, unlike the generals who trained me. He saw me as a boy with potential greater than all others."
Thragg's gaze grew distant. "It was the first time since my birth that I felt any form of warmth. I was... happy. I wanted to make him proud, so when I grew up, I conquered planet after planet in his name."
His voice took on a quality Mark had never heard before - something almost nostalgic, longing. "Argall cared about other worlds, other peoples. Yes, he conducted conquests under the banner of Viltrum's glory, claiming it was our right to rule as an advanced species - which was true."
"But he also genuinely cared about elevating other peoples. Helping them succeed in life. Making them wise, strong, capable of loving and being loved."
Thragg's eyes narrowed slightly. "These views he kept hidden from the rest of Viltrum, sharing them only with me - a father confiding in his son."
His hand tightened around the wine glass, nearly cracking it. "For a time, I believed in this vision. Then Thadeus betrayed us. He was my father's closest friend, but he disagreed with Viltrum ruling the universe."
"He disliked the violence. He believed other worlds couldn't truly develop if they didn't make their own mistakes and create their own cultures - that they would stagnate under our rule."
Rage flickered across Thragg's features. "So when I was away on missions, he struck my father from behind like the coward he was, using a Ragnar bone - one of the few materials strong enough to harm a Viltrumite."
"My father never saw it coming, blinded by love for his friend - a love he kept hidden from all but me, as Viltrum still valued only strength."
The wine in Thragg's glass trembled slightly with the tension in his hand. "This... enraged me. For a time, I despised love, seeing it as weakness."
"When the civil war erupted, I rose to power as Grand Regent, promising myself I would find my father's blood heir - having once heard him mention having a son somewhere."
His voice hardened. "I conquered worlds with renewed vigor, becoming more ruthless than ever. I destroyed any planet that rebelled, until my tactics made me so feared that I became known as the Terror of the Universe."
"No rebellion dared rise again - even though many worlds know that if thousands of galaxies united against me they might eventually have succeeded, as they did against the Thragg from Mohawk's world."
He set down his glass with deliberate care. "Of course, that no longer applies. I have become far too strong even for that."
"What changed?" Mark asked, leaning forward slightly.
Thragg paused, considering his response.
'I remembered being human,' he thought but did not say. 'I remembered what it was to be weak, to need protection, to value connection, family, love, and the worth in them...'
Instead, he said simply, "I remembered what warmth was like."
He rose from his chair, moving to the window that overlooked the forested mountains. "When you look down from above and see your people thriving - not suffering from pointless war, oppression, hunger, illness, death - it brings a sense of peace."
"Yes, I enjoy ruling. Yes, I find satisfaction in testing my might against worthy opponents. But guiding people toward success has its own reward - one that can only be tasted from the Emperor's throne."
He turned back to Mark. "So to answer your question: I do this because it brings me peace. Because I care. This may surprise you, but I am not heartless. I don't seek to be a tyrant who lords power over others."
His voice took on a note of disdain. "Why would I? I care nothing for others' opinions and am powerful enough to have anything I want - only a weak fool without self-confidence concerns himself with what others think."
Thragg's expression softened imperceptibly. "It simply brings me... the warmth I felt long ago."
Mark sat in stunned silence, clearly struggling to process this unexpected glimpse into Thragg's heart.
"Does that answer your question?" Thragg asked.
"Y-yes," Mark stammered with a numb nod.
The sound of a key turning in the front door broke the moment, followed by a chorus of female voices mixed with the deeper tones of Nolan and Marcus. The shopping expedition and training session had concluded simultaneously.
"-telling you, I've never seen so many people taking pictures in my life," Amanda was saying as they entered. "Being recognized everywhere is getting old fast."
"The price of fame," Roberta observed dryly. "Though the statistical probability of being recognized decreases exponentially with distance from population centers."
"That's why we needed this place," Eva's voice added. "I was getting tired of pretending to be normal at school when everyone keeps asking about-"
She stopped abruptly as the group entered the living room, spotting Mark and Thragg.
Amanda's face lit up at the sight of her husband, and even more at the aroma filling the kitchen. "You're cooking!" she exclaimed, crossing the room to throw her arms around Thragg's massive form. "Thank you! I was dreading having to make dinner after all that shopping."
Thragg's arm encircled her waist with surprising gentleness, though his expression remained stoic. "It was practical. You were occupied elsewhere."
"I or any of our daughters could have prepared food with minimal effort," Roberta pointed out, setting down several shopping bags. "A simple molecular rearrangement would have produced any desired meal."
Amanda rolled her eyes affectionately. "It's not the same and you know it. There's something special about food made the old-fashioned way."
"Inefficient but accurate," Roberta conceded with the ghost of a smile.
Nolan and Marcus entered last, both bearing signs of intense training - torn clothing, minor bruises already healing, and the satisfied exhaustion that came from pushing limits.
"Something smells good," Nolan commented, sniffing appreciatively. "Chicken soup?"
"With rice," Thragg confirmed, moving back to the stove to check on his creation.
Mark stood abruptly, drawing everyone's attention. "I'm... I think I'll skip dinner. Need some rest."
Eva's brow furrowed with concern as she studied his face. "Are you okay? You look-"
"I'm fine," Mark interrupted, not meeting her eyes. "Just tired. Excuse me."
As he headed for the hallway, Eva made to follow him, but Thragg's voice stopped her.
"Let him go," he said quietly. "He needs time alone with his thoughts."
Eva hesitated, looking between Thragg and Mark's retreating form. Finally, she nodded reluctantly and turned back to help unpack the shopping bags.
Thragg watched Mark disappear down the hallway, his expression unreadable. The boy had asked questions few would dare voice - and received answers few would ever hear. What he did with those answers would be his own choice.
The Emperor returned to his cooking, stirring the soup while the sounds of his family filled the room around him.
For now, at least, this was good.
He'll know the boy's will, he'll know soon enough.
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(Author note: Hello everyone! I hope you all liked the chapter!
Do tell me how you found it? I believed canon Mark - the animated series version - asking Thragg this to well, be logical.
And writing more about how Thragg views things interesting so did this.
Do tell me what you think of it?
How did you find Thragg's reasons? And how did you find Mark's thoughts, and questions about the worth in doing all of this?
Well, I hope to see you all later,
Bye!)